CHOSEN ONE 1976 "I don't want to go! Auntie, I want to return to Mama!" The little boy struggled, trying to free his gloved hand from the iron clasp. "I want to go home now!" The middle-aged woman, her face crinkled against the biting Polar wind, slapped him. "Hush!" she said violently. The boy quit squirming and stared up at her, gaping; she had never spoken an unkind word to him before, much less hit him. She did not even look at him. Fear colder than the air gripped the boy. The woman continued, "We are going to the Palace and you're going to live there." The two of them had been fighting their way across the boundless ice for the last thirty minutes. Their layers of woolen clothing, heavy boots and caps did little to protect them from the all-pervading chill. The wind stung their exposed faces, and had they not been accustomed to living in the North Pole they would have frozen to death. The boy kept twisting and protesting, but the woman paid him no heed. She dragged him relentlessly, and he had no other option than to go along with her. He was exhausted, bewildered, and not a little sore at heart. This morning, after breakfast, his aunt had hauled him out of the house, giving him no chance even to say goodbye to his parents. The strangest thing was his parents did not even stop her. The boy had tried every means possible to get an answer from her or break free, and both attempts failed. He was beginning to wonder if he was being taken far, far away, never to see Papa and Mama ever again. This prospect made him choke with fear. They were heading for the Palace, his aunt said. He did not understand what business they had there. In the Palace dwelled the Princesses, the older of whom, people said, was the ruler and maintainer of the North Pole. In all his young life the boy had never seen either of them, and had been curious. Now, he did not care if he never saw the Princesses at all, as long as he could return home. But his aunt showed no sign of turning back. She plowed on grimly through the harsh terrain and the numbing wind. Eventually the boy gave up. His aunt would not be long at the Palace anyway. She might just want to see her friend, who worked there as a cook. So why bring him along? The more he pondered on this puzzle, the more it confused him. He looked around him, certain that whatever was awaiting him could not bode well. Tears rose to his throat. His aunt knelt submissively and the boy followed suit. "Her Highness, this is him," she said in a low, respectful voice. "Get up." They were being received by Princess Hilda in her hall. She sat on her high- backed throne, which was set on a dais near the far wall. Torches lined the walls on the left and on the right. The boy, climbing to his feet with his aunt, stole a curious glance at Princess Hilda. He had thought she was at least Mama's age. Instead she was only about two or three years older than he was. Sitting on her throne, she was dwarfed by the thing's enormity. Yet she did not look ridiculous; her demeanor, her whole being radiated a majesty that was bred in as much as born into. Her dark turquoise robe concealed her figure. "Come here," she was saying to him. Seeing his hesitation, she smiled. It transformed her into such a perfect beauty that the boy held his breath in awe. "Don't be afraid. What is your name?" He shuffled forward, not daring to lift his eyes from the floor. "Siegfried.Her Highness." He stole a quick look at Princess Hilda. She was indeed very lovely, with her long silver hair and large eyes. He wondered that anyone so beautiful could exist. Princess Hilda spoke to his aunt, "Have you been told why you must bring him to me?" "Yes, Her Highness," answered his aunt, bowing deeply. "My sister - the boy's mother - said that a messenger came from you two days ago. She said that you have dreamed of seven courageous warriors that would defend the Polar region unto death. They have distinctive features which will make them easily recognizable." She gestured at the boy, who was too stunned on hearing this to even move. "You had people searching through the North Pole for the warriors of your dream. And my nephew is one of them." "That is right," said the Princess. "His parents do not mind giving their son to my keeping?" The boy was astounded. Whatever did that mean? Was he never to return to Papa and Mama, and going to spend the rest of his life here? He wanted to cry but dared not. One did not cry before the Princess. Not this Princess, at least. He swallowed his tears, wishing desperately to leave, knowing he could not. "No, Her Highness. We are in fact honored." His aunt took a step backward, still bowing. "I am taking my leave now." Finding his voice at last, the boy cried out, "Auntie!" She threw him a glimpse, and he noticed tears glittering in her eyes. So she doesn't want me to live here either, he thought. Why is she leaving me, then? What dreams have Auntie and Princess Hilda been talking about? He liked the situation less and less. "Farewell, Siegfried," his aunt whispered, and was gone. He stood rooted on the spot, unbelieving and thunderstruck. Then his nose throbbed, a sure precedent of spilled tears. He shrank frantically into the shadows. He could not cry here, not in front of the Princess. What would she think of him? She got to her feet, smiling that magical smile at him. He momentarily forgot his sorrow. "Siegfried," she said, "how would you like to live here?" For a moment he was too miserable to be tactful. "Please, my lady," he burst out, "I just want to go home - to my parents. They will be waiting for me and I promise Papa I would make a sled with him tomorrow - we're going to ride on it." His voice trailed away as he realized, aghast, that his eyes were near brimming. He blinked hard, frightened that the Princess would laugh at him for being a crybaby. "You can visit them from time to time," replied the Princess in a soothing tone that somehow lessened his anguish. "But from now on you are to be a resident of this Palace, Siegfried. There will be more boys coming, and you will have company. Then you won't be so lonely." He did not want to have new friends. All that mattered now was being with his parents. But he wanted to please the Princess, so he nodded. "That's good," the Princess said. A girl about his own age walked into the hall, her wavy golden hair spread about her shoulders. Princess Hilda beckoned at her. "Siegfried, this is my sister Freya." Freya smiled at him. "Hi, Siegfried." She had a gentle, quiet face that bespoke a kind heart. Although she somewhat lacked her sister's regal air, she too carried herself like a member of the nobility. He bowed at her in deference, secretly astonished that the two Princesses were totally the opposite of his previous estimations. They were nice to him and tried to help him forget his homesickness. Perhaps living here would not be as dreadful as he had feared. "Freya will take you to your room," Princess Hilda said. "Siegfried, on behalf of the Palace I welcome you here." Siegfried was gloomily squatting and digging into the snow, listlessly trying to make a snowball, when a shadow fell across him. He looks up. A boy was standing still and watching him. The boy was lean with short blond hair. "Hi," he said quietly. "Hi," said Siegfried. He was in no mood for conversation. He had been in the Palace for three days now, and he missed Papa and Mama acutely. Everyone here hardly spoke to him. Both Princesses were never seen either. He was lonelier than he had ever felt. The blond boy stuck out his hand. "My name's Hagen." Siegfried shook it, none too interested in the boy. "Siegfried." "They took you away from your family, didn't they?" "How do you know?" Siegfried stared up at Hagen in surprise. He had never seen Hagen before, therefore the boy must be new here. How could he know about Siegfried? "They took me away from Father, too." Hagen's eyes became somber. "Father says to me, be good, do as they say. But he didn't want me to go. I could see it." Listening to this, something heavy seemed to shift off Siegfried's heart. He had been worried that his parents did not want him anymore, which was why they sent him to the Palace. He had spent sleepless nights wondering if he had been a bad boy and his parents could not put up with him anymore. Hagen's father was loath to let him go, but Hagen was here anyway. It proved that whatever the reason for his being here was, it did not mean his parents loved him less. He ventured a smile at Hagen. "Do you know why we are here?" Hagen shrugged. "We're to be trained as warriors, so I heard. More boys are coming. We're the first to come." "The Princess also mentioned something about warriors." Hagen's face lit up. "She's very lovely, isn't she?" Siegfried recalled Princess Hilda's long, crystal gray hair and her heartstealing smile. "Yes, she is. I've never seen anyone more beautiful." "I've never seen anyone with such magnificent golden hair." "Golden hair?" Siegfried blinked at his newfound friend. "But it's Princess Freya's hair that...oh, you are talking about Princess Freya." "Who are you talking about?" Hagen asked. "Her sister, Princess Hilda." Hagen smiled broadly, and Siegfried could not help smiling in return. He had never felt so lighthearted during his stay in the Palace. The shared smiles eased the sorrow he had been carrying within him ever since his aunt had dragged him away from his home. "Well, I still think Princess Freya is the prettier one," said Hagen with confidence. "Is it true that Princess Hilda rules this land? All by herself?" "She prays every day to keep the ice from melting. We must help her in her prayers. Also, as we're going to be warriors, we'll also have to defend her and the North Pole from enemies." Siegfried imagined hordes of foreign soldiers rushing toward the Palace, while Princess Hilda stood at the entrance, her face worried. He saw himself leaping between her and the intruders, ready to mow them down with his sword, all in one stroke. He flushed with pride at the picture. "I'd be the best warrior ever," he promised, half to himself. 1984 Princess Freya's birthday was drawing close, and Siegfried knew Hagen was preparing a present for her. He had seen him laboring to turn a piece of clay into her miniature. It was nearly finished, and, despite its lack of resemblance to the Lady, was nicely done nevertheless. He wished his friend luck. For himself, life was growing into a routine that was soothingly enjoyable. He would spend the day practicing, and in the afternoon have some time off. He was showing remarkable progress, and Princess Hilda had expressed her surprise. "You are doing very well, Siegfried," she had commented. "I haven't congratulated you yet for slaying that dragon the other day." A few weeks ago he had slain a dragon living in another part of the Pole, and bathed in its hot lifeblood as it gushed from the beast's wound, making himself invincible. As a result, his had become a household name, but it did not gratify him half as much her praise. "I'm glad I please you, my lady." He had stopped calling the Princess Her Highness at her own request. She said it sounded downright pompous. From the tail of his eye he caught Mime strolling by and plucking at his lyre, head bowed, deep in thought. Mime was a strange, distant young man, talking little, his mind constantly wrapped up with his music. But his lyre was a deadly weapon no one ever cared to fool with. Siegfried decided as long as somebody could prove himself a worthy warrior he was entitled to some weirdness. Princess Hilda was staring into the ice terrain unfolding before them. "How must it feel," she murmured, "to live under a warm sun all year long?" Siegfried blinked. "My lady, don't you like Asegard?" She seemed to come back to herself. "I do, I do...I was just wondering aloud. I never regret carrying the task of praying for this land. It's just that, there's an entirely different world out there and sometimes I'm curious." Her words subsided into silence. Siegfried thought: One day she's going to visit all the places she wants to visit. I'll see to it that she is. Then, maybe I can work up some courage and tell her how I feel. 1988 Siegfried lingered in the hall after the others had left. The Princess had just informed them that Athena and her Saints were coming to Asegard. They were ordered to come along with her and intercept those trespassers. There was nothing wrong with that order. This was their country, and they had the right to ward off unknown guests. And yet - something was wrong. He did not like the way Princess Hilda had looked as she spoke. Her eyes, usually gentle and serene, were hard. A smile that could only be defined as malicious flitted across her features every now and then. He had never seen the ring she was wearing, either. She saw him and said sharply, she who never reprimanded, "Well, what are you standing there for? Go out and join the others! I'll be with you directly and we'll show those Saints who's in charge here." "My lady..." "Yes?" "Why are Athena and these Saints coming? We never disturb them, do we?" Princess Hilda sighed, the way one would when dealing with an obtuse child. "Siegfried, remember I told you I wanted to go someplace else?" He nodded. He never forgot that. "Well, I want to go to Sanctuary and Athena doesn't agree with that. She says I should stay here and keep on praying if I know what's good for me." Her eyes danced with spiteful glee. "And she's here to make sure I do just that. We'll prove that we are not people she or her Saints can order around." But you do belong here, he wanted to say. "I will defend you, my lady, should those Saints attempt anything harmful." "Good man. Now wait for me outside." He exited the hall, feeling uneasy. Princess Hilda had changed somewhat. Precisely how, he could not tell. But that change could not be for the better, since it had turned her into a different person from the Princess he used to know. And about Athena telling her to keep out of Sanctuary - it did not sound right. It sounded a little...made-up. But I'm her Warrior, he reflected. My duty is to protect her without stopping to count the cost. And haven't I waited all my life for an opportunity like this? I will beat those impertinent Saints and make the Princess proud of me. After that...after that, I may be able to say what I've been longing to say all these years. With that joyful possibility in mind, he walked on with lighter steps.