The Legend of Fernanda

Chapter I.

When Fernanda was a little girl with quiet footsteps and mischievous hands, she loved to play a game where she pretended to be her mother. She would sneak into her quarters every night as crew members would gather for dinner, clashing goblets of beer and eating potatoes with thick meat. Her mother’s voice would flow through their boat as she sang with a guitar, becoming a siren every night. Her voice was like velvet, cocooning their boat in a melody that touched every one of their hearts. She was too young to understand the poetic meanings behind her lyrics, or why some would wipe tears from their faces as they retreated to bed. Fernanda was innocent to the power of love, and how it consumes humans. She loved her mother and Father, that she knew. But true love, the one where one look is needed to fall in love, were merely stories her Mother told her as she fell asleep in her arms.

Fernanda hummed to her mother’s song, walking down a set of wooden stairs as she nibbled on a dinner roll she had stolen from the kitchen. When the kitchen crew insisted on Princess Fernanda sitting down and eating a plate, she waved them off with a hand. There were more interesting things that needed to be done tonight.

Her parent's lavish quarters smelled of her Mother’s familiar Persian perfume as Fernanda shut the bulky door, sliding the iron lock shut. Their canopy bed, adorned with gold pillars and satin fabric, was freshly made, with the sheets being pulled sharply over the corners and their colorful pillows fluffed out. Her mother’s trunks, which were always overflowing with gowns and gifts, were shut and stacked on top of each other for tomorrow’s arrival home. Traveling across kingdoms had provided Fernanda with a newfound excitement for boats and sailing, but nothing compared to being nestled back in the valleys and hills that she called home.

The only part of their room that remained familiar was her vanity, glowing in the dim light of candles. Gold jewels and pearls tucked into glass boxes beamed at her hazel eyes, with fine powders and tiny bottles of liquids spread across the table, whispering for her to touch them. Finishing the last of her dinner roll, Fernanda removed the lid of her mother’s jewelry box, carefully setting it down on the table. Though she knew everyone was upstairs in the common area, hearing their boisterous laughter rattle the boat walls and doors, she wasn’t supposed to be meddling through her Mother’s precious items.

“You have books and clothes of your own, Fernanda.” She would sigh, shaking her head in disapproval. “I don’t understand why you like to go through my things.”

“I wish to be just like you Mama.” She pleaded, “I want to have jewels and crowns and powders like you. Don’t you think thirteen is old enough?”

She picked up the first necklace that had caught her eye, feeling its weight through her fingers. It was a gold necklace adorned with twinkling rubies and a single pearl dropped in the middle—a necklace fit for a queen. She held it above the candle she had bought with her, letting it spin as her lips parted in awe.

“You’ll become your own woman one day.” she told her once as they walked through their royal garden hand in hand, “But know there’s more than beauty and jewels to become a strong woman.”

Fernanda brought the necklace to her chest, securing the clasp behind her neck and tilting her head high. She saw her mother in herself and took pride in it. Her silky dark hair. Her voluminous eyelashes. Her singular dimple that revealed itself on her right cheek as she smiled. And as Fernanda looked at her reflection, combing her oils in her hair and braiding it, there was an uncanny realization that the music and laughter had stopped. Her stomach tightened at the silence, not understanding. The night was young, and the festivities of playing cards and dancing should have only begun to commence.

Silence on a boat meant danger, and fear prickled at her skin. A part of her wanted to grab her father’s silver sword and tip-toe across the deck to investigate. Another part of her knew how incredibly reckless that sounded. If there were pirates nearby, the only thing she should do is stay put and try to hide. The tales of pirates and their wickedness plagued Fernanda's mind, making her fearful of the one-eyed, hand-hooked beasts that roamed their waters. How they terrorized boats and slashed people’s heads off with daggers and a few callous laughs, finding no remorse for their behavior.

But curiosity stole any common sense she might have had.

Tucking her mother’s necklace into her dress, Fernanda strapped her father’s sword over her chest, holding onto the hilt as she climbed up the stairs she had come down earlier that night. She heard the familiar sound of their boat lapping against rough waves as she came above the surface, peeking her eyes through the iron bars of the railing. She saw how their guardsmen stood around the perimeter of the ship, looking outwards to a dark curtain of nothingness with swords drawn across their chests. The moon was hidden behind wispy clouds, making shadows crawl and dance across the wooden deck.

Perhaps this was just another pirate scare, she thought, loosening her grip on the hilt of the sword. I'm sure Mama and Papa have an explanation for this. They had been traveling for months now, and only once was there an alleged pirate sighting, making Fernanda and her family hide in the most underground compartment of their ship for what felt like an eternity. On a night like tonight, where crew members and the rest of their royal court were scattered across the boat, falling under the trance of several glasses of wine or engaging in a ruthless game of cards, they were vulnerable to attacks.

And Fernanda herself, who was supposed to be already in bed, was traversing across the boat in secrecy, disobeying her mother for the hundredth time.

But there was no explanation for what she had begun to witness almost instantly, and Fernanda felt nothing more than a little girl playing dress up with a sword. Useless, and on the verge of tears. Men in crisp red and yellow uniforms dropped to the ground, some going overboard and some bleeding on the ground as knives and swords from high above penetrated their heads and hearts. The shadows she once believed were just a figment of her wild imagination, had been insidious pirates hiding within the sails and ropes of her ship, scaling high above to await their time to strike.

Fernanda heard the cry of her Mother from above, calling out for her amid death and chaos.

“Queen Valencia, we must leave immediately for your safety.” spoke a noble guard, trailing after her hurried cries. Immediately Fernanda rose, following her voice.

I’m here Mama, she thought as she crisscrossed through the disarray, keeping herself hidden within the shadows of the boat. She kept her right hand curved around the hilt of the sword as she ran, inching it out of its sheath as she felt the boat rock aggressively under the weight of her feet.

She wished the sound of yelling and screams could be replaced by her Mother’s soothing voice, which seemed to freeze time and everything in between.

She wished she could somehow be transported home, to their stone-walled castle where Fernanda’s days were spent with leisure and curiosity. Tinkering with musical instruments, discovering books in their library and reading them in secrecy, taking walks in the garden with her mother, and collecting strange, yet interesting flowers and rocks. Home was where things were so simple, and days felt like dripping honey— golden, and never-ending.

Fernanda finally wished she could erase the last image she ever saw of her, dropped to the ground in a fetal position with a sword struck into her back. Fernanda collapsed at the sight, sobbing as she cradled her head in her lap. Any and every moment she’s ever had with her flashed before her eyes, unable to feel her familiar heartbeat against hers.

“Do you know what Fernanda means?” She asked once as they went for a walk, Fernanda clutching onto a few daisy flowers she had plucked from the ground.

Fernanda shook her head.

“Fernanda means a lot of things. Being fearless, or adventurous. Bringing peace. Or becoming a bold voyager, and setting off on expeditions.”

“Like a royal merchant?” she asked, the idea sticking onto her young mind. A royal merchant.

“Precisely like a royal merchant.” She said smiling, as if she knew something Fernanda didn’t, “But what I want you to understand, is that the most important part of being a woman is honing strength and kindness wherever life might take us. Yes, jewels and gowns are a beautiful addition to who we are, but they don’t make us, us. So promise me this Fernanda—that you will remain strong, and that you will always have it within you. Be strong, and be kind.

Fernanda didn’t feel worthy of her name as she thrashed and cried for her soldiers to put her down and lay her beside her mother. She wasn’t a fearless girl. When Fernanda had promised her that she would remain strong in life’s most twisted curse, she wouldn’t have imagined that she would need to ascend to that role so soon.

She didn’t know how or when she was put onto a small boat, paddling away into the night with nothing more than a sword too big slung across her chest and a necklace too heavy buried under the thick fabric of her dress. Tears clung to her flushed cheeks as she saw her father’s ship vanish slowly, sinking away the only family she would ever have. Kisses and hugs and stories would be no more. For now, she would only look to the sky as she tried to reminisce on memories, finding her mother and father in the stars that scattered her long nights or at dawn when the sun streaked the sky in its purest form.

Her noble guards let the princess mourn, giving her time to peer into her curtain of nothingness. When they offered her water or a piece of fruit, she refused, murmuring for them to have it instead. She had no appetite for something so sweet in her mouth.

But when they had referred to her as Queen Fernanda rather than Princess Fernanda as their boat approached land, she couldn’t hold back a sob. Mama and Papa were gone, and the only thing that held her trembling shoulders back, was strength itself.