The Swan Princess — now the Swan Queen — watched her daughter play by the edge of the lake, doing her best to ignore the way her husband anxiously gripped her arm.
“It’ll be ok,” he said in what was probably supposed to be a soothing tone of voice, even though it was clear that he was the one in need of soothing. “Rothbart vanished years ago. There’s no way she’ll ever…” he trailed off, unwilling to voice his fears.
She just sighed and fought the urge to pry his fingers off her elbow. Yes, she understood that it’d been a very dark time for him; they had just fallen in love, after all, and when Rothbart had turned her into a swan, he’d had to endure three years without her. Of course he was afraid that their daughter might suffer from the same curse, and that their beloved child would be taken from them. It made sense.
But what she’d never told him was that during her three years as a swan, she had never missed him. Why would she, when all that glorious freedom was calling her name? An open sky and wings to explore it with had been hers, along with the fierce joy in life that all wild animals shared. She’d been happy to live as a swan, even if it had been unexpected. It may have been meant as a punishment for the prince, but it had also been her salvation.
When he’d found a way to break the “curse,” she spent years trying to return to her swan form, but she’d finally been forced to accept her fate as the Swan Queen. A lovely title for a lovely figurehead with a life of luxury and little freedom. There were some days when she wished that she’d never been a swan, simply so that she wouldn’t have to suffer with the knowledge of knowing what was missing. That she’d lost her soul on the same day that she’d lost her wings.
Her daughter flapped her tiny arms, mimicking the swans clustered around her. And if you ever are blessed enough to grow wings, little one, she thought, fly far away from this beautiful cage and don’t look back.
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