This is based on the French fairy tale "Babiole". I've wanted to do this piece for, well, years, just because it's so wonderfully unusual.
I know how all fairy tales begin. Once upon a time and all those other charming phrases that every bored woman able to chatter her way into a literature parlor likes to use. Those would then break into a lovely setting with a lovely princess or handsome prince just before they change the world.
I know less about how they end. I had never much cared for fiction. That was always Bastien's thing, and for as long as I could remember he was given piles of storybooks for every gift-giving even that occurred and would then proceed to spend hours pouring through mindless stories. All too often he would try to read them to me. Listening to way-too-similar stories over and over again via the dull voice of Bastien was more than I could handle most days. Then again, he would say the same things about my choices, especially when I was going through my Asian history phase. Still, I figured the dynasties of China were a lot more crucial than stories and that Bastien was nothing but a dumb boy. Still, I heard enough from him to get a decent idea of how fairy tales worked.
Bastien loved them more than I did. He liked the idealism, the heroics, the endings whether ridiculously happy or melodramatically tragic. I never paid attention to the specific details. To me, a fairy tale was some royal twit or country bumpkin off on some exciting adventure and meeting their true love and who really had any interest after that?
Apparently all this fantastical fluff was a human thing and I just wasn't meant to get it. After all, what would a monkey care about fairy tales?
Frankly, everyone should just be impressed a monkey like me could comprehend fiction.
Yes, that's what I am. A monkey. Babiole, delight and pride of the royal court of Harishmont.
Specifically I'm a capuchin and an adorable one at that. Monkeys from the New World were a rarity, so I probably would have been popular even if I hadn't possessed the ability to speak. Now that would have been something. A dumb monkey scampering up and down the court while guests oohed and awed. I'm disgusted just thinking about it. Maybe they would throw peanuts at the same time for that alternate dumb monkey to eat.
Queen Flore had much more respect and love for me than that. I was certainly a fixture in the court, but not because of my monkey-ness but the fact that I tended to know more than the average noble idiot looking to see Queen Flore's talking monkey.
I had originally come as a pet for Bastien. Pet. I hated that word and would ever praise the day Queen Flore had realized I was much more than your average capuchin. I had heard the story many times. She had seen some moron trying to drown me in the ocean and had rescued me for her son. My first memories were of Bastien's quarters, his loud manners, and endless rough housing. Good times, though they had included all his stupid storybooks. His mother was more with it than he and soon started "the monkey" with all the same tutors as Bastien. You could imagine how my fame spread from there. Soon Bastien's quarters was merely a room in the palace rather than my home and Queen Flore was dressing me as fine as any of her ladies.
I will admit, until I read a report on the habitats of other members of my species, I was clueless to just how a capuchin was supposed to live. But I didn't care. Growing up in a palace was about as wonderful as one would expect. Big, fancy, lots of things to climb, lots of people to see. I had access to every room and every stretch of the grounds.
Except for His Royal Idiot Prince Bastien, life was perfect.
Until I turned thirteen.
That was when I started believing, perhaps a little too late, in fairy tales.
To Be Continued...