Once Upon A [Fallen] Time

by Samreen Ahsan

  “You are not hungry, my dear?” King Stefan asked in concern. “Anything here that you don’t like?”

  “It’s not like that, Your Majesty.” I glanced at Edward who stiffened every time King Stefan talked to me. The big fish made me sick, its eyes looking at me with horror. “I can help myself. Please allow me some time to think,” I smiled. “There are so many things on the table that I need to think where to start.” Edward was still watching us silently. Was he usually this sober or was he still furious at me?

  “This is actually quite late for the dinner. We usually have it an hour earlier but you took time to return from the village.” Dinner around six was not early enough?

  Edward coughed at Stefan’s words. He was probably surprised that King Stefan had waited for an hour for a woman at dinner.

  “I will be on time tomorrow, Your Majesty,” I promised and took a sip of wine from the crystal goblet to ease my nervousness. It tasted strong—very different from any wine I had ever tasted. Well, it was vintage wine—not the one we usually purchased from the liquor store around the corner.

  I had attended a medieval style gala and charity dinner with Steve once before our engagement party. But, compared to reality, it had been far too modern. Perhaps, when I went back, I’d write a blog on how we had a completely wrong perception of medieval dinners. Our dinners were made by the finest chefs, cooked in high-end appliances, served under crystal chandeliers, but here… everything was unique in its own charms. No fancy lights, no music in the background—everything was simple and serene. I had read that kings and nobilities always had musicians to entertain them over food but from where I see, it was just Edward, Stefan, and I.

  I also had trouble to keep the track of time. There was a giant mechanical clock in the Great Hall and one on the church bell tower we visited in the morning to keep track of prayers. Other than that, there was no way for me to look at the time. Clocks had become common later, in the Renaissance era. I didn’t even see an hourglass anywhere. I always wore a watch back home, but when I’d gotten ready for my engagement party, I had decided against a watch with this designer dress.

  There was so much difference living in this time and visiting the same castle in the twenty-first century. The clock had been removed from the Great Hall and I had no idea where it had gone. The village didn’t exist anymore. The candle stands I saw around me on the table weren’t there. It was an empty castle in the twenty-first century—devoid of any form of life. And I was sure the British History Museum didn’t have them either.

  “Where is everyone else?” I looked around the empty table. I had read they always had knights and lords attending the dinner and some fiddlers to entertain the king.

  King Stefan took a long sip from his goblet and looked at me with his drunken eyes.

  “It’s just us tonight, my dear.” Didn’t he know about the table manners in the medieval era? That you weren’t supposed to gawk at the woman at the table? Ha! Who was I kidding? He was the king here.

  Edward coughed again which broke the intense gaze of his father. The way King Stefan spoke; it felt like Edward was invisible to him. He thought Edward didn’t give a shit if he flirted with me, but he didn’t know how much his son hated the idea of him being so close to me.

  I cut the small piece of beef and picked up some sautéed vegetables. I’d definitely lose more weight here— if I didn’t eat any junk at all. They didn’t have potato chips, which I loved most. They didn’t have Starbucks Macchiato with whipped crème on top. They didn’t have cupcakes and macaroons from Paula’s café. They didn’t have iPhones and the latest music. And shit! Most of all… they didn’t have modern-day bras and panties. I couldn’t survive on the pair of panties I was wearing for more days. And my bra! I wasn’t even wearing one. I once ridiculed the idea of wearing large underpants when we had visited the museum of medieval clothing in my school days.

  Speaking of a bra, I recalled the time when I had been dressing for the game’s role and Steve had been standing behind me, at an angle at which he couldn’t see his beastly reflection in the mirror. I had been trying to fix the fitting of my dress when Steve had said, “Do you have a push-up bra?”

  I looked at him with wide eyes. Such a blunt question, but Steve was Steve. Whatever he had in his heart was on his tongue. He never refrained himself from expressing any emotion—be it love or hate.

  “Why?” I had asked, suddenly very conscious of my looks.

  “Actresses who play the roles of medieval princesses always have their boobs on display,” he had replied, winking.

  I had rolled my eyes at his comment and continued to fix my dress by pulling the strings tighter.

  “No, serious. We see a big cleavage line—”

  “Steve,” I had look at him through the mirror, annoyed. “If you want someone with big boobs, find yourself a size D woman.”

  “I heard you.” He had placed his hands on my shoulders. Still, I couldn’t see his reflection. “That doesn’t make me change my mind marrying you.” He had paused for a moment before suggesting, “A sport-bra would work?”

  “Oh my god, Steve!” I turned around. “Can you please stop this boob discussion?” I had folded my arms over my chest. “I don’t wear sports bras. I find them very uncomfortable.”

  “I was just trying to help.” He had shrugged, his face all innocent.

  “And the cleavage you’re talking about is French couture.” I had turned around to face the mirror again. “The English attire wasn’t that gaudy. They were pretty conservative.”

  “So, we will show you French then,” he had replied with a smug smile. “My game never suggested that this is an English Medieval era. La belle princesse du france,” he had tried to translate it in his horrible French.

  I had just ignored him.

  The clattering of plates brought me back to the table—to my dinner with King Stefan.

  As my engagement dress came with a built-in support due to the lace back, I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. So that meant I would be braless while here. Shit! I blinked harder on the thought and realized… I was stuck in a time older than the Sistine Chapel or Palace of Versailles. Even the Renaissance artists like Michelangelo and Raphael came after me. And what would happen when Mother Nature visited me? My period had ended yesterday, which meant I had a month to figure out how to manage it. No tampons. No sanitary napkins. Shit! Shit! And bloody shit! I gulped the sour thought down with another sip of wine.

  “I would like you to meet one important person tonight,” I heard King Stefan break through my wild thoughts. He gestured towards his left side.

  When I saw the man approaching, my heart stopped beating. My body rose and I stood up to look at him, not believing my eyes. I sensed Edward realized my discomfort because he looked at me with deeper concern. I watched the man in horror as he stood across from me, on the left side of King Stefan.

  “Meet our royal advisor, Haakon.” He gestured towards the man on his left side. I had heard his name in Edward’s book, but the book had never revealed his face. How was it even possible? “Haakon, this is our guest from Walsingham, Lady Farrow.” The man looked back at me with equal surprise. He knew the truth about me. Would he tell King Stefan that I wasn’t from Walsingham?

  “Pleasure meeting you, Lady Farrow,” he bowed slightly.

  I stood there, my tongue tied. Haakon? Their royal advisor? His name was Bakr and he was the man from the bookstore who had told me that Edward had been waiting for me. He had asked me not to talk to anyone in the book. Once I had finished reading Edward’s book, I had asked him so many times if he knew something, but damn him… he hadn’t spilled a single word. And now, he was standing across from me, in the fifteenth century and as the royal advisor to Hue Castle. How was it possible?

  It is possible, Myra. If you can time travel, so can he!

  “Lady Farrow,” King Stefan asked, “are you alright?” I suppose my face had paled enough for King Stefan to notice it. I couldn’t t
ear my gaze off of this old man. He had been like this for… how many years or centuries? Julia Watson had told me she had met him in 1993, and he still looked as old as he was now. And now, he looked exactly like he was in the twenty-first century. Did he have a time travel portal? Could he help me and take me back? Perhaps, I should befriend with him. I could never escape King Stefan if Haakon—or Bakr, whoever he was—didn’t help me. Think and act fast, Myra!

  “Good evening,” I smiled back and greeted him as a stranger, but I knew Edward sensed my apprehension. Should I tell him the truth? Could Edward be my ally or would he continue to treat me as his enemy since I trampled all his plans about last night?

  “Please sit, my dear,” King Stefan instructed me. I did what he asked but I couldn’t stop staring at the old man. The clock of time had halted on this man. I had to find out how many secrets he knew about this castle. I had a feeling he knew more than anyone in this kingdom, and it was very important for me to find out every bit of detail to end Edward’s misery. His dreams were not impossible. All he wanted was to look at himself in the mirror and see how he appeared.

  Since I’d already lost my appetite, I felt like retiring for the day and hiding in Edward’s chamber. I didn’t want to hear King Stefan’s voice or bear his touch anymore. I didn’t want Edward arguing with me for nothing. I just wanted to change out of this designer dress and sleep—sleep through the whole night. Suddenly, I felt tired and exhausted.

  I finished my vegetables and wine quickly and—as expected—the wine made me felt heady, but I stayed composed and let everyone finish dinner.

  To my surprise, King Stefan didn’t talk either. He just looked at my hairdo from time to time. I wondered if the lilacs were still intact. It had been more than twenty-four hours since I had them put in my hair. And I was done with the dress. I just wanted to sleep.

  When King Stefan rose from his chair, I joined him.

  “I’d like to call it a night, Your Majesty,” I said softly. “It has been a long and tiring day. I seek your permission to retire.”

  “You will not join for late supper?” he asked, holding my hand again. Shit! I hated it when he did that. Edward and Haakon stood up together, watching the melodrama of King Stefan.

  “I apologize but I’m extremely exhausted,” I replied.

  “Let me know if you don’t find anything suitable in the chamber,” he said.

  I pulled my hand from his grip. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I curtsied. “Good night.”

  “Good night, my dear,” he replied gently. I turned around and, without looking at Edward, I walked out of the hall but then something made me stop for a second.

  “Edward, come into my chamber. I need to speak to you,” I heard King Stefan say to his son in an urgent tone.

  Shit! Why was he calling him at this late hour? Was he thinking about killing me or punishing me and asking Edward to do it? But why should I be concerned? I knew Edward would never harm me. He didn’t have that bone to torture anyone.

  But he is torturing you, Myra. He doesn’t kiss you... he doesn’t even touch you.

  The stupid thoughts warmed me. Instead of worrying about their conversation, I was fantasizing about the idea of Edward and I alone in his chamber. If only he could take a step towards me and confess his feelings—I’d do the rest. Oh! I had never lusted for a man like this. What had happened to me? I should not forget that I was technically engaged to Steve and still wearing his ring. I should not forget that Edward was also apparently engaged to Elizabeth.

  I left the dining room and took the stairs. As I walked to the candle-lit corridor, I heard someone’s footsteps behind me. My heart started racing as I considered it might be Edward, but to my disappointment, it was Haakon.

  “You!” I pointed at him with revulsion. “Who the hell are you? I will tell Edward you’re a traitor.”

  “Sshh… Lady Farrow,” he said, pressing his finger to his lips to silence me. “If you want to stay with Edward then listen to what I have to say.”

  “Listen to you?” I replied, fighting to control my bubbling anger. Remembering that walls have ears too, I’d switched to a low tone. “First tell me who are you?”

  “I am a royal advisor here…”

  “But—”

  He didn’t let me continue.

  “Before I give you the details… I have a message for you.” He took out a piece of paper from his pocket. “This is not my job, Lady Farrow, but someone wants to communicate with you desperately. After reading this, you may ask me what you want to ask.”

  I took the paper from him and unfolded it. The paper didn’t look like the parchment from this time. It was a regular paper we used in the twenty-first century.

  Dear Myra,

  I need to know how you’re doing. Did he harm you or is he

  keeping you safe? Are you happy with him? I’m worried and so

  are your parents. Write me back. You know the source. Your

  parents will kill me otherwise.

  Love you,

  Steve

  Shit! I looked up at Haakon with wide eyes. He knew it would take me off-guard. How could he possibly bring Steve’s message to me?

  “Your fiancée came looking for you in Morocco. He thought I was his only hope and asked me to give you this message.” His tone was low.

  “But how did Steve know you’d bring it to me?” I had left Steve yesterday. How could he have travelled to Morocco and met Haakon already?

  “Because I told you once about Edward waiting for you.” He shrugged, fixing the glasses on his nose. “I guess he wondered that if I could communicate with Edward back in time, why not with you then?” He cleared his throat. “He was very persuasive.”

  That’s Steve!

  I kept staring at the paper. It was indeed Steve’s handwriting and this looked like a modern-day paper that didn’t even exist in the medieval era we were in right now. So, Bakr, Haakon—or whatever his real name was—had to be telling the truth.

  And Steve was certain I had travelled through time. That I was with Edward. Did my parents believe him?

  We were standing close to the dark, wooden sideboard where a quill and ink were kept. Haakon took out a paper and handed it to me before asking, “Do you have a message for him, Lady Farrow?”

  I looked everywhere, checking if someone might be eavesdropping, but the corridor was painstakingly quiet. I walked to the sideboard and picked up the quill. I wasn’t really sure what to write. How could I even begin to explain?

  “Just remember one thing, Lady Farrow, while you’re here.” Haakon looked around, making sure we didn’t have any witnesses, “these walls have ears and apparently mouths too.” There was a warning in his eyes.

  I swallowed, dipped the quill in ink, and wrote a short message. After I handed the paper to Haakon, he tucked it in a pocket inside his white robe. I knew he wouldn’t read it, but I felt safe and comforted that somewhere in another time, someone was worried about me.

  Haakon turned around and left the corridor without giving me any further information.

  “Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses

  who are only waiting to see us act,

  just once, with beauty and courage.

  Perhaps everything that frightens us is,

  in its deepest essence,

  something helpless that wants our love.”

  ― Rainer Maria Rilke

  CHAPTER 10

  EDWARD

  JUNE 12th 1415

  I was still flustered when I walked to the king’s chamber. It had been a few months since King Stefan had summoned me in his private chamber. By the time we finished our dinner, the twilight had blanketed the sky. My captive had gone into my chamber and I assumed she might be resting by now. My head was already throbbing with excruciating pain. She had turned my world upside down too many times today.

  First, she had made me change the rules of Hue rulers. She had made me talk to the villagers—asking their favours
to keep her safe. Then, she had confronted Emma and convinced her about my innocence. She claimed she knew me, but didn’t she know I ended my sister’s life and orphaned her child? Despite the fact that I didn’t kill V with my own hands, but it didn’t matter. I should have been brave enough to fight my father’s decision. I should have run away earlier with Emma and Veronica. Lady Farrow needed to open her eyes and see the truth. She was living in a fairytale. She had no idea that my tyrant father did not let anyone dream in this kingdom. I had a dream once—the woman appearing every night until King Stefan had stolen that dream from me and replaced it with a nightmare of him killing the same woman I craved.

  If she actually claimed not to be Jasmine then why wasn’t she telling me her name? She had unknown powers over this castle. Was she unaware of her own powers? She might be telling the truth that she had come into my world by accident. But it wasn’t an accident to me. She had invaded my dreams forever.

  I reached the door and opened it gently while I rapped at it with my knuckles.

  “Come in, son,” I heard King Stefan’s coarse voice behind the door. I assumed he had been drinking lately. This was the voice of a drunken man and he only called me at nights when he had something important to share.

  I opened the door fully and saw him standing by the window like he had when he had called me to his chamber for the first time last month. He was still looking out the window, but he acknowledged my presence by nodding. I shut the door behind me before he could ask for it. I walked towards him—his chamber still looked dark and haunted just like a month before, but it reeked of smoke and alcohol. I wondered what he usually did in his private moments—at late hours.

  “How is your guest, Edward?” King Stefan asked me in a tone I couldn’t make out. I stiffened at his question. He only called me at nights when he had something important to share.

  “She is my prisoner… not a guest,” I answered reluctantly. I looked around and noticed a large book, about my forearm’s length, covered with deep blue velvet and golden thread work, on the table, beside the decanter.