The Mountain and the Mirror:
Wind on Sophia's hair and the pine underfoot had always been a part of her existence. She had never been crowned, but the mountains were her kingdom. She travelled farther than any other girl in the hamlet dared, hunted with her father, and collected herbs with her mother. She grew up wild and free on the mountain. Far below, a kingdom Alenvale spread across a region of undulating hills and shimmering rivers. Princess Isabella dwelt there, amid velvet walls and beneath gold chandeliers. Rules ruled Isabella's world. manners. Tiaras. The appropriate chuckle at the appropriate time. Even though her mirror had always been her best friend, there were days when it felt unfamiliar. The kingdom and the mountains were two separate realms. One was duty. The second option is instinct. They were never intended to meet. But the wind brings more than leaves, and fate dances where footsteps falter.
The Crossing :
It started with a simple, "yes." Isabella was in the grounds when she heard the Chancellor whisper. "This is not the actual one. The switch worked. "The mountain girl has no idea." She froze. That night, she addressed the governess. "You must never repeat this, Your Grace," the governess murmured, pale and shaking. "But, yes." You are not of royal blood. At birth, you were exchanged with a female. The true princess was concealed in the highlands for safety." "Why?" A prophecy stated that if the true heir was nurtured at the palace, she would die before the age of sixteen. The queen made the decision." Isabella's chest tightened. Sixteen. Her birthday was in three days. "What do you mean?" "I'm not myself?" "You are," the governess stated kindly. "But someone else is, too." Sophia sensed a movement in the mountains. For weeks, she'd had dreams about a strange castle, whispering mirrors, and a girl with her face. She told her mother, who became quiet. "It's time," her mother stated one morning, clutching a letter she had never seen before. "This is from your birth family." "What?" Tears filled her mother's eyes. "Sofia, you were never ours. We reared you with affection, but your life began elsewhere. "A place where you feared for your safety." Sophia was surprised and silent. "I didn't want to lose you," her mother whispered. "But I can't keep you from the truth." Sophia took the letter.
The immaculate script read:
"To the true heir of Alenvale, your place awaits." Visit the palace on the eve of your sixteenth birthday. "Your throne has been waiting long enough." Sophia said yes. Reflections Collide: On the eve of her birthday, Sophia arrived at the royal gates wearing a borrowed cloak and tattered boots. Inside, Isabella stood in front of the mirror, tracing her face with shaky fingertips. Will the girl look like her? Would they experience the same storm inside? The door creaked open. Their gazes met. Isabella gasped. Sophia just stared. They didn't look alike. Sophia's sun-dark skin, calloused hands, and molten bark-colored eyes contrasted sharply with Isabella's light face, rose-petal lips, and disciplined stance. "I thought we'd be the same," Isabella said quietly. Sophia tilted her head. "We're not." "No." A long pause. "You're here to take my place?" Isabella enquired. Sophia blinked. "I do not know. "I did not come to steal anything." "I am not the true princess. "That is what they say." "Do you believe it?" Isabella hesitated. "I sometimes feel like a phoney. It's as if everyone is clapping for a girl who never existed. Sophia stared out the window to the hills. "They are applauding who you have become. That is real." Another pause. "You should stay," Isabella replied abruptly. "Let the kingdom see you." Sophia nodded slowly. "Only if we do it together."
The Consequence of Truth :
Word spreads like wildfire: Two girls. One crown. The Queen, feeble and guilty, revealed the truth to the court. "The prophecy doomed my daughter, so I sheltered her away from fate. But now, fate has discovered her." The courtroom was in turmoil. Nobles argued. Some stood by Isabella. Others called for Sophia. "Only one may rule," the High Minister declared. "No," Sophia stated. "The people should choose." A vote was held—an unprecedented step in Alenvale history. For days, the kingdom was buzzing. Sophia was mocked for her wild mannerisms and blunt speaking. Others admired her honesty. Isabella gave her first speech as herself, not as a princess. Just a girl who adored her people. In the end, the vote was about equal. But Sophia triumphed. And Isabella grinned.
After the Yes:
Sophia stood in the royal chambers, now hers, and looked in the mirror. She did not see a mountain girl. She did not see a queen. She saw Sophia. Isabella, who now lives in a peaceful cottage near the palace, tends gardens and studies healing. For the first time, there is no charge. They met frequently—under the stars, over tea, and in quiet. "You regret saying yes?" Isabella asked once. Sophia thought for a long time. "No. But I watch how a single yes echoes." "Same." So one lived in the spotlight, while the other lived in the quiet of shadows. But both lived honestly. Both picked their courses. And both understood that no decision is ever insignificant. Because every "yes" is a doorway. And every doorway has a price.
BY NARMADHA SIVAN
