"A Fairy Tale" by Carla K. Anderson

      “Something must be done!” exclaimed Queen Mary Elena Darlene, sweeping into the grand throne room. “I was nothing like her at this age!” A quiet, half awake voice issued from behind the back of a jewel-encrusted throne in answer.

      “You’re right. As a child you were much worse.” The queen brought her head up sharply, flame-red hair flinging over her shoulder.

      “What was that, dear?” Her tones were honeyed, but their meaning could not have been more obvious. The throne she was regarding icily from behind swung around to face her, and the crowned man sitting on it took one look at the queen’s face and positively blanched.

      “Nothing, my sweet. Merely a comment on the weather,” the king of all Kyrania said meekly to the woman facing him. “We’ve had quite a lot of rain lately, you know.” His wife looked down at him, hands on her hips, with a loud sniff that the king chose to ignore.

      “Well then, Herman Robert Thomas, you do something about it this instant! We can’t just sit around waiting for the girl’s arrogance to be the worst mistake she’ll ever make; and just when she needs her skills in Court, too!” King Herman Robert Thomas merely eyed the queen calmly.

      “Actually, that is what I intend to do about it. ‘Experience is the best teacher,’ as my father always used to say.” Ignoring the queen’s dangerous expression, he continued. “Kera will learn from her own mistakes better than any punishment she would get from us.” Queen Mary Elena Darlene paused thoughtfully for a moment, and finally nodded grudgingly.

      “That does seem like the best thing we can do at the moment. Very well, husband, you shall have your way.” And with that, she swept regally out of the room, leaving King Herman Robert Thomas looking as though he had survived a severe tempest.

~ ~ ~

      Kera lay back lazily on her red velvet ‘fainting couch’ as nervous attendants scurried about, heads down in fear of her next outburst. She stretched out a hand, and in an instant was handed a golden chalice adorned with gems. Taking a sip of the chilled juice it contained, the princess said coolly,

      “Let her enter.” A gray-robed servant hurried to the door and opened it to admit a girl inside who took more after her father than the queen. “What is it now?” Kera asked in a bored voice. Helene blinked and shifted uneasily under her sister’s green-eyed stare.

      “I- I just – well, I…was wondering if I could borrow your gold scarf for tonight’s ball.” she said in a rush. Kera sat up straight, nose in the air, managing to look offended while still imperious.

      “No. I need that scarf for tonight.” Helene ducked her head in a wordless, abashed apology, and asked,

      “Could I wear it tomorrow, then? When we go out for our survey of the city?” Kera looked haughtily at her sister.

      “You may not wear gold. I am the Crown’s heir, and I alone.” Lying back on her cushions once more, she said in a much calmer tone, “Is that all? I really must get back to my beauty rest for tonight.” Helene gasped out a quick, breathy,

      “Yes, Kera,” and beat a hasty retreat to the door. Kera smiled contemptuously at her sister’s back, then closed her eyes once more.

      That night, hours before the ball, Kera woke once more and rose to get ready. After every minor detail of her preparations had been attended to, the princess slipped into her dress of sleek white satin edged with slightly opalescent swan feathers and wrapped the translucent golden cape that Helene had wanted to borrow around her exposed shoulders. Then she sat on a nearby chair of perfumed cedar wood as attendants braided her auburn hair in intricate plaits and applied delicate touches of makeup to her face. Finally Kera rose and taking from a padded velvet box her lacy golden tiara, placed it among the braids on the top of her head. Once gold jewelry set with diamonds had been added to her costume, Kera swept regally out the door, ignoring the already tired servants who hurried to clean up the disorder left in her suite by the lengthy preparations for the ball.

      Descending the great marble staircase that led into the ballroom as gracefully as the swan she was meant to imitate, Kera glanced idly around the Great Hall. The rest of her family was already there. Helene wore a dress of pale blue silk trimmed with brilliant blue feathers, her delicate silver jewelry and wispy, light brown hair piled on her head behind her silver tiara adding to the impression of a robin, the bird she had chosen to mimic. The imperious Queen Mary Elena Darlene, beside her crimson-robed husband, was arrayed in a silk dress of vivid blue-green trimmed in peacock feathers, gold jewelry set with sapphires and emeralds, and in addition, several long, colorful peacock plumes rose from the red-gold coil of hair behind her golden crown. Kera sniffed slightly. She could have had white plumes in her hair, but had instead chosen to carry a gold-backed fan of white feathers to keep the warm summer air at bay. The princess completed her descent down the stairway without further pause for observation and joined the masquerade.

      After dancing with several nobles and even a knight, Kera found herself longing for some air; the ballroom seemed too oppressive as she became unfashionably overheated despite the fan. Excusing herself to her current dancing partner, she hurried outside as quickly as grace would allow, white-feathered train flowing behind her. Once outside on the ground-level balcony, Kera snapped her fan shut, laying it on the waist-high railing and setting white-gloved hands beside it. She closed her eyes peacefully. The faint breeze stirring the trees whispered to her, bearing messages of cool autumn rains. Suddenly an old, cracked voice broke the silence.

      “Some alms, my lady, or a scrap of bread to help this old woman through the night.” Kera whirled to the left, temper rising. If the frail, wispy looking old woman facing Kera could have read the signs on the princess’s face as well as the girl’s servants could, the beggar would be beating a hasty retreat at once. However, she merely stood her ground, leaning on a staff of gnarled, weathered wood for support. Kera straightened up haughtily after only a moment of thought, an all too familiar tirade rushing to her lips.

      “How dare you enter the palace grounds and bother me with petty trifles and worries? I have no time for your nonsense! Leave my presence at once.” she turned, ignoring the woman, but after a moment the beggar said softly,

      “My life is not a trifle, Kera.” The princess, now fully angered, spun towards the woman once more, failing to note the tone of the other’s comment in her temper.

      “How dare you address me in such a common fashion! If you were to speak to me, refer to your future queen as ‘Imperial Regent’ or ‘Heir to the Crown.’ However, I forbid you to speak to me at all!” The beggar woman only said quietly,

      “If you care for your people so, you should make a fine ruler.” Even as incensed as she was, Kera could not miss the sarcasm in the comment.

      “It is not my place to care! Leave that to the sentimental fools who waste their money on a worthless cause. Your life is not mine.”

      The beggar before her seemed to straighten, no longer leaning on the staff she held. Her voice grew slightly louder, more imperious.

      “Then let it be your life. When you awake with the dawn tomorrow you shall be a beggar for three days.” Her voice dropped once more. “Perhaps then you shall care.” Before Kera could move, the woman had left, melting into the shadows. After a few moments Kera merely shrugged, deciding it would be a waste of time to call the guards, though she meant to have them severely punished later for letting such vagrants set foot on the palace grounds, and returned to the warm, perfumed air inside.

      That night, Kera, tired, gave no second thought to the beggar’s last words, in truth having nearly forgotten them already, and fell asleep quite peacefully, any hint of worry she might have had remaining pushed away.

      The unpleasant sound of loudly clattering hoof beats on cobblestone pavement jolted Kera awake immediately. She sat up, feeling hard stone beneath her hands rather than smooth cedar wood or velvet cushions. She blinked several times in the bright sunlight, unshielded by heavy draperies. Standing unsteadily, she looked around, dazed, and found the source of the noise— a small gathering of horsemen and maids surrounded a finely dressed lady, who lay back in a silk-draped, shaded litter borne by servants. Kera recognized her as a minor noble, evidently returning to her estate after the ball. But where was she herself? Perhaps the noble could tell her. She hurried over to the woman, struggling to get through the lady’s escort. A burly knight grabbed her arms with a complete lack of respect for the princess. She sputtered indignantly, but a terse,

      “Mind your manners in front of Her Ladyship, old woman.” from the knight holding her quieted the irate comments on her lips. Shocked at the rough treatment, Kera subsided completely, and was led before the noblewoman.
      “Oh, Gahvin, don’t worry about a beggar. Give her a penny and send her on her way.” And before Kera could even speak, a copper was thrown at her feet and the noble entourage set off once more.

      Kera returned to the place where she had woken up, but where were her satin sheets, her thick feathered mattress in its carved cedar frame? Only a few rags lay there now. Rather than rich rugs and tapestries, a busy marketplace surrounded her, open, cloth-covered tents displaying various wares. Kera glanced longingly at the food, realizing her sudden hunger. Very well, if no one would serve her, she would get the food herself. It shouldn’t be too hard. Marching over to the nearest stall, the princess said in her usual manner,

      “Give me some of those fruits, and a cup of tea, freshly brewed. My father will reward you handsomely for your service.” The merchant in the tent laughed rudely in her face.

      “Perhaps if you give me some money and ask nicely, old woman. No money, though, no food.”

      “I said my father would pay you!” Kera exclaimed angrily. The man laughed again.

      “Yes, I’m sure he would, if he wasn’t long dead.” He turned away, busy once more. Frowning, Kera found a still pool of water near the tent and peered in. This was the second time some one had called her ‘old woman.’ When she saw her face, Kera gasped in horror. It was the face of the old beggar woman that had spoken to her so rudely last night. Suddenly the woman’s words came back to the girl’s memory, so clearly she nearly heard the woman speaking once more.

      ‘Then let it be your life. When you awake with the dawn tomorrow you shall be a beggar for three days.’

      Kera muttered to herself, “I swear I will find that beggar. Then she will be sorry for whatever trick she played on me.” Then she set about to finding breakfast.

      After trying several food stalls, toning down the arrogance in her voice slightly at each tent, Kera finally managed to obtain some stale bread and a slightly rotten apple, which she paid for with the copper penny from the noblewoman. Knowing she would have to get money somehow, Kera was reduced to begging and occasionally getting a small job for a few silver pennies. A kindly housewife shared her commoner’s lunch of fresh, crusty country bread, cheese, and tepid fruit juice with the girl, who had just finished hauling water for the woman and helped with her washing. She chatted with Kera as they ate, though the princess tried to remain aloof, and Kera caught one bit of information that she had forgotten in the morning’s surprises- the royal family would be parading down the main streets of the imperial city. As soon as she had eaten and collected her little amount of silver coin in payment, Kera hurried off towards the palace gate, hoping to close enough to find her family. Perhaps they would recognize her and free her of the spell.

      Kera soon found the main street, lined with beggars and peasants all obviously hoping for a royal gift, and began laboriously pushing up to the front. At last, however, she reached the street, and just in time, for the guards at the head of the escort had just appeared. Presently the open carriage came into view. But Kera saw a princess resembling her seated next to Helene and anything she might have said was forgotten. Of course the beggar woman would be in her with her likeness. By the time the parade passed her, Kera was looking down modestly like all the other beggars. Surprisingly, from the carriage Helene spoke to her.

      “Here. Buy yourself some food.” A golden coin landed at Kera’s feet, and the girl quickly snatched it up before anyone else could, not even minding the pitying tone in her sister’s voice, though a day ago she would have bristled indignantly at the faintest hint of being patronized. The carriage rode on, and Kera returned to the marketplace.

      That night, after a diner of sorts, though much smaller than the princess was used to, Kera unwrapped the bundle of rags she had carried and found a deserted bit of street to sleep in, placing the little money she had left wrapped in the rolled-up rag at her head. Tomorrow would be another day of much the same, she was sure.

      The next two days were a new experience for Kera. She was laughed at, scolded for being too clumsy at a job, or ignored, the last reaction mostly by the nobles passing through. One particularly haughty man even had his guards chase her away; she had to pick up her skirts in a most unladylike fashion to run away quickly enough. Worst of all, though, were the whispered comments about ‘that horrible older princess,’ ‘arrogant young lass,’ and ‘uncontrollable crown heir.’ Even some of her personal maidservants were telling stories of their mistress’s temper in hushed voices. Finally the last night arrived. Kera spent the last of her money on dinner, then went to sleep awaiting the morning’s coming.

      Daybreak arrived soon enough. Kera woke joyfully in her own bed. She leapt up, though quite decorously as befitted a princess, and walked around her room. Then she returned to bed and her soft feather mattress for a nice, long nap. It was over.

Epilogue:

      Now, at this point you know, of course, that Kera reformed, becoming a wise and caring princess and in due time, queen. However, that is not the case. As arrogant as ever, Kera first set out to punishing every commoner and noble that had insulted her while she was a beggar, and then demoted the servants who had been gossiping about her in the town to work in the royal kitchens. Last of all, she found the old woman who had enchanted her and set the beggar to scrubbing the floors of the royal bathrooms with a small brush and a pail of water.

Moral:
People never change, and they never learn from their mistakes.