Once upon a time, in a grand palace overlooking the Italian hills, there lived a kind princess named Fiora. She had long auburn hair, bright green eyes, and the sweetest smile. Her father the king loved her dearly, but he had married a new queen who was jealous of the princess. The stepmother told the king that Fiora must study all day in the tall tower.
Every day, Fiora sat alone in her room at the very top of the tower. She had her books and her golden locket, but she was very lonely. She spent hours looking out the window at the beautiful world below: the green hills, the red-roofed village, the birds soaring through the sky. "I wish I had a friend," she whispered to the clouds.
One golden afternoon, a beautiful canary flew to her windowsill. He was the most magnificent bird Fiora had ever seen, with feathers that shone like pure gold and a tiny crown on his head. He opened his beak and sang the most wonderful song, full of joy and magic. Fiora listened with wide eyes and a growing smile. "What a beautiful bird you are!" she said.
The canary visited every day after that. He would bring Fiora tiny wildflowers in his beak and sing songs that made her laugh and dance around her room. One day, he sang a song so beautiful that something magical happened. In a swirl of golden sparkles, the canary transformed into a kind boy with golden-brown hair and a small crown. "I am a prince," he said with a bow. "And you are my dearest friend."
The prince told Fiora his story. A fairy had given him the gift of turning into a canary so he could fly over the kingdom. When he saw the lonely princess in her tower, he knew he had to visit her. From then on, he came every day as a canary, then became a boy so they could talk and play games and share stories. Fiora was never lonely again.
But the jealous stepmother noticed that Fiora seemed much happier. She spied on the tower and saw the golden canary arriving each day. "What is this?" she hissed. That night, while Fiora slept, the stepmother crept up to the tower window and placed sharp pins all along the windowsill where the canary always landed.
The next day, the golden canary flew to the window as always. But when he landed, the sharp pins pricked his little feet. He cried out in pain and tumbled from the windowsill. Fiora rushed to the window and saw a single golden feather floating down. "No!" she cried. She pulled out all the terrible pins and threw them away. Her heart was pounding with worry for her friend.
That night, brave Fiora did something she had never done before. She tied her bedsheets together, fastened them to the window, and climbed down the tall tower all by herself. Her arms shook and the wind blew, but she thought of her friend and kept going. When she reached the ground, she set off into the moonlit countryside to find the prince.
Fiora walked through the dark forest until she came to a little cottage with a warm light in the window. Inside lived a wise old woman with white curly hair and round spectacles. "I know why you have come, brave girl," said the old woman with a kind smile. She gave Fiora a small bundle of magical healing herbs. "These will cure your friend. Follow the golden feathers."
Fiora followed a trail of tiny golden feathers through the forest and over a hill. She found the prince lying in a bed of soft moss, hurt and weak. He had turned back into a boy but could not move. "You came for me," he whispered. Fiora gently placed the healing herbs on his wounds and held his hand. A warm golden light surrounded them both.
The magical herbs worked wonderfully. The prince sat up, healed and smiling. Together, they walked back to the palace as the sun rose over the hills. When the king saw his daughter and heard what the stepmother had done, he was very angry. He sent the stepmother away and promised Fiora she would never be locked in the tower again.
From that day on, Fiora and the prince played together in the palace gardens every day. Sometimes the prince would turn into a canary just for fun, and Fiora would laugh as he flew circles around her head, singing his magical songs. And whenever Fiora saw a golden feather floating in the breeze, she would smile and remember that the bravest thing she ever did was climb down that tower for a friend.
