I stepped inside Princess Melanie’s room and was nearly blinded by how yellow everything was. Yellow drapes, yellow banisters, yellow carpets, and sitting on her yellow bed, donning a yellow dress and reading a yellow book was Princess Melanie. I shut my eyes and furiously rubbed at them, but even closed, all I could see was yellow. The room looked like the sun had vomited all over it; everything was girly, strangely sterile-looking…and yellow.
“I’ll be right outside,” whispered the guard who had let me inside the room. “If she tries anything, just scream.”
I nodded, not exactly reassured but resigned to my fate. “Hey, Princess,” I said cheerily, walking closer to the foot of her bed but not within stabbing range.
Princess Melanie looked up from her book, her expression dubious. “What do you want, witch?”
“Well, I was just thinkin’,” I started, donning my most charming stage smile, “maybe the two of us should spend some time together,”
“Spend time with you?” Princess Melanie almost looked offended. Scratch that; she was definitely offended. “Why would I want to spend time with a witch?”
“Well, y’know, we have so much in common,” I replied, realizing, to my horror, that we had nothing in common. “We’re both girls.”
Princess Melanie gave a long, tired-sounding sigh, causing her to look and sound like her father. Then, without another word, she pushed one of her bright yellow vases off her nightstand, causing it to fall to the floor with a resounding crash.
Not even two seconds later, the door to the Princess’ room flew open, and two servants came bustling in. They efficiently swept the floor of glass shards and placed an identical-looking yellow vase back on the nightstand. They gave us the briefest of bows and scurried out of the room without so much as a greeting or goodbye.
“I brought you a snack,” I continued, opening my bag and pulling out a steaming baked potato.
“Oh, so you’re trying to buy my affection?” Asked Melanie with a scowl.
“Yes.” What? BFFs need to be honest with each other.
Princess Melanie gave another drawn-out sigh but didn’t say anything else. I took that as permission to approach and carefully placed the food onto her yellow nightstand before quickly backpedaling away.
“So, Lord DripBussin?” I asked, channeling the chaotic energy of every slumber party I’d ever been to. “Whaddya think, hubba hubba, am I right?”
“He was snobbish and full of himself,” replied Melanie, grabbing the steaming potato with her bare hand, “just like every other man father’s ever paired me with.” The Princess tightened her fist around the potato, causing it to explode in a shower of starchy goodness. I ducked, barely dodging the steaming shrapnel.
“How about we wash that potato down with a drink?” I suggested, standing and placing Ellie’s bottle of Death Tap onto the nightstand.
Princess Melanie grabbed the Death Tap and, instead of breaking it like I was expecting, opened her mouth and downed the entire thing in a single sip. She smacked her lips, let loose a very unladylike belch, and threw the empty bottle against a wall, shattering it. This caused the same pair of servants to rush back in and quickly clean up the mess, leaving the room pristine and sterile again.
“Sooooo, what do you like to do for fun around here?” I asked, quickly running out of ways to engage with the Princess.
“Striking fear into the hearts of my enemies, breaking stuff, stabbing things.”
“Ok…maybe the two of us can go around and stab some stuff together,” I suggested, “preferably non-living stuff.”
The Princess gave me a skeptical look. “You want to stab stuff? You look like you’ve never held a blade in your entire life.
In one fluid movement, Princess Melanie pulled a knife out from beneath one of her lacy yellow pillows and held it in front of her face. Unlike the rest of the room’s decor, the knife wasn’t a sickeningly bright shade of yellow but jet-black with streaks of green running through it.
I instinctively took a step back, but the Princess only twirled the knife around in her hand, doing a bunch of really cool-looking knife tricks.
“Woah, that’s awesome,” I replied, genuinely impressed by her knife work, “How’d you learn to do that?”
Princess Melanie tried to hide it, but her chest puffed up with a tiny smattering of pride. “Years of practice,” she replied, sliding the blade between her fingers, “not like there’s anything else to do in the stupid castle.”
“Can I try?” I asked, wanting to step closer but also wanting to keep out of range of her knife in case she said no.
Princess Melanie gave me a long, dubious look but finally shrugged. “Why not.” She said, hopping off her bed and handing me the knife, blade-first. “A bit of red could liven up the room.”
I took the knife from Melanie, feeling the weight of the blade in my hand. It was a lot lighter than it looked and ice-cold to the touch. A little weird, but I could work with it. “I call this one the stab-n-grab.”
I flipped the knife in the air, letting it hang for a moment, then I caught the hilt and twirled it between my hands, ending with a powerful thrust. I thought it looked pretty cool.
“How’d you do that?” Now, it was Melanie’s turn to look begrudgingly impressed. She’d clearly thought I was going to cut myself to ribbons and bleed out on her floor.
“I have a bit of experience with knives,” I replied, recalling when I took on the role of Madame Stabs-A-Lot for a play I was in last summer. Granted, we’d used fake knives in the play, but I’d still had to learn a few tricks to master the role.
I spun the knife in a single hand, fondly recalling last summer’s performance. “Don’t take it personally, kiddo,” I said, slipping easily back into the role of Stabs-A-Lot. “But I need the insurance money to buy that new lakehouse, and you’re in desperate need of a good stabbin’.”
“You were just acting, right? Like you did the other night?” Princess Melanie’s voice startled me out of my theatrical reverie. She was staring intently, eyes locked onto me. I blushed, realizing I’d been monologing out loud again.
“Yeah,” I admitted, tossing the knife from hand to hand. “Sometimes you just get caught up in the moment, y’know?”
“Do it again.” There was no question in the princess’ voice, that was a demand.
“Is everything alright in here?” The door to the Princess’ room opened, and the guard from earlier poked his head inside. “I hadn’t heard any screaming yet, so I just wanted to make sure—hey!”
The guard pointed an accusatory finger at the knife in my hand. “I thought we told you not to bring any sharp objects in here!” He scolded, marching over and snatching the weapon out of my hand. “If the princess gets a hold of anything sharp–.” The guard swallowed, eyeing the Princess like a gazelle might watch a hungry lion. Without another word, he exited the room, slamming the door behind him.
“S-sorry about the knife,” I stammered, not wanting to send Princess Melanie into a violent rage. “I can try and get it back if you want.”
Melanie shrugged, “Eh, it’s fine.” She then proceeded to reach behind her dresser and pulled out another knife.
“Wow, you’ve got a lot of sharp objects hidden in here,” I said, eyeing the room nervously.
“I’ve got knives everywhere,” replied the Princess as she nonchalantly spun the new blade. “Now hurry up and show me more of that acting stuff.”
XXX
What followed was a very strange but enjoyable several hours with the Princess. I showed Melanie the works of Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams, and Victor Hugo (names and locations changed, of course, to prevent any time shenanigans). In return, she showed me a half dozen ways to gut a fully grown man like a fish.
I always enjoyed sharing my love of acting with anyone who would listen, and although you would’ve never guessed it just by looking at her, Princess Melanie was one of the most receptive participants I’d ever met. For a little while there, I even forgot there were probably several dozen knives hidden in the room and that she’d stab me with all of them on me if I happened to annoy her.
“This has been a ton of fun,” I said as I finished another scene and stifled a yawn, “but I need to get to bed.”
“Already?” said the Princess with a pout, but the sun hasn’t even set yet.”
I gave a significant nod towards the window; it was pitch black outside.
“Whatever,” she said, crossing her arms and flopping back onto her yellow bed. “Come back when you wake up; show me some more theater stuff.” Once again, the Princess demanded instead of asking, but bossiness aside, this was significant progress in our relationship. Plus, I hadn’t been stabbed, not even a little bit.
I grinned at the Princess and gave a flourishing bow. I think I’d just made some serious progress in our relationship, and it was all thanks to the power of theater. “I live to serve, your majesty.”
XXX
“Let me make sure I understand,” said Ellie, a disbelieving look in her eyes, “not only were you not stabbed to death, but you became friends with the Princess?”
“Friend adjacent,” I admitted, “But it’s progress.”
Ellie looked me up and down. “And you’re sure she didn’t outright kill you, and now you’re a vengeful ghost?” In response, I dipped a finger into my bowl and flicked water into her face.
Ellie and I were in the mess hall enjoying a steaming bowl of water soup for breakfast. I’d just finished regaling her with my epic tale and was feeling pretty good about myself. True, we were eating water for breakfast, but not even that could ruin my mood. Also, now that we were both back in the castle, Ellie had changed out of her cool-looking red duster into a much more class-appropriate pink dress. However, she still smelled slightly of alcohol.
“I think Princess Melanie just needs a friend,” I continued, taking a quick sip of my soup, “she seemed kind of lonely yesterday.”
“Really?” asked Ellie, “I know she’s by herself most of the time, but I always thought she preferred things that way.”
“Maybe she’s alone because no one’s ever made an effort to get to know her,” I mused, “I bet she’s pretty friendly once you dig down deep enough.”
“Hey, witch, it’s theater time!” Princess Melanie stalked into the mess hall, her face radiating displeasure. “I told you to come find me once you woke up,” she snapped, marching up to my table and glaring down at me.
Ok, maybe that friendly part of the Princess was buried a bit deeper than I’d thought. “I’ll be ready in just a minute,” I replied, hitting her with one of my most charming smiles. “Just need to finish my breakfast first.”
Princess Melanie flipped my bowl of soup, causing the hot water to spill onto me and Ellie. “All done,” said the Princess, grabbing me with a shockingly cold grip and dragging me out of the mess hall.
I stared helplessly back at Ellie, unsure what to do, as the Princess dragged me away. “Good luck, Piper,” I saw her mouth at me before I was forcibly taken out of the room.
XXX
“We don’t need the ulticron laser blaster to beat you!” I cried out, pounding a fist against my heart. “The true ultimate weapon was the friends we made along the way!”
Princess Melanie applauded wildly, a razor-sharp smile plastered to her face. “Bravo, bravo!” she yelled, practically jumping on her bed with excitement. “Do it again, from the top!”
I groaned inwardly. Cowboy Hip-hop was a three-hour musical, and that was the second time Princess Melanie had asked/demanded that I perform it. I was flattered that she was enjoying my rendition of the musical, but I wasn’t sure I could survive a second encore. “Maybe we should take a quick intermission,” I suggested, plopping to the ground and wiping copious amounts of sweat from my forehead.
Melanie frowned. “Well, what am I supposed to do while I’m waiting?” she asked, her hand hovering dangerously close to one of the several knives scattered across her bed.
I flinched at the sight of the sharp blades. I didn’t want to get stabbed, but collapsing from exhaustion wasn’t exactly an endearing option either. “Why don’t you take a stab at it?” I asked, immediately regretting my choice of words.
“At what?”
“At acting.”
For the first time since I’d met her, the Princess looked uncomfortable. “I’m not sure–” she started, fidgeting on her bed. “I don’t think I could do it.”
“Nonsense!” I cried, leaping to my feet. The joy of thespianism rejuvenating my weary mortal shell. “Anyone can act; in fact, we do it every day.
“We do?”
I nodded. “Acting is pretending, and we all pretend to some extent. Just take what you’re already doing and channel it into a performance.” I posed dramatically, imitating the laidback slouch of Cowboy Hip-Hop’s protagonist, Pike Bagel. “I’m not really a debonair space bounty hunter, but I can pretend to be one. What’s something you pretend to do?”
Princess Melanie hopped off her bed and walked towards me. “I guess I do pretend to like everyone in this stupid castle.” She said with a shrug. She wasn’t fooling anyone with that performance, but at least she seemed to understand the concept of acting.
“That’s great,” I replied, giving her an encouraging thumbs-up, “Now take that feeling you have when you pretend and apply it to a scene in your favorite play. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Empty your mind,” I instructed, “Imagine a blank canvas and bit by bit, start adding to it.” I followed my own instructions, and in my head, I started to build a beautiful field of flowers, an impressive-looking stone castle, and populated the scene with dozens of humanoid pigs. No surprises here, but I was imagining Castle Porkrind.
Peeking open an eye, I saw that Princess Melanie had followed along. Her eyes were shut tight, her face scrunched up in a grimace. “It’s dark,” she said, “black all around and not a trace of yellow to be found.”
That was weirdly specific, but ok. “What else do you see?”
“My father,” replied Princess Melanie, “he’s approaching me; he’s holding out a bright yellow dress; he wants me to wear it.”
This felt like it was starting to go off the rails. “How about we try a different exercise instead?” I suggested.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“He wants me to wear it,” repeated Princess Melanie, ignoring me entirely. “He says it’s for the good of the kingdom; you have to do this, Melanie; you need to wear makeup, Melanie; you need to meet with stupid princes, Melanie; it’s what your mother would have wanted, Melanie.”
Without warning, Princess Melanie let out a blood-curdling shriek and started stabbing her mattress with one of her knives, down and feathers flying into the air. Not even five seconds later, three guards burst into the room and grabbed the Princess, restraining her movements.
“Am I good enough yet, Dad?!” Melanie screeched, eyes still closed, foam frothing at the edges of her mouth. “Am I good enough yet!?”
With great effort, the guards dragged her out of the room. I didn’t know where they were taking her, but I could hear the princess’ screams of fury echoing down the hallway for a long, long time until she was finally out of hearing range. I took a breath, realizing I’d forgotten to breathe. I didn’t know what that had been all about, but I guessed the Princess and I were done hanging out for the day.
XXX
I walked up the stony castle staircase, mind transfixed by what had just happened with the Princess. I was so distracted that I almost bumped into Thomas as he rounded a corner. “Hey, Piper,” he said cheerily, waving his good hand and gripping a turkey leg. “Long time no see!”
I think it’d only been two days since we’d last spoken, but with everything that had been going on, it really did feel like a lot more time had passed. Thomas was on ration duty again, and needing someone to bounce ideas off of, I asked if I could accompany him on his mission, to which he heartily agreed.
“It sounds to me like she has serious daddy issues,” replied Thomas after I finished telling him about my recent interaction with the Princess.
I nodded. “I knew the Princess and King Cassian didn’t exactly seem to get along, but her reaction was a lot…stronger than I’d expected. What’s their deal?”
Thomas sliced off a sliver of turkey, no thicker than a scrap of paper, handing it off to a hungry-looking guard who devoured it in one bite. “I dunno.” he said with a shrug, “I wasn’t even alive when it happened, but I heard that King Cassian changed quite a lot after his wife died.”
I suddenly realized I had never seen a Mrs. Cassian. “How did she die?” I asked, already suspecting the answer given the time period I was in.
“Childbirth,” Thomas answered glumly, “Must be sad growing up without ever knowing your mom.”
I frowned, thinking about my awesome parents and how much it would’ve sucked growing up without either of them. Maybe this was part of Princess Melanie’s problem; maybe she’d just lacked a proper female role model growing up and had gone crazy from being surrounded by so much testosterone.
Thomas stopped walking and rapped on a giant metal door. I blinked in surprise, realizing we’d ended up in front of Cassian’s throne room. “Come in, called a weary voice from the other side.”
We entered the throne room; inside, King Cassian was slumped forward on his throne, a family of peasants standing in front of him. “Please, your majesty,” said one of the peasants, bowing down on his knees, “there’s no food anywhere; our son hasn’t eaten for days.”
The boy’s growling stomach echoed across the throne room. “Food.” The young boy said, glumly patting his stomach.
“I assure you, I’m doing everything I can to fix the food situation,” replied Cassian as he rubbed his eyes. “But you’re not the only ones without anything to eat. Please just hold on a bit longer.”
In response, the entire family burst into tears, wailing and ugly crying. “Come on,” said Cassian, looking exasperated, “don’t be like that.”
“If you need us,” sniffed the father, turning around and heading towards the exit, “We’ll be digging a grave for our child; save the rest of you the trouble.”
Cassian grimaced, visibly frustrated. His eyes suddenly settled on Thomas and the mostly picked-clean turkey leg in his hand. “Thomas,” said Cassian, “have you finished feeding the rest of the castle?”
“Yes, m’lord,” Replied Thomas with a vigorous shake of his head.
“Very good. Mr. and Mrs. DirtPoor.” The family of peasants turned back to face Cassian. “It’s not much, but you can have the rest of that turkey–”
Cassian didn’t have time to finish before the DirtPoor’s rushed Thomas and practically dogpiled him to get the turkey. “A thousand thank yous, your majesty!” Said the father, grateful tears flowing down his face as he bit into the stale meat. “You’ve saved our family!”
Cassian sighed, putting on a strained-looking smile. “Of course, you all stay safe.”
The DirtPoors exited the throne room, all of them going at the turkey leg. Once they were out of sight and the throne room door was closed, Cassian sunk even further into his throne. “You didn’t happen to have another leg, did you, Thomas?” Asked Cassian, hopefully.
Thomas shook his head. “That was the last one, I’m afraid.”
Cassian’s stomach grumbled. “Wonderful.” He said dryly.
“That was awfully kind of you,” I said, referencing the family he’d just fed.
“A king is nothing without his subjects,” replied Cassian simply, but more importantly.” Cassian sat up, a cautious light gleaming in his eyes. “How are things with my daughter?”
I chewed on my lip, not exactly sure how to answer that. “Uhm, I’m making progress, I think.”
“Good.” Replied Cassian, nodding, “Please keep working as fast as you can. The fate of the entire kingdom might hinge on your relationship with her.”
“Speaking of Melanie,” I said, recalling my recent conversation with Thomas, “Does she like being a princess?”
Cassian looked confused by the question. “Does she like being a princess?” He repeated, “Honestly, I don’t know if she likes anything.”
“Do you know any of her hobbies?”
“Stabbing, of course.” Replied Cassian matter-of-factly, “Screaming, yelling, scaring the daylights out of our citizens.” Cassian let out a long breath of air; he suddenly looked ten years older. “Honestly, she’s the complete opposite of her mother.
The queen. Maybe there was some useful information hidden in the simple statement. “What was she like? The queen, I mean.”
Cassian smiled; he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes getting the far-away look of someone lost in a memory. “Caroline was marvelous,” he practically whispered, “she was the perfect painting of femininity: long, blonde hair, beautiful and flowing yellow dresses, gentle, serene, the kind of woman any man would fight a dragon to have by his side.”
I felt my heart skip a beat; that was so sweet! That was then immediately followed up by a wave of sympathy for Cassian. He’d clearly loved Caroline, and losing her must’ve been like a knife to the gut. Also, I didn’t know if it was my woman’s intuition or the half-semester of psychology that I’d taken, but I was starting to have a pretty good idea of what the issue was between Cassian and his daughter.
“She’s not Caroline,” I said gently.
“Pardon?” Replied Cassian, looking slightly confused as his eyes snapped back to the present and focused on me.
“Princess Melanie,” I continued. “I know it must’ve been awful losing your wife, but your daughter is her own person. From what I’ve seen, trying to make Melanie more like Caroline has only driven a wedge between you two.
This whole conversation reminded me of a situation I’d had last summer with my mom. She’d been really into track and field when she was my age and had been more than a little disappointed when she learned I was only interested in doing theater. We’d gotten into a heated argument about the whole thing until my dad stepped in and gently reminded my mom that I was my own person with my own interests.
I shared this story with the King, replacing track and field with jousting so it’d be more relevant to him. When I was done, the King was quiet for a long time.
“I appreciate your input, Piper,” said the King finally, “But if Caroline was here today and saw her daughter, she’d be terrified of what was in front of her.”
My cheeks flushed in frustration; what a jerky thing to say about your own daughter. “I think Caroline would have loved her daughter no matter what she was like.” I retorted, “The only person she’d be disappointed in would be you.”
As soon as I said that, Cassian’s face turned bright red, and I knew I’d gone a step too far. “What do you know about my family!?” Roared Cassian, bolting up from his throne and glaring down at me.
I stumbled backward, the King’s anger washing over me like a wave. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the guards stiffen and reach uncertainly for their weapons; Thomas looked from me to the King, clearly conflicted about what he was supposed to do. Was Cassian mad enough to order part two of my execution? I had my flashlight with me, so I could probably scare off the guards long enough to run away, but what would happen after that?
Then, almost as quickly as it started, Cassian’s burst of anger subsided, and he flopped back onto his throne. “I’m sorry.” he said simply, looking again like a tired old man, “Caroline and the princess are both very sensitive topics for me.”
“I-I can tell,” I stammered, my knees suddenly feeling like they’d become jello.
“Please, just leave for now.” Continued Cassian, placing his face in his massive hands, “And keep working on befriending my daughter; we have to do whatever is necessary for that to happen.”
I gave a silent nod in response and practically fled the throne room, Thomas thankfully following.
“That was scary,” exhaled Thomas as soon as we were alone. “I thought I was gonna have to lock you in the dungeon.”
I grunted, happy to be alive and still shaky from the encounter.
“So, what’s the plan with Princess Melanie?
I took a deep breath to calm down and cast my mind back to the conversations I’d had with Melanie and Cassian. “From what I can tell, King Cassian wants his wife back more than anything.”
Thomas nodded. “But seeing as though that’s impossible, he feels like having his daughter be similar to Caroline is a way for him to honor his late wife’s legacy.”
I stared at Thomas in surprise. This dude was sharp. “I think you’re right,” I agreed. “So if I’m gonna become friends with the princess, maybe I should try and give her a chance to be less like her mother and more like herself.”
“Are you gonna do a magic?” Thomas’ thoughtful demeanor was immediately blasted away by his child-like wonder. He stared at me wide-eyed and expectant.
“Something like that,” I grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. “I’m gonna introduce the princess to the magic of makeovers.”
XXX
Princess Melanie stared wide-eyed at the black dress, gripping it tightly as if she were afraid it would disappear if she let go. “Is this for me?”
I nodded. “Everything you own is some shade of yellow,” I said, motioning to Melanie’s garishly bright room, “I figured you might appreciate a wardrobe change.”
Melanie continued staring at the dress almost reverently. “Father wouldn’t like this,” she scowled, expression turning hard. “The second I go out wearing this, he’ll have the guards take me back to my room to change.”
I flashed a showman’s grin. “Not if I can help it.” Reaching over, I touched the black dress and whispered a magical chant. “Tina, you fat lard! Come get some dinner! Tina, eat. Food. Eat the food!”
Princess Melanie visibly recoiled, “The heck was that?”
“Magical protection spell,” I replied with a finger waggle. “Now that I’ve enchanted your dress, it’ll help keep you safe from would-be ne’er-do-wells.” I gave her a significant look, “Being that we’re in the middle of a siege, I’m sure he’d appreciate you having some extra protection.”
“Wow.” Princess Melanie looked at the dress with a new appreciation. “I supposed you’re gonna cast the same spell on my stupid yellow dresses too?” She asked, sagging with disappointment.
I gave a weary sigh, resting against Melanie’s bed frame. “Unfortunately, this spell takes up a lot of magical energy. It could be days, even weeks before I can cast it again.”
“Oh.” Said Princess Melanie, eyes widening in understanding.
I grinned. “And I’ve got magical mascara, too, I said, holding up my makeup kit. “At this point, I feel it’d be irresponsible not to do everything I could to protect the kingdom’s most precious resource.”
Princess Melanie’s eyes glittered mischievously. “Please tell me you’ve got something in black.”
I nodded. “Don’t worry, sister, I’ve got every color of the rainbow.”
XXX
The town square was packed; citizens of all different tax brackets chatted eagerly with one another as they awaited another theater extravaganza from their resident spellcaster. “Good evening, ladies and gents,” I called out as I strolled onstage and smiled down at the crowd. “It’s so good to see you all again; tonight’s story is one of intrigue, tragedy, and a whole lot of sass.”
I doubted anyone here had any idea what sass meant, but they still seemed excited for the show. No doubt, partially because we were in the middle of both a siege and a food shortage and I’m sure the people here welcomed any and all distractions.
“However,” I continued, twirling my cloak, “Tonight’s show is going to be a little different from our usual fare. While I do adore the beck and call of the theater, I have a friend who recently was bitten by the acting bug herself, and she’d love to share a little something that she’s been working on.” I stepped off the stage and motioned dramatically towards the curtains. “You know her, you love her, you probably actually hate her. Please, put your hands together for the heir to the throne, Princess Melanie!”
The curtains pulled back, and Princess Melanie stared defiantly out at the crowd. Her dark locks of hair flowed in the evening breeze, her black eyeliner stood out in sharp contrast to her pale complexion, and her jet-black dress was nothing short of fabulous. No one clapped; everyone in the audience just stared at her in shocked silence. To be fair, they’d probably never seen the Princess do anything but scowl and stab things; the idea of her acting was probably alien.
“Woe, the darkness within bubbles and boils!” Melanie practically spat her line out towards the crowd; I saw several citizens flinch back in fear at her sudden explosion of energy. “That hand that loves is also the one that hurts. From the dark womb I first emerged, and back to its comforting blackness I shall someday return!”
When thinking of a scene for Princess Melanie to perform, I’d had to go back mentally to my cringiest and most goth days of middle school. That period of my life was oh so embarrassing to think about now, but Dark Dagger, Dark Musical For Dark Brooding was the perfect play for a princess of Melanie’s stature.
For the next fifteen or so minutes, Melanie acted her little black heart out. It was clear that she was still new to the world of acting, but she made up for the lack of experience with pure, unfiltered emotion. Every line she spoke felt like she bled it directly from her heart, and even though I was 99% sure no one in the audience had any idea what was happening, they sat and watched, utterly captivated by Melanie’s naked emotion and feeling. Maybe they were also afraid the Princess would stab them if they tried to get up and leave. That was definitely a possibility, but either way, she started and ended her performance with a full house.
“And as I lay down to sleep in the abyss,” whispered Melanie, falling to her knees and staring up at the starry night sky, “I will not stick my gyatt out for the rizzler, for he is a deceiver, born of the same blackness from which I first emerged.”
Princess Melanie bowed her head and went silent. The crowd was quiet, too, until suddenly, like a dam breaking, they jumped to their feet and began to cheer. Melanie stared out at the crowd as if surprised by their reaction. She scrambled to her feet, actually smiled, and took a deep bow.
“Darkness! Darkness!” The crowd cheered, staring up at the Princess in adoration. Hmm, that’s a weird thing to chant, hopefully, that won’t become a problem later.
XXX
Thankfully, there were no weird cults started by Princess Melanie’s performance, and as the crowd dispersed into the night, I was left standing onstage with the Princess and with Ellie, who had been kind enough to work the stage lights again.
“I don’t know what that was,” said Ellie, grinning as she placed a hand on Princess Melanie’s shoulder, “but it was incredible.”
“Thanks!” Replied Melanie with a toothy smile of her own, “Now get your arm off me before I slice it to pieces.
Ellie quickly withdrew her hand.
“Melanie?” Standing maybe a dozen feet away from the stage was King Cassian. Despite the King’s large frame, he appeared small, nervous even. He stared down at the cobblestone beneath him, not meeting our eyes and anxiously wringing his hands.
Silence, and then– “Father.” Replied Princess Melanie cooly, the smile dropping off her face.
Cassian opened his mouth, but no words came out. He licked his lips and tried again. “You did wonderful up there,” said the King, looking up and giving his daughter a nervous smile.
“Thanks,” replied Melanie, her body tensing as if preparing to run away or fight.
The two stood there awkwardly, not saying a word. I looked at Ellie, and the two of us exchanged knowing glances. “I bet you’re really proud of that performance, eh, your majesty?” I asked, giving the King a meaningful look.
“Oh, uh, of course.” Replied Cassian, “I had no idea you could even act; it reminded me of when your mother and I used to watch those minstrel shows all those years ago.”
“And Melanie,” continued Ellie, “I’m sure you appreciate your father’s kind words, right?”
Princess Melanie nodded but didn’t say anything. Her lips were pulled so tight they were practically a line.
There was another moment of awkward silence. “I’m sure you noticed your daughter’s new dress.” I finally said.
“How could I not,” said the King, “It’s completely–”
“Enchanting?” asked Ellie, cutting him off, “Dazzling?”
Cassian gave a small shrug. “Well, it’s not what your mother would have worn.” I ran over to the King and elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to double over. I was briefly worried that he’d call the guards on me, but this family intervention was far too important.
“She’s not your wife,” I whispered, trying to find the perfect balance in my voice between gentle and firm. “She’s your daughter.”
“Maybe so, but she’s all I have left of Caroline,” muttered Cassian, teeth clenched in pain.
“Okay, but if you keep trying to make her into something she’s not, you might not have a daughter either for much longer.”
Cassian grimaced, and it wasn’t from the pain of being elbowed in the stomach.
“We’re in the middle of a siege,” I continued, “If we’re all about to die, don’t you want your only child to be happy for the last few days of her life?”
Cassian was silent for a few long seconds. Finally, he stood up and walked several steps towards Princess Melanie, who was continuing to regard him warily. “It’s not what your mother would have worn,” resumed the King, staring meaningfully at his daughter’s jet-black dress, “But I think it looks beautiful on you.”
Without warning, Princess Melanie broke into a sob and rushed her father, throwing herself into his arms. Cassian’s eyes went wide in shock, but he managed to keep his footing and, after a moment, returned the gesture. “Daddy!” sobbed Melanie as she buried her face into Cassian’s chest. That did it for Cassian; he broke into a sob as well.
Ellie and I shared another look, our eyes almost as wide as Cassian’s. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been that. The two of us stood awkwardly for the next few minutes as the royal family sobbed their hearts out, blubbering that they were sorry and loved one another.
“I’m sorry I tried to make you into something you weren’t,” choked out Cassian between sobs. “I’ll never make you wear yellow again.”
“And I’m sorry I made a voodoo doll out of your hair and have been setting its feet on fire.” replied the teary-eyed Princess.
Finally, the two seemed to run out of tears, and their sobs gradually devolved into sad staccato hiccups. “Sooooo,” I began, awkwardly injecting myself into the moment, “How’s everyone doing?”
“Thank you, Piper,” said the King, wiping tears from his eyes. “This is the greatest spell you’ve ever cast.”
I gave a small laugh. “I didn’t use any magic.”
“I know,” said the King, returning my smile.
Princess Melanie lifted her face out of her father’s chest. Her makeup was ruined, rivers of black running down her face. “I’ll do it,” she said, staring meaningfully at her father.
Cassian’s mouth gaped open, making him look like a koi fish. “Y-you will?” He stammered, hardly seeming to believe her.
She nodded. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but I’ll at least give it a try.”
“Are you going to set up another arranged marriage?” Asked Ellie.
“Heck no!” spat Melanie, suddenly looking hostile and stabby-looking again.
Cassian laughed a big booming laugh as he did; the years seemed to flow off him like water. “We had something else in mind,” he said, grinning at Ellie and me, “and honestly, I don’t think there are many princes left in the area that would be interested in my daughter.”
“And that don’t wanna kill you guys already,” I added meaningfully.
Cassian nodded. “Indeed. Now, if you two will excuse us, my daughter and I have a lot of work to get done and little time to do it.”
Cassian wrapped an arm around his daughter, and the two turned and walked back towards the castle. “Come on, Melanie,” said the King as he pulled her closer, “Let’s go find some shovels.”
“I’ve got several in my room we can use,” replied the Princess.
Cassian gave a good-natured sigh. “I’m not going to ask why.”
Ellie and I watch the pair leave, neither of us quite sure what to make of the situation.
“Well, that was certainly…odd.” Said Ellie.
I nodded, too stunned to say anything.
“Does this mean we can get Thomas back?”
I blinked, Thomas! I’d been so distracted by whatever that was, that I’d completely forgotten he was the entire point of the side quest with the Princess. “Hey, can I have Thomas back?” I yelled to the King as he and Melanie continued strolling away.”
“If this works out,” called back Cassian with a laugh, “Every single guard in this kingdom is going to be unemployed!”
“So, is that a yes?” I asked, more to myself than anybody else.
Ellie shrugged. “Maybe, but sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
I grinned. “I like the way you think, Ellie.”