A Not-So-Grimm Fairytale

by Ann Somerville

  ~~~~~

  “If I may, my prince...?”

  “Oh go on,” Prince Alferonzo said most grumpily, twitching his silken robe about his shoulders and staring disconsolately after his night’s companion.

  “A dukedom is probably...more than he can deal with.”

  “Should I have him hanged instead?”

  Bella coughed delicately. “Brother prince, I think there’s no need. Wat is merely pointing out that the young man is simple, with simple tastes. A new bow and arrow, a pair of boots, perhaps?”

  “He’s simple for sure,” Prince Alferonzo snapped. “Oh, arrange it as you see fit, Wat. Just get him away from here.”

  Eric had indeed been sweet and innocent—and completely uninterested in men. He let the prince kiss and fondle him, but by no means would he consent to be fucked, and the mere mention of being taken to court had made him sob and beg not to be cleaved from his sweetheart—some common little milkmaid, apparently. He’d finally fallen asleep on Prince Alferonzo’s lap, and dribbled on his leg.

  Still, he hadn’t declared the prince revolting to his sight, and had been respectful in his own untutored way, so Prince Alferonzo was inclined to be generous in his disappointment. Wat’s suggestion made sense, and allowed his caravan to travel all the more speedily from this cursed place. Without, unfortunately, the curse being lifted.

  The same thing happened, with variations, every two or three days. Wat had been correct—commoners were much less bothered by his appearance—but unfortunately, they were distressingly uncosmopolitan in their attitudes to homosexuality, infidelity, and the entire concept of living among the nobility.

  When Prince Alferonzo was forced to spend an entire hour calming a sturdy but beautiful stable boy who couldn’t bear to be parted from his favourite mare, he realised the entire exercise had been futile.

  “Where will I find my true love now?” he cried, dashing a wine cup to the ground in frustration.

  Wat came to his side. “My prince?”

  “Yes? This was all your idea, you know.”

  “Yes, my prince. I'm sorry.” Wat looked at the ground, his cheeks colouring.

  Bella gave her brother a reproving look, and Prince Alferonzo sighed. “Oh, don’t be like that. What were you going to say?”

  Wat looked up. “My prince, you’ve tried nobility, but they dislike what they see. You’ve tried commoners, but they can’t cope with the life in the palace. You need someone who is unlikely to reject you because of the glamour, but who is used to life in the court.”

  Prince Alferonzo stared at his valet, then snapped his fingers. “Of course! The answer was right under my nose!”

  Wat smiled. “Yes, my prince.”

  “Courtiers! The gods know we have enough of them lolling about. I didn’t think of them before.” He clapped his servant on the shoulder. “Well done, Wat! Good idea. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, my prince,” his valet said neutrally. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

  “Eh? Oh, yes, yes, run along.”

  Prince Alferonzo beamed at his sister. “Surely the answer is there, Bella. We have hundreds of the beggars, and plenty who are comely and desirable. I know it’s a bit lowering to sleep with the help, but it’s not like I have to marry any of them.”

  “No, my brother prince. Could you excuse me?”

  “Oh...yes. Certainly. Tell my captain to come in, would you?”

  He wondered what she and Wat had to attend to so suddenly, but then forgot about it. Yes! That had to be the answer. Foolish of him not to have come to that conclusion earlier. He must remember to give Wat a pay rise. Did he pay him? He wasn’t sure. Bella would know.

  He could scarcely hold in his impatience as the caravan made its bumpy, stuffy way back to the palace, a little faster than the passage out, but still too slow for him. Wat and Bella did their best to amuse him, though he thought they seemed a tad distracted. Tired, he suspected. And out of sorts, being dragged around this benighted landscape. The palace was the proper setting for both of them—and himself. He knew the end of his curse was in sight. He felt it in his water.

  He enlisted Bella to put the word out among the many courtiers, servants and other hangers-on that Prince Alferonzo was looking for bedmates of the less picky kind. And they responded in their dozens, even in their baker’s dozens. Suddenly the prince, who had not wanted for companions before the get of Drowenna had laid her curse on him, found himself inundated with offers. None of the palace inmates cared about his appearance, having had a good year and a half to become inured to it, and since his father’s pleasure servants had trained them all, Prince Alferonzo was guaranteed a night of delight every time he offered one of the courtiers a chance to prove themselves.

  And the chances were taken, and right willingly. So enthusiastically, in fact, that many a morning Prince Alferonzo would stagger from his bed, feel his unchanged face under the cursed appearance, and wonder if he would come to resemble the glamour if he kept this up. He was enjoying himself far too much to care. What a brilliant idea of Wat’s this had been!

  But after three months of ceaseless nighttime rutting, and working his way through the most attractive and libidinous of the court residents, he came to an unpleasant realisation.

  “This is never going to work,” he said petulantly, stomping across his chambers to where his sister and his valet played some board game together. They did that a lot these days, he’d noticed. Probably because he’d been so busy and had less to occupy them. “Oh, they’re willing enough, but they despise me. They all want favours, or preferments, or their relatives introduced to my father, or given a place with my mother’s household. Not one of them is interested in me!” he cried, striking his chest. “How can they ever love me, if all they want to do is use me?”

  “Surely there is one,” Bella said quietly. “One among all these hundreds who knows you and loves you for who you really are.”

  “None,” Prince Alferonzo declared. “I’ve searched high and low, fucked every available courtier, servant and kitchen boy. None cares for me. No such person exists!”

  Wat came to his side, his cheeks unusually pale. “My prince—”

  “Yes, Wat? Are you unwell?”

  “No, my prince. But I do have something to say, and then I regret I will have to resign your royal highness’ service.”

  “Resign? Whatever f—”

  “Brother prince,” Bella snapped. “Do shut up.”

  Prince Alferonzo’s mouth closed in shock and Wat lifted his eyes, his lips thinned. “My prince, the problem is not that you’re ugly, or undesirable, it’s that you’re just incredibly slow. The answer is indeed under your nose, but the rocks of the ocean floor will turn to liquid gold before you would ever see it!”

  And with that, his valet turned and stalked out, his back stiff and proud. Prince Alferonzo did fish impressions for a full minute before turning to his sister. “What on earth—”

  “Yes, brother prince. Incredibly slow. Good day.”

  And then she turned and walked out in a swirl of silks and velvet.

  Prince Alferonzo threw himself into a gilt covered chair. “What...?”

  His valet had never spoken to him like this before, not once. Not before the curse, and certainly not since when he’d been so patient and helpful and full of such good advice....

  Prince Alferonzo was, as observed at the beginning of our tale, not the most empathic of men. But he was one of the more clever, and what he lacked in empathy, he could occasionally make up for with brains. He examined the evidence carefully, as he would at the end of a long and complex court case. Wat was angry with him, so was his dear half-sister. Bella had snapped after Wat had left, so Prince Alferonzo concluded the two events were connected. So the answer lay in Wat’s anger.

  But why was Wat angry? Was he underpaid? No. Was he underfed? No. Did Prince Alferonzo mistreat—

  Someone not noble, Wat had sugges
ted. Someone used to the ways of court. Someone who didn’t mind what he looked like.

  Someone who looked at him and saw only...his prince.

  “Wat!!” Prince Alferonzo roared. “Wat!”

  He ran out of his chambers, bellowing, frightening a guard, who pointed a shaking hand northwards.

  “Wat, come here!”

  The stablehands indicated the armoury, and the armourers indicated the library. And still Prince Alferonzo ran, yelling his valet’s name. “Wat, come here! I want you!”

  His mother encountered him outside the library. “My son the prince, why are you making so much noise?”

  “Not now, mother, I seek my true love!”

  “Oh. He’s in the green reading room.” And then she walked on, serenely, humming to himself.

  Prince Alferonzo paused only long enough to consider that his family were just a little bit odd, and then he flung the heavy oak doors of the library wide. “Wat, get in here now or I’ll have you hanged!”

  “This is a library, you know. You shouldn’t make all that racket.”

  His valet stood on the upper gallery, book in hand, an obdurate look on his face.

  “It’s my library, or will be. Damn you, come here.”

  “No. I’ve done enough for you, my prince, and can do no more.”

  “You love me!”

  “Yes. But you will never love me because you’re too bloody vain to see what I offer you. So I quit.”

  “Wat...please.”

  His valet’s expression softened a little. “My prince, I’ve watched you fuck hundreds of people over this last year and a half. I know what kind of person you like. I am not that kind of person.”

  “Wat, tell me what you see?”

  “What I’ve always seen, my prince. You. Unchanged. Handsome. Beloved. And not for me.”

  Prince Alferonzo spread his hands and lifted them in appeal. “Is it possible...you might be wrong?”

  Wat closed his book and laid it on the gallery rail. He leaned forward. “My prince, what do you see?”

  Prince Alferonzo stared up at his valet’s plain features, his intelligent dark eyes, and saw the loyalty and devotion behind them. “I see...love. I see...the one who is faithful and true, and who will be so forever. I see...what I do not deserve, but am humbly grateful for.” He went to one knee and held up a hand again. “I see my friend, Wat.”

  Wat smiled, though his lips trembled. “Took you long enough.”

  “You could have said.”

  “The witch said you had to find me, my prince.”

  “And have I?”

  “Yes, you have.”

  Prince Alferonzo turned at his sister’s voice. She too was smiling, though her eyes were overbright. “Oh brother prince, I thought you’d never come to your senses. Wat, come down. Alfie, don’t mess this up.”

  “Bella, don’t call me Alfie.”

  “No, brother prince,” she said, giving him a dimpled grin. “Just so long as you don’t mess it up.”

  Wat walked down the stairs, hesitant and with lowered eyes. “Would you really have had me hanged, my prince?”

  “Wat, have I had anyone hanged in the entire time you’ve known me?”

  “No.” He held out his hand, and Prince Alferonzo, still kneeling, grasped it and kissed it. So this was what true love felt like. He’d expected it to be...much more troubling. “I'm still a virgin, unfortunately.”

  “Fortunately, I am not.” Prince Alferonzo rose and took his servant, his friend—his love—into his arms, and wondered how he could have ever thought him plain. For Wat was handsome and kind and beautiful when he smiled with so much affection for him. “I’ll be gentle, I swear.”

  “Yes, you will,” Bella said. “For he deserves it. Take him to bed and love him, brother prince. Wat—well done.”

  Wat smiled, then bowed. “Thank you, milady Bella.”

  “Yes, thank you, sister,” Prince Alferonzo said, kissing her cheek. “Wat, to my chambers.”

  “Yes, my prince.”

  Arm in arm, Prince Alferonzo and his true love walked to the door.

  “Alfie?”

  “Bella, don’t—”

  “You look very handsome tonight.”

  Prince Alferonzo turned to his sister and grinned. “You know, I honestly don’t care any more. Good night, sweet lady.”

  “Good night, my brother.”

  ~~~~~

  So what happened next? With a handsome prince, his one true love, and a sister determined to make sure they didn’t screw it up?

  It’s a fairy tale. What do you think happened next?

  But it was said that in the days and months and years after Prince Alferonzo and Wat spent that first perfect night together, that the prince had never looked more distinguished, nor his valet so happy. And that Prince Alferonzo had finally learned to temper his judgements with a little mercy. It was said that when the king finally died (at a great age, in the arms of his favourite concubines), that the prince his son took his place and was a just and beloved ruler, his half-sister a wise and loyal advisor, and Wat, forever at his side, was faithful and true and properly valued for his qualities.

  Hey, it’s a fairy tale. It doesn’t have to be realistic.

  They just have to all live happily ever after. And so they did.

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