A young girl goes to extremes to protect her Princess: First, to prevent a marital mistake, and second, to save her life.
Gray
The curse of gray encompassed the young Genevieve’s existence:
dismal, dull, gloomy, uninteresting-gray. The banal spectrum of the rainbow; the never striking, never exuberant, gray.
Genevieve lived in this world of gray: gray sky, gray skin, gray trees, gray houses, gray roads. This kingdom had never known anything but gray. Had there been a memory of a time before the gray, it had been forgotten long ago.
With no concept of a different world, Genevieve found pleasure in the lighter shades. She played and thrived among them. The lighter shades held a beauty that spoke to her of infinite possibilities. As a young child, she often created magnificent gowns and gentlemanly suits for her gray dolls, layering hues as if shaping magic from shadows.
Yet the young woman that Genevieve had become held a different view. As she passed her thirteenth birthday, she found, if she stared hard enough, she saw more than just ashen tones; something brighter pushed through, fleeting but undeniable. Despite her resolve, the elders repeatedly dismissed her discovery as childish whimsy. Discounted and disregarded, time taught her to conceal her discovery, but it did not diminish the truth: sometimes she saw light.
Other times, she saw the future. On this glorious day, the gray sun shining dully over the grayer ocean, Genevieve would fulfill a lifelong dream. Exhilaration inundated her veins, knowing that today, the woman she most admired in the entire kingdom would come to her tiny village.
Princess Rosebud was coming to town.
The village itself was abuzz with excitement. Rosebud’s visit could quite possibly be the most significant thing to ever happen in their quaint little burg. Princess Rosebud would be traveling to the king’s castle to accept the marriage proposal of his closest emissary, Count El Emeno.
Genevieve did not hold the Count in high regard. From what she had witnessed, he was a cruel and self-centered man who thought about himself first and then, if it could work to his advantage, anyone else. Although he had a charismatic demeanor and cut quite a striking figure in his tailored suit, she had one experience that had hardened her heart against him.
On her tenth birthday, a traveling carnival show performed in a neighboring village. Genevieve had badgered her poor father into taking her. As they came into the village, Count El Emeno and his entourage held court in the town square. As a young boy and his dog passed by, one of the guardsmen made a distasteful comment about the beast.
The brave boy yelled at the guard, and an argument ensued. In the midst of this argument, Count El Emeno kicked the dog with such intentional cruelty that the creature’s hind leg shattered upon impact. That was all Genevieve ever needed to know about El Emeno. He held no regard for others and had a charcoal-black heart.
The announcement of Rosebud and El Emeno’s betrothal fractured the kingdom. Many subjects believed the Count to be unworthy of such a virtuous woman as Princess Rosebud. The others, those who supported the loathsome Count, reviled in the dear Princess’s misery. It seemed that in all the gray world, nothing delighted this group more than the suffering of others.
Genevieve hoped to speak with Princess Rosebud and dissuade her from marrying the Count. She understood the folly of a lowly village girl attempting to discourage a Princess from marriage, but determination filled her heart.
The indomitable young woman formulated a plan. She would make a sign, work her way to the front of the crowd, and hold her sign up high for the Princess to see. Once the Princess read the sign, she would be inclined to call Genevieve to her and then they could discuss this decision. She deduced that her chances of success were nil, but she would not abandon her quest.
Genevieve prepared her sign. In a world of gray, there were particular challenges one faced each day; signage proved to be one of the most significant. Gray on gray did not make for a specifically eye-catching outcome. Often, shops and business owners would paint the name of their establishment on the window glass to heighten the contrast of the gray words on a gray background. Clearly, not a good choice for her needs. So, being ever resourceful, Genevieve found a piece of thick paper, dark gray on one side, lighter on the other. She planned to use a lighter shade of gray paint on the dark gray side of the paper to write out her message. She would make her way to the front of the crowd, unfurl her sign as Princess Rosebud passed, and then it would be up to fate.
With the logistical issues resolved, Genevieve began writing her message. She had thought long and hard about what to put on the sign. After much deliberation, she had decided, ‘I love you, Princess Rosebud, let me talk to you about the Count.
The message was intriguing enough, she thought, to catch her attention. If she could catch the Princess’s eye, then Rosebud would be curious enough to call her over. At least that was her hope. In a perfect world, and she understood that she was the only one who lived there, this would come to pass.
With careful precision, she drew out the sign, making the letters clear and perfectly formed. When it had dried, she rolled it up with the utmost care and made her way to the main road.
The entire village lined the street, all hoping for a glance or a wave from the princess. Making her way to the front would be a chore, but she remained undeterred. Genevieve stood 5’2” tall. Her frame held no more than seven stone, and she used her diminutive stature to her advantage. Ducking between, under, and around the people in the crowd, she made her way to the barrier along the main street.
“Excuse me. I am so sorry. Pardon me, I must get through.” She said continuously as she squeezed by people.
Genevieve arrived at her position unscathed and prepared to message the Princess. In the distance, a cavalcade of horses, soldiers, and trumpeters appeared. As they heard the trumpets sound, the crowd’s excitement increased tenfold. Looking down to the edge of the village, the first horsemen came into view. The crowd gasped with jubilation.
As Genevieve saw the soldiers, she swooned: the sight of the gray horses and the gray men had triggered an episode. Squinting her eyes, she saw a light.
She had heard that at the end of the day, when the gray sun set over the lighter gray ocean, as it disappeared beneath the horizon, you could see a flash. A flash from another dimension, another reality, no one knew. But they said, the very instant the sun sank beneath the horizon, there was a flash — of something. Some people called it a hallucination, others called it a fantasy, but a small, select group of like-minded people called it…color.
What ‘color’ was, Genevieve had no clue. She longed for the flash, but in all of her thirteen years, had never seen it, but she did see light, and that meant a premonition was coming. She’d had premonitions before. She had sometimes been able to help neighbors avoid losing livestock to the gray wolves or prevent an unfortunate accident, but mostly it had been small things; this vision was different, this vision consumed her totally.
In her mind, she saw the carriage with the beautiful Princess Rosebud passing. Rosebud waved to the crowd and threw gray roses to a lucky few. Then, out of nowhere, an arrow flew and struck Princess Rosebud, piercing her heart. The Princess fell to the ground, dead before she hit.
At that moment, a villager bumped her from behind and knocked her out of her trance. But the imagery stayed crystal clear. The Princess was about to be assassinated.
Genevieve panicked. She looked for a soldier or a royal guard to report this, but found none. They were all in the procession that was making its way into the village, the procession that would bring Princess Rosebud into the kill zone.
Think. Think Genevieve. What can you do?
And then she had a plan. She had her sign. However, this sign wouldn’t warn Rosebud, but a different wording would. She unfurled the paper and reached into her pocket for the brush and small bottle of gray paint. Spreading the paper on the ground, backside up, she quickly painted, ‘Princess, you are in danger. Take cover.
In the street, the procession moved through the village. Genevieve looked up and saw that the Princess was almost upon her. Jumping to her feet, she pushed her way back to the front of the line, this time without gentility.
Just as she secured her position, the carriage carrying the Princess wheeled by. Suddenly, there she was, Princess Rosebud in all her beauty and splendor. Her smile was radiant.
As the Princess approached Genevieve’s position, Genevieve held up her sign and screamed, “Princess, look out!”
The Princess and two of her attendants heard Genevieve and turned toward her. Rosebud squinted as she tried to read Genevieve’s sign. Genevieve heard the Princess say, “I’m sorry, I can’t read that.” Confused, Rosebud turned to her attendant and asked if she could read the sign. The attendant stared at Genevieve’s sign, then shook her head. “No, your highness, it is indecipherable.”
Genevieve looked up at her sign. The gray paint she had used had dried and now blended into the lighter backside of the gray paper, making it practically invisible. Frustration coursed through Genevieve. With extreme panic, she looked at the building tops, and there, behind her, on the rooftop, she saw an archer. This would be the man who would kill Rosebud. She watched him stand and slip an arrow onto the bow.
Genevieve leapt over the barrier, burst out of the crowd, and raced to the carriage that carried the fair Princess. A guard stepped in front of her, but she ducked under his arm and slipped past him. Hitting the carriage at full speed, she used her momentum to leap up the side, then, throwing her arms out wide, she shielded Rosebud. Just in time, as it happened. No sooner had Genevieve thrown out her arms than an arrow impaled itself in her back. She fell forward onto the Princess, knocking her to the floor.
The crowd gasped and ducked for cover. A royal guardsman yelled, “On the roof, assassin! Stop him.” Mayhem ensued.
In the carriage, the bleeding Genevieve pinned Rosebud to the floor. Rosebud wiggled from underneath her and rolled Genevieve onto her side. Rosebud looked into her eyes. Genevieve whispered through her pain, “Are you safe? Are you hurt?”
Rosebud stroked Genevieve’s cheek, “I am well, thanks to you. We must get you medical attention. That was a brave thing you did, and I will always be in your debt.”
Genevieve, eyes fading, breath slowing, said, “Your highness, you must reconsider your betrothal. Count El Emeno is not who he seems. Please…” She gasped. Looking up at the beautiful Princess, Genevieve saw what she had hoped to one day see.
A flash
A flash on Rosebud’s cheeks. Genevieve didn’t know how to describe it. She had no concept of the color pink, but there it was, without question, a pink glow on the cheek of her hero, the most beautiful woman in the world, Princess Rosebud. A smile crossed her lips as she closed her eyes for the final time.