Chapter 4--A Royal Announcement

Outside the castle's gate, King Gastronso escorted his guests back out to their carriage.

"It's a splendid solution," he said beaming. "Give King Edward my thanks!"

He watched them settle in, slapped his hand on the carriage's window and sent them off.

As the carriage rolled away, he stood there waving and grinning like a man-child full of glee.

The king waddled back to the inner gate where the queen and prince awaited him.

"Shall we celebrate?" the king asked earnestly. "Perhaps with a fresh cherry pie?"

"Celebrate?" The prince scoffed and shook his head. "What we need to do is avoid this scheme altogether." The prince seemed deeply offended by whatever had been proposed in the dining hall. A shudder passed through his body and it had nothing to do with the crisp night air.

"I'd hardly call this gift we're receiving a scheme!" the king said happily. "Unless of course...you're content to keep living in Prince Charming's shadow..."

The queen laughed bitterly. "Honestly dear, we can't have that."

"So what then?!" cried the prince in typical teenage angst. "I can only make my mark by scraping the barrel? Is that the plan?!"

"Would you rather see our kingdom crumble?" the king countered. "Crumble like the dry and overcooked lemon cake the royal baker's apprentice made that afternoon last fall?" He shook his head disapprovingly. "I hope the dungeon life is teaching him a lesson."

The queen dug her nails into the king's arm. "Focus darling."

The king winced in pain. "Yes of course." He rubbed his arm where the queen had nearly stabbed him with her nail forks, before turning to the prince with a fatherly smile. "My dear son...you wouldn't want to see the kingdom fall, would you? A kingdom that could one day be...yours?" As soon as the king said the words, the prize of royal succession flashed in the prince's eyes, and it was all that it took for the king to become paranoid. "Not that I plan on dying anytime soon!" he quickly added. "Not for years...decades even! Not as long as I have butter by my side." He noticed the queen's confusion. "A scoop of butter with every meal keeps the joints nice and limber." Impossibly, he started hopping around like a gymnast. "I read about it in the royal chronicle's wellness and lifestyle column." He watched as the queen shook her head in disgust. "You're going to feel very silly when your bones start snapping in two."

"Father for goodness sake!" the prince cried.

The king stared at him blankly, unaware of any problem or issue. "Yes?"

The prince took a long calming breath. "Of course you'll be around for several decades, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't start preparing for my role." He frowned. "And frankly that doesn't include making a mockery of my reputation." He crossed his arms. "I won't have it."

The king and queen exchanged a series of intense stares and angled eyebrows. Without a word spoken they came to a silent agreement.

The king turned back to the prince, smiling broadly now. "It's wonderful to hear that you're ready to take the reins, and on that note...you can start by preparing for your role with King Edward's solution." The prince groaned but the king wasn't finished. He took a long look at the prince from head to toe. "Get rest. Brush your hair. Consume butter."

With the issue now settled, the king and queen made their way back inside, united in their quest to save the kingdom at any cost.

"I could lead a coup and overthrow you all!" cried the prince.

The king was out of sight but his voice bellowed back. "Since you've never even wielded a sword I doubt that's true!"

The prince took stock of his delicate hands; smooth like marble and ignorant to the woes of hard labor. He kissed the back of each hand and nodded proudly. "Worth it."

***

Somewhere deep in the forest, the blue and gold horse-drawn carriage rolled along on its journey home.

Inside the carriage, Fairy Godmother studied Gianni with a sneer. "You just had to give me magical powers in your book."

Gianni gazed out the window. "And here I was hoping your drunken nap would continue for the rest of the journey."

She leaned forward. "Oh believe me I am wide awake, and I find myself wondering how I'm meant to fake magical powers? Because of your book?!"

Gianni shrugged. "Business is business and it sold more copies that way."

She nodded mockingly. "Ohhh yes, just a matter of business! Turn me into a fairy, turn her into a saint..." The mere thought of Cinderella made her blood boil. "What a fascinating view of reality you have..."

"Reality is far too harsh without the filter of a little fantasy," he said plainly.

"Then I suggest you avoid looking into mirrors." She laughed at her joke and why not? She was still a bit drunk, after all. A moment later her face went eerily serious. "Just make sure I get paid."

***

A few days later in the village, the sun was shining and the peasants were as poor as ever. Myrielle sat by her father Peter's bedside, trying to keep him company by reading from a thick dusty book.

"Though Cleopatra and her brother were meant to rule together," she read, "he was younger and ill-equipped to run the empire. And so, in no time at all, she cunningly had his name removed from all official documents, and only HER face appeared on the newly minted coins." She sighed with satisfaction. "If only I could teach this tale of a female conqueror to the bright-eyed little girls."

Her face darkened as she remembered the decline of the academy. First it had been fewer courses, followed by fewer teaching hours, and finally the academy's closure, resulting from the kingdom halting funding altogether.

"Is everything alright, pumpkin?"

She emerged from her daydream remembering it was her job to seem happy to reduce her father's stress. "Nothing's wrong! I was just realizing that you're actually a better audience than those bright-eyed little girls. Why are their eyes so bright, anyway?" She frowned. "They're probably lunatics."

Peter took the book from her and rested it on the table. "A father knows his daughter more than anyone else in the world, especially when she's plastering on that manufactured smile."

Myrielle smiled even harder. "It's not manufactured!" She showed her teeth. "See?"

He squeezed her hand. "Maybe instead of a professor, you'll become the next Cleopatra and save the kingdom."

Myrielle snorted. "Her? Oh no father, she was emotionally rash and killed herself. And all for a spineless lover with a tight bottom."

"Well now you've gone and spoiled the ending!" he said, pretending to seem upset.

"Father...everybody knows that if a story is more than three hundred years old, people can discuss the key plot points." She returned the book to the overstuffed shelf. "You had plenty of opportunities to read it before," she added, laying out the rules for spoilers in the fifteen hundreds.

He winced as he tried to get comfortable in bed. "It's difficult to argue with that."

She saw him struggle and came over to adjust his pillow. "Let me go check on the healing tea."

As she turned and headed for the door it flied open in her face. "Ow!"

Thomas bounded in all flush with excitement. "Look father look!" He waved a scroll in Peter's face but Myrielle pushed him back.

"Careful!" she warned.

"Let me just read it then!" He unfurled the scroll and grinned. "These were posted all over the square." He stared at her with shining eyes; frozen in excitement.

She flicked him on the forehead. "Well tell us what it says!"

He shook off the trance and started reading. "Loyal subjects of the Enraptured Kingdom..." She rolled her eyes as he read on. "Join us in the square in a fortnight, for revelry, an array of kingdom delicacies, and a royal announcement that will turn your fortunes around."

Myrielle snatched the scroll from his hands. "Turn things around? When they just finished ruining us?" She shook her head. "It's probably a trick."

"But it isn't!" Thomas insisted. "The king's royal seal is right on the scroll!"

She scanned the page until she spotted the royal seal, and there it was: a three-layer lemon cake pieced with a dagger. "Hmm...that does look quite official."

Peter smiled. "Then I suppose that means in a fortnight you'll be feasting like kings!"

As Thomas began to salivate in true Pavlovian fashion, Myrielle's eyes narrowed with the onset of a plan. "A feast, you say?" She slowly nodded. "Then I'd better make sure mother loosens my dress..."

[WRITER COMMENTARY: I really wanted to establish the royal family dynamic in this chapter, and after doing that I'm glad I got a chance to put the focus back on Myrielle, because she's the rogue wannabe princess in this story, the "Katniss" who's trying to go against the capitol, if you will (except teenager don't have to fight to the death in this story, and thank goodness for that! Oh, and it's official, Fairy Godmother doesn't have actual magical powers; that should be interesting! :-p ]