Once upon a time, far away in the lost land of Balderia,
there lived a young woman named Patsy. She was the daughter of the shoe maker,
a poor man who had barely enough money to buy leather for his work. They lived
in a little hovel at the edge of their town, eating cabbage soup for breakfast,
lunch and dinner because it was the only food they could afford. However, Patsy
was not unhappy with her lot in life. Every day she would sing a cheerful song
as she worked in the garden and darned the socks- a song that lifted her heart
and let her mind soar above her humble station.
Oh I may not be
pretty
Or charming or
witty
But you should not
pity
Me, oh no not me!
For I have this
ditty
That says I’m not
pretty
And I do not pity
Me, oh no not me!
Patsy’s song was true to its word, for she was not
attractive in the traditional, Balderian sense. Instead of being a thin little
chit of a girl, with blond hair and a vacant expression, she was a heavier
maiden, with dark, course hair and large, doe eyes. Her father despaired of
this fact. He repeated his misery so much that Patsy never bothered looking in
mirrors. She knew what she’d find: an ugly girl unfit to even be the daughter
of a good cobbler. Often you would hear her father say:
“Oh, if only my Patsy had been beautiful- then perhaps she
could have married someone well to do, like the butcher or the baker- but no,
she’s plain. Plainer than the day she was born. She will end up an old maid, of
that I am sure… Ah well, at least her voice is not dull to the ears.”
Her voice was not dull to the ears at all. In fact, many
would have said it was the most beautiful voice in all of Balderia- possibly
even the world. When Patsy sang, the sound reverberated around like you were
caught in a ball of cotton candy. It soaked into your pores and filled your
soul with longing. When Patsy sang, birds stopped to listen. Even the ducks,
quack, quack, quacking in their little pond quieted to hear the sweet singing.
Until you’d heard Patsy sing, you hadn’t lived.
The word spread about the maid with the beautiful voice, and
people started to arrive in her village, looking for this luscious singer
setting the world aflutter. When they were told that the girl they were
searching for was the shoemaker’s daughter many turned away, repulsed by her
low birth. But the few that stayed received a terrific treat. Patsy agreed to
let them listen as she darned her father’s socks and sang. And what music it
was. Most were astonished by its beauty, and all fell in rapturous bliss at the
maiden’s feet.
Those that had heard her scattered. One ran to the far
provinces and within a fortnight all the mountains were whispering about the
girl. One ran to the coastal lands and within a week the sea itself was telling
all and sundry about the voice. And one ran to the king and queen, and within a
day they had both decided that this bard woman should come to the castle to be
their private minstrel and sing when they demanded, like a bird in a cage.
A postman preparing a proclamation arrived at the girl’s
house, proclaiming Patsy’s post as the palace poet.
“But I don’t want to-“ She began, putting down her sock and
standing up, trying to appear like someone who was in control of her future. It
was all an act, but she was praying that the messenger wouldn’t know that.
“The King and Queen expect you before a week has past,” The
man announced, ignoring her, “They have sent a coach and fifty drachmas to help
put your affairs in order!”
He abruptly turned on his heel and set off back down the
path. Patsy stood there, shell shocked, watching the odiously pompous man
waddle back to his carriage. Something about him just irked her. She couldn’t
have known that he’d had a dreadful childhood and an even worse adolescence.
Yes he was an odious man, but he hated his profession and the way he was living
his life. Every day he would wake up and think, today’s the day I’ll do
something truly good and get out of this dead end job. But he never did.
She couldn’t have known that earlier today his wife had left him- he’d never
loved her- and that his house had mysteriously burned down. However, she also
couldn’t have known that in just two days his life would get considerably
better, due to the fact that his long lost love was going to finally write him
back and accept his marriage proposal from twenty long years ago. So the moral
of this part of the story is… well, to get back to Patsy because messenger’s
lives are horribly boring.
What was she going to do? The King and Queen had commanded
her to go to the palace and sing for them- but what about her father? What
about the cabbage in the garden? Who would care for it? Who would cook? Who
would darn? Who would-
A Royal Proclamation. She couldn’t ignore a Royal
Proclamation. People who ignored Royal Proclamations ended up dead or in
dungeons. She would have to go.
Resigned to her fate, Patsy returned home and told her
father the news. He was heartbroken, but he said:
“Darling, perhaps in the castle people will not care so much
about your face and focus more on your voice. Who knows, perhaps a knight will
take a fancy and marry you!”
She sighed. He would never let her forget the fact that she
was uglier than Cinderella’s stepsisters.
Back at the castle, the King and Queen were having their own
troubles. Their son, the most revered and admired Crown Prince Reginald- known
to no one as Reggie, save his parents and one impertinent chambermaid who would
soon find her head removed from her neck if she didn’t stop calling him that-
refused to be married to any of the princesses they’d chosen for him. No matter
the attractiveness of the girl or the immenseness of her tracts of land-
Reginald the Fourth of Balderia blatantly rejected every eligible girl within a
five mile radius.
Of course, the boy had a reason, but it was not one he could
tell his parents, for it went against everything a Crown Prince was supposed to
feel. What the rulers of the land could not know was that Reginald, Revered and
Admired, wanted desperately to marry for love.
Why couldn’t he tell his parents? The answer is plain to
see. The King would laugh for five minutes straight, falling off his Royal
Throne and upsetting the Royal Pooch- Crown Pooch Kimberly, to be precise-
before spluttering in his bellowing voice:
“MARRY FOR LOVE? MY DEAR BOY, NO ONE WHO’S ANYONE
MARRIES FOR LOVE NOWADAYS! NO, YOU SHAN’T MARRY FOR LOVE. WHOEVER HEARD
OF SUCH NONSENSE?”
His mother, Queen Deanne of Lomodor, would put a hand before
her face and let the well-practiced mask fall away, breaking into a smile as
wide as the Royal Road. Her eyes would crinkle and the entire Royal Court would
see how silly and immature their Crown Prince was. When Queen Deanne smiled
peace treaties were signed and Royal Rainbows sprung up out of nowhere.
Reginald did not want the cause of that smile to be something he’d
believed in with all his heart.
He couldn’t tell his parents, not with the risk he’d be
taking. He just had to delay marrying until the right girl came along.
Of course, his parents didn’t know this and had become very
worried about his future. If he didn’t marry and produce an heir, the line of
Royal Balderian Rulers would have ended and they would be left with a Menanite
King, an unthinkable thing that would not ever occur. So they devised a test.
Hear ye, Hear ye, by order of the Royal Rulers of
Balderia, the King and Queen and their Revered and Admired son, the Crown
Prince, Reginald of the Royal Rulers, Respected by All and Reviled by None,
Ruler of the Rotten Romanies and future King of us all, there is to be a Royal
Test.
This Royal Test will take place over the course of three
days, in which all young eligible princesses should stay at the castle and be
judged as worthy as the future bride of the Crown Prince Reginald, Royal Ruler,
etcetera.
The winner will become the aforementioned Prince’s bride
and be crowned as the Future Queen. The losers will receive no consolation
prize, except the joy they will feel when meeting the aforementioned Royal
Rulers. So really, it’s a win/win situation.
The notices were sent to every neighboring kingdom, hill,
dale, nook and cranny- any place a princess could possibly be, the signs were
there, informing her of the Royal Test.
Reginald was horrified. To marry a princess his parents had
chosen- one who had passed a ridiculous test- that would be the most unpleasant
task he’d ever had to complete. And he would have to marry her. His parents had
promised that very thing on the notices. If he refused- well, not only would he
be going against King and Country, but also against his parents. And he was
nothing if not a little bit of a baby when it came to opposing them. So he
stayed silent, hidden in his library, and waited for the dreadful inevitable.
Princesses started arriving a week after the decree was sent
out. The first one arrived at six o’clock in the morning, forcing the King and
Queen out of their Royal Bed hours before their Royal Morning was supposed to
start. Due to the fact that neither one of the rulers was a morning person, the
poor punctual princess was sent packing at once, leaving the Royal Sleep to
continue uninterrupted.
From the window of the library, Reginald watched the next
girl arrive, and the next, until he could no longer count due to the huge mass
of carriages all approaching at once. Within a day the castle was flooded with
Potential Princesses and the Crown Prince could no longer hide away, sulking,
because his Royal Mother came to fetch him for his welcoming speech.
The Royal Test, the Princesses learned, was to happen the
next day. It would be a conglomeration of every bit of information that a Ruler
would need to know, random facts of trivia picked up for their sheer
unknowability, and some things that no one in their right mind would ever want
to know. Subjects spanned from curtseying to sewage, from policies to family
trees- even encompassing such tidbits as the Royal Carpenter’s son’s favorite
toy and what the Royal Rulers preferred to eat for tea (the answers to which of
course were his blocks and biscuits).
Eleven Potentials left right away.
There were eighty one girls left.
Unable to bear the incessant chatter rising up from the
Princesses’ quarters- really, it was quite a cacophony, and gave the Royal Assistant
Manager’s Assistant Royal Bell Ringer a royal headache- Reginald saddled his
horse and began to ride. He rode around the riding ring until he became dizzy,
then took his steed across the drawbridge and began racing down the main road.
Thoughts whizzed through his head, passing as quickly as the scenery around
him.
I won’t marry a girl I don’t love! I’d rather die!
Perhaps I’ll abdicate and spend my days roaming the countryside, looking for my
true love… But then I’d never get the chance to improve Balderia the way I’ve
always dreamed. Could I be a wandering ruler? No, my parents would never allow
it… I’ll have to marry one of the princesses. That’s the end of it. I might be
allowed to fall in love with a mistress… If my wife is bothersome I shall have
to make due… but would that be fair to true love? Oh, can I survive this? If I
cannot I think I shall wither away into a mere shell of my- What’s that?
Off in the distance he’d heard a voice, pure and filling,
like buttered pudding and popcorn. Straining to listen more clearly, he urged
his horse further down the path. As he came closer the voice became clearer and
even more beautiful. He’d never heard anything as lovely as the sound. He
ordered his horse to halt and waited for the singer to walk around the bend in
the road.
“Oh I may not be
pretty
Or charming or
witty
But you should not
pity
Me, oh no not me!
For I have this
ditty
That says I’m not
pretty
And I do not pity
Me, oh no not me!”
When she finally walked into his view, Reginald did a double
take. She really wasn’t pretty. The girl was a short, squat, dumpy sort of
thing, with huge eyes and long, dark hair. But her voice! Oh, the music was
enough to make anyone fall madly in love- even Royal Sons of the Royal Ruler.
Reginald leapt down off his horse and towards the maiden,
calling, “My dear lady, are you the owner of that beauteous singing voice?”
Patsy- for, of course, it was she- responded, “I believe so,
my lord.”
“Prove it,” He commanded, then, softening, he said, “If you
will.”
“I will,” Patsy responded, slightly confused at this young
lord’s interest in her but willing to give in to his strange fancy. He was a
lord, after all. She could tell by the state of his clothes. She sang.
“There is a
lordling,
Standing right
here
He’s heard my
music
Deep in his ear.”
“You’re perfect!” Reginald exclaimed, grabbing her hands and
swinging her about.
Patsy was shocked. Perfect for what? And why was he so
excited? Had he found her for some party? Or was this young man just slightly
wrong in the head? It seemed so. Sane people did not throw other people around
in their arms after having known them for only a couple minutes.
“Kind sir, I beg you, put me down!”
Remembering himself, the Crown Prince did as she commanded,
but still held on to her hands. “What do you desire more than anything else in
the world, my lady?” He asked, seating her down by the side of the road.
Patsy thought. Her heart’s desire… she’d never let herself
think that far ahead. Her life had seemed so futile, so pointless. She’d been
ready to spend her entire existence living with her father and darning his
socks. Patsy had never dreamed. She’d stopped dreaming when her mother died and
her fate seemed set in stone. But now…
“I want to be able to pass among people without them being
repulsed by my face.”
Reginald was surprised. Didn’t young ladies usually desire
clothes, jewels, husbands and the like? He’d never met someone who just wished
to be no longer plain. And that was what struck him. She hadn’t asked to be
made beautiful. No, she’d just asked to no longer be considered homely. His
heart beat faster.
“But, my lady, you are beautiful,” He insisted, his growing
admiration obscuring his eyes.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
“No,” Why was he arguing with her? Couldn’t he see her face?
Was he not repulsed?
“Yes,” Why was she arguing with him? Didn’t she know he was
a prince? Why did she not listen?
“No.
“Yes!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“I feel very silly right now!”
“I concur!”
Patsy brought her hands up to her face and laughed, a
musical giggle fit to rival any beauty queen’s. Her laugh was so beautiful.
Reginald was struck by the glowing exquisiteness of the lady. He was falling
more and more in love by the second. She even argued like an angel.
“What’s your name, my lady?” He asked, taking her hands once
more. Her hands were not the tiny, soft, ladylike hands of his mother… no, these
were the large, deft, but clumsy in intimate situations kind of hand that
belonged to the common folk of the realm. But they fit in his grasp perfectly
and felt like they’d been made to be held by his hands. They felt right.
“I’m Patsy, my lord,” She said, fighting the urge to leap up
and curtsy. The lordling seemed to enjoy holding her hands. She didn’t want to
take them away from him. And hands were usually involved in curtsies. So she
didn’t curtsy.
That was the first time someone didn’t curtsy when they met
Reginald. At that moment, he was a goner. Love swept him away. He’d never met a
more charming girl than this one… And wasn’t Patsy just the most beautiful
name? At first glance it might seem a trifle commonplace, but after thinking
about it more… He would name cities Patsy! His next horse would be a Patsy! All
of his children, girls or boys, would be named Patsy!
“May I be so bold as to ask your name, my lord?”
Brought out of his punch drunk musings, the Crown Prince
gave a sweet smile and responded, “I am Prince Reginald of Balderia.”
Patsy’s mouth dropped open and her mind went blank. The
Crown Prince? That Crown Prince? Her Crown Prince? Prince
Reginald? Sir Reggie? Royal Son of the Royal Ruler? That Prince Reginald
of Balderia?
Thoughts whirled through her head as she tried to formulate
a response to his startling revelation. Should she curtsy? Should she apologize
for not cursying? Would he be offended if she didn’t say anything, and just
gaped. Perhaps it would be best to just run away and never see him again. She
tried to force some sort of intelligible sentence out of her brain; however it
came out of her mouth as, “Hudududeferf?”
“I understand your bewilderment,” Reggie postulated as
pompously as possible, “For a Crown Prince does not usually stop by the road
and accost young ladies. Princes are not known for their tendencies to swing
women around in boundless joy, or even to ask their name. However, I am not
like other princes. And you, Patsy, are not like other girls.
“I am in love with you,” He continued, kneeling and looking
at her so sweetly that she felt her heart melting, “I love you more than I love
my family. I love you more than I love my Future Kingdom. I love you more than
the entire world. If every star in the sky were a piece of my love it would
still not encompass the entire mass. You make my heart beat and my soul sing.
When I hear your voice I feel that if I died, I would perish happily, for I
have heard the most pleasurable sound in Balderia. I love you, Patsy, though I
have known you but little.”
She stared at him. He gazed at her. Silence all but filled
the meadow, except for the chirping birds and the imaginary orchestra that
played a romantic violin solo in Patsy’s head. They stayed like that for a long
time, until she finally managed to say:
“Pardon?”
“Would you be so kind as to consider taking my name as
yours-“ His pompousness gone, Reginald stumbled over his words like a
schoolboy, “I mean to say, would you consent to be my wife?”
“What?”
“I love you, Patsy.”
“Is- is this some kind of cruel joke?”
If a host of golden arrows had pierced Reginald’s heart he
could not have been more hurt. “My love, why are you so cold?”
Patsy laughed a bit hysterically and said, in a higher
pitched, nervous voice, “You just asked me to marry you?”
“Yes,” Reggie said, nodding.
“And you’re the prince… right?”
“Yes,” Reggie said, still nodding.
“Why?”
“Because I love you. I love you more than the sun. More than
the springtime and the winter. More than pineapple and cake and snowballs and-“
“But I’m dumpy. I’m short and squat and, for Balderia’s
sake, why would you want to marry me?” Patsy pulled her hands away and started
kneading her skirt. Nothing made sense anymore. Her entire world had been
turned topsy turvy in one fell swoop by some self-obsessed Prince with serious
issues. He had to have something wrong with him. That had to be it. Otherwise,
why would he choose her? Unless it was a joke. Her eyes watered as she
remembered all the times people had made fun of her because of her face. Was
this just another mean practical pun? It had to be.
Reginald stood up, grabbed Patsy’s shoulders, bringing her
face within a couple inches of his, and murmured, “To me you are the most
beautiful woman in the entire world.”
And then he kissed her. And Patsy didn’t care about his
reasons or his high birth or her plain face anymore, because… well, she was too
busy being snogged within an inch of her life- figuratively, of course. I mean,
he wasn’t actually killing her or anything-
I’ll just continue the story…
After the snog- which lasted for an abnormally long time and
was so romantic that I feel slightly strange even avoiding the topic- Reginald
released Patsy from his iron grip and smiled. She promptly crumpled to the
ground in a faint, causing the horse to be startled and dash away. Reginald
just sort of stood there, at a loss.
“What now?”
He sat down and waited. And waited. And waited… until,
finally, Patsy sat up.
“I’m dreaming,” She exclaimed, “A prince did not just kiss
me.”
Reginald was offended. Why was this girl so adverse to his
love? Couldn’t she see he was desperately in love with her? “I did kiss you!”
He retorted, furrowing his brow in a Princely manner.
“No. No you didn’t,” Patsy said.
“Yes.”
“No, princes don’t kiss dumpy girls like me.”
“Yes they do!”
So he kissed her again. And she fainted. And he waited…
To save everyone a lot of trouble and boredom, I’m just
going to skip to the part where she accepts the bit about the Prince loving
her. It took seven or eight repetitions before she was convinced it wasn’t a
very strange dream. By the end of it the Prince really was in love- after all,
only one in love could go through such extremes to win the heart of another.
“So,” Patsy finally said, “You love me?”
“Yes. More than anything else in the world.”
“Huh.”
Reginald waited- he was getting remarkably good at that- for
her to continue, but she didn’t. Eventually he broke the silence by saying, “Do
you love me?”
Patsy giggled. “I’ve certainly kissed you enough times to
make that seem the logical conclusion.”
“What?” Reginald had never been the brightest corncob in the
tool box.
“I guess… I love you.”
The both smiled the dopey way you smile when you’re in love.
Patsy kept on thinking she’d never seen a Prince as Princely as her Prince.
Reginald just let the blankness of affable affection fill his mind. Neither
could think of anything to say. What could be said? They were both in
desperately and hopelessly in love.
Patsy was the first to snap out of the stupor.
“Reggie-“
Reginald had never been called Reggie by anyone except his
parents- and the impertinent chambermaid who would soon be without a head- and
even then he had been three. For a girl to use that title so recklessly-
especially a girl so lowly born- was unthinkable! And yet… Patsy’s use of his
name sent shivers down his spine.
“What about your parents?”
He jumped, having temporarily forgotten everything. “Oh
balderdash.”
“Balderdash and applesauce is right,” Patsy worried,
wringing her hands, “I’m a shoe maker’s daughter and you’re- for Balderia’s
sake, Reggie- you’re the Crown Prince! I’ll never- they won’t- I-“
Reginald stopped her mouth with a kiss, concerned that if
she nattered on it would get in the way of his thinking. And he was. Thinking,
I mean. He was thinking very hard and formulating an elaborate plan to work his
parent’s will his way so that he could marry his love- his life- his Patsy.
“I have an idea…”
…
He arrived back at the castle in time to dress for supper,
which he did most elegantly, donning a white doublet with gold embroidery and
making sure to place his ornate silver crown on his Royal head in the most
becoming way possible. Reginald needed to look superb for this trick to work.
Dinner that evening was to be held in the banquet hall, with
the Royal Rulers seated at the Royal Table, waited on by Royal Servants and
served by Royal Cooks. The princesses had to make do with the long benches
usually reserved for toiling knights and common peasants, although the quality
of the food quite made up for the UnRoyal seating. No princess was supposed to
have been given any higher honor than the others, but Reginald could not help
noticing that the most beautiful of the girls were seated closest to him, while
the more homely ones were pushed into the shadows at the back. However, he
never gave any of them even a second glance. His head was filled with dreams of
his exquisite Patsy, and nothing could dissuade him from that train of thought.
Every princess seemed determined to get his attention, by laughing loudly or
speaking above the din- but those that were the most unruly were quickly packed
off home. By the end of the meal, only seventy three girls remained.
The King and Queen decreed the day to be done and went to
bed, as did all the other castle’s inhabitants. Reginald went to his room and
pretended to sleep, but at the hour of one he leapt up, grabbed some supplies,
and escaped without alerting any of the guards. He saddled his horse and rode
across the lowered drawbridge, into town, out of town, and into the woods. No
more than ten feet inside, Patsy was waiting for him.
They kissed passionately for a few minutes before he said,
“I leave you with everything you should need. Remember the plan, my love!”
After some more kissing- a very enjoyable pastime, but
tedious to write about so consistently- Reginald got back up on his horse and
returned home. Now all he had to do was wait.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Within an hour there was a knock on the castle’s grand, oak
doors. The Royal Assistant Master of the Door was promptly awakened by the
Royal Assistant’s Assistant Master of the Door- his bedroom was situated right
over the entrance for just this very purpose- and the former was the one who
first laid eyes on the fair maiden beyond.
For she was fair, if in a slightly off-putting way, with
large eyes that seemed to stare into your soul and black hair that curled
gently down her back in soft ringlets. She was rather short, and perhaps a bit
wide, but she wore a gown- and ah, what a gown! It was light blue silk
with a diamond encrusted in the bodice and the most flattering cut the man had
ever seen. A dress fit for a Royal Queen.
She didn’t even have to say a thing. He just let her in and
led her to an empty bedchamber, bid her goodnight, and told her that the Royal
Rulers would meet with her on the morrow.
Patsy didn’t breathe until he’d been gone for five minutes.
Never in her life had she been more terrified. If the King and Queen found out
her deception- why, she’d be dead in seconds. Would they behead her? Or burn
her? No, both seemed too good. She’d probably be hung for all to see.
“Why did I ever agree to this?” She asked her pillow in
hushed tones, a tear falling down her cheek.
Because of Reginald.
That’s why. That’s why you are risking everything. For love.
She wiped a hand across her damp cheek. If she was to meet
the Royal Rulers on the morrow, then she needed to get to sleep. Patsy stripped
out of her fine clothes and put on the nightgown that was laying on the bed. It
was the softest, most delicious thing she’d ever worn.
“I could get used to this…” She murmured to her pillow,
snuggling under the sheets.
Patsy was asleep within minutes.
A Royal Maid awoke her with a slight jiggling of her
shoulder.
“It’s time to get up, Highness,” The girl chirped, opening
the curtains and pulling back the bedspread.
Patsy blinked at the sudden brightness. How could it be
bright? She never slept past sunrise… And who was this person? Where was she?
Why… Start with the first question. Then ask the rest.
“What time is it?” She asked, throwing the covers off and
swinging her legs off the side of the bed.
The serving girl giggled. “Begging your pardon, Highness,
but it’s eight thirty by the crow’s calls, by your leave.”
‘Begging your pardon?’ ‘By your leave?’ ‘Highness?’ Where
the heck was she?
“Oh my goddess.”
“Majesty!” The girl exclaimed, making the sign of the star
on her chest the way people of the old folk did when shocked.
Was she insane? Had the feeling of love left her
completely dull in the wits? To come to the castle- to try and marry a prince-
these were things that could not be. She was not princess material. She was not
QUEEN material. She was a cobbler’s daughter. That was it. That
was all it ever could be. End of story.
“I need to see the prince,” Patsy blurted.
The serving girl started giggling again. “Begging your
pardon, Miss, but, dressed like that?”
Patsy looked down. She was wearing a nightshirt. How
inconvenient. Oh well. Breaking dear little Princey boy’s heart could wait
until after she was dressed.
“I… what should I wear?”
“Oh, miss. You must be a new one,” The girl grinned, the
swung open the dressing cabinet, “Take your pick.”
An explosion of color hit Patsy’s eyes. There were dresses
of every shape and color, of every style and size- and they were all crammed
into her wardrobe. Some had jewels sewn in; others were lined with silver
thread. Too rich a fare for a commoner. She approached the dresser slowly,
carefully; fearful that if she moved too fast it might guess her low birth.
“I don’t know… can you… I mean, perhaps…”
“This one’s lovely, Highness, if you will.”
The girl had sensed exactly what Patsy wanted. She had
pulled out the only dress without any sort of elegant extras; the only one
Patsy could ever imagine herself wearing. It had a flower print, with a ruffled
bottom and long sleeves, but the amount of lace was restricted to a bare minimum
around the neckline and there were neither jewels inlaid nor silver thread.
However, even without the finery, it would still be the most beautiful thing
she had ever worn.
Patsy let the servant dress her. She winced when the corset
was laced, having never worn a corset before, and gasped when the girl brushed
the tangles out of her hair, but it was not altogether a painful experience.
The cloth was fine and the girl was skilled. Before an hour had passed she was
dressed.
She thanked the Royal Maid and bid the girl to take her to
the Prince’s chambers. The way was long, with many staircases and back
passageways, but they finally arrive. Patsy told the girl to go, then pounded
her fist upon the wooden door.
A scruffy, nightshirt wearing, bed headed version of
Reginald opened the door. His face broke into a smile when he saw who it was.
“Patsy! You look-“
“We need to talk,” She commanded, pushing past him into the
chamber.
“What?”
“I can’t marry you!” Patsy exclaimed, throwing her arms into
the air, “I’m a commoner. Unsuited to life in a castle. Fit only to be a
serving girl. That’s who I am, Reggie! I can’t marry a Prince! I was
crazy yesterday, I apologize for my lack of propriety, but I can’t do this. I
can’t. I can’t fool your parents, the servants and everyone else. Not forever.
Not even for a day. I don’t look like a Princess. I don’t act like a Princess.
I don’t know what a princess ought to know! I’m not the woman for you. I can’t
be.”
“But, Patsy-“
“Don’t ‘but, Patsy’ me! I am telling you that I can’t do it
and you’re not letting me. I couldn’t marry you because you would still be my
Prince. You would always be my Prince. I can’t fool people. I’m dumb and
unattractive and very, very ugly. I wouldn’t-“
“You aren’t ugly.”
“Are you not looking at me? I am short and squat and-“
Reginald grabbed her and pushed her gently towards a mirror.
“You are not ugly.”
Patsy closed her eyes. “I won’t look. I can’t. I hate
looking at myself. I’m repulsive.”
“Look, my lady,” He commanded, taking her hands and
entwining his fingers with hers, “Look and be amazed.”
She tentatively let one eye peek, and then opened both,
gasping. Standing in the mirror was a woman with an air of beauty about her,
even if her features were not society’s norm. Yes, her eyes were a tad too big,
and her waist perhaps a bit thicker than normally preferred, but… This woman
was beautiful. Her beauty shone around her, lighting up the room. And when she
tentatively smiled… well, let’s just say that it was no wonder the Prince had
fallen for her.
“I’m… pretty?” She wondered, reaching up to touch her face.
Reginald grinned, embracing her. “You’re beautiful.”
“But- my father always told me I was ugly. Why would he
lie?”
“Perhaps he never really saw you.”
Patsy looked back into the mirror. She was very pretty. How
could her father have been so blind? How could he have always brought her down
with his words instead of giving her the praise she deserved? It didn’t make
sense.
She shook away the thoughts. It didn’t matter what her
father thought, he was long gone. What mattered was Reginald. Now that she was
beautiful- maybe the King and Queen would allow the match. Who knows? Maybe
they didn’t care that much about having royalty wed their Prince. Maybe-
“I want to introduce you to my parents,” Reginald said, bringing
Patsy out of her reverie.
She was hesitant. “As royalty?”
“No,” He said, shaking his head, “As the woman I love.”
They stood there for a second, gazing into each other’s
eyes, before Patsy finally said, “I’ll do it.”
The Crown Prince dressed quickly, and before long he emerged
from behind a curtain looking just about as Princely as a Prince can look.
Patsy took his arm and he led to down to the Royal Banquet Hall, where his
Royal Parents and the many Princesses were dining.
The moment they walked through the door the entire castle
went silent. Everyone stared. Who was this maiden hanging off the Prince’s arm,
they wondered. Patsy smiled nervously, staring at all the beautiful women and
wondering, again, why her Prince had chosen her.
The King and Queen were agog. Never had the Prince ever
shown an interest in a woman. Who was she?
“Mother, Father,” Reginald bowed, “I would like to introduce
to you Patsy. Patsy, these are my parents, the King and Queen of Balderia.”
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Majesties,” Patsy
said, curtsying.
“WHO IS THIS WOMAN, REGINALD?” The King roared.
Patsy winced. She’d never be accepted by this lot. Never.
Ever. Not in a million years.
“Hush, darling, don’t frighten the girl,” The Queen chastised,
“Reginald, who is this girl?”
“Her name is Patsy, mother.”
“And what is her title?”
The lovers both surveyed their shoes with a shamed air.
“Reginald,” the Queen asked, her voice harsher than before, “Is
this girl… a commoner?”
He nodded stiffly.
“WHAT?” The King bellowed.
“Dear!” The Queen exclaimed, “Stop. Look at her. She’s
shaking.”
And shaking Patsy was. She was shuddering like a leaf in the
wind, about to fly away from complete and utter panic. This was not going as
she’d hoped.
“Mother, this is the girl I would like to marry. I am in
love with her.”
All the Princesses gasped as one. The prince was going to
marry that thing? For love? No one who was anyone ever married for love
anymore. It had gone out of style during the Fuchsia Age. Who was this Prince
with these backwards ideas?
But Reginald did not care about what the Princesses thought.
He was watching his parents nervously, fearful of what they would say next. He
just knew that he’d be forbidden to marry for love. It was certain.
“MARRY FOR LOVE?” The King thundered, his face
turning a most delicious shade of purple.
The Queen stood up, her commanding presence filling the
room. “And what makes you think,” She said, walking down the dais to stand in
front of Patsy, “that you- a common commoner- are good enough for my son, the
Crown Prince of Balderia?”
Patsy blushed. The Queen was easily a foot taller than she,
and much more impressive. Could she actually stand up to a Royal Ruler?
“Well, your Majesty,” Patsy stuttered, “I love him.”
“And?”
“’And’?” Patsy questioned, confused.
“There must be more than that. If I let my son marry every
girl who loved him, why, he’d have a harem. Tell me what makes you special.”
Reginald burst out with, “Well, Mum, she has the most
wonderful voice-“
“I did not ask you,” The Queen said, “I asked her.”
Patsy felt everyone’s eyes slowly move to her. Everywhere
she looked, people where staring. The Queen, the King, Reggie, the Princesses-
public speaking had never been her strongpoint. Hyperventilation seemed
inevitable. Humiliation imminent. She should just quit now while she was still
ahead- she could run away. Far away, back home even. But… Reggie. She loved him
with all her heart. She couldn’t just abandon him now.
“He loves me,” Patsy squeaked, looking at the floor, “But
I’m still not worthy. Just being loved doesn’t make me worthy. I mean, I love
him- but I’m a nothing. A nobody. The only thing I’m good for is singing and
cooking. I’m a very good commoner. I do common well.”
She was gaining confidence now. Her eyes were looking
straight at the Queen.
“But he loves me. And I can’t figure out why. In my mind, if
he can see fit to adore me, then I can see fit to return the favor. That didn’t
come out right-“ Her voice gained strength, filling the hall, “I mean, I love
him, and he loves me, and that’s all there is. No rank, no titles, no song and
dance. Just love. Pure and simple. And if you don’t let us be married then you
are not the Royal Rulers I learned about in Primary School. Those people I
imagined were strong and fair, who prized happiness above all. If you are those
people, then the difference in our rank will not matter. Yes, I’m a commoner.
Yes, Reggie’s a Prince. But we are in love. And that’s the most important thing
of all.”
Patsy stopped, grabbed Reginald’s hand, and waited for the
response. Reginald was staring at her with such love and admiration that all
the ice in the castle promptly melted. Silence filled the hall once more.
The silence stretched over seconds.
Minutes.
But Patsy just stood there with her love’s hand clutched in
hers.
Finally, the Queen raised her hand over her mouth and let a
beautiful laugh escape. The King joined in, booming his hooting all around.
“Why, you are worthy indeed, Patsy, Singer of Love,” The
Queen exclaimed, “Though I begin to wonder if my son is quite worthy of you.
Yes. Marry. Be in love. I can want nothing more for my son.”
The Queen’s eyes were crinkling as she sat back down beside
her husband, who was still laughing as loudly as possible. The Princesses
sighed a collective sigh of remorse- for now there was no Prince to wed- and
went back to their meal.
And what did Patsy and Reginald do?
What they did best. They kissed. And it was a wonderful
kiss. A beautiful kiss. A kiss that made the King and Queen blush. Love seemed
to surround the pair, and happiness seemed to radiate outwards, for both of
them knew that they would never be lonely or alone ever again.
And they all lived happily ever after.
