Princess Perfect
By: Tkfan
Edited by: RaspberryGirl
Demian walked across the courtyard of the palace. Briskly, with his velvet cloak swirling glamorously behind him, he strode up to the doors of the most lavish of the royal buildings. He took a moment to glance at his reflection in the polished bronze door-handles and slick back his hair. His handsome face beamed back at him, revealing perfect white teeth and a regal nose. Mysterious green eyes, jet black hair—ah, he was gorgeous.
Not like that bumbling prince, Becil.
Demian's lips curled. The door opened and a servant allowed him to enter.
"I will be presented to Her Majesty, Queen Marie and His Highness, Prince Becil," he said to the page that hurried up to him. As Demian was led away, he ignored the fawning, dreamy smiles of the servant girls who waltzed by him on their way to their daily tasks.
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"What did you say, Mother?" asked Becil dazedly.
"Well, since you've failed all the lessons on princely conduct, I've decided to try a new approach to your condition," answered Marie, dragging the prince through the palace corridors.
A door creaked open in front of them, and Marie swept Becil into the room.
A tall, thin gentleman turned from a portrait of the late King he'd been admiring and bowed to the Queen and prince.
"Wizard Osmand," said Marie elegantly.
"My Queen," said Osmand, smacking his lips against her hand. "And Your Highness." Osmand started to reach for Becil's hand, but the prince quickly snatched it away.
"Wizard Osmand?" said Becil, confused. What could a wizard do for him? "Mother, is this some kind of joke?" Becil thought dismally about his own ineptness in magic.
"Osmand, you tell him," said the Queen, smiling fondly at Becil. The prince suddenly had a bad feeling about this.
"Your Highness, we, the Legion of Court Wizards, have been puzzling over your case for some time. Of course, we are aware of all the previous attempts to change your awkward behavior. Not that your behavior is a particularly bad thing," added the Wizard quickly. "But I have invented a spell to cure you completely and so ensure the fulfillments of your duties as prince and future king of Galrona!" He ended with a flourish of hands.
Becil paled at the word "invent." He had not been deaf to the rumors about the Legion of Court Wizards. They were a group of eccentric magic- users that had dedicated themselves to inventing and improving spells for the benefit of the kingdom. They were also known as the reason why the palace gardens now played host to a variety of realistic human statues and why a storm of rancid green cheese had suddenly blown up a month ago.
"Has the spell been tested yet?" asked Becil nervously.
Osmand flashed his teeth at the prince and replied smoothly, "No, of course not, Your Highness. The spell's reserved strictly for you."
"Well, go on, dearest," said Queen Marie. "Don't you want to be cured of your clumsiness?"
"Yes, but not by him," he fiercely whispered back.
"Nonsense! I'm confident in Osmand's abilities. Now, go on." Stubbornly, Marie pushed Becil forward, ignoring her son's protests.
Osmand led Becil to the center of the room. He waved for the Queen to move back. The Wizard removed a chalky looking crystal from a small bag he wore at his side and started to sketch a large circle around Becil. The young man stood resigned, waiting for his fate as another garden statue to greet him.
After the circle was completed, Osmand walked the length of it, chanting.
Becil held his breath.
Osmand waved his hands and threw a bit of sparkly dust in the air over Becil and—poof.
Rancid smoke poured into the room, engulfing the wizard, the prince, and the Queen in its foul-smelling cloud. The odor reminded Becil of burning hair.
"Your Highness!" cried Osmand.
"Osmand, what's happening?" yelled the Queen. "Becil, are you all right? Darling, answer me!"
Becil stood with his eyes tightly shut and his hands curled into fists at his side. He was frightened. What would he find when he opened his eyes?
Osmand waved his hands, and a cool breeze wafted through the open window, gently clearing the smoke.
Becil opened his eyes.
At least he was still human, he thought with relief.
His mother and the wizard peered anxiously at him.
"Do you feel any different, Becil?" asked the Queen. Her son looked the way he always had, a little dazed and out of place. The only difference was that his hair and clothes were now covered in a fine layer of gray dust.
Becil flexed his fingers. He felt the same. But then again, he wouldn't know how it felt to be not clumsy but gentlemanly. "I'm sorry, Osmand, but I don't think your spell worked," he said finally. The wizard looked disappointed. Queen Marie seemed as if she might cry.
"I'd hoped—" she started, then changed her mind. "At the very least, let's get you out of those clothes," she said instead.
Becil felt a stone form in the center of his stomach as a servant helped him change into clean clothes. Even though he was distrustful of Wizard Osmand's abilities, a tiny part of him had hoped that the spell would work, that he would emerge from it the perfect prince. Like his mother always wanted. But no, as with everything else that happened to him, something had gone wrong. He was still the same. Nothing had changed, Becil was still clumsy as ever—his fingers fumbled to button up his shirt—and he felt an overpowering sense of failure.
If only he could change.
A servant appeared in the doorway. "Your Highness, Lord Demian requests an audience."
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Demian waited impatiently as a servant led the Queen and the prince into the chamber where he had been waiting for what seemed like years.
Queen Marie looked lovely in her elaborate gown, and Becil looked...as unremarkable as ever.
Not like myself, thought Demian, smiling to himself.
"Ah, Your Majesty," the young lord approached the Queen and bowed. Marie beamed at him.
"Demian, you look wonderful, as usual," said Marie.
"Thank you, my Queen." Demian flashed his heart-melting smile at Marie. As usual, the smile brought the desired results—the Queen blushed.
"Demian," said Becil, frowning slightly. After their last encounter, he wondered what Demian was here for.
"What, no warm greeting for an old friend?" said Demian, looking hurt. "I'd thought you'd be more happy to see me."
"Of course," answered Becil, pasting a smile on his face.
"What brings you here, Demian?" asked Marie.
Demian smiled. Just what he'd been waiting for. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, I think you will both be very pleased to see what I have brought."
"And that is...?" Becil raised an eyebrow.
Demian extracted from the folds of his cloak a small velvet bag. "In here is the solution to your problem, my prince."
Becil was taken aback. It was what he had least expected, Demian coming to help him. Or perhaps this was some plot of his cunning friend's...
Demian reached into the confines of the bag and took out a small, shiny object, which he displayed before the Queen and prince.
Both Marie and Becil started in surprise.
Between Demian's gloved fingers glinted a small golden pea.
Author's Note:
Not much to say about this chapter, but I did have fun writing the encounter with Wizard Osmand . I hope you are enjoying this as much as I am writing it. Thanks again to RaspberryGirl for the editing. Please R&R