Chapter 23--The Price of Beauty

If someone had told Myrielle that modern feuds were as tame as Taylor Swift and Katy Perry shading each other in chart-topping pop songs—over something as silly as back-up dancers—then perhaps she would've toned it down maybe one or two hundred notches, when it came to her nemesis Bella and her mission to take down her ego.

Instead she was living in the wild, wild post-medieval west, and in these times of uncertainty one could not simply 'casually reference' one's nemesis, oh no. This sort of vagueness was far too subtle in the era of plagues and questionable food safety, and death by random fevers and being trampled on by a horse. The sixteenth century was all about directness, and why not? The average life expectancy really only allowed a good forty or fifty years to get it done.

In these limited terms, Myrielle was now approaching her mid-life crisis, but instead of buying a Porsche she'd decided to destroy someone's face.

It had been twelve hours now since Bella's blood-curdling scream, but there wasn't a spare moment to show her any pity as the second rendezvous with the prince was just an hour away.

The girls surrounded their handmaid as she removed brand new gowns from a large leather trunk. They watched in amazement as each gown was revealed, grazing their fingers against the satin and lace their hands had never touched before that moment. Their excitement was in no way muted by the girl in the corner oozing with pus, and with the memory of her smugness so fresh in their minds, they seemed to take some pleasure in her awful predicament.

Gianni had decided which dress would go to whom based on skin tone and hair and body type, and Myrielle soon learned that she was allocated 'sunshine yellow.' In the modern world this may have been akin to an ugly bridesmaid look, but in this era of extravagance more was always more, and colors of the rainbow highly coveted.

As Myrielle took the dress from the handmaid into her arms, she felt an immediate jolt, a life force coming from her mother who had carefully made it. Her mind involuntarily swirled with memories, like the times when her mother had taught her to be kind and good. She glanced at Bella out of the corner of her eye, relieved that her mother wasn't here to bear witness to her crime.

Feeling the first inklings of guilt, she distracted herself by holding the dress against her body and spinning around.

As she twirled she allowed herself to feel some excitement for the evening ahead, even though she generally despised the prince and hadn't found a way to charm him. It was certainly a problem but at the moment she was too caught up in fashion porn to even care.

Bella was next in line for a gown, but it was a struggle just to approach the other girls and take it. She reached her arm out and snatched the pale blue gown; it was pretty and innocent and reminiscent of Cinderella, and she would've looked lovely wearing it if her face didn't resemble road kill. She wiped away a tear from her raw, beef-carpaccio cheeks, cringing from the pain before gathering up the strength to slip into the delicate gown.

The next important item in rendezvous preparation was volumized hair, but before the girls could slather their locks in Cinderella-branded honey-tar solution, the dormitory doors burst open and Fairy Godmother stumbled in. She was drunk as per usual and carrying a mysterious bottle. The crystal bottle she was holding may have been used for perfume at one time, but now it encased a liquid that was a murky brownish yellow, complete with crusted bits floating around at the surface.

"Evening girls!" she said grinning. "You almost look ready for a royal soirée!" She noticed Bella in the back and immediately gagged. "Oh dear; Gianni had mentioned that one of you had an allergy, but that is just...unfortunate."

Bella started to sob. "It's not an allergy it was sabotage!" It was the first time she had verbally expressed her suspicion, and her hot tears turned into rage when she pointed at Myrielle. "You will pay for this!"

Myrielle calmly applied a dollop of honey-tar paste to her freshly combed hair, a world-class performer in deception.

Bella noticed Fairy Godmother's wand sticking out of her cloak and rushed over, dropping to her knees in desperation. "Fix it with your magical powers, Fairy Godmother; I'm your next Cinderella, fix it please!"

There had never been a more awkward time to have magical powers that were fake.

Fairy Godmother backed away a few steps. "Well you see my dear...a fairy godmother's powers don't extend to manipulating the...uh...human form."

"But magic is magic!" she wailed.

"If that were true would I look like this?" She laughed heartily as she grabbed her pudgy belly. "I certainly would've used my magic by now to erase this, don't you think?" She jiggled the belly for effect.

Josselyn stepped in. "So you use your magic on other things then?"

Fairy Godmother nodded hastily, wishing she could use some magic to disappear into thin air. "Yes; for other things."

"Like the gowns?" said another one of the girls. "Your magic made these gowns, right? Just like in Cinderella's story?"

Fairy Godmother grinned. "Yes, exactly like that." As she said the words, she avoided Myrielle's eyes, since she already knew that her mother had sewn all the dresses.

"But if it's exactly like Cinderella's story," said Helena, "then you didn't make the dresses at all." She stepped forward with her 'rugged little street fighter' powers of intimidation. The questions and girls were closing in on Fairy Godmother fast.

"Well technically no," Fairy Godmother admitted. "I used my wand and then poof! The dresses were magically made." She smiled nervously. "Just like in Cinderella's story!"

Josselyn shook her head. "No, it wasn't poof. It was the blue birds and the mice that made Cinderella's gown, after you gave them magical sewing powers."

Fairy Godmother needed a drink and she needed it fast. "Alright then yes, I went poof on the rodents and birds, if you really need to get that technical." In that moment she truly regretted not reading Gianni's book, or maybe he could've informed her of how intricate the lies really were? She glared as she thought about killing him and calling it a magical mishap.

"Fairy Godmother," said Myrielle, the last curious contestant to close in on her personal space. "What's in that bottle you're holding?" Myrielle changed the subject to avoid exposing the only mentor she had, and even if she hadn't been that helpful to her yet, she had to believe she would gain some sort of 'godmother advantage' in the future.

Fairy Godmother seemed relieved by the sudden change in topic. "I'm so glad you asked, Myrielle!" She opened the bottle, set it on the shelf beside the mirror, and pulled a long syringe out of her pocket. "Before we meet the prince tonight, we need to do our best to look our best, and the only way to get there is with a pig-fat injection boost!"

The girls all looked at her confused, and some of them seemed disgusted as well. "It's for your lips," she added. "To make your lips full and luscious for some possible kissing tonight!" As if by magic, the girls were suddenly on board with the primitive mutilation, an early form of cosmetic enhancement that would one day overtake California and New York.

Fairy Godmother encouraged them with her biggest grin, but in her heart she didn't believe in this garish process one bit. It had actually been a surprise to her when Gianni had informed her of the pig-fat plan, but when he'd handed her a box that said 'Cinderella's Finest,' and she'd found this bottle and the syringe inside, it had all become abundantly clear. She dragged the liquid from the bottle with her dusty syringe, and in doing so ensured the continued prosperity of the Cinderella money-making empire. As loathsome as it was, she was in it for the money too, so she dutifully began administering the pig fat one by one.

Choruses of "ow!" filled the room in the next twenty minutes, and when Bella's turn arrived Fairy Godmother bowed her head in a show of mercy. "You've probably suffered enough today," she said.

Myrielle was the final contestant in 'the game of the fullest lips, brought to you by a hog,' but as she inched her way closer she could hear her mother's voice inside her head. It was something about how she was beautiful just the way she was, and even if she didn't believe that statement most of the time, and sometimes succumbed to hypnotizing fashion porn, there was a line to be drawn and it happened to be here, at the crossroads of injecting herself with pig lard to plump up her lips.

"No thank you," said Myrielle.

"But you must," said Fairy Godmother.

Myrielle stepped back from the syringe of horrors. "I really mustn't."

Fairy Godmother gritted her teeth. "But you must."

Myrielle struggled to think of another way to please her mentor. "What if..." Her eyes lit up. "What if I pad my bosom instead?" She crossed her fingers that the negotiation skills she had used at the market would help her negotiate her way down from physical mutilation.

Fairy Godmother wasn't convinced. "How much padding are we even talking about?"

Myrielle grinned. "Enough to make the prince pass out from excitement," she whispered.

With Fairy Godmother's nod of approval Myrielle was spared, which set in motion an evening of illusion and superficial obsession; fake lips, fake bosom, fake hair, and the competitive pursuit of making a surface-level connection with the prince...

[WRITER COMMENTARY: If any part of this chapter came across as me being "against" physical enhancement, let the record show that I'm obsessed with mascara. And that's my confession for the night, haha. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and things are about to get crazy so read on! :)]