A Pea for a Princess: Princess Ivy’s Magical Garden
If you had wandered through the kingdom’s most enchanted garden, you would have felt a certain magic in the air—subtle yet powerful, like a secret whispered by the wind. This was the garden of Princess Ivy, a place unlike any other in the known world. Carefully tended by her own hands, the garden was a living tapestry of nature’s wonders. Every plant, from the tiniest wildflower to the grandest exotic bloom, grew here, thriving under Ivy’s gentle care.
Princess Ivy was known far and wide for her dedication to her garden. She spent countless hours watering the roses, feeding the carnivorous Venus flytraps, and sculpting the hedges into fantastical shapes—animals and mythical creatures that delighted visitors and made her garden the talk of the kingdom. Among all her beloved plants, none held a dearer place in her heart than the humble pea plant. Twining gracefully around the towers of her garden, it bore hundreds of emerald-green peas that were the key ingredient in the king and queen’s favorite pea and ham soup—a recipe that had been in their family for generations.
It was this same pea plant that would play a crucial role in saving Princess Ivy later, though she could never have foreseen it when the prince first rode into her garden on a snowy white horse.
The prince’s arrival sent a chill through the warm air of the garden. His smile was sharp, and his eyes cold as he guided his horse carelessly through the beds of freshly planted flowers and herbs. When he stopped in front of the kneeling princess, his tone was anything but kind. “You are a princess, aren’t you?” he demanded.
Princess Ivy stood, brushing soil from her hands and meeting his gaze with quiet confidence. “Yes, I am Princess Ivy,” she replied.
The prince sneered, his voice harsh. “You will come with me to my palace. There, you will have the chance to become my wife. If you refuse, my soldiers will burn your precious gardens to the ground.”
Without hesitation, Ivy nodded. “Very well, let us go.”
At the prince’s palace, Ivy found herself among twelve other princesses, all awaiting judgment. The prince held between his fingers a small green marble—or so it seemed. On closer inspection, the object was rough and uneven. The prince proclaimed that each princess would spend the night in the palace, where they would be tested to prove their royal blood. Those who failed would be cast into the dungeon.
Princess Ivy’s gaze drifted to the object in his hand. “Is that a pea?” she asked calmly.
The prince’s face flushed with irritation. “So what if it is?”
“Is it cooked or raw?” she pressed, leaning forward.
The prince nearly exploded with anger. “Who cares? Leave, all of you! And make sure you are true princesses.”
Later, in their enormous shared chamber, each princess lay on a towering stack of mattresses and sheets, filled with sharp blackberry thorns hidden beneath. Princess Ivy noticed the thorns beneath her own bed and remembered the pea—the one supposedly used by the prince’s great-grandmother to prove her royal status.
Determined, Ivy devised a plan. One by one, she removed the thorns hidden beneath each princess’s bed, instructing the others to sleep soundly. That night, after the others rested peacefully, Ivy slipped from her bed, climbed out the window, and navigated the castle walls using the ivy that clung to its stone. She slipped inside the palace halls, narrowly avoiding guards, and found the glass cabinet holding the infamous pea.
With a smile, she swapped the pea for a green marble and returned to her room just before dawn.
When morning came, the prince burst into their room, ready to declare the results. He asked if any had slept poorly, and all the princesses shook their heads, claiming a restful night. Furious, the prince declared them all frauds and ordered them imprisoned in the dungeon.
But Princess Ivy was not defeated. She began to dig beneath a flagstone in the dungeon floor, asking for help from the other princesses. Soon, they uncovered a patch of soil large enough for a seed. Ivy planted the pea seed carefully and, with a whispered incantation, called upon her magic.
The pea plant sprouted rapidly, twisting and climbing toward the light filtering through the barred window. More seeds fell, creating a rope of pea vines thick and strong enough to climb. Meanwhile, Ivy summoned the surrounding ivy to grow fiercely, twisting through the bars until they bent and broke.
The princesses cheered as Ivy climbed the pea vine to freedom, the others following closely behind. Outside, the ivy continued to grow, swallowing the palace whole until not a brick remained standing.
Princess Ivy returned to her garden, tending once again to her cherished peas. One day, she heard the thunder of hooves behind her. Turning, she saw the prince, no longer gallant, but humbled.
“I came to see what became of my bride,” he said, eyeing the thriving pea plants.
“And I see you are still the same proud prince, searching for a wife,” Ivy replied with a smile. “Leave before my plants have their revenge.”
As the prince hurried away, the pea plants seemed to chase him into the sunset, their tendrils wrapping around the path behind him.
Moral of the Story:
True nobility and strength come from kindness, courage, and the wisdom to grow beyond challenges—not from titles or tests of power.
