"Child of the False Crown" By Danaijah Carter (1st Place Winner, Top of Iowa 9th/10th Grade - Prose)

Danaijah Carter is a freshman in high school from Mason City, Iowa. She spends most of her time writing or reading a good book. She hopes to one day be a nurse and publish some of her books. 

 Sounds of swords clanking and swishing filled the battlefield, as hearts of sheer determination sparred, though not all of them beat with equal purpose. The sky hovering over the lodge was ominously dark, clouds heavy with unfallen snow, and the air smelled of frost.
 Princess Esme emerged from the castle gates, followed closely by guards, their faces as cold as the air, each holding a spear. There was an uneasy energy in the air that made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand up, but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Still, she felt watched, as if the clouds themselves had eyes.
 “Princess! A bright morn to your grace.” Weapons master Vemida chirped, rushing over with her usual stern yet cheerful tone. She held out a gleaming sword, its hilt gloved in leather, worn down by many generations.
 Esme scowled and reluctantly took the sword, muttering a quick thank you. The battle class was her least favorite part of the day. She never understood why she had to endure all the training. Wasn't she already under maximum security? Wasn't she already guarded and watched at every waking moment of the day? Nobody could harm her, not here, she thought.
 Princess Esme scurried off into the battlefield, the glistening snow crunching beneath her feet. Off on the north side of the field stood her sparring partner, Fae. He towered tall, with black hair that lay messily upon his crown. His eyes flickered with quiet confidence. Nearly as experienced as Esme, he had a way of moving that made even clumsy mistakes look planned. He could put up a true fight, one of the few in this forsaken academy that could.
 “Good day,” Fae said, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning on, taking a step toward her. He spoke carefully, as if he had all the time in the world. “At long last, you’ve arrived.”
 Esme rolled her eyes, spinning her sword in one hand. The two found an open area to spar, taking sharp stances. Vemida strode past them, voice snapping across the field as she barked words of annoyance at a nearby pair who had fumbled.
 “Ready?” Esme asked, voice sharper than the blade she held. Fae nodded, and the princess lunged at him, swinging her weapon at him with force born not from training, but from frustration. Fae blocked each of her hits with a loud ‘clank!’
 “You've improved fairly well,” Esme admitted breathlessly, narrowly dodging the swing that Fae threw.
 “I know,” Fae said with a smirk. With a roll of her eyes, Esme straightened up, calculating her next strike, though something caught her eye. Off along the castle gates, a faint blue haze drifted. Esme blinked, though it disappeared. While the princess was distracted, Fae landed a kick at her side, sending her sprawling to the ground.
 “You…” she muttered, scrambling back to her feet. As she backed up to gain momentum for her next strike, she accidentally collided with another pair. One of them, a lanky boy with a sharp tongue, scowled.
 “Watch it, you freak!” He snapped.
 Esme froze. Slowly, she turned around to face him, her face darkening. “Who are you calling a freak?” She sneered. Fae came up beside her, hand gentle but firm on her arm. “Esme, no. He's not worth it.” However, she pulled away, gripping her sword. The boy’s bravado drained, backing away with his hands raised in surrender.
 “Don't run now.” Esme hissed, taking a step forward, blade raised. “You were bold enough to call me a freak; you should be bold enough to fight me.” Before the blade could fall, a voice roared from across the battlefield.
 “Time!” The Weapons master shouted, running over. “I am impressed with you all today. You all have shown great promise.” Her gaze hardened as it fell on Esme. “A word, Princess.”
 Bystanders murmured amongst themselves as they made their way down the corridor, some sending worried glances her way. With an eye roll and a scoff, she trudged across the crisp ground to meet the weapons master's disappointed glare.
 “Your royalty, this is the 5th time this week you've attempted to attack another student. I'm sorry, but you will not be able to attend the yard time this evening.”
 Esme scoffed, crossing her arms. “He called me a freak! What else would I have done?” It wasn't fair. She always got in trouble for others' wrongdoings. Plus, how could one punish royalty?. “I speak not but the truth, princess. Take time to ponder your actions, and by the light of tomorrow you may join us.”
 The weapons master strode away, leaving the princess fuming. Yard time was the only freedom she had, and now that was being stripped away as well—only a drab castle room, where minutes passed as days. No darkness could top the dire day, she thought to herself.
 The wind howled louder than before, and that same negative energy trickled through her blood. She pulled her cloak tighter, though it wasn't the cold that made her shiver. It was getting darker, and her frosty breath flowed into the air. The creaky gates were icy against her bare hand, to which she winced as she pulled them open and slipped through.
 A sweet and savory aroma filled the air of the corridor. As the princess made her way to the hall, she breathed in deeply, letting the warmth consume her.
 Once she entered the dining hall, many students turned to look at her, some smiling, while others looked on with questioning expressions. For supper, they were serving a pig roast, loaves of bread, and rice with molasses. The princess loathed the roast. She didn't see why the pig had to die to feed those greedy kids. There were a lot of things she loathed - most of all being part of royalty.
 She was never meant to be the princess. Her parents, who were now a fairy tale, weren't even royalty. On Esmes's 2nd birthday, everybody's world crumbled. It was late evening, and the children were playing with dolls. The warm glow from the setting sun illuminated their young faces, young faces that were so innocent, not yet knowing the meaning of death. The adults went out to buy a cake, the last thing they would ever buy. The children never got to eat the cake.
 The news came suddenly, when officers showed up at the door with solemn expressions, explaining to the oldest of the kids how the adults had been captured and killed, and there was nothing they could do.
 Little Esme couldn’t understand that she would never get to see her parents again and cried for some time. Eventually, the children were sent to a rundown orphanage because the remaining adults in their families were unable to care for them. The nights that followed were long and cold, and Esme quickly learned that nobody there had time for comfort.
 Then, a year later, a queen and king showed up and took Esme in their arms without hesitation, because the Queen, Queen Nezilia, was infertile. Everything was great again. They took Esme to a faraway kingdom named Arganastatia and crowned her as princess.
 However, once she turned 6, King Burnelious decided she should attend a school across the world. The Queen hadn't approved, but after they argued for days, they settled on it. “I'll see you soon, Honey bug”, her mother whispered in her ear, as little Esme clung to her leg, awaiting her train.
 I'll see you soon. The lie pounded in the princess's head as she pushed away her tray. It's been 10 years. Ten whole years, and her parents never even sent a letter. They never visited her, never wished her a happy birthday. Tears pricked her eyes, though she willed herself not to shed a tear for those liars who had practically abandoned her.
 Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw a tray plop on the table next to her, followed by Fae sliding onto the bench. “Well, hello, your majesty. Are you not going to eat that?” He said and took her tray without waiting for an answer. “You prick!” Princess Esme exclaimed. “How did you know I wasn't going to eat it, hm?”
 “You're weird about pigs. Any animals. You wouldn't even let the headmaster use them for targets, how in the world would you eat them?” He tore off a piece of dark pink meat and stuck it in his mouth. Esme glared at him with disdain. Supper was almost through, as nightfall cast its shadow through the windows. Princess Esme glanced out the dark window beside her, the strange feeling running through her veins again.
 “Hey, do you-” The princess began, but was cut off by the headmaster's bell, signaling it was time to report to their rooms. “Never mind.” She stood as her escorts fell into step behind her. Fae gave a small shug, then left to retreat to his dorm. Gathering herself, she made her way outside, crossing the Wind howled outside as the princess climbed the steps to her room inside the tower, crossing the little bridge leading to the castle's other side. The breeze slapped her across the face, tousling her long black hair, unkempt in a low, loose bun.
 After her escorts dropped her off and locked the door from the outside, she sat on the edge of her bed and peered out the window once more. Concern and worry got the best of her, so she stood and attempted to open her window, knowing that they had locked that too. Just as she was about to give up, though, something caught her eye.
 There, beyond the trees by the gate, a blue haze drifted around. It was gargantuan, wrapping itself around the trees. Esme stepped closer towards the window, her heart beating through her chest. The longer she looked, the clearer it became. This fog - not just mist but an entity. Its shadow silhouetted by the moonlight flickered and flared, pulsing with life. The snow beneath it melted away as it advanced.
 “No…” She whispered, her breath caught in her throat like a lump. Then it emerged, the devilish spirit loomed before the castle, large and deadly. Its eyes were hollow, and its mouth opened ajar; its face was undefined, though it was shaping one of a mortal. Its empty eyes fell upon the princesses, staring intently into her soul. She shuddered, attempting to back away from the window, though she could not move, frozen in place. The faintest voice swirled in her mind, a voice of resentment. “Child of the false crown.” It sneered. The voice amplified. “You have what has been stolen. You will return it to me, Esmerelda. By great morrows sunset, you must hand it back, or your existence will be not but a fairytale.”
 The princess covered her ears, muttering frantic prayers. The voice stopped, and when she opened her eyes, it was gone—no trace of its being left behind. At first, she thought she was simply dreaming, the whole thing a mere hallucination. Just as she was about to settle down into her bed, she noticed a note that sat on her windowsill. It was old and crumpled, almost disintegrating as she picked it up and read. 24 hours. That was all it said. What was it that she had ‘stolen’? The princess had never purloined anything in her lifetime. The negative energy burned through the air with greater intensity than ever. That encounter wouldn’t be the last. That had simply been the beginning of a devastating end. The air seemed denser as she sat back on her bed, breathing heavily. All her life, she had wished for something real. Now, as she trembled underneath the blankets, she wished she hadn't.