3 Dead Princes: An Anarchist Fairy Tale

by Danbert Nobacon

  “You’re embellishing,” said The Fool, grinning. “What else?”

  “Whatever else it says, it does not concern you.”

  On the contrary, what the note said did concern The Fool, and everyone else around the table. A cloud passed in front of the sun in the sky outside, and the shadow that passed through the kitchen, over the Queen’s face, masked something in her expression. It went unnoticed by all except for Gigi, the Queen’s own mother. Then, quick as a splash, Gwynmerelda’s regal demeanor returned.

  Queen Gwynmerelda stood up, sending her chair clunking over, and puffing herself up, she looked directly into Stormy’s eyes.

  “Princess Alexandra. Queen Nukeander and the royal Prince Mercurio will be arriving by midday, and you better be on your very best behavior my girl, or woe betide the consequences.”

  In the pandemonium that followed, almost no one noticed the note fall to the floor, where Sonia, the kitchen maid, swept it up before leaving the room. Only Stormy saw. But she had other things to think about just then.

  Chapter 6

  BIG HAIR, BIG TROUBLE

  Remember, that Time as we know it had not been invented in the western kingdoms. Morainians did not yet think in terms of minutes and hours. They had long days and short days according to the season; they had their arbitrary seven-day week, and worked in lunar months and solar years. But anything shorter was measured in moments. Yes, they had their moments, but these were fluid, and of variable and thus indeterminate length.

  As you may have guessed, the clock, which Morainians had never encountered, was ticking towards the hour when they would. But for Stormy, the morning and afternoon were a jumble of emotions that went on forever. While she wanted the meeting with the Prince Mercurio to be over and done with, she also wished it could be put off for as long as possible.

  Queen Nukeander, her second youngest son Prince Mercurio, a Godmatist probber named Elijareen, and their entourage of journey-men and maids, arrived mid-afternoon.

  There was a crazy commotion as their convoy wound its way through the narrow streets of Morainia town. Donkey-drawn carriages were highly unusual in these parts, and the ornate extravagance of workmanship on Queen Nukeander’s carriage was rarely seen by the mountain townfolk. Gold-painted wooden swirls swelled above the front wheels into cascading waves. Over each of the rear wheels sat a finely carved seraphic Mermangel, complete with wings, curling fishtails, and swirling golden hair, which cascaded around their beguiling blue ocean eyes and red sunset lips. Arms outstretched along either side of the carriage windows, the Mermangels dwarfed the peering face of Prince Mercurio.

  The whole charabanc spoke of untold wealth in the sea kingdoms to the south.

  Stormy heard the fanfare as the procession wound its way up Bald Mountain and through the front gate. She saw the royal carriage lurch a bit on account of a pothole in the driveway. And while imagining the Mermangel’s head torn off by a collision with the wall, Stormy experienced a momentary wisp of that morning’s forgotten dream. But then the dream was gone, and she watched the visitors disembark, to be greeted by Geraldo.

  A sudden shooting pain in her stomach made Stormy cramp-up double. And though she had recovered when Gigi arrived to help her dress for dinner, the combination of the strange pain and the disturbing circumstance, made her feel weak and sad. So even though she had never gone in for big frocks and big hair, this time she didn’t put up her usual protest. She needed all her concentration to face the challenge of whatever the night’s protocol and pompiffery would throw at her.

  When Gigi ushered Stormy into Gwynmerelda’s chamber for a queenly seal of approval, Stormy caught a hurried and secretive exchange between the daughter and mother. This made Stormy feel even less at ease, if that was possible. But it was a fleeting impression, and Gwynmerelda was immediately back to her old self, primping a stray hair among the elegantly styled curls bunched up on Stormy’s head.

  “I have always told you, Alex, that you scrub up particularly well, given the right guidance.” And then with a burst of warmth, which again seemed strange for Gwynmerelda, she said. “You will be absolutely fine, my dear. Absolutely fine.” Straightening her back in that regal, yoga-trained way she had, the Queen indicated that the Princess do the same. Taking Stormy’s hand, she led her to meet the Handsome Prince.

  Maybe it was true. As the stories told, the charming Prince would come, and he would be handsome beyond belief. He would sweep the Princess off her feet, and this would be the start of their living happily ever after …

  In spite of her earlier words, Princess Stormy found herself gazing to her right, along the dinner table toward Prince Mercurio. Had she been able to admit it to herself, her heart cogs were almost imperceptibly beginning to engage. It was like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis inside her stomach, and beating its wings for the very first time.

  Mercurio was older than Stormy, of course. He was nineteen. He was tall, blonde, handsome; he looked mature. Stormy had met him before, but then she had only been six summers old, and he twelve. There had been a big celebration feast when Walterbald married Gwynmerelda, and it would have been a mistake not to invite representatives of the kingdom of Oosaria. The young Prince had come with his mother, Nukeander, the Queen and ruler of Oosaria. And all Stormy could remember of Mercurio was hating him for how he teased her, by pulling the limbs from a daddy long-legs. She vaguely remembered that he’d said there should be war, not feasting, between their peoples. And that a good battle would settle once and for all who owned what. But maybe her memory was playing tricks on her?

  All that was all a long time ago. And in the interim, Mercurio had seemingly changed into a man, as Stormy knew that she herself was beginning to change from a girl to a young woman.

  All this arranged marriage business may seem strange to us, but in this sort-of-fairy-tale world, people generally died young. Stormy’s mother Ursula, for instance. It was highly unusual for someone of Stormy’s age to have three living grandparents. Jakerbald, at the age of sixty-six, was as old and wise a man as you would usually ever meet.

  And so it followed that if children were to have grandparents, and grandparents were to know their grandchildren, then it was not out of the ordinary for teenage girls to give birth to children, fathered by swashbuckling teenage boys, in arranged teenage marriages.

  Stormy leaned forward again and looked over to the swaggerswanking Mercurio, before lowering her eyes to the plate where she’d mostly just pushed the food around. It didn’t matter that the braised wild turkey and fire-roasted potatoes were her favorite.

  The Prince seemed most charming, in a way that Stormy could not explain. He could talk at the dinner table like an adult. According to tradition, Mercurio sat to the right of Queen Gwynmerelda. Nukeander sat to Gwynmerelda’s left, and Stormy to Nukeander’s left. This meant that for Mercurio and Stormy to see each other, one or both of them had to lean conspicuously forwards to look around the two queens. Of course this was the whole point. In this way, everyone else around the table, and the two queens in particular, would be acutely aware of any electrical currents. It was an age-old ritual, which had probably evolved specifically to play havoc with teenage hormones.

  Stormy watched her stepmother smiling and laughing at Mercurio’s small talk. She felt very uncomfortable. Her brain told her one thing and her body another; she could not decide which one of them was lying to her. Between the struggle of body and brain, she was having a hard time keeping up her end of the conversation. She managed to mmm and aaa, and grunt at Nukeander’s attempts to engage her, but little else.

  Some short moons back, Stormy had had a crush on a boy who was staying in town. Indeed, they had on one occasion secretly kissed. It was sweet and fleeting, for the boy, named River, was with a band of travelling players performing in Morainia for the Spring Fayre. It seemed like he’d gone away as soon as he had appeared.

  Then there was Fred, from the Cliff Scouts. Stormy liked Fred, but not like she had liked
River. But Fred seemed to like Stormy the way she’d liked River. It was all very confusing.

  Stormy felt some more of these exciting uncertainties as she furtively leaned forward and glanced at Mercurio again. This time he caught her eye and she quickly looked away. Nukeander caught the moment, as did Gwynmerelda; they turned to each other and exchanged knowing looks.

  Unusually, Stormy had been allowed a glass of the reddest wine she had ever seen. And where she had trouble making the food pass her lips, she had no problem with the wine. Each time she drank, the glass was magically refilled, the wine imperceptibly cloudier, and Stormy drank some more.

  Then the dinner was suddenly over. The band struck up, and the dancing began, led by Zilpher and Jakerbald, who only needed the slightest excuse to take to the dance floor. Most of the adults gradually followed suit. Stormy saw all this as a pleasant blur, and then Mercurio took her hand and led her to the dance floor. She felt like she was walking on air.

  Stormy’s head was spinning from too much wine with too little food. And the movement as she and Mercurio circulated the dance floor did nothing to help her regain any sense of balance. She felt dizzy and thrilled at the same time. She wondered if this was what people meant when they described being swept off their feet by a special other.

  But when she dared raise her head and look into Mercurio’s blue eyes, what she saw unnerved her and not in a good way. That uncomfortable moment, however, was quickly snatched away. For just as suddenly as it had begun, the dance was over, and everyone was applauding. Indeed, everyone had made a half circle around the Prince and Princess and were cheering them. Mercurio whispered something in Stormy’s ear, but she couldn’t hear what he said. She just felt his hot wet breath against her ear. She didn’t like it, and turned to walk away.

  Soon the evening’s guests began melting away, as people wished each other good night. Stormy felt Mercurio squeeze her hand as he drifted away. She felt Gwynmerelda hugging her, and Zilpher and Gigi taking hold of her hands. The combination of emotions and events made the weather systems in Stormy’s stomach billow in unpredictable formations.

  The way Stormy remembered it, Mercurio was staring up at her with an uncomfortable glint in his eye, as she somehow managed to climb the stairwell. She saw Nukeander go to him, take him by the arm, and say something angrily. He shook his mother’s arm off and came up the stairs after her. The next thing she knew, she was in the corridor just before her own bedroom. But Mercurio was now in front of her, leaning against the doorjamb of her room. His eyes still had that same glint. And something about that glint made Stormy afraid.

  Chapter 7

  ONE DEAD PRINCE

  She must be dreaming she thought. She closed her eyes and shook her head. A dizziness swirled up from her stomach, and when she opened her eyes again, Mercurio was still there, coming towards her.

  Mercurio grabbed Stormy by the wrists and pushed her against the door. Before she had time to breath he was kissing her, pushing his tongue against her mouth.

  As she struggled, Stormy’s elbow caught the door handle, pressing down upon it, releasing the door inwards, and sending the Prince and Princess sprawling. Freed from Mercurio’s gropple, Stormy leapt onto the bed. “What are you DOING?” she cried, as Mercurio closed the door behind him and bolted it.

  “Stay away from me,” she screamed.

  “Fear me not, little strumpet,” grinned Mercurio. “I only want a quiet word.”

  And she half believed him for the half-moment it took until he lunged at her legs, sending her spinning backwards into the pillows. Immediately he was on her again, holding down her arms. His eyes bore down into Stormy’s, but his voice was amused, almost casual, when he said, “You will marry me.” And then he said, “Almost I think it will be a pleasure to break you.” He grinned again. “I always loved a fight.”

  Stormy looked into his cold blue eyes and saw the truth there: no love, but hatred. And she learned one of the first lessons of her adult life that there are those who prefer the one to the other. It was a hard lesson, and she had no time to take it in, as he pulled her up toward him.

  She gave a small sob, and realized her mistake. But her distress only added more fuel to Mercurio’s fire.

  Mercurio really did want to marry Stormy. It was his ticket to being the next King of Morainia. Having two older brothers before him, and vying to be next in line to the Oosarian throne, this was his one big chance. He wasn’t going to miss out. Drunk as he was, he thought there was no time like the present to assert his authority. Mercurio, it will be seen, had never been able to wait for what he wanted.

  He laughed again and repeated. “You will marry me. My interests will be yours. What’s yours will be mine. And that includes your precious Morainian metals, deep in these hills.” He closed his eyes as if savoring her dowry already.

  That was a mistake.

  In that instant Stormy managed to wriggle partially free. Unseating the Prince, she forced her knees up in front of her, and with the tautness of a crossbow, kicked out with all her might. Her heels crunched into Mercurio’s ribs. He let out a surprised groan, and fell backwards.

  Stormy curled up in a defensive ball, burying her head in the bed, expecting the worst. Bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught …

  … A nonillionth of a moment become a nano-moment, that stretched and split. Those two nano-moments then elasticated and split again, like cells dividing and replicating. Four became eight; eight became sixteen, and so on exponentially … The attack never came. There was only silence.

  Slowly, very slowly, Stormy lifted her head and turned. Through her tears she looked and saw the Prince sprawled on the wooden floor, looking up with a fixed expression on his face, and a pool of blood spreading from the back of his head. She saw blood on the bedpost. Then there was a banging on the door and shouting.

  Mechanically, Stormy lifted her legs over the side of the bed and began to walk, stepping around the dead prince, to the door. She slid the bolt back, opened the door, and stood aside as Gwynmerelda rushed in. Geraldo came behind her, quickly shutting the door behind him.

  Chapter 8

  YOGA BREATH

  Stormy threw herself at Gwynmerelda, burying her head in the queen’s breast, as if by shutting her eyes tightly, she could make it all go away.

  The Queen took in the grisly scene with one look. “I knew it,” she said grimly. “That look on his face …”

  Geraldo bent over the Prince or, more accurately, what had been the Prince and said dispassionately, “Little bastard. He must have cracked his skull when you fought him off.”

  Stormy nodded mutely.

  “My fault,” said Gwynmerelda tensely. “We used you to gain time. But there’s no time now. We have to get you away from here.”

  “Can I sleep … can I come to your room?” the Princess whimpered.

  “No I mean, yes, come to my room, but we have to get you away … away from the castle … tonight.”

  “I’m afraid so, Stormy,” nodded Geraldo, as a look of bewildered horror crept across the Princess’s already confuzzled brow. “There is no seer living who could predict what the Oosarians might do now. We have to get you as far away and as fast as possible. For your own safety,” he continued, putting a finger to his lips and ushering them out of the room. Geraldo closed the door on the dead Prince.

  “Take Stormy downstairs,” he said, looking at Gwynmerelda.

  “Yes,” she whispered back. “You wake The Fool.”

  The Queen led Stormy quietly down the back staircase and into her own chamber, where she briskly checked through a knapsack she had hidden, already packed. Stormy watched, barely understanding what this meant. Had the Queen known the Oosarian visit would have unintended consequences?

  What Gwynmerelda really wanted to do was to fold the frightened Princess in her arms and reassure her. But for her own safety, Stormy would have to be able to stand on her own now. She had to learn she was alone. “Don’t stand there looking l
ike a goggle bird, Girl,” she barked. “Move!”

  The harshness had its intended effect. Stormy angrily came out of her trance and set to work.

  “Packing for a camping trip, ladies?” The Fool stuck his head in the door. He had been pleasantly drunk and fast asleep, but the news that he must shortly leave sobered him up quick.

  Tearful goodbyes were out of the question. Gwynmerelda knew that any sign of sentiment now would only hamper Stormy. So with dry eyes and unyielding body, the Queen pushed Stormy and The Fool out into the night.

  She watched as they disappeared, hurrying, into the dark, and didn’t blink once, not even when Stormy looked back uncertainly one last time. It was only when the Queen knew they were gone that she allowed herself a brief moment of collapse. She sank back against the wall, gasping for air.