Pretty Pretty Princess

by McKenzie, Shane

  “This was never my home. Not really. My father, he . . . ”

  “The tower! We’re heading back to the tower. Where we belong,” Tessa said.

  “Do you think we’ll be safe there?” Francis asked.

  Pretty giggled. “We’re not hiding, you silly face. Besides, when I hide behind things, it turns them invisible, and then everyone can see me.”

  “What?” Gavin said.

  “My brother wants me dead. After what happened here tonight, he won’t stop until he’s got my head mounted above his fireplace. He’ll call for the other kingdoms to assist him, and they will. There is too much money in Trulia for them to refuse. There will be thousands of men hunting me.”

  “And your plan is to invite us to stand in your shitty, rundown tower with you while they march with the intent of killin’ you? Yeah, that sounds fuckin’ great.”

  “Quiet, Gavin,” Francis said. “Princess, forgive me, but I—”

  “They would have to march through the Dark Wilderness to ever reach the tower,” Sonia said.

  “Yes,” Pretty said, “and I’ve got many friends in the Wilderness. And my tower, as old as it may seem, is far sturdier than this castle, or any castle. It is made of goblin stone, and only the strongest of goblins can break it. To men, it will be impenetrable.”

  Francis thought for a moment, then nodded. “If this is what you wish, I will go with you. But only if our friends may come as well.”

  The women were huddled, energetically discussing the risks involved. Then Sonia stepped forward, dropped to her knee. The others did as well, and when Francis realized he was the only one standing, he quickly fell, clenching his teeth when his knee hit the ground too hard.

  “We would be honored to fight by your side,” Sonia said. “Long live the queen.”

  The other women shouted this as well.

  “You sure about this, Fran? We came all this way just to go back to that tower? Wasn’t the whole point to get the princess out of it?”

  “It was, but things have changed. You have any other ideas?”

  “Ah shit . . . ”

  “Prepare yourselves,” Pretty said, her voice once again powerful. “Even with the Goblin Dragon and her horde, this will not be easy. But Prince Francis was right. The ways of the realm must change. People, no matter their bloodline or sex or creed or race, have a right to live and seek happiness, whatever that may be. Princes for the Ethical Treatment of Princesses? An honorable thought, but not big enough. We are the Warriors of the New Realm! And anyone who stands in the way of progress will be crushed and burned!”

  The women cheered and ran up the dragon’s head, straddled its neck.

  “W.N.R.?” Gavin whispered as he and Francis joined the others. “Doesn’t that kinda spell out wiener? You people really need to think of the acronyms before you land on a title for your movement. I’m just sayin’.”

  “I think it’s wonderful,” Francis said.

  The dragon roared once more before launching itself into the air and toward the tower.

  11

  3 Days Later . . .

  They’re coming,” Pretty said, all traces of her craziness completely gone now. It had started to disappear more frequently since they arrived at the tower, the authoritative and intimidating side of her becoming more and more dominant. Now, on the third day since leaving Trulia, it was all that was left of her. Still the scrawny, disease-ridden woman with her hand up a rat’s corpse, but everything about her reeked of power now.

  Sonia and her women, who had all kept their faces covered the entire time, seemed to think this barbarian side of the princess was her true self. The woman, or the queen, that she was always meant to become before her father sent her to this tower.

  Francis didn’t agree. He never knew her before her lunacy, but there was something about it, the innocence and the sweetness, that he couldn’t get out of his mind. He missed that part of her. Maybe it was because he could relate to that side. How she was abandoned and sent away by her own family. She possessed the power all along to seek revenge, but she never did. Just stayed locked in her tower, year after year, just like her parents told her to. It wasn’t until Francis convinced her to leave that she agreed to it, and for that he felt eternally regretful.

  She turned away, or murdered, so many knights, yet she trusted me. After all these years, it was I who inspired her to return home. And all it led to was tragedy.

  It was only just last night that the real princess spoke to him. When he heard her soft, giggly voice, his heart began to beat rapidly and he found it difficult to breathe. She had scooted beside him as he sat staring out the tower’s only window, counting the stars.

  “Is he being mean again?”

  Francis gasped, then smiled when he saw her inching toward him. As he concentrated on breathing, her sharp scent no longer affecting him, he found it difficult to find the right words. He only stared at her, mouth agape.

  “The moon,” she said. “I used to sit here all night looking up at him. He’s the worst when he’s full. That’s when he’s especially mean. Likes to call me names. Is that it, Prince Francis? Is he calling you names? Making fun of you for liking men in your bed?”

  “I don’t . . . that’s not . . . ” He sighed. “Yes, the moon is especially cruel tonight, I’m afraid.”

  She scooted closer, then sat on his lap to get a better look. Though he begged his lap to stay flat, there was nothing he could do to stop it from rising once it started. The princess didn’t mention it, though he thought he felt her wiggle a little.

  “But he’s hardly there at all. Only a sliver. He never talks when he’s this thin. What did he say?”

  “He didn’t say anything at all.”

  “What did he do to offend you, then?”

  Music crept softly into the atmosphere. If it wasn’t for the sweet melody, Francis didn’t think he would have had the courage, but the song provided him with bravery and he pulled the princess close, dipped her so they could look each other in the eye.

  “The moon is cruel for holding back its light and denying me the privilege of looking upon your beauty illuminated.”

  “Prince . . . ”

  “If he pulls his cock out, Princess, I’ll bite it—” Tessa started, but Pretty held the rat’s mouth shut with her other hand.

  Francis lowered his lips toward hers as the music grew in volume. “The moon is cruel, my sweet princess, because—”

  “What the fuck’re you two doin’?” Gavin slid his head between them and Francis’s lips fell on the pig’s pink, coarse cheek. “It’s late. You start singin’ and none of us will ever get any goddamn sleep.”

  “Is there a reason we keep the pig around?” Green Eyes said. “He has the uncanny ability to ruin everything.”

  Francis tossed Gavin away, turned to find every one of the women staring at him and Pretty. Each one wide-eyed and smiling, though pouting with disappointment.

  Now, Francis stood beside Gavin, the two of them behind the line of women warriors. Pretty knelt by the window, listening to a group of rats squeak as if speaking in a language only she could understand. A halo of flies swirled around her head.

  “Who is coming?” Sonia asked, pulling two long, thin swords from their sheaths at her back. “How many?”

  Pretty listened to the squeaks, then stood tall, her back to the room. She still held Tessa at shoulder’s height, but the rat puppet stayed quiet. “Every army in the realm marches behind Balthazar. Many were killed as they marched through the heart of the Dark Wilderness, but fire worms and weresquirrels and all the other creatures are no match for such numbers.”

  “What . . . what do we do?” Francis asked, his voice coming out shakier than he meant it to.

  “We go to them,” Blonde said. “We don’t give them a chance to make it to the tower. We’ll paint the forest with their entrails!”

  This brought on a round of cheering from the other women, and a whimper from Francis.

 
“What’s the matter, Fran?” Gavin asked. “Me and you, we defeated the dragon and all the goblins. Now they’re on our side, not to mention Princess Pest Master and the Pajama Posse. Those idiots don’t stand a chance.”

  “We didn’t defeat anyone. The knights we hired did it for us. And that was only five men. What chance do we stand against every kingdom’s collected army?”

  “Hey, I killed a few goblins. Killed some guards too, if you don’t remember. We’re the good guys in this fairy tale, Fran. We can’t lose.”

  “We stay here, in the tower,” Pretty said. “Let the Goblin Dragon and her horde lower Balthazar’s numbers first. When what remains of the army reaches the tower, then we fight. We fight until every last one of them is quenching the soil’s thirst with their blood.”

  Pretty whistled, a short high-pitched tune. The tower shook and a great wind blasted into the room through the window, throwing Francis off his feet. Gavin helped him up, shaking his head.

  “Get your shit together, Fran. This is the ending. Can’t you feel it? It’s time to grow a pair already. You’re makin’ us both look bad.”

  “In the words of the bravest and dearest friend I’ve ever known. Suck my summer sausage.”

  Gavin snorted and smiled.

  The dragon flapped its great wings, facing the tower, and roared once, loud and terrible. It exhaled a wall of flame into the air, then spun and soared toward the forest. On the ground, sprinting and bellowing, their weapons held high, was the goblin horde. Watching them all go, and remembering how monstrous they were, Francis felt slightly better.

  Yes, the five knights defeated them, but they were no ordinary men. They were the deadliest warriors I have ever seen. We still have a chance.

  “How can we just sit here, waiting, when our enemies lie just beyond those trees?” Sonia said. Her women warriors were behind her, each of them nodding and brandishing their blades, hungry for violence. “I say we stay high in the tallest branches. Rain death upon their heads!”

  Pretty slowly spun to face them, quieting them at once with the intensity of her stare. “We stay. We defend this tower.”

  “Princess?” Francis said, shoving through the women. “I’m flattered that my . . . cause inspired this Warriors of the New Realm group we’ve got here. May I ask . . . what do you hope to come of this war? What is your goal?”

  “To rid the realm of the old who firmly cling to their traditions and beliefs, so that we may start fresh. Spread the word of the New Realm.”

  “Right. But are we to assume that every man in that forest is guilty of the same beliefs as the royalty they follow?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I have traveled—well Gavin and I have traveled—across the realm. I’ve spoken to guards and royalty in nearly every kingdom. Yes, the kings and queens, along with most of their children and kin, refuse to change their ghastly ways. But the others . . . as cruel and villainous as they may be, have been raised to follow orders. It’s all they know. Is it right to condemn them to death for showing loyalty? Would it not make more sense, and set a better example, to target those with crowns on their heads? Once they are killed, I have a strong feeling the others will follow you. You can inherit the army.”

  It was true, Francis did feel this way, but the idea came from a place of cowardice and fear. He didn’t want to fight anyone, let alone an army. An army which his own father had provided soldiers to help swell its girth.

  The room grew quiet. When Francis turned to look at Sonia and her women, they averted their gaze as if they knew he was right. As anxious as they were to dye their blades red, he thought he sensed uncertainty in them.

  Pretty remained silent. She held Francis’s gaze for a moment, then closed her eyes, breathing hard through her nose.

  Just when Francis thought he had gotten to her, that his words had convinced her, Tessa rose up and was extended out until the tip of her snout touched Francis’s.

  “Kill them all. They all fucking die today.”

  “Princess . . . listen to me. Please!”

  Pretty hummed a low tune, and in moments, the room was thick with flies. The winged insects swarmed, then all sped to the stone wall and clung to its black surface.

  “Warriors of the New Realm!” Pretty roared, then pointed to the wall with Tessa. “Watch as our enemies bleed! Watch as the Goblin Dragon blackens their flesh!”

  The flies shifted and scuttled until their flitting bodies started to form moving images on the wall. Their buzzing became vibrating screams as the shapes of men flowed over the stone. Francis had to squint at first, but the longer he watched, the clearer it became. They were watching the fight as it was happening in the forest. He could make out soldiers from every kingdom, their sigils shining on the chest plates of their armor. Goblins growled as they drove their hellish metal into the men, opening them up and spilling their viscera, severing limbs from torsos and heads from necks.

  The Goblin Dragon soared from above, unleashing wave after wave of heat, smothering the countless, endless army in a raging inferno. A seemingly infinite barrage of arrows were shot into the air, aimed at the dragon’s underbelly. Most ricocheted off, falling back to the earth to plunge into the flesh of the human men. But some stuck, orange blood misting from the wounds as the dragon flapped her wings and continued her attack. Her blood splashed to the ground, marinating men in gelatinous heat that liquefied them into mounds of bloody flesh.

  Though she bled, the dragon seemed unfazed by her injuries. Nothing more than insect bites. And as she zoomed over the battlefield, she flooded it with another wave of fire, engulfing hundreds of men at once. As their smoking, charred bodies crumbled to the earth, another swarm of them surged forward.

  “There are too many of them,” one of the women said, the flesh around her eyes wrinkled with age.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Blonde said. “They stand no chance against the dragon. This is child’s play for the beast.”

  “What . . . what the fuck is that?” Gavin said.

  “Is that . . . ? Oh come on . . . ” Francis touched the image, forgetting it was projected by the flitting bodies of flies, and when his hand mushed them down and wings tickled his fingertips, he yelped and pulled away.

  Everyone was too entranced by what they saw to comment on Francis’s girly shriek.

  Unicorns. Galloping through the air toward the Goblin Dragon. The majestic creatures had horns running from the top of their heads down to their tails. Wings like long, feathered razors slicing the air as they snorted and roared through the clouds. Knights sat atop their backs, strapped to the sparkling, spiraled horns, firing arrows at the goblins beneath them.

  “My father brought them. I never saw one in person, but I always heard stories about them. How my father was breeding them in secret.” Francis went numb all over, had to lean on Gavin to keep from falling.

  “So your father was breeding unicorns in private . . . and he kicked you out for being too fancy?”

  “Princess, please. We have to stop this,” Francis said, leaping toward her and clinging to her arm. “I’m begging you. There has to be a peaceful way we can resolve this.”

  “It’s far too late for that.” Then she leaned forward, her lips hovering above his ear, the stumps of her rotted teeth touching it. “Don’t worry, Prince. I won’t let the dream people hurt you. Not ever. Now pull those worms out of your eyes and play along. Isn’t this fun?”

  When she pulled away from him, she flashed a quick smile, then the austerity took over her face again. She faced the flies, watching with the others. Francis reached out to her, but was stopped when something bumped into his groin, knocking the air from his lungs.

  Tessa stared up at him. “Look at that,” the rat whispered harshly, “you’ve got balls after all. Could’ve fooled me. Still don’t see why she likes you. I mean . . . look at you.”

  “She what?”

  “Gods!” Sonia shouted, watching the flies, hands covering her mouth. “We’re
doomed. Every one of us.”

  Francis turned his attention to the wall just in time to watch the Goblin Dragon roar as it tumbled toward the ground. Orange blood sprayed in a spiral as the massive beast spun, ascending with great speed until finally colliding with the earth. The lifeless, colossal body smashed a large section of men to paste beneath it, but in moments, hundreds more ran around it, some climbing it, their metal boots clinging against the black scales as they raced forward. Some of them were welded to the dragon’s hide as they stomped on globs of her blood, screaming for help and reaching out to their fellow soldiers, but were ignored as the men stormed forward.

  When the last of the goblins were cut down, the men cheered, then marched on.

  With a wave of her hand, Pretty dismissed the flies. The room exploded into hysterics at once.

  The women approached Pretty and begged her to flee. They pleaded that they could help her escape, that she, or any of them, did not have to die that day.

  “What’s the big deal?” Gavin said, nudging Francis with his hind quarter. “Did they forget about the rats and flies? You remember, Fran. Those things stripped the Goblin Dragon to bones in seconds before. Those assholes out there don’t have a chance.”

  “You’re right, Gavin. But I have a feeling this won’t be so easy.”

  “What’re they gonna do? Draw the pests away with a mountain of shit? We’re golden. Unfuckingstoppable.”

  Gavin was almost right.

  Pretty ignored the women and stood at the window, facing the forest. Men poured forth from the trees, swarming the field between the Dark Wilderness and the tower.

  “You smell that?” Gavin said, his snout wiggling as he sucked in the odor.

  “Death,” Francis whispered.

  Pretty sang her song and called her pests, and within seconds, the flies and rats rushed toward the field. They annihilated the first wave of men with ease, leaving only armor and bones behind.

  “What is this?” Pretty said, her forehead furrowing and her teeth bared. She glared out at the battlefield, shaking her head. “Something is wrong.”