Princess Perfect
By: Tkfan
Edited by: RaspberryGirl
It was the tenth anniversary of the King's death, and Queen Marie and her son, Prince Becil, were having a picnic by the palace lake. Celebrating a king's death wouldn't seem like a normal thing to do in most kingdoms, but both the Queen and her son knew how much the King had hated grieving. Especially if people were grieving for him.
So instead of blubbering over the King's grave, they celebrated instead.
Sitting on a red-checkered picnic cloth beneath the lazy branches of a willow tree, Queen Marie marveled at the beauty of her kingdom. The sun was shining brightly in a lovely, cloudless sky, when—splash!
Prince Becil, who had been strolling along the lakeshore, suddenly stumbled, pitched sideways, then fell right side into the water.
"Darling!" shrieked the Queen. She leaped up in a flash, gathered her voluminous skirts in one hand, and dashed towards the shore. The castle attendants raced after her. Becil floundered in the water and somehow managed to drift away from the shore rather than getting closer to it.
Marie reached the lake's edge and splashed into the shallows towards her son. "Becil! Becil!" she screamed the whole time, as if her son were drowning in an ocean instead of splashing around in the shallows of a lake.
"Mother, save me!" Becil cried. Then quite suddenly, he realized that his knees and legs were striking against solid ground. He stopped flailing, feeling rather foolish. He stood up just as Marie engulfed him in a hug and dragged him out of the water.
"Becil, my precious, my jewel, are you all right?" Marie sobbed, clasping her son to her enormous bosom.
"Mother, I'm fine!" protested Becil, squirming in the anxious Queen's arms. She was squeezing the remaining breath out of him. "Really!" He flushed, becoming more embarrassed by the moment as his mother continued to fuss over him. Becil decided to take refuge in his thoughts. This dunk in the lake reminded him of a similar event...
A few years back Becil and his friend, Demian, had been visiting a local diplomat's home. While Becil's father and mother poured over politics with that diplomat, Demian and Becil wandered off into the garden.
"This is all rather boring, don't you think?" said Demian. He plucked an apple off a tree that was growing over a lily-pond.
"Oh, yes." Becil nodded in agreement. He admired the way Demian had casually reached up with one hand, removing the apple from the tree in such a graceful manner. As Demian sank his pearly-whites into the apple, Becil reached up and tried to imitate Demian by picking the apple that was hanging over his head.
Can't reach...He stood up on tiptoes. Almost there—
He leaped and managed to grasp the fruit with both hands before landing on the ground, losing his footing, and stumbling headlong into the diplomat's pond.
Green water closed over his head. He was drowning...drowning...
Becil blinked. He found himself sitting at a long table covered with a lacy cloth. Four spirally candelabras were set up at intervals along the length of the table To his right sat a tall gentleman with a long curly mustache. Becil looked down to see a bowl filled with some sort of pea-green soup. He wrinkled his nose; it smelled rather foul. Becil wondered if a servant had gotten sick in it.
"How have you been, my prince?" asked the elderly gentleman, smiling at him.
Becil racked his memory for some knowledge of who this man was. His grandfather? No. A distant uncle? Highly unlikely. A courtier, perhaps? Ah! Now he remembered: this was Duke Frederick.
"I'm well," replied Becil as courteously as he could. From her seat to Becil's left, Marie beamed endearingly at him.
"Isn't my little Becil wonderful?" she gushed. Servants entered the room, each carrying a bottle and a wide-rimmed cup. Becil watched as an attendant set a cup in front of the duke and poured a dark violet liquid into it. It had a strong smell...he looked into his own cup.
"Cheers, Your Highness," said the duke. He raised his cup and gestured toward Becil. Confused, the prince picked up his cup and held it up. Frederick clinked his cup against Becil's and downed the contents.
Queen Marie watched, alarmed. "Dearest, I don't think you should—"
Too late.
As soon as Becil drank the stuff, it seemed to shoot immediately into his head. His eyes watered. The table started to spin, and his mother's face turned into a flesh-colored swirl.
Am I dying? What if the liquid had been poison? The prince watched unsteadily as the servant refilled the cup for Frederick.
"No, don't!" cried Becil, as Frederick lifted the cup to his lips. He knocked the goblet out of the duke's hands. It splashed down into the man's green soup.
"What are you doing?" yelled the Duke angrily, just as the world darkened and Becil flopped over sideways. The foul greenish broth seemed to move closer and closer, menacingly...
"Becil. You're not falling asleep, are you?" Queen Marie's voice yanked him out of the dream of pea soup.
"No, Mother," said Becil automatically.
Marie was standing in front of him, her plump be-ringed hand resting on the shoulder of a young girl the prince's age. The girl simpered at him, showing crooked teeth. She wore a frilly pink dress, and her bleached blonde hair was curlier than the noodles Cook made.
"How do you do?" giggled the girl. She stretched out the pink dress and curtsied. "I'm Princes Lynette. My father's a king you know. He owns a big house with lots of towers. Hundreds of people work for him. All he has to say is 'Do this!' or 'Do that!' and they'll do it. Ah, you're a prince, aren't you?"
"Um..." stammered Becil as the girl's face came alarmingly close to his own.
"You must be a prince." The girl answered her own question. "Your mother said so. Come on. You're a prince and I'm a princess. Give me a kiss."
For some reason, his face felt hot and his palms were getting sticky. What's a kiss? His heart started to beat as the girl's face leaned closer...
"Gyaaah! Get away from me!" screamed Becil. He turned and ran—someone was laughing at him. Strange, it sounded familiar...
Becil woke up, Demian's laughter still ringing in his memory.
"Oh, Becil, my love, why must you be so clumsy?" said Marie.
Startled, Becil turned to find his mother seated on a chair beside his bed. They were in his bedchambers in the royal palace. All those incidents had just been dreamed up memories. Memories that despaired him.
"Mother, did a fairy curse me at my christening?" asked Becil dejectedly. "I can't seem to do anything right. Remember that time I messed up the Duke Frederick's soup? And then the time when I ran from Princess..."
"No! Of course you're not cursed!" said the Queen. "Clumsiness is a thing that happens to all of us in our childhood. Do remember, darling, those accidents occurred when you were a child."
"But I'm seventeen now," cried Becil, falling back into his pillow. "And I tripped over a pebble today! A pebble, Mother! And I almost drowned in the shallows!"
"Your father would have laughed and told you to trip over a rock next time," interrupted Marie, smiling. "Your father had such a good sense of humor," she added. "A fine gentleman."
"And I'm not," said Becil flatly.
Marie's eyes suddenly acquired a devious glint. "Oh, but you will be soon!"
Author's Note:
My first story in a long time, this is a re-telling of the Princess and the Pea. Becil's name is pronounced as "Buh-sil". I hope you like the story so far My thanks to RaspberryGirl for being very patient with me and for doing the editing. Please read and review, and constructive criticism is always welcome .