Chapter One: Fairytales for Fairy Princesses

Chapter One

Aurora Crane

               When I was a little girl, I dreamed of falling in love and living out my happily ever after, just like the stories in my magical book. I believed in fairy tales because my life really was one. I was a princess who lived in a tower, well, a sophisticated high rise that overlooked our kingdom in southern Illyria. It was a vast metropolitan area with lots of hustle and bustle. But unlike most cities you've heard of, ours was full of magic and creatures. I was the daughter of one of the most powerful Alphas in the world, or at least that's what Father said. Oliver Crane had been the leader of the Southside since his father died many moons ago. I'd never met my grandfather or grandmother. As far as I knew, except for my parents, I had no other family.

               As a child, I didn't take the time to think about anything I'd been told. I accepted it as truth and would go on about my day. One of my favorite pastimes was taking in the view out my window. During the day, I looked at the sun-filled streets of our kingdom. Sure, there were high city skyscrapers and places of business, but I loved the grand park that stretched all around the buildings' outer perimeter.

Beyond that was the beautiful silver-plated iron fence. I was told to never get near it or touch it because it would make my skin burn. It was tall and ran all around our part of the city. I didn't understand how something so beautiful could be dangerous. Besides the silver that would hurt a wolf, the voltage that ran through it would apparently bring a grown man to his knees and take out a little girl.

We really were in our own little protected bubble, even from the rest of the city. While outside, the wall ran the crystal blue waters of the Illyrian River. I'd never been outside the gate. I'd heard that if you fell into the river, you would be at the mercy of the water fairies. At night I'd always look and see if fairy lights danced on or in the river, but I never caught any. I think the fairies were just another story my mother would tell me. Julie Crane was a beautiful woman. She had long blonde hair that looked like spun gold. It reached the middle of her back when she let it flow. She had porcelain, almost translucent skin, blue eyes, and always finely manicured nails. Nothing about my mother indicated she was a wolf. She was delicate and kind. She looked liked she walked straight out of a fairy story. I suppose I was lucky to be a mirror image of her and not my father.

               My father was feral. No one was surprised when he turned out to be an animal. He was a hardened man with leathered tan skin. He kept a bald head even in his youth. He said it made him look like a ferocious warrior. His weathered skin was also covered in ink. His arms and chest were swirled in black. Most of the symbols I didn't understand, but he said half were for protection and the others told his story. My mother would always smile as he proudly discussed them.

I noticed at an early age, her smile never reached her eyes when Father was around. His youth was spent at war with the family to our North, the Hawthornes. He had a scar on his left cheek that showed off his years in battle. It's not like the two would line up in the streets with rifles and shoot like heathens in a civil war, but they would choose targets and attack. Sometimes they used the night as cover, but other times they grew bolder and killed in the bright light of day, though usually only in the wolf districts. We live among humans, but they don’t tend to notice magic, and we were good at wiping human memories. The packs were proud of the carnage and chaos they caused.

The city of Illyria was like a small country that was divided between the two families, two Alphas. We had the South, and they had the North. But Oliver's father, my grandfather, had become greedy and began a war long before I was born. My father's generation had mainly consisted of strong male wolves who often had mothers who died during birth, which was rare and rather foreboding. With more children and more power, it had seemed the right time to challenge those in the North and take what they desired.

               There had once been other families in our city, but that was long ago. The Cranes and the Hawthornes were the most ruthless. They fought in the streets, attacked businesses and homes. They harassed those who lived in the east and west until they could take it no more and left. While other families enjoyed peace and prosperity in other cities. Our family continued to prosper but always wanted more. They were never satisfied with what they had. Whenever I was told this history, it didn't make sense. We had more money than could ever be used in many lifetimes, as did the Hawthornes. Or at least that how it seemed as I looked out my window. 

               Looking out is where my mother often found me before it was time for bed.

               "Aurora, get away from there," she would say as she sat down and patted my fluffy pink comforter. In my satin pink nightgown with a little matching robe, I would scuttle away from the window and bounce into bed. I looked forward to her nightly stories.

               "Mama, tell me a story." I would look at my mother, and most nights, I could tell something was wrong, but I couldn't put my little finger on it. I noticed her pretty princess face had ugly stripes of red with blue blooming under her cheeks. I remember taking her face in my small hand as I asked, "What is wrong?"

               "Nothing, my sweet Aurora. Something I hope you never understand. Now I believe I owe you a story."

               I eagerly would get under the covers and snuggle up close as she would braid my hair. Then she would open a small blue book titled, Fairytales for Fairy Princesses.

               "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful fairy princess,"

               "I already like this story."

               "I know you do," she winked and kissed the top of my head. "Most of her life, the princess was protected by high towers, walls, and secret magic.”

“Ooooo, I love the parts about magic.” She would kiss my forehead and continue.

“The King was afraid that one day a stranger would come, and he couldn't bear the thought of not giving his daughter away."

               "He wanted her to marry the handsome prince and fall madly in love?" I’d throw my head against my pillow in a fake swoon, which always made Mom giggle.

               "Something like that, my love. The princess grew up only seeing the light of the world. She never understood the darkness that surrounded her or waited on the other side. She saw good in everything, even when things did not deserve it. She was a beam of light to all those around her." I smiled at my mother, I knew I was the princess in all the stories, but looking back now, I wish I had known then to pay attention to the rest of it because, as I later found out, they weren’t written down in the little blue book.

               Every night was filled with stories of the princess, villains, magic, and betrayal. Most nights, I fell asleep before she got my favorite part; the end. I loved the part where the princess found her prince, and they lived happily ever after.

               When I was eight, the stories stopped. It wasn't because I was too old for them. Actually, I'd probably listen to my mother every night for the rest of my life. On the morning of my eighth birthday, my father awoke me with a steely expression, not one of sadness, and said my mother was dead. In my gown and robe, he walked me out of the building to a waiting car. In silence, we drove to the river where here body had been drug out. Her skin was discolored, face marred with the green and blue bruises I'd become accustomed to seeing but never once asked about, and she never offered that story.

               "Father, who did this?"

               His reply was one that chilled me to my bone, "A very wicked man."

               After seeing my mother for the last time, we went back to the Tower where I stayed in my room the rest of the day with only a maid to check on me. I remember she was a pretty lady. She was kind to me and braided my hair after my bath that night.

               That was the day I wished I had listened to every word my mother ever told. I'm not stupid, and I knew I was the girl in the Tower, full of light and surrounded by darkness. Even as a child, I felt like a fool, just then realizing who the darkness really was. That night Father came to my room, and instead of words of comfort or even birthday wishes, he said, "Remember, Aurora, always do as you are told."

He didn’t need to say what would happen if I didn’t.

               "Yes, father." Holding my little blue book tight, I turned and stared out my prison made of glass, and for the first time, wondered, what was on the other side?