Lucile
Legacy Name: Lucile

She was late. The bright sunlight and the lush grass in the palace garden had made her lose all track of time. Afternoon tea was in five - make that four minutes, and she was still only entering the stables. Excuses raced through her head...perhaps it was a lost popoko needing a guide? A hairy dilemma she had to trick to escape?
     "No that's not right," she muttered angrily to herself, staring down at the cobbled stone of the stables. She glanced up only long enough to see a wooden door quickly opening - right into her path. With no time to react, she let out a muffled cry as the mahogany-enlaid designs knocked her to the floor.

"D'you think she's okay, da?? I was just openin' the door slowly, like you always say!! I didn't see her, swear it!"
     "I believe you, son. She's not badly hurt, mostly just a bit shaken up I can imagine. She'll have a nice scar as well..."

The muffled voices were speaking riddles, until she heard the word "scar".
     "WHAT?!?" she barked, while trying to sit up, a feat that was much harder than it seemed.
     "Oh my, calm down little one," the older voice tried to console her. "You're in the stables. Let me get a bit of salve, I'm sure it will be fine!"
     "I - I'm late, sir! Could you please let my mother know where I am? ...but don't mention the scar...or that I'm late at all."
     "Alright, milady." His paws patted off. The world seemed hazy, but a small turquoise face was coming into focus right above her nose. The eyes looked into hers quizzically.
     "So what were ya doin' runnin' through the stables like that?" The accusation sounded rehearsed, or at least like something he had heard before. His voice was cracking, on the verge of adolescence. All she could do was laugh. "Well what're you laughin' at, missy??"
     Her laugh echoed around the airy stables, which only made her head pound more. The older jollin had returned, a nurse in tow, and they promptly lifted her onto a stretcher. She could only see the swishing turquoise tail following closely along.

There was decidedly no tea that afternoon. Lucile suffered through lecture after lecture, from the nurse, her mother, the man from the stables, and anyone else who found her on her cot in the infirmary. A princess should never have her head down! Look at that awful scar! The stables should never be used as an entrance to the castle, it's obviously dangerous! Eventually, she had to feign sleep so that the commotion would cease.
     She sighed, probably a little too audibly. Luckily, the room stayed quiet; the chaos was over - for now. She slowly sat up, only to notice the little turquoise jollin sitting patiently in the doorway.
     "Are you decent, yer highness?? I'm not a peepin' tom you see, I was just worried abou' cha...seein' how I hit ya with a door and all." He was inching through the door, apparently ignoring whether or not she was, in actuality, decent.
     "How old are you?" She realized her question sounded a little abrupt and out of place, but it was much too late to fix that mistake.
     "I'm eleven and three-quarters, ma'am!"
     Lucile stared at the boy for a moment. Something was different about him. He was not scared of her title; he wasn't scared of anything (except maybe retribution). He was also the only thing living in the castle that was her size, and most importantly, her age.
     "Well I'm eleven and seven-eighths. And please, call me Lucy."
     He grinned. "I'm Tristian, but they usually call me kid, or just hey you..."
     And thus, a friendship was born.

The two were inseparable. In between her princess lessons and his chores, they wandered the castle, each showing the other nooks and crannies they had never before shared. They watched foreign dignitaries behind the walls of the castle; they ran through the royal gardens in the rain. She taught him proper grammar and how to read, he taught her all about life outside the palace. Together, they learned about the mysterious plants inhabiting the palace grounds and the forest. Frequently, they stayed outside in a meadow until dark, sharing whatever stories they could tell.

"Lucile! I need to speak with you." Her mother sounded much too pleased at this time of the morning. Lucy slowly peeked into the room, noting the absence of the usual flock of handmaidens. Her mother was holding an important looking letter, rereading it almost jubilantly.
     "Yes mother?" She curtsied in the doorway. Her mother nodded then began crying.
     "The day has finally come, my precious Lucile! You have received your diplomatic mission to the Islands!! You may be only 16, but they have decided to invite you anyways! There are plenty of rumors that they have a fine crop of young princes as well, future queen! You leave tomorrow." She winked in exhilaration, dabbing at her happy tears.
     Dread filled Lucile's heart. This was all too soon! She wasn't supposed to leave for at least two more years, or at least once one of her brothers had returned from their trips. She had trained all her life for this day, yet nothing felt right. Her heart was here, not on some island in the middle of no where.
     So she ran.

"Tristian!! TRISTIAN!! Where are you?" She called. She had checked everywhere inside the castle, now she was combing through their usual outdoor haunts. He appeared from behind a bush, looking bewildered.
     "Woah, woah, calm down! I'm right here! What's wrong?" She fell into his arms, crying into his soft teal fur. Her crown slipped from her head, but she did not care. She wished the ground would suck up the diamond-encrusted thing and take away her stupid title.
     She gazed up into his eyes tearfully. "It-it's my mission. I leave tomorrow! This is all too soon, I just can't, why is this happening??" She sobbed uncontrollably.
     He let the information sink in and waited for her sobs to die out. "Haven't you said this is supposed to be the most exciting day of your life? You get to travel to far away places, meet new and exotic people, learn about different cultures!"
     "But you won't be there, Tristian."
     He smiled bravely. "Of course I will be! You taught me to read and write all those years ago, did you think I forgot? After all, if you don't write me any letters, I'll have to kick you out of our club."
     She fought through her tears. "You promise? Every day?"
     "Of course, missy! And just so you remember your place...here." He placed upon her head a crown of the most beautiful daisies, woven together. "Your real crown." He bowed with a large grin, "now you can never forget me or this meadow."
     "I would never forget you, Tristian."

And so the next day she left, staring tearfully out the windows of her carriage, watching her home, and her life, and most importantly, her best friend, turn into tiny specks on the horizon.