Storybook Fairy Tale
[Kigozifame-oner Ler]
Justin Lo
Princess
Katherina sunk into the silk-draped sofa in her lounge, sighing as she pushed
back up the heavy bracelets that had wriggled into her palm. Beside her stood a formidable stack of books
that nearly reached her shoulders, but she seemed distinctly segregated from
the volumes. It was not because of a
distate for books, but rather because she had already read them all - twice. She knew what each book contained, and not a
single one had been satisfactory. She
loathed reshelving the books in the library, but the servants were always
entertaining her parents and her extravagant elder brother, so she had to tend
to the chore herself.
Deciding to leave the stack as it was for the time being, she lifted her long satin dress to avoid stepping on its lace-trimmed hem as she stood up. She noted that the jade-green of her dress seemed to have lost its luster and sheen, and she wondered if perhaps it was a good reason to pester the tailor to produce a new dress of a more fashionable hue, something she had wanted for the past few weeks. No one wore green dresses anymore these days, Katherina remarked when she imagined the last parlor party she had attended, and besides, she was far too young to be beheld in the same dress time and time again.
On
the way down the Green Corridor, which led from the central foyer to the
library and museum wings of the Royal Palace, she bumped into Benjamin, the
scribe. Everyone in the royal family
was quite literate, but for trivial matters such as writing invitations, taking
down official minutes, and the like, Benjamin was the man to look for. But that was not Katherina’s intention this
time around; she hardly had a care for business of any sort. Instead, she was one of very few people who
knew of Benjamin’s secret hobby, which was story-writing. He was quite an expert, and Katherina had
taken a liking to his novels and short stories, which unfortunately had not
come out for a long time.
“Benjamin,”
called Katherina, waving her silk-gloved hand at the stout man who wore a
mustache that was slightly asymmetrical.
“Your
Highness, how delightful to meet you.
Just at the library, I presume?”
Katherina laughed daintily,
placing her fingertips over her mouth.
“You know me quite well!
Benjamin, I was wondering if perhaps I could have a new story? I have read everything in the library twice
over, and it is all becoming quite boring to me, if you would pardon my
honesty.”
Benjamin
nodded and shook his head simultaneously.
“I’m afraid I haven’t had much time lately, Your Highness, because your
mother Her Royal Majesty has requested a thousand personalized invitations in
the Carolignia calligraphic hand. She
wishes to have a grand party for the opening of the new Butterfly Atrium at the
end of the Blue Corridor Annex.”
“Mother
and her ostentatious whims!” whined Katherina.
“Couldn’t you spare a moment for me, too?”
“Please
be patient, Your Highness. I know how
much Your Highness appreciates literature and how eager She is to feast her
eyes on fresh print, but She must wait just a few weeks.”
The
princess seemed visibly frustrated and left Benjamin without so much as a
grunt. When she had disappeared around
the bend, Benjamin kicked the wall, making the nearby wall-torch shudder for a
moment.
A
few days later, the Princess lay on her plush bed, her hands running up and
down her freshly made dress. It had
pleased her so greatly that she had danced in front of the tailor, to his
delight. It fit just right, flattering
all her newfound curves, and it was just that right shade of iridescent pale
pink with just the right pattern of lush velvet ribbons that decorated the
shoulders and bodice and waist.
Unfortunately,
wearing the gorgeous dress did not abate her immense boredom. To her surprise, however, she heard the door
knock three times.
“It’s
some staff,” the Princess thought, since every class within the castle had a
particular knock sequence.
“Yes,
you may enter,” she announced, not bothering to leave her comforters.
The
door opened, and in stepped Benjamin, whose eyes seemed bloodshot. When, the Princess noticed this, she sat up
in surprise.
“Oh,
dear! What happened to you?”
Benjamin
handed her a few leaves of paper.
Katherina
held them, reading over the words scribbled carelessly onto them in no
particular lettering style at all. It
was a love story about a shepherd who fell in love with a village girl who had
taken care of a sheep that had run away from his pasture, returning it when it
had grown large and fluffy. It was a
happy tale, but it left no lasting impression on Katherina. Perhaps it was partially Benjamin’s fault
for having written such a generic story, but it was equally partially the
Princess’s fault for not having any experiences in her life that would have
trained her to understand such emotions.
She knew only fashion and studies, neither of which afforded much
emotional vocabulary, even if she was regarded as the intellectual superior
among her siblings.
“You
really should rest,” Katherina said, handing back the pages. “You look very tired.”
“Does it not suit Your Highness’s tastes?” asked Benjamin.
Katherina
seemed to stare far into the distance, considering what to say before actually
speaking. During these moments,
Benjamin felt a flit in his heart, a long-buried hope of finding someone who
could comprehend the world as deeply as he.
But it was only during these moments; the Princess rarely said anything
that revealed hidden profundity in her character.
“I
suppose I was just hoping for something more … involving. Something more dramatic, if you know what I
mean. I know that this story has some
drama, but it seems just like everything else, so plain. If only I could read something that could,
as they say, move my heart … .”
“Oh,
but if only I could! But I shall think
upon it, Your Highness. I bid you
farewell,” said Benjamin, bowing. It
was unclear whether the gesture had any sincerity in it, but Katherina was too
busy staring out the window to notice.
“Yes,”
she murmured as Benjamin left the room, drawing the door closed with the grace
of a ballerina.
Katherina
was forced to attend the Butterfly Atrium party, despite her protests against
participation in any event where “the old fogies outnumber the handsome princes
in the same ratio as stars outnumber the moon.” Clearly, she decided, the poetry of her hyperbole fell upon
art-deaf ears. Her mother had simply
replied, “Then shoot for the moon, my dearest daughter.” Katherina fumed, remembering that if she
missed, she would land among the stars.
In all honesty, it was not
the large amount of outmoded had-beens that disturbed the teenage princess, but
rather the fact that a number of said had-beens were in fact rich, snotty
princes and dukes who hoped to pick up a bride before they died from their
excess of riches and snot.
Nevertheless, Katherina decided to obey for one reason or another; it is
not a matter of great importance.
By the time she arrived, a
good five dozen guests had already arrived, although they remained disorganized,
not yet coagulated into distinct cliques.
The background music provided by the quartet was simplistic and
pleasant, but certainly not suitable for dancing. Katherina sighed, poking her golden-brown locks of hair with her
fingertips to make sure that they were holding their positions.
The Blue Corridor Annex’s
Ballroom, known affectionately as “Le Château de l’Eau,” doubled as a
connecting room between the main corridor and the Butterfly Atrium. Princess Katherina could see, on the far
side of the room, the two grand doorways draped with silk curtains that surely
led to the atrium. She was frankly more
interested in the butterflies than in the guests at the party, but there was
little chance of her sneaking past everyone and slipping through the virgin
doors, especially now that several people had noticed her presence.
She gritted her teeth as she
observed a small mob of old ladies and gentlemen approaching her. “Smile, Katherina!” she reminded herself.
“Good day!” she greeted,
curtseying gracefully without any excessive depth that would have jeopardized
the perception of her royal superiority.
“What a pleasure to see Your
Highness present at this celebration!” cried the Countess Laurel of
Midowsdowne, bowing with the fluidity of a puddle of yogurt.
Not to be outdone, the
Baroness Petalston complimented, “An exquisite dress, Your Highness; I envy
your exquisite taste.”
Yet Katherina’s senses had
already migrated elsewhere, for out of the corner of her eye, she had spotted
an old man who, for lack of a better term, was busily checking her out. She frowned, remarking that he quickly
turned his head aside when she stared him down, yet continued to gaze at her
when she pretended to look the other way.
“Please pardon my rudeness,
Ladies Laurel and Ophelia, let us please move over a bit so that we are not so
much in the way of the other guests trying to acquire some refreshments.”
“Oh, yes, how thoughtful of
Your Highness,” said Laurel quickly, shifting in an awkward way so that her
billowy lavender dress wobbled from side-to-side like a tolling bell.
The three shifted positions,
along with a perimeter of four or five shy guests who seemed to orbit but never
spoke a word. Unfortunately, this did
not deter the old man, and Princess Katherina began to grow desperate.
“Oh for crying out loud!”
she finally interjected, exasperated, interrupting the other women in
mid-sentence.
“Princess Katherina!”
shouted the Baroness Petalston, outraged at the girl’s behavior, yet too
fearful to directly redress the impulsive youth. The Baroness seemed to have a brief internal conflict as to how
to best resume the conversation, but by the time she decided to ask the
Princess what was the matter, Katherina was long gone.
The pink-clad princess
daintily skipped across the ballroom tiles to a particularly crowded corner of
the room, where the extensive family of the Lesser Prince of Eastumsberry was
busily discussing what to do (to no avail, because the twelve members could
never reach a consensus). Katherina
circled around the crowd and slipped behind them near the corner, hoping to
find a safe refuge, all the while keeping an owl’s vigilance out for the old
man. Not looking where she was going,
she felt herself squish against something firm but fleshy.
“A-ah?” she squeaked,
looking forward for once.
A blinding smile cascaded
down upon her, knocking her clear off balance.
“Oh, my deepest apologies!”
“Nonsense,” said the boy
suavely, catching the princess on the back.
“Call me Victor.”
“Then please call me
Katherina,” invited the princess, staring into the beautiful face of the
impossibly youthful, impossibly attractive figure that stood before her.
“Was something the matter,
Katherina?” asked Victor. “I was
watching your beautiful pilgrimage from over yonder to my fort.”
Katherina
giggled, imagining the corner of the room protected only by a table and the
Eastumsberries as a fortified stronghold.
“Well,
you have to try to keep quiet about this, promise?” whispered Katherina,
leaning forward ever so slightly, which might have been interpreted as a
coquettish gesture.
“Your
Highness has my strictest confidence,” said Victor.
“Shh,
it’s Katherina here. We’re under cover, understood?” she
corrected. Victor nodded, waiting for
her to continue. “Okay, so do you see
that old man over there? He’s been
staring at me for the past fifteen minutes, and it’s making me really
uncomfortable. What an old lecher!”
Katherina
pouted, laying her fingertips on her chin.
A ripple passed through the lowest tier of her dress while the velvet
ribbons swayed around in anticipation.
She imagined that she must have looked remarkably cute at that moment,
an image that filled her with delight.
If only Victor would notice her beauty, attending the party would have
been worth all the trouble it caused.
Victor
interrupted her reverie with a sharp whisper into her ear that no one around
could hear. At first, she protested,
but he held her hands in such a gentle yet willful caress that her qualms were
rapidly subdued. She felt a shiver
course through her body as she gasped from the sensual warmth that was now
teasing her tender palms.
“I
hope you know what you’re doing, or else,” the princess said, but her voice
carried no hint of disapproval whatsoever.
The
two parted ways, exiting the corner of the ballroom on opposite sides of the
still-bickering Eastumsberries. With
feminine charm, Katherina waltzed over to the quartet, which continued to play,
although the members took turns looking up at her and blushing.
“Excuse
me, good sirs, I was wondering if perhaps it would not inconvenience you too
greatly to commence a minuet? Many of
these fine ladies in attendance today must be aching to take to the floor, and
I think it would be much more pleasant than having everyone huddled up in the
corners,” she entreated with a sweet voice.
“After
this piece finishes, Your Highness,” said the first violinist quickly, trying
not to lose his place on the page.
Katherina
smiled, looking over a few heads to see Victor, tall and handsome as ever,
making his way towards a shy, awkward looking young lady wearing a dismal gray
gown. The princess waited patiently for
the heartthrob to give her the signal – a wink that she immediately returned.
Gliding
again, this time more conservatively, she walked up to the old man, whose
friends quickly parted, leaving him alone in the center. The Princess looked down at the ground
demurely, tugging lightly on her dress.
“Your
Excellency, I was wondering if you’d acquiesce to a dance with a girl like me,”
she said, trailing off towards the end.
The
old man gave a grunt of approval, inciting an expression of disgust from the
girl which fortunately was out of his line of sight. On cue, the music switched over, Princess Katherina and her
elated partner sweeping onto the floor to everyone’s surprise. There were numerous murmurs regarding her
taste in men, but most of the gossip quickly turned to Victor and the gray
girl, who were in such a hurry to dance that they did not even put down their
wine glasses.
Hastily,
the old man bowed and Katherina curtsied, and the two began to dance, but it
only took two or three steps for Katherina to realize that she had what
amounted to a drunken dandelion seed for a partner. “It’s a minuet, you fool!” she thought angrily. “You’re supposed to take small, patient
glides, not pounces befitting a mountain puma!” But her outrage eroded when she realized that the unexpected
circumstances were all for the better.
By
this time, at least half of the crowd had joined in the dance, as it was still
dear to the hearts of the older generation, although it had long since fallen
out of favor with the youngsters who craved more lively dances. “Argh, the crowd’s gotten thick,” the
princess mentally observed, trying to search the floor for Victor’s trap.
“Perchance
Your Elegant Lovely Beauteous Highness dropped something?” asked the old man.
“I-I
don’t think so. Just making sure – it
never hurts to be cautious,” said the princess, internally smirking at the
dramatic irony of the situation. There,
just a few feet away, was the glistening puddle of carelessly dribbled wine
from Victor and the gray girl’s typhoon of a dance. Princess Katherina decided to console the poor handsome lad
afterwards for having sacrificed his dignity for the sake of her revenge, which
needed her utmost concentration. Closer
… and closer … just a few more measures … and now to let this dandelion seed
have his way all of a sudden!
Alas,
poor Victor could only hear the joys of conquest through his ears, which
perceived first the squeak, then the bang, then the shrieks and laughter, and
then, of course, the syrupy, pitying voice of the beautiful princess, leaning
over her fallen partner.
“You
are really too cruel,” said Victor with a laugh when the two of them had
finally obtained some private peace in the Butterfly Atrium after the
extravagant gala debut that is of no relevance to this story.
“Me,
cruel?” said Katherina cutely. “My, my,
what a sharp tongue this one has, especially since Your Excellency came up with
the entire plan.”
“It’s
Victor,” warned the boy.
“Oh,
it’s alright. We’re not undercover any
longer. And you do have some title, do you not?”
“I’m
merely a Baron hailing from Ludston, in the South,” said Victor. “Your Royal Highness mustn’t be seen too
long in public with a man of my lowly station.
Surely Your Highness wishes to be married soon?”
“Married?!”
exclaimed Katherina. “Hardly! What use have I for becoming a wife? I already have the crown – what else would I
stand to gain?”
“Call
me old-fashioned, but perhaps love? A
life-long companion?” offered the young Baron.
at party, Katherina notices a man staring at her frequently; she also meets the
handsome young Baron Victor
later, she is notified that
she is to marry the man, but she steadfastedly refuses. Initially, the parents accept her decision,
but as the intent of the country to have a hand in the local politics one way
or another surfaces, they push her to marry, prompting a falling out during
which she flees to Victor. Fearing open
warfare, the royal family meanwhile becomes a puppet of the other country,
prompting unrest among the citizens.
Benjamin runs off to find Katherina, who he finds working as a
waitress. After her shift, they settle
down in her back room, which has turned into a library of sorts. He hands her his new book, which begins …
“You
have quite an impressive collection, Your Highness,” remarked Benjamin, looking
around at the makeshift shelves that covered nearly the entire perimeter of the
small room. The books were clearly
acquired on a budget, as they seemed as grimey and withering as the wooden
supports that feebly held up the roof.
“My
name is Katherina,” the former princess responded evenly. “You can call me Katie for short.”
Benjamin
stared into Katherina’s round blue eyes, trying to find traces of the royal
pride that once coursed through those aquamarine orbs. But no dignity remained – she was as broken
as her dismal tenement. Having hoped
that her retort was a sign of her fiery will, instead he found that she simply
ceased to care. Her breathing sounded
shallow, and she had a brief coughing fit before continuing.
“So why are you really here,
Ben? I thought they treat you well back
at the castle,” she said.
“To
see you,” Benjamin answered. “Is there
something wrong with that?”
“No. But you’ve seen me now,” Katherina said,
removing her outer dress, revealing an off-white blouse and frayed
trousers. She made as if she would sit
down on her cot, but she apparently decided against it, instead simply standing
there, crossing her feet at the ankles.
“Satisfied?”
“Hardly.”
“Then
say what you want. I don’t have all
day, you know … it’s getting late already.”
“Do
remember that day, so long ago, when you were lying on your plush bed in that
gorgeous pink dress, and you demanded a story that would wrench your heart?”
Katherina
remained mute, uncrossing her legs and walking over to an old wardrobe on which
hung a cracked mirror. Although the
cracks were old enough to be lined with dust and mold, the way they stabbed
through the glass seemed to preserve for all time the moment of orgasmic
self-loathing in which the flesh first strikes life, leaving fragments whose
edges yet still line up.
The
right door swung open, and its upper hinge dislocated, causing the wooden panel
to jerk downwards as it moved. The girl
withdrew a folded heap, bringing it with her back to the cot, where she finally
sat down, her left hand stroking the soft fabric.
“I’m
afraid you’re mistaken, my dear sir,” said Katherina apologetically. “I was not the one who asked for such a
favor. It was the girl who once owned
this dress. Alas, she has gone missing
from the royal palace!”
“And
she used to live there, I gather?” ventured Benjamin.
“Oh
yes, she did, she did. And so you are
the writer, but I think that, as she is nowhere to be found, and seeing as
there is not a single search party dispatched for the task of finding her, your
obligation to her is nullified. You can
stop."
Benjamin
dissented, asking, “Why stop when I am nearly complete?” He was scribbling out a few lines at the
bottom of the last page in the binding.
“And I think that she would be most pleased that I had finally honored
her wishes.”
“May
I look, then? Strictly as a book
aficionado, of course,” said Katherina.
Benjamin
gave a sad smile, looking once more at the beautiful girl who sat before him,
broken like the mirror behind her.
Then, he dropped the pages onto a shelf, turning around and leaving the
restaurant.
The
girl hesitated for a minute, instead tracing the receding figure until the
outline collapsed into nothingness. And
then, perhaps, she picked up the pages, which would have begun:
Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful
princess named Katherina who had a penchant for good literature. On one particularly overcast day in the
month of April, something seemed to be amiss in the royal castle lounge, where
Princess Katherina sank into her silk-draped sofa, sighing as she pushed back
up the heavy bracelets that had wriggled into her palm. Beside her stood a formidable stack of books
that nearly reached her shoulders, but she seemed distinctly segregated from
the volumes. It was not because of a distate for books, but rather because she
had already read them all - twice. She
knew what each book contained, and not a single one had been satisfactory … .