In the mornings, before the dew left the grass and the sun started to rise in the East, Emeria would take stock of her plants and produce, collecting the ripest ones into separate baskets. One for herself and her daughter, and another one to sell in the market.

They weren’t nobles. They were commoners, citizens without faces in the eyes of the seemingly distant capital. Nobody there knew them, and that was fine by Emeria. She’d not liked gossip anyway, and the only reason to hear of it now was to share some news about Delilah’s father to the young girl’s ears. If she wanted to know more about her father, Emeria would tell her. Of course, his name would never be present, and his status would remain hidden.

They weren’t wealthy. It had taken years for Emeria to get a fund big enough to make small little celebrations within their household on occasion.

But they were happy, if only due to the fact that they had each other.

There was always enough food for them to get by, and they never let anything spoil or go to waste. As there was a local market, one that Emeria brought her own produce to, there was always fresh food of all kinds to find there. And through her neighbors and friends, she’d learned how best to use them in the kitchen.

It seemed each household brought diversity to the market. A woman and her husband next door made loaves and loaves of bread every day. If ever someone was chilly, a stop by their house would cure them. Then, two houses down, a widower who always smiled the brightest for everyone else but grew forlorn and withdrawn in his own house, grew tomatoes outside in the summer and inside if it grew too cold. It was what his wife had done, so it was what he would continue to do. There was also a couple who always brought more squash and pumpkins to the mix of things. A man and his daughter who helped their neighbors manage a large area of crop ground that bordered the town, and across the street was her mother and her step-mother who grew herbs of all kinds.

Any nearly overripe food was bought and canned by the young man who helped run the market. He’d save them and hand them out if someone needed food. He also sent some produce over to his brother in Rivedge to sell there at a slightly higher price, the profit going to himself and the seller, the more of it always going to the seller, even if it meant only saving a fourth back for the market. As there were less homes there that were growing their own crops, the market across the river always sold out. The ones who ran these markets got the necessary funds to keep them open, coin coming all the way from the palace.

Everyone helped each other here. And it was a truly rare occasion if a fight broke out. Usually, if there was a fight, it was due to an outsider or passerby traveler trying to take advantage of someone in the town, in any way, shape or form – stealing and assault included. Nobody in this place would take the ill-treatment of their neighbor sitting down.

If a tree fell, everyone helped clear it, some cutting with saws, others dragging the cut branches away, some cutting smaller pieces and stacking them for the firewood stock in town. Others would bring food and drink or volunteered to watch the children of those working.

When Emeria had arrived, she hadn’t known what to expect. She’d come from the capital, having lived there for half of a year, and then traveled far, until she reached this place. She’d been wary, unsure, protective, and she used some of the last of her coins to buy the simple, run-down, empty house. Everyone was a stranger to her, as she was to them. And yet, it seemed with each passing hour after her arrival, one of the townsfolk would come and welcome her home. Being alone and visibly pregnant, she’d been worried about her survival on so little, until someone had handed her packets of seeds to grow plants and showed her how to tend to them when they grew. Someone even invited her over for dinner each night, without fail. They each took the time and effort to care for her, and she grew to love the people who made the land here so rich in joy.

Time passed, and her child was born. Still, they cared. She’d never been more grateful to anyone in her life, than these people in this little town.

As the sun rose higher to the west on this morning, years after her arrival and amidst her daily routine, Emeria would head back inside her house, the bottom inches of her dress heavier than the rest, covered in dew, and begin to make a simple breakfast. It was different every day, using food they had on hand.

By the time Delilah opened her eyes from the sun shining in her window, there was a bowl of food waiting for her. However, each morning, Delilah waited until her mother had gathered up some food for herself and sat down at the table before she ate.

Sometimes, while they ate, they pretended they were noble ladies, addressing each other properly and with extreme manners, only to giggle and laugh about it later. Other times, when Delilah was still sleepy enough to doze off into her food, Emeria simply cared for her as a mother would.

Noble ladies… Emeria eating her own food in silence, thought as she looked over to her daughter who smiled as she stuffed her face with food, nodding her praises to the taste. One day, she may have to face them.

It wouldn’t be a game. Reality, with real noble ladies, who had grown up as a one since birth. Some were… normal, she guessed, but others were likely akin to living nightmares with their sense of entitlement.

It wasn’t the life she’d choose for any young girl, to be thrust into the throng of people with agendas and hidden schemes, but if she were to have no choice in the matter, it was better Delilah was even slightly prepared… even if her daughter only thought it make believe and play.

Any little bit of knowledge she could impart on her… could aid her in the future.

She grabbed one of the two cloth napkins they owned, lightly stained but cleaned regularly, from the middle of the table to wipe Delilah’s messy chin clean.

“My Little Princess… was it that good?”

She’d given her daughter that nickname long ago, claiming that she needn’t be royalty to be her Little Princess. The affectionate name stuck, even if the truth of it never got out, even if Delilah didn’t yet know that she really was royalty… and that she truly was the Little Princess of this Kingdom.

She smiled as Delilah nodded enthusiastically.

“It was! It was delicious!”

Emeria laughed lightly.

“I’m glad.”

She stood and carried the dishes over to the counter before setting about washing them, then leaving them on a towel to dry.

“I’m headed off to the market soon. Is there anything you’d like for me to get?”

Emeria turned to look at her daughter as she prepared the baskets for travel. Delilah looked up to the ceiling, tilting her head and putting a hand under her chin adorably before she took her time answering.

“Hmmm… Ah! Do you think they’d have raspberries this time?”

She chuckled a bit. Delilah’s new favorite food. Raspberries. Though, it seemed it was also everyone else’s favorite as well, and many times, it was sold out.

“They might. I’ll check for you.”

“Okay!” Delighted, Delilah clapped once, leaving her hands together as a bright smile came across her face, her eyes squinting with the joy and raising her cheeks high. “Thank you!”

Baskets finished, Emeria glanced over at the bucket she’d left on the counter the day before, out of Delilah’s reach. This was the perfect time.

“Ah.” She feigned surprise as she walked over to the bucket. “I forgot about this yesterday.”

“Hm?” Her daughter’s gaze darted between the bucket and her with an unconcealed curiosity. “What is it?”

Lifting the heavy bucket off the counter, she walked back over to the table where her daughter waited, with only a little bit of patience as she tried to peer over the edge before her mother set it down at her level.

“Well, I mentioned to Leah a while back that you wanted to learn more about the kingdom and anything else, so…”

She placed the bucket on the floor next to the table, within reach of her daughter. Delilah’s eyes widened when she saw what was within. She looked up at her mother in amazement before reaching a hand down into the bucket to grab one of the items inside.

“She found these when she went to the capital. And she brought them back for you.”

“Books!?”

Delilah pulled more and more of them out and put them onto the table. There were six in total. Her face lit up with excitement and she giggled happily, hugging one to her chest.

The effort and the cost were worth it, Emeria told herself, just for this little moment. She wouldn’t tell her daughter that she used nearly all the money she’d saved up on those few books. She hadn’t told Leah either, as she had asked for a fair trade, making sure the woman didn’t pay for any of them herself. But, it had been more than she was expecting it to be. But the books were in great condition, and when she’d first inspected them as Leah handed them to her, she knew they were worth every cent she’d paid for them, maybe even more.

Delilah caressed the covers with care, admiring the books happily. Emeria knew how much Delilah loved books, loved reading. She’d already run around the town, asking to borrow and read every book their small town had, not that there had been many. But those who didn’t have books offered to teach her what they knew about plants and growing things, about trade, and about histories of the kingdom passed down in oral stories through their families. They’d all delighted in teaching her, in her learning.

The smile and joy on Delilah’s face was worth everything to her. She glanced over at the fifteen books they had on a shelf. They’d just gotten six more. The shelf would be nearly full.

She leaned down and kissed Delilah gently on her forehead.

“Thank you, Mother!”

Delilah’s eyes seemed to sparkle as she looked up at Emeria, the same kind of shimmery happiness to them that the oldest guards of the castle would’ve said was in the current king’s eyes as he was growing up and causing mischief. But none of those guards would ever see the light in these eyes so long as they hid from the daunting world that would await them if Delilah’s origins were ever known.

The fact was, as a small outlying town where everyone knew each other, news always came rather slowly. A husband and wife who were in charge of selling extra rice and corn crop to other towns were the only ones to receive a newspaper. And as they had relatives just a day trip into the Kingdom of Exelia, they also brought news of the royal family there. However, they truly never felt as if they were living in the same world. They lived a whole world away from the royal families and their big castles they lived within. Many in town had never seen them in person.

Years ago, despite Emeria coming to live here all alone, most people in this small town never asked why she was alone with a child on the way. When Emeria couldn’t answer the first person who’d asked, just shook her head with tears in her eyes, they’d all decided it was best not to ask.

Still, some assumed her husband had died, or it was by some unlawful means that Delilah had come into existence. In truth, the things that make someone sad are sometimes the happiest times. It was a happy incident for Emeria to be left with a child after a chance romantic encounter with a charming young man she’d met on the outskirts of the capital city. Of course, she hadn’t realized it was the king himself, donning a disguise to get away from the troubles of the castle and wishing for a night of peace.

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t look for him.

She’d promised she wouldn’t rely on him.

That was why, in the middle of the night, she’d slipped a note onto the nightstand in their shady room in that rundown inn, kissed the hair nestled messily on his forehead, and left before the sun rose.

They’d both known it was for one night only. And it ended as the day had begun. Apart.

And they stayed that way.

Emeria thought all of it over again as she left Delilah to her books and headed to the market.