"Well, all right. Princess Tracy...."

Now, one evening, Princess Tracy was strolling in the gardens that surrounded Precinct Castle. Suddenly, the most frightening thing happened. Out of the sky dropped a dark demon dressed all in black. He snatched up the beautiful princess and spirited her away into the night.

Later that evening, the Lord High Commissioner discovered that his beloved and only daughter was missing. He was furious. The entire kingdom heard his cries of anger and anguish. He summoned a meeting of all of his most trusted advisors. "She must be found! She must be returned to me unharmed! I will have the head of the man who has done this! But how can she be found?"

The advisors all thought long and hard. They had no clew how even to begin. No evidence had been found — it was as if the Princess had simply vanished into thin air. Finally, the Captain of the Guard, whose name happened to be Reese, spoke: "There is only one man who can help us. He is said to be a man of honor and integrity. He was once a great warrior, chosen by his queen for a special mission. But then she died and all were deeply saddened. This man vowed to continue carrying out her final orders — that those who cherish life should live and be protected, and those who do not should die."

"This man... where can he be found?"

"I am here, Your Highness." The dark-haired man entered the throne room through a nearby window.

"But how...?"

"I heard of your plight, of your daughter's abduction, and I knew that you would need my assistance."

"No, I mean, how did you get in through that window? We're seven stories up!"

"It is one of my many talents. Talents which you will need if you hope to have your daughter safely returned to you."

"It is my fondest wish. I will pay whatever you ask."

"I will accept nothing less than your thanks... and the hand of your beautiful daughter in marriage."

"Agreed. Just return my poor little girl to me."

The two men shook hands on the deal, then the princess's would-be savior vanished through the window much as he had arrived.

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Princess Tracy wandered around the rat-infested dungeon, trying desperately to figure out a way to escape from her evil captor. There was only one high window, which she could not reach — through which her only source of sunlight streamed — and the only door was made of iron bars. She inspected the bars carefully. The dungeon was damp and, being more clever than most people gave her credit, Tracy knew that iron rusted in wet environments; near one of the hinges, the Princess found an excessive amount of rust! She grabbed a rock off the floor, which seemed to be the same granite-type rock that composed the walls of her prison, and with the rough, but sharp edge began to file away at the weakened metal. The clever woman worked hard all day, finally breaking through the hinge sometime near dusk. She had just begun working on the other, higher, and not-so-rusty door hinge, when she heard approaching footsteps. She discarded her granite file and retreated to what passed for a bed in the far corner of the cell.

"I am pleased to find you awake." Her captor smiled what under other circumstances would have been a disarmingly appealing smile.

"Who the hell are you? Why have you brought me here?"

He bowed low as he introduced himself, "I am Javier Vachon, at your service."

"If you are truly 'at my service' then release me!" Princess Tracy demanded.

"I'm afraid that I can't do that. For your own safety, you understand."

"No, I do not understand. I was perfectly safe back at my father's palace! I demand to know why you have brought me here!"

Vachon smiled a truly wicked grin before simply saying, "I have brought you food. I hope that you find it to your liking." He motioned to a serving wench who brought a tray piled with a delectable selection of foodstuffs. Vachon opened the door and let the wench, whose name just happened to be Urs, into the cell. Urs walked hesitantly over to the Tracy and set the tray down on the edge of the bed.

Tracy scooted over and glanced at the food. She was more hungry than she realized, so she picked up a steamed green bean and took a nibble. It was scrumptious. Tracy smiled widely at Urs who returned her grin. The serving girl handed Tracy a rolled-up napkin that Tracy promptly unrolled to reveal a spoon, a fork, and a knife.

In an instant, Tracy grabbed Urs and placed the knife to her throat. "Now, you will release me, or I will slit this girl's throat," Tracy commanded her captor, in her best I'm-the-princess-around-here-ya-know voice.

"I don't think you'll do that, Trace."

"You don't?" Tracy tightened her grip on the girl, even as a very strange feeling began to overcome her senses.

<thump, thump>    <thump, thump>

"No. I think that you are going to put that knife down, release the girl, and then eat your lovely dinner."

The Princess shook her head and then replied, "You're full of it, Vachon! And don't call me 'Trace'!"

Vachon stared at the young woman, standing there in the filthy cell with dirt all over her voluminous satin gown. "Well, how about if I give you nicer sleeping accommodations?"

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Tracy was stunned to silence by the furnishings of the enormous bedroom in the southeast tower. Tracy ran to the huge window, and threw open the curtains. She looked out into the darkness and saw the distant lights of a city. "What is that place out there?"

"That is your father's realm."

"Toronto? Wow. I've never been outside the walls of the castle before. I had no idea the city was that big."

Vachon suddenly felt sorry for the Princess. He never realized how sheltered her life must have been. "I am sure that you must be very tired." Vachon suddenly caught up her hand and placed a small kiss upon her wrist before turning to leave. He opened the door before adding, "And, please, don't file through these  hinges."

Tracy simply stared after her captor, surprised.

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The next morning, Tracy awoke to find a huge bouquet of callalilies on her nightstand. There was a large fire in the hearth, and another lovely meal awaiting her on the table near the window. Tracy felt for a moment like she was still at home in her father's castle. Everything she could possibly desire was provided for her before she even realized she wanted anything. She wondered what it would be like to actually want for something, and then she remembered that she did want something — to escape. "Be careful what you wish for, Tracy — it might come true," she thought.

After polishing off the breakfast, she looked about the room for her dress but it was nowhere to be found. "Certainly I could not have misplaced twenty yards of pink embroidered-satin!" she thought to herself. The only clothing she could find was a t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. She had never been allowed to wear anything so common as cotton before, so she eagerly slipped into the clothes. The new attire pleased her to no end — it was soft and comfortable, and not at all heavy. She liked the idea of not having to worry about tripping over billowing skirts.

But Tracy's mind soon turned to the problem at hand: how to escape. The windows were locked and too high above the ground for her to try and climb out. She tried the door in the vain hope that it would be unlocked. It was not. She searched about the room for something — anything — which might be of use. She thought about trying to break the door down with the iron fire poker, but figured that the noise would do nothing more than alert her captor. She continued to search and finally she found a hairpin in the back of one of the drawers of the dressing table. She had never picked a lock before in her life — even as a child she always had servants (or her father) to open whatever doors needed opening — but she made a valiant effort.

Hours later, the persistent Princess was still hard at work trying to pick the lock. She finally wore down the resolve of the stubborn dead bolt and it gave way to her malefactions. Once out in the hallway, she crept quietly toward the stairs. She was very good with directions and was easily able to retrace their steps from the night before. Princess Tracy soon found herself in the dungeon outside the cell where she had spent her first day as a prisoner. Unfortunately, the dungeon was not where Tracy wanted to be, so she back-tracked through the twisting passages and hallways once again.

Hours later, the tenacious Princess was still hard at work trying to find a way out of the overly-large house. She finally found herself in what appeared to be a library. There were bookcases reaching to the ceiling and they contained thousands of books. Tired of walking in what seemed like endless circles, Tracy scanned the nearest bookcase. She chose a copy of Peter Pan, and then sat down on the window seat and promptly fell asleep.

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Tracy awoke to find her captor, Javier Vachon, staring at her as he lounged in one of the leather chairs.

"Good evening, Princess. I trust that you had a pleasant day."

He did not seem upset that she had broken out of her room, and this worried Tracy. Her father would have been furious if he'd discovered that she'd done something she shouldn't have and she knew how to cope with that, but she found her captor's pleasantness unnerving.

"I thought that we might take a stroll in the garden this evening before supper. As I recall, you enjoy gardens." He stood up and strode casually over to her seat in the bay window and held out his arm for her.

Tracy pointedly refused the offer of his arm as she rose and walked out of the library. He directed her toward the gardens, through a door she had not previously come across.

Once outside, Tracy's mood quickly improved. The evening was beautiful; the heavens were bright with stars on the moonless summer evening, and the still-warm air held the scent of roses. Tracy and Vachon slowly walked all over the vast gardens, making inane comments about the foliage and flowers, about the stars, about the weather.

Vachon was the perfect model of a gentleman, despite his role in her abduction, and, much against her will, Tracy slowly began to warm up to him. Her father kept a great many books about war and politics, and she had read of people being kidnapped, but none of the tales were anything like this.

"What is this place called?" Tracy made a sweeping gesture toward the huge stone manor and it's accompanying grounds.

"It is called Casa Loma. It belongs to my brother."

"Your brother?" When the only answer she received was a nod, Tracy continued, "If this is not your residence, then where do you live?"

"Here and there. I tend to ... travel around a lot."

"That must be fascinating. What is the world like outside of Toronto?"

Tracy spent the remainder of the evening enthralled by Vachon's tales of the world. He had seen and done so much; far more than seemed possible in a single lifetime. Princess Tracy went to bed that evening quite confused. The man she had just spent the last few hours with did not seem capable of something as underhanded as kidnapping, and yet here she was.

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The Princess did not rise until late the next morning, having stayed up well past her bedtime the night before. Breakfast and flowers awaited her yet again, but still she could not find her pink satin gown. So, dressed in the very same jeans and t-shirt, she tried the door of her room; surprisingly, it was unlocked.

Tracy ventured out. She made her way back down to the main hall of the Casa and found the door to the garden that they had used the night before — thankfully, it too was unlocked. Now that she had the daylight to assist her, Tracy searched the gardens for a means of escape. She looked for a way to scale the walls, but they were very high and smooth, and thorny, roses bushes were planted all around the perimeter. She continued her desperate search.

Finally she found a gate, hidden behind some over-grown bushes. The gate was chained shut with a large, rusty lock. She looked about for something with which to try to break the lock, but the only stones large enough to do any good were too heavy for her to lift. But then she remembered that she'd kept the hairpin that she'd used on the lock of her bedroom door the day before. She pulled it from her pocket and set to work on the padlock.

Hours later, the diligent Princess was still hard at work with the lock and her trusty hairpin. The sun began to set and she heard her captor call her name from the Casa. Fearful of being discovered tampering with the door, Tracy quickly stood up, dusted the dirt off her jeans, and began making her way back through the gardens to the main house.

Vachon seemed very happy to see the Princess. He smiled a wide, dimpled grin and bowed low when she approached.

"Please, don't."

He did not understand her request.

"I am sick of everyone bowing and scraping to me simply because I am my father's daughter. I am my own person, ya know. I have my own thoughts and my own ideas. And I don't appreciate being held here against my will so that you can get at my father!" Tracy turned away from Vachon and stormed into the house, her head held high.

Vachon stared after her for a moment, still not understanding what the matter was. Finally he followed her inside. He found Tracy in the library, curled up in the window seat. She glared at him, but Vachon sat down next to her anyway. "I'm sorry that I have to hold you here. I have my orders." He hung his head and would not meet her eyes. "I wish I could let you go... but I can't."

She turned away from him again and stared out the window at the garden, now mostly hidden by the deepening night. And there they sat, in the darkness, in silence, until Vachon finally asked, "So, what do you think about the current political climate in Bosnia?"

Surprisingly enough, Tracy actually had an opinion on the subject; it was an opinion gleaned from information she had gotten from books, newspapers, CNN, and visiting diplomats, but it was an honest, well thoughtout and supported opinion nonetheless. Vachon listened intently to all she had to say, and he was further pleased when later they were able to have an intelligent, in-depth discussion on music as well.

After several hours, Vachon came to realize that, despite her perky- princess demeanor, Tracy was a rather bright person, and Tracy was pleased to discover that, despite his vast knowledge and experience of the world, Vachon was not in the least bit condescending towards her.

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Even though she had spent another late night with her gentlemanly captor, Tracy awoke not long after dawn. She quickly dressed, foregoing the pink, whipped-cream dress (which had miraculously reappeared as clean as the day it had been gifted to her by her father) for the jeans and t-shirt. Down the stairs she went, as swiftly as her tennis-shoe-clad feet would carry her. Out into the sunlit garden. Across to the gate with the rusty lock.

Hairpin in hand again, she set right to work, but no work was required; the lock immediately surrendered, falling open in her hands. She unwound the dirty, rusty chain, and then pushed the gate wide — it emitted a horrendous squeak. She froze in place, and then carefully looked around to make sure the noise had not alerted anyone to her presence. After a few minutes, her heart stopped racing, and she crept out of the gardens. She stayed in the shadow of the Casa's great wall until she reached the farthest corner. Seemingly unnoticed, she finally broke into a run down the hill and into the countryside surrounding her father's realm.

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That evening, the dark-haired man — in service to the Lord High Commissioner of Toronto to rescue Princess Tracy — entered the main hall of Casa Loma. He was immediately greeted by the serving wench, Urs, who took his cloak and ushered him into the conservatory.

"Ah, Vachon." The man noted Vachon lounging in a chair with his feet up on one of the stone planters that lined the white-washed, glass walls. "I see that you are enjoying the hospitality of my home."

"Yes, brother. You have a very lovely home," Vachon replied without looking up.

"I find it comfortable. But now, tell me, where is the Princess? I have come to rescue her as per our agreement. Once she and I are married, and her father is eliminated, the kingdom of Toronto shall be mine. And you, my brother, shall have anything you desire from me for your part in this."

"What I desire is not yours to give," was Vachon's only reply. He now stared out through the open glass doors into the dark garden.

"Don't be a fool. You can have land, money, women...."

"I want none of those things."

"You will change your mind soon enough, I think." The dark-haired man, mysteriously known only as the Inca, even to his own brother, laughed. "You have done your duty, now I must do mine; where is the girl? It is high time that I returned her to her father and began collecting my reward."

"I let her go."

"You wuss!" And with that the Inca attacked Vachon. They fought for what seemed like hours, but both were equally matched in skill and strength. Finally, the Inca got in a lucky blow and Vachon fell to the floor, unconscious.

He dragged Vachon into the garden, spread his arms and feet, and tied him to four stakes set into the untilled earth.

When Vachon finally regained consciousness, his brother asked, "When did the Princess leave here? Where has she gone?"

"She left just after dawn by the rear garden-gate — which needs a new lock, by the way." Vachon managed a snide, though weak, grin. "So, I suspect that she is either halfway to Europe by now, or she is just entering the grounds of her father's palace. Sorry if things didn't quite work out as you'd planned, brother dear." But the Inca was already gone.

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Tracy was finally nearing the gates of Precinct Castle. She had never walked so far in her entire life. She was a Princess after all; she usually had people to walk for her. She was dirty, sweaty, completely exhausted, and not feeling very much like the perky princess that everyone expected her to be.

Suddenly, a dark-haired man appeared at her side — it was the Inca. She drew back and was about to scream when he said: "Never fear, my lady! I am here to escort you to your father."

"I don't need escorting anywhere, thank you very much!" Tracy ignored the man and continued walking toward the palace gates.

"Oh, but I insist, Your Highness." And he did. He took her hand and put it on his arm, holding it firmly in place. The Princess struggled, but to no avail.

"If you do not release me, I will  scream." And she meant it — screaming was one thing that she had never needed anyone else to do for her.

"If you must, but it will not matter. The guards here know me — they are expecting me. Us, really."

"Let go of me. Who the hell are you anyway?"

"I am your knight-in-shining-armor. Your savior. Your future husband."

"What are you talking about? You have not saved me from anything, and at the moment the only thing I do need rescuing from is you! Now, leave me go." Tracy continued to struggle and protest all the way into her father's throne room.

"My daughter! You are safe." The Lord High Commissioner held his arms open for his little girl (who was not a little girl but a competent young woman, though she despaired of him ever realizing this). "Sir, I thank you for returning my daughter safely to me."

"But, Father—" Tracy tried to protest, to explain what had really happened, but her father, as usual, did not listen.

"Now, what was the reward you had requested?" the Lord High Commissioner of Toronto asked the Inca, who by all appearances had returned his daughter safely to him.

"Your thanks, and your daughter's hand in marriage."

"Ah, yes. Well, I thank you again, sir, from the bottom of my heart and I give to you my daughter's hand in marriage."

"Father, no! I don't—" Tracy again tried to protest, and again she was ignored.

"I wish the wedding ceremony to be held tonight, Your Majesty."

"Tonight? Oh, no. Can't be done. Big state affairs these royal marriages. Take months of planning. There are hundreds of diplomats to be invited, you know."

"I humbly suggest that a private ceremony be held tonight, and a grand public ceremony be scheduled for a more appropriate date."

"Hmmm ... well, seeing as you have rescued my daughter—"

"But Father—"

"Not know, Tracy-girl. How many times have I told you not to interrupt me when I am discussing state business? Now, go be a good girl and get cleaned up for your wedding. Off you go." And with that Tracy was dismissed.

She trudged up the stairs toward her room, miserable. She did not want to marry that lying, dark-haired man who treated her like she was his to command. Nor did she want to remain locked up in Precinct Castle for the rest of her life. But what other choices did she have? She was more of a prisoner in the Castle than she had been at the Casa; at least Vachon had listened to her when she talked. He had actually been interested in the things she had to say, and she had found him equally fascinating. "Now that would be a grand life! To travel the world, with not a care; meeting people and experiencing life first-hand...." The Princess sighed to herself.

Tracy turned around and headed back down the stairs. She made her way out into the palace gardens. "Is it too much to hope that Vachon will kidnap me again?" she thought out loud as she stared at the high garden walls.

"I'm afraid it is."

The deep voice startled the Princess. She turned to find the dark- haired man, her newly betrothed, standing behind her.

"He's a bit... tied up at the moment." A smug grin played over his face. Tracy suddenly lunged at the Inca, intent on harming him in some way, but he easily held her off. "Well, now. Isn't this interesting — you're in love with him. Huh, imagine that."

"I am not! Now let me go!" Tracy struggled but it did her no good. Her soon-to-be lord-and-master escorted her back to her rooms.

"You will marry me, Princess. If for no other reason than to keep your beloved Vachon alive."

"You wouldn't dare harm him."

The Inca's answer was a mere smile as he turned and left, shutting her bedroom door behind him. He spoke to the two posted guards in a low but compelling voice before rejoining the Lord High Commissioner.

Tracy sank down onto her bed. She did not want to marry this man, but she did not want Vachon to die, either. And she did... care about him. Despite the fact that he kidnapped her, he had been kind. And he had been the first person to ever really listen to her when she spoke, as if he sincerely cared what she had to say. Tracy had not been able to keep thoughts of him out of her head ever since she had run away from the Casa.

"Hmmm." She suddenly remembered the rusty lock on the garden gate. She had spent the entire afternoon trying to pick the lock, only to have it fall open in her hands the very next morning. The same was true of her bedroom door - she'd picked the lock the first day, but the next day she found the door already unlocked. "He let  me escape. He helped  me escape." She was stunned by this revelation, and she couldn't help smiling.

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Not long before dawn, the Princess Tracy of Toronto, ensconced in enough white tulle to outfit the entire Moscow Ballet for a performance of Swan Lake, was escorted by her proud father down the nave of the castle's chapel.

"Who gives this bride away?" the minister asked loud enough for the congregation, which consisted only of the court regulars, to hear.

"Yeah, like I'm a piece of crockery," Tracy muttered under her breath.

"I — her father, the Lord High Commissioner of Toronto — do." And with that, he physically gave Tracy to the Inca who was soon to be her husband; a man who would no doubt be as controlling as her father and a lot less doting, a man she must marry in order to save the life of the man she realized she truly loved.

"Patriarchal societies," Tracy muttered again.

The Inca looked upon his unhappy bride. "Smile, my dear. You are not the one who will die at dawn," he spoke softly to her.

"What do you mean?" Her whisper was harsh, for she suspected the worst from this man. "You promised to let Vachon go."

"And I will, if there is anything left of him after the sun rises." He smiled that smile at her, the one which made her stomach do flip-flops, and not in a good way.

"Why you low-down," Tracy's whisper grew harsher. "Stuck-up," and louder. "Scruffy-looking—"

"Who's scruffy-looking? I'll have you know that I pride myself on my cleanly appearance, unlike that brother of mine," the Inca indignantly protested.

"Brother? Of course. I should have figured it out sooner!" Tracy grabbed the sword out of Captain Reese's belt and waved it menacingly at the Inca. "You are the one who had me kidnapped. This is all an elaborate plot to marry me, kill my father, and take over Toronto! Isn't it?"

"Tracy, honey. Put down the sword." The Lord High Commissioner tried to calm his daughter. "It's just nerves, dear. Now, be a good girl and give Daddy the nasty sword."

"Why won't you listen to me?" she shouted at her father. "This is the man who kidnapped me! This is the man who plans to murder you! All so that he can rule Toronto!"

At that moment, Vachon came crashing through the stained glass window of the chapel. He tackled his brother, knocking him unconscious. "This man kidnapped the Princess. This man is guilty of conspiracy and treason against the Lord High Commissioner and the great metropolis of Toronto."

"Arrest that man," Tracy's father finally shouted.

Tracy rushed to Vachon's side, overjoyed that he was safe. "But how did you escape?"

Vachon smile a wry grin at her. "Never underestimate the hired help; Urs untied me."

As the Inca was being taken away, the Commissioner approached Vachon. "I want to thank you, sir, for saving my daughter. What reward can I possible give you?"

"What I want is not yours to give." Vachon turned to Tracy and smiled. "Is there anything you want...?"