The Forgotten Princess

The morning mist clung to the thick woods surrounding the Kingdom of Elthar, where shadows and silence ruled. Sir Gavin’s breath came out in huffs, his steed’s hooves kicking up the damp earth as he rode toward the edge of the kingdom. The wind was sharp, cutting through his armor and biting at his skin, but the cold was nothing compared to the anticipation that clawed at his chest.

For years, the royal family had sought any trace of their missing daughter. Rumors had circulated for a decade—whispers of a girl with golden hair, a star-shaped birthmark, living on the fringes of the realm. But those rumors had been like smoke, vanishing before they could ever be grasped. Until now.

Gavin had seen her with his own eyes, a simple woman living in a cottage far from the kingdom’s heart. Her face was weathered by time, her clothing simple, but there was no mistaking the birthmark that set her apart. A mark that only Princess Astrid had borne.

His horse galloped faster as he approached the small, humble cottage nestled at the forest's edge. The scene was peaceful—the birds sang, the sky was clear, and wildflowers dotted the ground with bursts of color. But peace was not what Sir Gavin sought. Today, he was bringing home a lost princess.

He slowed as the cottage came into view. There she was, standing in the garden, her back to him. Long golden hair cascaded down her back, catching the morning light as if the sun itself was drawn to her. Her hands were buried in the earth, tending to some herb or flower, oblivious to the world beyond her quiet existence.

"Princess Astrid," he called, his voice a mix of hope and uncertainty.

The woman froze, her back straightening. Slowly, she rose and turned to face him, a look of confusion clouding her deep green eyes. She was beautiful, though her face was touched with the lines of a hard life—yet there was something regal about her posture, something familiar.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice calm yet wary, as if unsure whether to be afraid of the armored stranger before her.

Sir Gavin dismounted, keeping his movements slow and careful. He didn’t want to startle her, not when she was so close, not when he was so certain. “You may not remember me, Your Highness, but I know who you are. Your family has been searching for you for many years.”

She frowned, taking a step back. “You must be mistaken. I am no princess. My name is Lyra, and I’ve lived here all my life.”

Gavin’s heart tightened in his chest. "You bear the mark of Princess Astrid. The star-shaped birthmark on your collarbone. You are the lost princess of Elthar."

At that, she instinctively placed her hand over her birthmark, as though she could hide it. Her confusion deepened, but so did her unease. “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

"I am Sir Gavin of Elthar," he said gently, taking another step toward her. "I was only a boy when you were taken, but I remember you. Your parents, King Edric and Queen Elara, remember you. You were lost to us when you were just a child, but we never stopped searching for you. You were the light of the kingdom. And now... we have found you."

Lyra—or Astrid—shook her head, her eyes wide. “No... I’m not who you think I am. I’m no princess. I’ve lived here for as long as I can remember. I’m just... just me.”

Gavin’s heart broke a little at the fear in her voice. She truly didn’t remember. He stepped closer, offering her a hand. “I don’t mean to frighten you. But you must come with me. The kingdom needs you. Your family needs you.”

Astrid—Lyra—took a step back, her face a mixture of disbelief and fear. “I don’t belong in a kingdom. I belong here.”

“I know this is hard to believe,” Gavin said softly, “but there are answers waiting for you. The queen herself will confirm it. Come with me, and you’ll see. You’ll see who you truly are.”

She hesitated, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped her dress. The world she knew was slipping away, replaced by a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. She glanced back at the simple cottage, the garden she had tended, the life she had known for as long as she could remember. Could it be true? Could she truly be someone else—someone so important?

Gavin saw the doubt in her eyes, the fear that kept her rooted in place. He had to act. Without waiting for her consent, he moved forward, closing the distance between them in one swift motion. Before Astrid could react, he swept her up into his arms and hoisted her onto his horse.

“Wait—no!” she cried, struggling against him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Gavin said, his voice firm. “But I cannot leave you here. You must return to your family. They will explain everything.”

Astrid fought him at first, but it was no use. Sir Gavin was a seasoned knight, and though he handled her with care, his grip was unyielding. She was trapped. As they rode through the forest, away from the only home she had ever known, panic surged through her chest. Everything felt wrong. She wasn’t a princess. She couldn’t be.

The trees blurred as they galloped onward, the wind whipping her hair around her face. Astrid’s heart raced with fear and uncertainty. What was happening to her? Who was she really?

The journey back to Elthar’s castle felt like a lifetime. As they neared the grand stone walls, Astrid’s pulse quickened. She had seen the castle once before in the distance, a symbol of power and wealth. But now, as the gates opened to receive them, it felt like a prison.

They passed through the streets of the city, and the people began to stare. Whispers spread like wildfire—word had reached the kingdom that the lost princess had been found. Faces lined the streets, wide-eyed and curious, as they gazed upon the woman they had thought dead for so long.

“Is it her?”

“Could it really be?”

“The lost princess... she’s returned.”

Astrid kept her gaze low, feeling the weight of their stares like a physical force. This wasn’t her. This couldn’t be her life. The castle gates loomed ahead, cold and foreboding.

As they entered the castle grounds, the guards led them through to the great hall where King Edric and Queen Elara waited. The air was thick with anticipation. Astrid’s heart thundered in her chest, her palms damp with sweat. She had been brought here against her will, and now, she was about to meet the people who claimed to be her family.

The grand doors swung open with a creak, and there, at the far end of the hall, stood the king and queen. Queen Elara’s eyes filled with tears the moment she laid eyes on Astrid, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a sob. King Edric stood tall, but his eyes softened with emotion, his hands trembling as they rested on the arms of his throne.

“Astrid...” Queen Elara’s voice broke as she stepped forward. “My daughter...”

Astrid froze, her heart pounding. She felt the pull of something familiar, something deep within her stirring at the sight of these two people. But it was tangled in fear and confusion. She couldn’t remember them.

“I—I’m sorry,” Astrid stammered, backing away. “I don’t know you.”

Queen Elara’s face crumpled, and King Edric’s strong facade wavered. “You will remember, in time,” he said softly. “We have waited for this day for so long.”

“I’m not your daughter!” Astrid cried, her voice rising in desperation. “You have the wrong person!”

But the queen only shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No, my darling. You are our Astrid. You are home.”

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