"The Celestial Stone": A Short Christian Fiction

Theodora pulled Justitia's reins as she approached the ridge, the beast giving a soft whinny in response. She had ridden Justitia all her life and would trust no other on the hundred-mile journey through the wild country. In the distance, she could just make out the high tower of Castle Caelum—her home; at least, she had called it so these last twelve years. 

“Theodora.” 

Nathaniel came up behind her. The groom had insisted on coming with her when he caught her sneaking Justitia away in the dead of night. He hadn’t even asked where she was going; just saddled another horse and followed. 

He brought his horse beside her and softly said, “To tarry now is to break the rooster’s neck.” His eyes flicked to her fingers pressed against the Celestial Stone on her neck. Her hand shot to her side. She hadn’t even realized she’d been handling it.

“You are right, of course. It is your worst trait.” She gave him a hint of a smile before spurring Justitia into motion.

It was nearing eventide when the guards detected her, still a great distance off. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart, slowing the horse to a trot to give her a few more minutes to gather her courage.

“You need not be fearful, Princess,” Nathaniel said. Their relationship as royalty and groom had been much altered by their months on the road together but he was careful to maintain propriety. “The King will be overjoyed you have returned.” 

She cast a sideways glance at him. “I much preferred it yesterday when I was just 'Theodora'. Now we have returned, my title outshines my name.”

“They are one and the same and have been since the day you entered the walls of Caelem. 

You must see this by now,” he implored. 

“Must I? I no longer trust the testimony of my sight.” 

The rhythmic clink-clank of heavy chains opened the portcullis and they trotted into the Grand Courtyard of the Saints. She saw the guards whispering orders to one another, most likely to alert the King. She heard exclamations of “The Princess has returned!” and “Long live the Keeper of the Stone!” from the peasants and merchants as the horses clipped along the cobble-stone street. She held her head high, masking the apprehension that gnawed inside her.

There was a time when no one noticed her approach, in the days when she scavenged and lived worse than the rats. Then, on one fateful day, everything changed. She was too young to remember the details but they had been told to her many times as a favourite bedtime story.

King Tyson was given the crown by tragedy. An illness had swept through the royal family, removing the reigning King and his two heirs, leaving the throne to his much younger half-brother, Tyson. His advisors implored him to seek a wife in the neighboring lands but in his grief, he would not listen. It was told to Theodora that on that very day, he disguised himself in his serving man’s capes and wandered the streets, lost in spirit and place. There, he stumbled upon a tiny girl, three or four years old, with hair the color of the sun and eyes deeper than the sea. The story went that in those eyes—her eyes—he saw his future open before him and received a premonition of what was to come should he continue in his grief alone. He picked up the child—picking up his responsibility as monarch with her—and vowed to rule the land worthy enough to honour this child. He took her to live in the castle with him. 

He became the only father she had ever known.

In the royal stables, Nathaniel helped Theodora dismount. He placed his hand over hers before she let go of the reins, forcing her to look at him. 

“This is your place,” he said.

Her place. How could she, a born beggar, have a place in this house of royalty? She was born with nothing and offered nothing—to the crown, the king, or her people. Places of honour should be earned by merit or blood. 

The Celestial Stone, placed around her neck on her Namesake Day, had been too substantial to bear. Upon realizing she had no rightful claim to be where she was—to sleep where she slept, to eat what she ate, to inherit such a precious and powerful heirloom—she fled, her strides hastened by her shame's accusing shouts. She was not pure nobility; she was a fraud. So she rode far and fast—away from the courts, the comfort, and the accommodation she had been granted.

While on the road, Theodora realized that she had left to seek a notable past to explain her present. The Stone was not an ornament; it was a declaration of war against who she used to be and who she now was. 

Yet she did not know which side of the war she fought.

She found herself at the King’s court and methodically walked toward the throne room. The door stood ajar; the room was almost empty. At this hour? It should have been full of patricians preparing to feast richly off the King’s table. He was a generous King and offered his food and riches in abundance. Many came to take from him, some just to be seen by him, but only a small number remained to know him. 

The room’s sole occupant was King Tyson, seated on the throne. He was expecting her. His eyes glistened, glued to her as she approached.

She bowed low. The hem of her riding dress was caked with mud and dust from the road. She imagined the rest of her appeared just as disheveled as her garments. 

“Rise.” 

She slowly stood, keeping her eyes down, feeling King Tyson’s imploring stare.

He was silent, surveying her from head to toe, careful not to move as if she were a rabbit in the wild about to run.

“Did you find what you were seeking?” His voice was careful—level, almost hesitant.

She shook her head. “I hardly know. I left to...to find…who I truly am, I suppose.”

He tipped his head to the side, eyebrows shooting up. “And who is that, then?”

She paused before answering. “Common. Pitiable.” 

The King’s face fell. He descended toward her. “My Dora. You have never been common.” He put his finger under her chin to raise her eyes to his. “You were just misplaced.”

She flinched. “Misplaced?”

His body relaxed. He smiled and touched her pendant. “The Celestial Stone is the heirloom of the monarchs, passed on through the generations. Now, you wear it.” 

Theodora took a step back, her jaw tight. “I did not earn this honour,” she said.

“No, you did not. It was not given to you because you earned it. It was my right by blood, secured long ago, and now I have shared it with you. You wear it in unity with me.”

Her hands began to tremble. It was too easy. If he only knew what she had discovered while on the road, and saw the stock from which she hailed, he would not be saying so. “But I must show you…”

King Tyson broke off her words as he grabbed hold of her hands. “Stop—you do not hear me. There is nothing you need to prove. I have already done what was needed. This Stone, this dwelling: they are not your dungeon—they are your wings.”

He took a few steps to where the royal tapestry hung. Gesturing to it, he continued. “On your Namesake Day, you were given the Celestial Stone. It is not all, but a deposit of the inheritance yet to come. All that I have is yours. You were given your new name not to erase your past but to embrace your future.” He paused. “I can see from your face that you have learned of your origins.”

Theodora clutched her braid and leaned forward. “You knew? All along, you have known the depravity from which I came?”

He nodded. “Who you were has no bearing on who you are. I wanted to give you an existence far greater than you would have known." His lips pinched as his eyes unfocused into memory. "Your people are lost. They choose their ignorance and they suffer for it." King Tyson swallowed hard. "But in my courts, there is abundance. In my favour, there is a life more full and rich than the royal coffers could ever boast. My favour is not earned; it is bestowed."

Theodora's downturned lips quivered, her breaths coming in shallow bursts.

"You are Princess Theodora. You bear my name, and you belong here, with me.”

King Tyson held open his arms. The tears she had been holding back came in a torrent. Theodora ran to him, burying her face into his chest. There she sobbed, shedding her fears and regrets with every tear that stained his majestic robe. 

“Allow me to love you, Dora” he whispered into her ear when her crying subsided. “Wherever you roam, may your new name always lead you back to me; to your place next to me. You remain my Princess. Abide with me and you shall never be chased by shame again.”

She pulled back to look up at him and saw the truth in his face. His love, free from obligation, compelled her to love him in return. Why had she ever run from a love so pure?

The King took the crown off his head and placed it onto hers. It was much heavier than her own. She straightened her back to accept its weight.

The Celestial Stone refracted the glow of the setting sun, radiating into the room, washing them in its sapphire glow. Princess Theodora stood before her father as his beloved and took her place beside him, the recipient of an inheritance of no equal measure. Purpose settled into her soul as she rested in the safety of being claimed in love, fully known—and completely at peace.

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"For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory." (Romans 8: 14-17, NIV)

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I hope you enjoyed this "princess moment" short Christian fiction. Regardless of whether you acknowledge Valentine's day as a legitimate holiday (which I do not), you can use it as a tool to remember the lasting, sacrificial, true love of the Heavenly Father for you—His creation and beloved child.

I get fired up when I read the above passage in Romans. Heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ?! It would be too good to be true if it didn't come from the one source who is only ever perfectly good. We can't know pure goodness apart from God, nor can we know freedom from sin's bondage (Romans 8:2), safety from God's holy judgment (John 3:18), and peace from human futility (Ephesians 4:17-18). The Accuser may condemn, but he has no case (Romans 8:31-34; Revelation 12:10). Christ has taken care of your guilt and set you free: "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (Romans 8:1, NIV). Christian, embrace your inheritance! You have been freed from darkness and freed up to live in the radiant fullness of God's presence (Psalm 16:11). God be praised.

Happy hallmark...ahem, I mean, Valentine's Day!