Lost Princess of Disney? I Don't Think So!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Disney. Silverglen is mine as well as the original characters.


The residents of the small town of Silverglen, Virginia considered themselves quite normal, thank you very much. The town seemed to move like clockwork. At precisely 6 o'clock every morning the townsfolk would awaken from their slumber and begin their day. Each knew their place and stayed in it. Everything ran smoothly and everybody knew everybody. No one did anything that made them look or act strange. Everyone seemed happy with their lives and socializing. It seemed like the perfect town. The only odd thing about this little town was the old abandoned plantation house that resided deep in the woods just north of their little town. The village elders warned the younger villagers to stay away from that house for it was rumored that it once belonged to a witch who lived there once a long time ago; so long ago that not even the oldest person in the village could say for sure who lived there before. They only knew what had been told to them by their parents and their parents before them. Most of the time they gave the place wide but every now and then over the years some idiotic group of teenagers would disregard the warnings and venture towards the mansion. Every time they left in terror, after seeing a strange figure cloaked in black in the master bedroom. The teens never spoke about their encounters except to warn their own children.

Years passed without incident and all was peaceful in this sleepy little town. However the peace was soon disrupted by the arrival of a mysterious young woman. No one knew who she was or where she had come from. Everything about her seemed strange. Her black as the night hair hung down to her hips in wild, tangled, seemingly untamable curls; her rare unusual silver and blue flecked violet eyes seemed to sparkle with an icy calmness; she had a well endowed with a generous bust and curvy hips. She wore a wide satin black ribbon around her throat with ruby cut into a heart with a golden dagger plunging into it. She was beautiful but seemed cold. The townspeople didn't know what to make of this stranger. Some of the women tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't speak. They were greatly surprised and somewhat afraid of her, when they learned that she was moving into the old plantation manor. It didn't help that she had a black cat named Nightshade that followed her everywhere. She rarely left her house unless it was to get supplies; so they only ever saw her once every other week or so. Rumors began to circulate that she was a witch or an enchantress. That she practiced magic and made potions.

None of this was true of course. She was just a woman who liked her privacy and wished to be left alone. She had her reasons for wanting to be left, none of which she was willing to share with them, especially the gossiping and batty old women who had nothing better to do than sit around on a porch, drinking tea and meddling in the younger folks lives. When she had first arrived, she had been approached by a group of them brave enough to show up and attempt to pry into her life. She had been polite and served lemonade out on the porch for them, but she remained distant, cold and silent. She refused them entry into her home and sent them on their way with a slight nod of her head and some cookies she had baked. When asked how she appeared to act, all that was said was that she was polite enough, even though she never said a single word to them and made it quite clear that they were not welcome.

And so they let her be; as long as she didn't bother them, they didn't bother her. A few of young men in the village tried to woo her, but they were silently refused. In the two years she lived there, the village never heard her speak, not once. Neither did she ever take off the ribbon around her neck. They wrote her off as being strange and unusual. So they soon got used to her and forgot she existed. Little did they know just how special this young woman is. I should know. The young woman is me. My name is Desmoira Sinclaire. And this is my story