Across the Sea

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"Who can tell me the name of the body of water that separates us here in Denmark, from our most powerful ally, England?" The teacher glanced around her small classroom filled with tired ragamuffins, until one shy hand raised. "Yes, Thomas."

"The North Sea?" Tom answered, almost ashamed.

"That is correct." The teacher smiled assuredly.

Suddenly a whispered uproar of snickers echoed from the back of the room, causing Tom to wince.

"What a dolt." Ripley giggled to his mate. His mate let out a gratuitous screech of laughter, grabbing the teacher's attention.

"Ripley, I'm sure you can answer my final question." She eyed him.

"Um, yes ma'am." He averted his eyes, letting out a short whistle.

"Ripley, I'd like you to name every member of England's royal family, starting from King Dominic the first and going on until the present day." She picked up a comically small nub of chalk from the floor next to his seat. "You can make family tree on the board at the front of the class. And no one leaves until you've finished."

Grumbles and complaints sounded off in the room as Ripley took the piece and dragged his feet to the board. Tom watched, biting his nails, planning an escape route in his head. If he didn't plan he'd surely be a goner when everyone was dismissed.

Ripley wrote "King Dominic" in big, grotesque letters in the middle of the board, the other boys shouting at him as many names as they could think of, most of them wrong.

"Harry's the one that's dead is he not?"

"No! That's Samuel!"

"You bloke that's their current king!"

"I thought all the sons were dead!"

Ripley turned to the teacher, his eyes blazing and brow furrowed. "Do I have to show the wives too?"

"But of course. Without wives there are no heirs. They are very important." She replied, yawning happily as Ripley struggled to think with all of the shouting. "Quiet everyone." She said nonchalantly after a moment. Ripley stood staring at the nearly blank board, having not an inkling of what to write. "Thomas," She called. He perked up suddenly, having been deeply thinking of how he'd escape.

"Yes?" He replied, barely audible.

"Care helping out this, dare I say, dolt?" The class erupted with laughter. Ripley sulked, his face pressed firmly on the board. He refused to face the class. "Why so gloomy, Ripley? I'd say according to your own definition a dolt is pretty smart."

"Screw off you hag!"  He raced out, the laughter still ringing in the air.

"Good riddance." She mumbled. She turned to Thomas, once again assuring him with a soft smile. "Go on, Thomas. I know you know the answer."

Tom turned to the board, and took a deep breath. He quickly wrote in as many names as he could remember, his hand shaking terribly.

"Very good, Thomas. You're missing one thing." She smiled.

He looked over his chart, not knowing where to begin. He had named both queens and all four brothers alive and dead. What else was there? Was there another wife? Did he get the twins mixed up? Maybe he spelled Zendaya wrong.

She interrupted his thoughts. "Class, you are all dismissed. Stay here, Thomas."

The other boys filed out, a lively chatter fading as the last ones went. The teacher took out a newer looking book from her personal shelf. She flipped to a page, showing a copy of an old portrait of the four sons of King Dominic. They were all young boys, painted sitting in the gardens of the Royal palace.  "Are those the princes?" Tom asked nervously, as he was anxious to get home without running into trouble.

"Can you tell which one is which?"

"Well..." Tom pondered it for a moment. "It's strange, as I've never actually seen what they look like. Those two are the twins, definitely. The small one is Patrick, since he's the youngest."

"Of course."

"And the one in the middle must be...Thomas." He looked up for confirmation.

"That's exactly right. You're a smart boy."

"Thank you, ma'am. May I go—"

"Do you know the legend?"

Tom's eyes sparked a bit. He was intrigued. "What legend?"

"Some say there's more to the tragic death of the first two heirs than what the royals say."

"I always wondered why there is so little on the subject!" He lit up fully, excited to gain the knowledge. He loved history. "The royals practically say nothing of it. All I could ever find was that they both died, one right after the other. Right after the king—"

She smirked. "Oh but did they? Legend has it they both died before the king."

"Before? Tell me more—"

"Would you believe one prince killed the other?"

"What? Why?"

"Well, it's rather poetic. Prince Thomas was out of favor with the king, but still being made to ascend the throne. This made Prince Harry remarkably jealous. Harry even stole away with Thomas' bride to be—"

"Queen Zendaya?"

"That's right. But Thomas wouldn't have cared much, for he too was having his own affair."

"Really? With who? Another princess—"

"Oh no. This is the poetic part! Prince Thomas was—allegedly—in love with a peasant girl."

"Just a normal girl? Amazing!" Tom was hooked on the tale, much to the teacher's liking.

"Yes. She was being held as a prisoner in the palace as punishment for breaking the law. She was set to be married off to Thomas' most trusted friend, who was the Captain of the Guard, and then banished from England—"

"Wait, what? Why not just kill her? Why marry her to someone so random?"

"It was a punishment—a torturous punishment! The Captain aided Thomas in this affair, so he too had to pay for his crimes. But the king was so fond of him, he couldn't see him executed—"

"What a bizarre solution! Such a strange legend."

"The legend doesn't end there, my boy." She got up, strolling over to the board. She slowly drew a line out from Prince Thomas' name. Tom's eyes widened as she wrote his name next to it. Tom couldn't tell how long he stood there, trying to process what was written.

The teacher flipped to another page in the book, and held it out for him to see. He took it weakly, his eyes focusing in on a single portrait: Prince Thomas's last portrait. The one that was made especially for Zendaya, and sent to her during their courtship. He had never seen the prince with whom he shared a name. He had never given it much thought before, but the portrait sent a haunting chill through his veins as he looked into the eyes of the prince. He dropped the book.

"I'm guessing you see the resemblance. It's truly uncanny." She cooed. He couldn't get out a word before he felt his mouth get covered and big arms scoop him up from behind. He couldn't scream, he couldn't think. His mouth was dry from the shock. She smiled at him. "My apologies, majesty. Do not be afraid." She looked to the man holding him. "Take him quickly to the ship. Stay out of sight. Once he's there make sure he's comfortable."

"Yes, Lady Bella." The man answered, wasting no time whisking Tom away into a cart. He covered him with burlap and goods, and Tom immediately felt sick. He vomited all over himself as the cart bumped along the road faster that it should have been. Tom wheezed, his throat burning as the cart was lifted up onto a ramp. He began to panic as he tried to unravel the burlap from around him, knocking boxes and jars around in the cart. He finally caught his breath as the fabric was ripped off of him, revealing a luxurious ship cabin, and a face, but this one he had seen many times.

"Bella, my most trusted friend, how can I ever repay you? It is him."

"You're the Queen!" He blurted out with no regard. "Queen Zendaya! I—oh God—" He covered himself, ashamed of the filth he was in. Suddenly he realized he had just been abducted. "Wait—where are we going?"

Zendaya beamed at him, still taking him in. "Across the sea, Thomas. We've come to take you home."

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