Opaline-a FalmouthVerse Side Story

Oh, hello there. I see you've arrived outside the cell.

Small place, isn't it? These four walls are what passes for a home around here. But that's what you get with these so-called 'maximum security prisons'. Horrific waste of space, if I say so myself. Had I remained on the throne I would have brought back the death penalty for lawbreakers. An effective method for decreasing the surplus population, if you will.

That telephone is basically my only line to the outside word. You know, it gets so quiet in here sometimes, you and your thoughts. Sometimes it's so quiet I can hear a pin drop. At other times it's as loud as a rock concert, especially if the guards are getting a prisoner under control.

So imagine my delight when I learned that a major newspaper wanted to interview me whilst behind bars. I will admit this is quite the honour. After all, you must be a special type of 'criminal' (I would do the air quotes, but my hands are shackled together and having to hold this phone at the same time, which is so tiresome) in order to be considered worthy of the time of a major media establishment.

Well, gladly. No doubt you've heard the official version of the story that the media and government are parading around. Opaline the insurrectionist. Opaline the tyrant. Opaline the monster who abused a child and mind controlled other people. Opaline who caused the deaths of so many.

Oh, hogwash! I didn't cause those deaths. I wasn't holding the guns or driving the vehicles, was I?

Incidentally, if you do ever see that mongrel, Sunny, tell her not to waste her powers. She'll be needing them sooner or later.

Oh, Sunny! I'll be getting onto her later, but safe to say she's a prime example of why royal and common blood should never mix. Such power she can barely control! It'd be funny if that sorry excuse of a human wasn't what passed for magic users these days.

I'm getting a bit off topic, aren't I. Yes, you've heard the stories about me. And I want to inform you now they are all lies. Falsehoods promoted by an establishment terrified of how the world really functions. How people really think. How the reality we function within holds dark and terrible secrets we can barely understand.

Their problem is that they see the world as they want it to be. I see the world as it truly is.

And this is why I agreed to this interview. It gives a chance to provide the other side of the story. To set the record straight. To ensure that the real version of the narrative is preserved. If I die without a chance to tell my story, then my truth becomes forgotten, and there's becomes facts. History is written by the victors, so they say, but all too often what is written isn't what really happened. It's what people want to believe happened.

After all, the only things you need to rewrite the past are a good lie and enough bullets.

I suppose it makes sense to start at the very beginning of my story, all those years ago. The story begins in 1930, which I know is a very long time ago but do try to keep up.

In an unnasuming Sheffield house on a relatively dingy day in June, a baby was born, one of probably thousands born that day. The world would scarcely have noticed another human soul being added to the population, but this baby was special. This baby was important. This baby was bound for greatness.

For you see, that baby was me.

I wasn't called Opaline back then. My birth certificate gives my name as Olivia Arthur Stuart. As you can probably guess from the name I was special. For my parents were descendants of the Royal House of Stuart.

The Stuarts are the true monarchs of this land, not these Hanoverian imposters that the current King claims lineage from. It is a very old name, deriving from a word that means 'Lord of the Sty.' This was a- stop laughing!

Looks like I'm explaining the obvious again. In this context, a sty is a place where animals are kept, not just pigs. As animals were vital for survival in Medieval times this job was very important.

None of which is relevant for the story, of course. I just find that standards of basic education have fallen through the floor.

My ancestry may have been royal, but my family and surroundings most certainly were not. My father worked in a pit- that's a coal mine to all of you who don't speak Northerner- and spent long hours down there digging coal out of the ground. My mother was the same, as she worked on the surface moving coal bins about between buildings.

Why didn't they use locomotives for that, I hear you ask? Simple. It's cheaper to have people push them about. She worked very long hours moving those bins about, putting in the same work as any man. And people still say women aren't able to do manual labour! Ha! As if.

As a result, life could be hard in that small home, but we got by. You see, although our circumstances were somewhat meagre, my family knew that a great destiny awaited them.

My father was very much aware of his royal lineage, as he had been able to trace his line back to King James himself, which was no mean feat. This was a matter of great importance to him, and he made sure I knew the truth of my lineage and how our birthright was stolen from us. That I was destined for glory.

Yes? You're wondering how I got my nickname, eh?

It refers to my hair. See this magnificent specimen? It's been this colour for the bulk of my life, this milky white colour. Opaline is another word for milk glass, which was extremely popular amongst French nobility.

Yes, I know the French King got his head chopped off in the Revolution, but then this country fought a series of wars that ended in another King being in charge of France. Just further proof that Kings and Queens running things is the natural order of the universe.

The turquoise streaks in it came later. I'll explain how those got there in due time.

But then came the War. I was evacuated from Sheffield, as were thousands of others, and sent to live in the countryside surrounding Sheffield. I could still see the city that I had called home from the family I had been sent to live with, and this meant I could see what they were doing.

Soon the reason for our evacuation became clear, as the Germans soon turned their sights on Sheffield. I can still remember the explosions and the flames, both from bombs dropping and anti aircraft guns firing, as well as the bright lights of the searchlights illuminating the skies above, trying to find German bombers.

It was always such a wondrous sound when the Spitfires roared overhead to intercept. Even as a young girl I understood exactly why this was happening. Why it had come to this. How the city I had called home was being reduced to a ravaged husk of its former self.

It was because we were weak.

We had the largest empire in the entire world! We controlled untold amounts of people and natural resources! And yet here we were being bombed on our own soil by a madman who fancied our place in the sun.

Had we been stronger we would never have suffered this indignity. Had we been stronger this war would never have happened, as we'd have wiped Germany off the map a decade earlier.

As I watched the carnage befall this country, I made a solemn vow. If I had power, I could prevent this from ever happening again by restoring Britain to her proper place in history. I would, one day, reclaim the throne that had been stolen from us and set about building a utopia unlike anything anybody had ever seen.

You're probably wondering what I did after the war. Well, given that the city was pretty badly bombed (in certain sections of the city you'll struggle to find anything built before 1945) we had to move. We ended up relocating to Derby, an industrial city in the East Midlands.

My leaving school with qualifications was a damp squib. Because of my family status I didn't stand a chance of going to University (because in those days you basically had to either be wealthy or have well connected friends). But in 1948, the railways were nationalised. The old companies came together to create British Railways.

And it just so happened there were openings at Derby for security guards. The pay was decent for the time, so I took it.

But the rest of the story will have to wait until we next speak, as I can see the security guard looming over me. Looks like it's my turn to eat the slop they call food around here. If you ever find yourself a resident here, bring your own food.