| |
––––––––
AS PRINCE CHARMAINE gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he found it hard to concentrate on anything but himself. The old ladies were blathering about something or another, but all he wanted to do was stare at the handsome visage that stared back at him.
“It‘s hard to think of her as a princess,” one of the old ladies said. “She’s very-down-to-earth, maybe even a bit of a tomboy. She likes to play with bugs, and she practices archery.”
Charmaine yawned. He watched his reflection in the mirror as it yawned, momentarily awed by the sight of his perfect white teeth. He ran the tip of his finger along his blonde eyebrow, watching himself trace the impeccable arch. “But is she pretty?”
Another old woman spoke, failing to acknowledge his question. “She’s yet to find out about her lineage... that is to say, she doesn’t know she’s a princess, nor does she know the circumstances of her birth or the terrible curse that was put upon her. We wanted to protect her, so we thought it best not to tell her.”
“But is she pretty?”
The last woman spoke. “She’s such a sweet girl. When we took her from the castle and raised her as our own, we didn’t know what to expect, but...” She raised a handkerchief, dabbing the corner of her eye before any tears could escape. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we love her as our own.”
“That’s nice, but is she pretty?”
Meg, Molly and Mary exchanged uneasy glances. When they encouraged Prince Charmaine to inquire about his future bride, they had hoped his questions would be a little less superficial.
Meg threw up her meaty hands in defeat. “Yes, of course she’s pretty! I challenge you to find a prettier girl in the entire kingdom of Avalon.”
“Well, that’s nice to know.” Before he lowered the mirror, Charmaine winked at himself. “Although, I have to admit, the women in my kingdom are much prettier than the women in Avalon. I daresay she has little competition in these environs.”
Molly shook her head. “She’s more than a match for any girl in your kingdom! I stake my eyes on it!”
“Thank you for the encouragement, Mary.”
“Molly.”
“Molly,” Charmaine corrected himself. It was impossible to tell them apart. They were all old, plump, short, squat, white-haired women with feet that looked like potatoes, and they were hardly worthy of his prolonged interest. “So, tell me about this curse.”
The three women exchanged glances again, silently deciding who would be up to the task of telling the story. After a few seconds of deliberation, Meg said, “It was a terrible curse placed on her by the King of Avalon’s younger sister... a witch of immeasurable talent.”
“And immeasurable wickedness,” Molly added.
Meg continued, “The three of us have some talent in magic ourselves, and we were summoned to the castle to bestow enchanted blessings on baby Aurora. Ahh, it feels like yesterday, does it not?” As Meg ruminated, the other women nodded in agreement. “As soon as the third and final blessing was placed upon her... that witch showed up.”
Mary raised the handkerchief to her nose and snorted. “It was horrible. So very horrible!”
“And it was on that day that the witch put a curse on our Aurora, a curse that would take effect on her eighteenth birthday.”
Molly continued the story, “The King of Avalon, fearful that his sister’s enmity wouldn’t end there, decided it would be best to send Aurora away from the kingdom until her safety could be assured. It was a difficult decision for the king, to be sure, but we have raised her ever since.”
Charmaine thoughtfully tapped his chin. “And this curse entails what, exactly?”
Mary’s head fell, and she bellowed into the handkerchief.
“The curse was, quite simply, that she would not live to see her nineteenth birthday.”
Everyone was quiet for several seconds, with only the sound of the mantle’s ticking clock to assuage the silence.
“Aurora’s eighteenth birthday fast approaches, and we can only guess at what tactics Medea might employ to follow through with her curse. Her curse is a promise of death... and the three of us are determined to break it.”
Charmaine shrugged. “Didn’t you say she’s a witch of immeasurable power? If she says Aurora’s going to die, she’s probably going to die. There’s no use trying to fix a problem like that.”
Mary flicked her handkerchief in Charmaine’s direction, as if to show her distaste for his bleak viewpoint. “What a terrible thing to say! We have hope! We’ve taken every precaution to keep her from harm. I, for instance, have warned her to stay away from spindles and apples.”
A superior smirk passed over Charmaine’s lips. “Spindles and... and apples?”
Molly spoke up again, filling in the blanks that were left by Mary‘s lack of eloquence. “If you knew anything about Medea, you wouldn’t be the least bit confused by what Mary is trying to say. One of Medea’s oldest tricks involves trickery and poison... poison that would ultimately result in Aurora’s death. That’s why I’ve summoned you here, Your Highness. Should it come down to it, I think you could be the one to save Aurora.”
Charmaine’s eyes widened, his interest finally piqued. He could picture himself astride a white horse, the shining light of hope for some damsel in distress.
“If Medea uses her old tricks, only one thing could save Aurora,” Molly continued, “and that is... a kiss from her true love.”
“Well, that’s a problem. I haven’t even met the girl.”
“That’s why I wanted you to come, Prince Charmaine. If Aurora falls for you before Medea makes her move, we might be able to avert a calamity. You are the only one who can do this, Your Highness. After all, you’ve been betrothed to her since the day she was born.”
Charmaine shifted uneasily in his chair. “Ah... see... that’s a problem as well.”
“A problem? What do you mean?”
“Wellllll....” Charmaine hesitated. “How should I put it? Well, ahhhh... I’m just wondering what’s in it for me. Aside from momentary glory, that is.”
Molly’s jaw fell open. Mary clenched her handkerchief. Meg eyed the rolling pin on the kitchen counter and resisted the temptation to clobber him with it.
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind doing the kissing. But honestly, what’s in it for me? It sounds like you’re a bit short on time, and I understand that, but I haven’t had a chance to sow my wild oats. I can’t have my fiancé falling for me before I’m ready to settle down.”
“Well, Prince Charmaine,” responded sensible Molly, “no one’s forcing you to marry her right away. At any rate, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. She hasn’t fallen for you yet, has she?”
Charmaine heard a challenge in her words. “But how could she not fall for me? I’ve yet to find a woman who could resist me. Point me in her direction, and I will demonstrate my charm!”
“I believe she went for a walk in the forest, Your High—”
Before Molly could finish her sentence, Prince Charmaine was out the door.
“Well... he certainly seems enthusiastic, doesn’t he?”
Meg cracked her knuckles, and she half-wished she had taken a crack at him. “Enthusiastic? Are you kidding me?”
Not surprisingly, Mary had tears wavering in the corners of her eyes. “I can’t believe we’re entrusting our Aurora’s fate to that... that...”
“Pompous idiot,” Meg finished for her. “If she falls for that clown, I’ll be flabbermagasted.”
“Flabbergasted,” Molly corrected her.
Meg rolled her eyes at her sister. “Well, it’s not gonna happen. She’s not going to fall for that clown. Our girl’s got way more sense than that.” She reached down and patted the pocket on the front of her apron, where she kept her own beacon of hope. “And it’s a good thing I’ve got something else up my sleeve.”