Even though I wasn't born a princess, I am still the mother of the Stewart dynasty. My father fought for Scottish independence against the evil English. My son, Robert, began the Stewart dynasty. But before I became the mother of a dynasty, I had to survive my childhood. 

I never knew my mother. She died shortly after I was born. My parents were madly in love. My father didn't re-marry until I was six years old. Even though I always wondered what my mother was like, I still loved my new mother, Elizabeth. I loved her even more after we survived the horrible way that the English treated us. Even though I didn't know my real mother, I did not lack strong female role models. My stepmother, my two aunts, and a female supporter of my father made sure I never felt alone, even at the darkest of times. 

Three years after Elizabeth entered my family, my father became King Robert I, King of Scotland. For three short months, it seemed like a fairy tale. I was only nine years old and still believed in happy endings. But King Longshanks of England destroyed that childish dream. I became a princess when my father lost a battle against the English. I still remember how it all began... 

Elizabeth burst into my room, out of breath. "Your father lost the battle. He wants us to leave." 

She flew around my room, wildly throwing clothes and shoes into a trunk. I stared at her in confusion. I was only nine years old, but I knew what was at stake. The wicked English king would stop at nothing until he had Scotland under his control. He could manipulate my father into defeat if he used my father's loved ones against him. We couldn't let that happen. 

By the end of the day, Elizabeth, Aunt Christina, Aunt Mary, and I were all ready to go. My father's trusted supporter, Isabella, would be escorting us to safety. The smaller our party, the faster we could get away. 

Isabella was pacing the courtyard while our horses were loaded with everything we would need. We would be going north to stay ahead of the English troops. I was dressed in layers of petty coats and warm flannel. I knew that even though I was a princess, I would not be living like one for a long time. 

"The horses are ready. You should be, too." Isabella called from the courtyard. "Let's go!" 

My aunts came down the stairs. Both of their faces were set in grim expressions as though they knew how this journey would end. Elizabeth looked slightly more hopeful, probably for my sake more than anything. 

We climbed on the horses without speaking. Isabella wasn't dressed as a noble woman, as she usually was. Instead, she wore what looked like her husband's spare clothes. She was the only one of us that knew how to fight. So, she couldn't be bothered with the long skirts that the rest of us wore. She had a sword on her back and a dagger at each hip. I had heard gossip that she kept more weapons stashed in other secret places as well. 

Isabella set off at a fast trot. Looking back once to make sure the rest of us were following, she kicked her horse to increase the speed. The rest of our journey blurred together. We went steadily north for a few weeks, trying to evade the English. We never stayed in one area for too long in case word spread of our location. However, it all seemed to be in vain.  

I started the month of June a Scottish princess, looking forward to a bright future. But I ended that month as a prisoner of the English. Even though we tried to prevent the English from tracking us, we were captured by the Earl of Ross. His sneering face gleamed with happiness when he found us. I still shudder to think of him smiling above me as I was led away with my hands tied together. I wanted to spit on his face and punch his small beady eyes. He was a traitor to his country: a Scotsman working for the English. 

During my imprisonment, I had plenty of time to think about the people responsible for my cruel fate. I prayed that Longshanks would fall in battle and that Ross would be captured and held accountable for his actions. 

I suffered the same fate as my Aunt Christina. We were locked away in convents and forced to endure solitary confinement. I didn't mind being imprisoned alone, since I couldn't look at an Englishman without becoming filled with hate. 

My fate was better than what Isabella and Mary went through. They were locked in cages that had been built just for them. Later, I learned that a third cage had been made for me at the Tower of London. I wept with relief when I learned this, knowing that I had avoided such horror. Though I despised the English, I was grateful for the ones that protested on my behalf. I was so young that even some of the heartless English couldn't justify putting a ten year old in a cage. 

However, the English still put Isabella and Mary in those cages. They were open to the elements: no matter the weather, even if it was snowing or raining, Isabella and Mary were exposed. The cages were also in public places where people could harass them. 

Longshanks died about a year after I was captured. I held onto the hope that the English would fall without Longshanks to lead them. But Longshanks's son continued the war, and my imprisonment lasted for seven more years.