Prologue: The Wedding Announcement
The Prince's Secret
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. It is an adaptation inspired by the fairy tales owned by the Grimm Brothers, Jacob and Wilhelm. This story is not associated with Disney’s adaptations, their added characters, or story elements.
Memories are special to the Elven kind,
the Starborn, as we call ourselves.
We hardly ever sleep,
but when we need rest,
we visit these memories.
Ever since I was a small child, I can never remember my past lives like my people. I am seen as strange, even called a wild child—though I don’t follow the rules. Nothing too crazy. But this nightmare I recall only in dreams.
Fire surrounds me. I choke on the thick air. Screaming victims fill my ears, and someone grabs my shoulder. Instead of looking at the person, I glance down at my hands. Blood covers them. My blood? Someone else’s? I’m never sure, but regardless, a pit sinks in my stomach.
I wake up gasping for air, the dream smoke choking me. My room is the same as always. Painted in ash blue and white— my family colors. The rising sun glows through my balcony window. I sigh, leaning and placing my hand on my face. I can only remember that memory—other than fragments from my childhood. My parents tell me I nearly died as a child, and that’s why I can’t remember anything before the age of seven. But something about how I almost perished never sits right with me. They claim I fell into the flowing river just outside the city wall—but I’m an excellent swimmer. I even saved an older woman from drowning during a giant flood when I was twelve. Yet they still want me to believe I came close to dying…
I draw a breath and get up. Cool stone presses beneath my bare feet, and my nightdress sticks to my skin, damp with sweat from last night’s nightmare. I pull the gown off and step into my bathroom, starting the lukewarm shower.
My dress is ashy blue with off-the-shoulder ruffles with thin straps and a silver heart at the chest. The sleeves are long and flowy, and the skirt hangs softly. I always consider this my lucky dress; something good always happens when I wear it. Taking one last breath, I open the two elegant bedroom doors carved with gold designs and patterns. I step into the hallway and spot my sister walking by. She is slender, graceful—the embodiment of the Starborn. Her long, flowy, light blonde hair styled in complicated braids.
“Good morning, Elle,” I say with a smile.
She stops, overwhelmed. Panic laces her ethereal light blue eyes. “Good morning, Ren.” Her voice shakes; though she’s the family’s worrywart, this feels like something more.
“Orielle, is everything okay? You seem more overwhelmed than normal.” I rest my hand on her shoulder.
She glances away. “Ren…” she trails off before continuing, “It’s not my place to say. Why don’t you talk to Mother and Father?” She brushes me off and continues down the hallway.
As she leaves, our older brother, Thane, watches me. “Thane, what’s going on?” I walk toward him, but he shakes his head.
“Not right now, Serenya.” He disappears into the gathering room. That room could host any kind of meeting, since our family, the Valeris’, is a noble one. Our father is the grand duke of our city, Valenlorë.
Valenlorë, the city with the largest Elven population, serves as the capital city of the Starborn. The name translates to Sanctuary of the Stars. It holds the Heartseed Tree—a glowing, sentient tree believed to carry all our people’s memories, whispering wisdom from the stars. The Heartseed Tree stands deep within the palace walls, far from the sight of commoners—unless the King and Queen host an open ball, which they almost never do.
I never follow the rules, which is probably another reason the Queen and King allow me an invitation. I approach the room and press my ear to the door.
“We are grateful for you choosing our daughter to be betrothed to your son,” Father says.
My heart drops to my gut. Are they talking about Elle? I know she trains to become the next Duchess if anything ever happens to Father and Thane, since Mother couldn’t run the household, coming from a lower-ranked family. In another world, she would have been perfect.
“Her beauty is unmatched, and she has been around Rowan enough,” a woman says—the Queen, I think. “And well-behaved, unlike your other daughter.” The word ‘other’ drips with venom. They’re talking about me. Of course they are. That’s another reason I never get to visit the palace…
I am a bastard child. During my parents’ marriage, they briefly separated while Mother was pregnant with the twins, Orielle and Elowen. Father got drunk and had a one-night stand, only discovering my existence when I was left on his doorstep nine months later. Though my mother welcomed me with open arms and I’ve never been treated differently, I always carry that mark. Then, our youngest sister, Aria, was born a few months after me.
Silence falls in the gathering room. My parents don’t defend me—not against her.
“The wedding will be held at the palace. Make sure to keep that bastard child at home. She is still not welcomed,” the Queen says. Her voice is harsh but exactly what I expect—authoritative and yet soaked in honey. Sickly sweet.
The door opens, and I jump back. A palace guard stands before me. Behind him, Her Majesty narrows her eyes.
“Who do you think you are to listen in?” she demands.
I bow quickly, desperate to fix what I’ve just done. “Sorry. I saw Elle a moment ago, and she seemed upset. I wanted to know what was going on with my sister.”
The hem of her lavish white dress enters my view as she steps in front of me. She lifts my chin with her fan, forcing my eyes to meet her icy blue gaze. They glow under the morning light streaming behind me.
“Hmm… I haven’t seen you in a decade. You clean up nicely, at least you have that going for you.” She turns back to my parents. “I have another offer for you.”
Father lifts his gaze from his bow. “Yes, my majesty.”
Her attention returns to me. If someone laid eyes on her, they might mistake her for a goddess of the stars. Her silver braids are delicate interwoven strands, decorated with small silver pearls that glimmer like stars. Our people are naturally beautiful, but she is downright ethereal.
“She could have a place as a consort at the palace. There is a vacancy,” she pauses, “if you wish to rid the Valeris name of its stain.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty, but we are not looking to rid Serenya quite yet. She’s behind on her lessons,” Mother answers.
Her Majesty scoffs. “My.”
“I’m sorry?” Mother asks, confused.
“It’s ‘my majesty.’ I see you are also behind. Honestly, Duke Valeris, I don’t see what you see in that woman of yours.” She drops her fan from my chin.
I step back, thinking she’s about to leave, but something strikes my cheek fast and sharp. I wince at the sting. Touching my cheek, I feel its warmth. I stare at her—she just smacked me with her fan. Fury twists her features.
What the hell did I do?
She grabs my chin. “I did not dismiss you, filth.”
“Mother?” a male voice calls from my right. I try to shift my gaze, but she holds me firm. Rowan and Aria stand arm in arm. Rowan, my childhood best friend, watches with bright green eyes filled with annoyance. His slicked-back black hair is in a tight bun, and he wears his training clothes. Even disheveled, he carries the same ethereal glow as his mother. Aria, our youngest sibling, with her golden blonde hair in a simple braid, looks more delicate beside Rowan but radiant, as only the Firstborn could be. Her deep ocean-blue eyes widen in horror as she realizes who the Queen holds.
They were talking about their betrothal.
“What are you doing to Ren?” Rowan grips his mother’s arm, keeping Aria behind him in case his mother lashes out.
“I’m teaching this bastard child some manners since she’s behind on her lessons,” Her Majesty says and releases me.
“I see. I’m sure her parents will ensure she receives better tutoring in the future.” Rowan glances at my parents.
They promptly nod. “Of course, Your Highness.”
Rowan flashes his classic cheeky smile. “See? All will be well in the world, Mother.”
Her Majesty bumps into me as she passes. “I will see all of you at the rehearsal dinner.” Her guards quickly follow her out.
I try to steady my breath, but before I can, Aria slams into me, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“You are such a big dummy, Elenariel.”
Elenariel is my childhood name. Every Starborn receives one at birth, though Aria is the only one who uses mine. She adores star given names; her own given name is Luinathiel.
I pull away, smiling. “I know. When I saw Elle earlier, she seemed more freaked out than usual. I got curious.”
Aria sighs. “You must be careful. You know how much she hates anything not pureblood.” She beams. “Can you believe I’m getting married?!”
Her smile is contagious. She is a light guiding the lost through the dark.
I hug her again. “I’m so happy for you, little sister. You’ve dreamed of this since we were kids. And to our childhood best friend, no less! I told you, the two of you are meant to be.”
Everyone knew they would end up together. Fated mates will find each other in every lifetime.
It makes me wonder if I’ll ever find mine. The one with stolen memories—that’s what they call it when our people can’t recall their past lives.
A sharp pain stabs through my head as I try to remember. But this time, instead of static, I catch a glimpse of a man. Silver hair. Bright red eyes.
A vampire.
Editor: Michelle Naragon
