The Talk or Flirting With Dis Astar: An Underground Fairytale

By Lockjaw Lipssealed

In the queendom of Everafter the ladies rule the roost and in this story there are plenty of women to go around. Three generations of the royal family, those who serve the royal family, those who would like to overthrow the royal family and Carlotta...but she's a story all of her own.

The Talk follows these ladies through the ups and downs of life and love; takes a look inside their passions and fears and works in a good old fashion beheading.

Not every story is meant to be pretty!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lockjaw Lipssealed
• Release date: Jan 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466018730

Lockjaw Lipssealed

A Word of Warning!Let’s get a few things straight up front. To start with, the name’s Lipssealed. Lockjaw Lipssealed. Okay, Lockjaw I.N.T. Lipssealed, but that’s not important. I’m a storyteller and yeah, I’m a fairy Godfather, but before you start making cracks, let me tell you about the last smart mouth who tried that. Actually, I can’t tell you about the last guy, ‘cause the judge slapped a gag order on me. Point is, just don’t try it.Anyway, the story you’re about to read is true or my name’s not Lockjaw Lipssealed. No names were changed to protect the innocent, ‘cause there aren’t any. The story is what it is. Call it a fairytale if you want, but that don’t change the fact that it all happened if I say it did.Besides, who’s telling the story!

Book preview

The Talk or Flirting with Dis Astar:

An Underground Fairytale

By

Lockjaw Lipssealed

For Melissa, Amber and Jessica

Smashwords Edition

Published By:

Lockjaw Lipssealed on Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The Talk or Flirting with Dis Astar:An Underground Fairytale

Copyright 2008 Lockjaw Lipssealed

Table of Contents

A Word of Warning!

Chapter 1 - We Three Queens

Chapter 2 – The Queen is Dead, Long Live the Queen!

Chapter 3 – To Court or Not To Court, That is the Kwami...I Mean Question

Chapter 4 – The Queen’s Blessing...or Not

Chapter 5 – God, Save the King...and Princess, from Flying Fruit

Chapter 6 – The Morning After

Chapter 7 – Carlotta and the Plan...Need I Say More

Chapter 8 – Kwami’s Regret

Chapter 9 – The Great Escape...Without the Car Chase

Chapter 10 – The Courting Ceremony, Part Two!

Chapter 11 – The Newlyweds Return

Chapter 12 – A Child is Born

Chapter 13 – The Prince is Dead...Again!

Chapter 14 – An Interlude (The Story of Lady Slipnfall)

Chapter 15 – The Princess Gets a Governess

Chapter 16 – Richard

Chapter 17 – Kwami’s Retort

Chapter 18 – A Case for Richard

Chapter 19 – A Strained Relastionship

Chapter 20 – Luster’s Escape...Plan B

Chapter 21 – The Rescue Party...Plus One

Chapter 22 – A Star is Born

Chapter 23 – Words to Live By

Chapter 24 – Evil Comes Acourting

Author’s Note (The Fairytale’s Over)

The Moral of the Story

A Word of Warning!

Let’s get a few things straight up front. To start with, the name’s Lipssealed. Lockjaw Lipssealed. Okay, Lockjaw I.N.T. Lipssealed, but that’s not important. I’m a storyteller and yeah I’m a fairy Godfather, but before you start making cracks let me tell you about the last smart mouth who tried that. Actually, I can’t tell you about the last guy, ‘cause the judge slapped a gag order on me. Point is, just don’t try it.

Anyway, the story you’re about to read is true or my name’s not Lockjaw Lipssealed. No names were changed to protect the innocent, ‘cause there aren’t any. The story is what it is. Call it a fairytale if you want, but that don’t change the fact that it all happened if I say it did.

Besides, who’s telling the story!

Chapter 1

We Three Queens

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. (Okay, so her thighs rubbed together a bit when she walked and her under-arm hair grew at an alarming rate, but all in all, she wasn’t terrible to look at.) Her name was Princess Luster: so named for the angelic glow that seemed to radiate about her whenever she smiled. And so filled with joy by her arrival were her parents, well, at least one of them, that he declared her birth a holiday throughout the queendom and a great feast was held in her honor. (Roughly translated that meant that no one in the trailer park went to work that day...big surprise...and beer and pork rinds were consumed in great quantities.)

The Princess was adored by the people. Such a beautiful child, they said, What a blessing she is. She will make a wonderful Queen someday. All this and much, much more could be heard whenever the Princess was presented to the public.

Yet the Princess learned quickly that being special came with its share of burdens. From an early age the role she was expected to perform had been subtly pounded into her.

You are a Princess, my dear and with that comes responsibility.

Responsibility. The word bounced about inside her head like an echo in a canyon, RESPONSIBILITY, Responsibility, responsibility. From her earliest memories that word and all its implications began shaping the Princess from the inside out. Every move she made seemed dictated by the weight of that one word, responsibility. In fact, until the day she died, Lady Slipnfall, Governess to the Princess, had sworn that Princess Luster’s first words were, Responsibility, followed closely by, Sh**! This in turn was followed closely by a spoonful of liquid dishwashing detergent and her first lesson in consequences.

(This might be a good time to note that Lady Slipnfall also played an enormous role in Princess Luster’s first lesson in independence. After suddenly coming into a large sum of money, Lady Slipnfall purchased the biggest trailer in the kingdom, second in size only to the castle, and promptly left the employment of the Royal Family. She had however, neglected to mention her leaving to the Queen and King and with their outlandishly busy schedules, her departure went unnoticed for some three and a half months.

Upon realizing this grievous error the panicked couple rushed to Princess Luster’s room to find her reasonably safe and sound. While only four years of age at the time, Princess Luster had managed to care for herself quite remarkably, suffering only from a mildly disturbing eating disorder and a few lingering abandonment issues. Vowing to become more involved in the young Princess’ life, from that moment on the Queen and King insisted upon weekly reports concerning the child’s welfare.

Lady Slipnfall however, did not fare so well. After being found guilty of Reckless Child Endangerment, the Lady was ceremoniously beheaded during the Queendom’s Spring Children’s Pageant and her trailer was re-zoned for commercial use. An Ox-N-Cart-Mart currently stands in its place, but more on Lady Slipinfall later.)

Now back to our story. For most of her childhood, Princess Luster lived a pretty normal life. In spite of the privilege her status presented the Princess attended public schools, spent endless hours playing with her friends and frequently lost large sums of gold playing Black Jack in online Casinos. As a 3rd grader, her losses became so great that her mother was nearly forced to take out a second mortgage on the castle. But all that was about to change.

For appearances can be deceiving and despite the protection of castle walls and her parents attempts at normalcy, the shadows of doubt and deception were about to infiltrate her world. Rearing its ugly head, this uninvited darkness took the form of a great many evils: an intimate betrayal, a raging storm, gruesome beasts and a skinny guy named Larry. And on the eve of her 12th birthday the darkness came for Princess Luster.

Excitement ruled throughout the land, as preparations for the ‘morrow’s gala occupied thee Queendom of Everafter. As a queendom forever looking toward the future, the Courting Ceremony weighed heavily on the minds of all the people, but on no one more so than Princess Luster. For the birthday of the Princess meant not only a holiday for the people, but for Luster herself, it was a rite of passage. You see, if you were a child of Everafter, 12 was the age when one was declared a woman, (this was normally limited to the females of the queendom, with a few exceptions.)

It was long believed that this was the age when a girl’s body and spirit were transformed. A new creature bloomed within the human cocoon, and the metamorphosis produced was nothing short of a miracle. The possessive emotions of a child surged into the wanton desires of a woman and the river of life soiled the bedding with each new moon.

And so it was that the women of Everafter held a special place in the Queendom. For as long as time could remember the royal bloodline pumped true in the veins of the Queen, who in turn, passed on this royal line through the first-born daughter. A matriarchal society to be sure, but even more, a society where women seldom squandered their opportunities and the men seldom bothered to complain.

The center piece of the Gala was the Royal Courting Ceremony. A ceremony in which young men from throughout the land would be presented to the Princess and after careful review, the Princess would choose her escort for the evening. In essence, this was to be Princess Luster’s first date. The Queen however, would hold some influence over her decision, just as the Queen’s own mother had influenced hers. The weight of this choice was considered great, as more often than not, an escort chosen at a Courting Ceremony went on to be named King.

And no one knew the importance of this night better than Luster’s mum, Queen Anne Ironfist. Not so many years before, it was Anne herself who stood nervously in front of a mirror, as a Princess, preparing for her own Courting Ceremony. Her silken gown shining in the early glow of the moonlight, yet Princess Anne could think of little more than her future Queendom and yes, her future king, also.

Everything would be perfect this night. Every detail of the ceremony was seen to with meticulous care. Every detail that is, but one. Being much too nervous to choose her own escort, Anne turned this heady task over to the shrewd and discerning eye of her own mother, Queen Beetrice, Princess Luster’s grandmother.

Queen Beetrice had a reputation for being practical, even calculating and it was this keen sense Princess Anne was depending on. Deep down inside, Anne was no different from her peers when it came to boys. She had her crushes and fancies and even now there were a number of boys in the Queendom she had her eyes on, but Princess Anne was ambitious. She had goals and plans, but even more important to Princess Anne Ironfist than her King, was her Queendom. One day she would rule it all and although aware that the right King could play an important part in her plans, her own father, King Runs-With-Scissors, ruled as a near equal with Queen Beetrice until his untimely, accidental death during an Adult Education class at a local craft shop, in the end, her rule would be her own. And so it was that Queen Beetrice was given the task of choosing the future King.

Arrangements for the festivities continued on throughout the day, with Queen Beetrice overseeing it all. And true to her reputation, the Queen scrutinized every aspect of every detail of the ceremony. When the list of desserts was left off the dinner menus, they were sent back to the printer for corrections. When the costumes for the dancers were far too bright and distracted attention away from the Princess, these were returned to Elton, the dye maker and dyed the colors of the forest, which encircled the Queendom: browns, dark greens and black. Even the minstrels were instructed to play a livelier tune and not the dirge they had been rehearsing. Every minute detail was handled by the Queen.

As the day wore on, the Queen was pulled in every direction, here and there, to and fro, hither and yon, the point being, she was all over the place, in an attempt to put on the perfect Ceremony and her wits were beginning to unravel. By mid-afternoon the Queen was so frazzled that she summoned Lady Wannabe, her Lady-in-waiting, to fetch her a bit of ‘Bee Juice’. (This of course was a euphemism for the Queen’s favorite concoction of Tiara Royal and honey and had earned her the moniker, Queen Bee from the servants of the castle. For a multitude of reasons, the moniker was a title only used behind the Queen’s back.)

In no time her Lady returned with the Queen’s ‘little helper’, as she liked to call it and the Queen was well on her way to feeling relaxed again. Very relaxed. In fact the Queen was enjoying the sensation so much that she ordered her Lady to bring her another.

If I can calm my nerves for the evening, I will be able to enjoy the Ceremony all the more, she told herself. And so it was that Lady Wannabe saw to the Queen’s request and was sent to retrieve for her Highness yet another shot of Bee Juice.

Now, as is the case with most of us, when we are placed under an additional amount of stress, we can often become a bit snappish. And this was the case with Queen Beetrice as she ordered Lady Wannabe back to the kitchen. Snap to, Wannabe. We have much yet to get to this day.

It should come as no surprise that Wannabe had dreams and ambitions of her own. It had taken years of clawing her way to the position of the Queen’s first Lady, only to find that the respect she had longed for hadn’t followed. She felt that the Queen treated her poorly at times, but worse were those in her charge. For they too were ambitious, back stabbing, conniving, deceitful, greedy, ruthless and all with terrible attitudes! The complaining was constant, as most every underling watched for any opportunity to advance at another’s expense. To those outside the kingdom, the castle’s social structure was often compared to a pack of ravenous wolves. Wherein Queen Bee was the obvious choice for Alpha Bitch in the pack, Lady Wannabe held rank as the Beta Bitch and with all others in a constant struggle for position.

Now, as Lady Wannabe entered the kitchen to retrieve the honey, she found Delila, a young kitchen maid, standing there with tray in hand and the Queen’s Bee Juice ready to go.

I heard my Lady summoned from above and I have prepared the Queens tonic in advance, Delila softened her voice as she spoke and all manner of reverence was directed at Wannabe as she curtsied to her Lady.

Wannabe was speechless for a moment, as the scene played out before her. Finally, she thought, the respect I am due has begun. Not wanting to show weakness, Lady Wannabe snatched the tray from Delila’s hands and grumbled, I pray for your sake, you have cleaned the glass well. And stop staring child, no one likes a do-gooder. Now go. Be about your business.

Delila turned without a word, but a devilish smile crept across her face. Only a week before Lady Wannabe had stormed into the kitchen, enraged because the Queen’s lunch had not been delivered. Not ten seconds before, the cook had placed the Queen’s tray in the tender hands of his young assistant, Delila, who was at that moment on her way to deliver it.

Lady Wannabe, so focused on her anger, did not see the girl and crashed head on into the tray, sending it spilling all over Delila’s new annual dress. (Tradition in the castle held that every year each servant would be given one ‘hand-me-down’ outfit by his or her immediate superior on the second Tuesday in August.) Although Delila knew not to show it, deep down inside she was furious. It had taken her two days to get Bertha’s sweaty, underarm pit stains to come reasonably clean. (Bertha, being the dress’s previous owner.) And on top of it all, Wannabe began screaming.

You stupid imbecile! You clumsy oaf, how dare you, you, you..., Wannabe’s fury tailed off, but only out of need for action. Someone had better have another tray in my hands in the next thirty seconds or there will be hell to pay!

How much did the last trip cost you, Delila mumbled under her breath, as she turned for a second tray.

What was that? Wannabe growled.

Nothing my Lady, Delila said, as she restocked the new tray and handed it ever so carefully to Wannabe.

Wannabe said nothing, but glared for a moment before turning and storming back out of the kitchen. Delila’s own anger soared, as her eyes welled up with tears. Her annual dress was in near ruin, as new stains covered the old.

Delila now replayed the week old scene, as she left the tray of ‘Bee Juice’ with Lady Wannabe and scurried out of the kitchen. Her anger however, had given way to delight at knowing the true contents of the glass. Yes, ‘Bee Juice’ as requested, but with a little extra kick. The Queen wanted to relax then what could be better than a ‘Sleeper’. (A ‘Sleeper’ is what was referred to in the local pubs as a triple shot of any strong drink.) And who better than Lady Wannabe to deliver a Sleeper to the Queen. Oh yes, there would be Hell to pay, thought Delila. But the cost will not be mine this time.

Still, Wannabe had her own agenda to think about. Sure that little kitchen rat may have finally learned some respect, but the Queen...The Queen needs to loosen up a bit. Realizing that Delila had bought her a little time by preparing the Queen’s drink for her, Lady Wannabe claimed those extra minutes for a little revenge of her own. She hurried off to her quarters, where she kept her own bottle of Tiara Royal hidden in her knight stand. (Knight stands in those days were simply old, empty suits of armor used for storage. It was not uncommon to keep one’s favorite bottle of liquor tucked neatly away in the helmet of the knight stand, nor was it uncommon to cap off the night with a little drink, to relax before going to bed. Hence the name: knight cap.)

Anyway, Wannabe quietly lifted the visor of the knight stand and retrieved the bottle inside.

If Queen Bee wants to relax, so Bee it! she laughed out loud at her own lame joke and poured another shot into the Queen’s glass. With that, what Lady Wannabe had intended as a very relaxing double had now become a quadruple and what moments ago had been Delila’s ‘Sleeper’, Lady Wannabe had unknowingly turned into a ‘Coma’. The glass sat on the tray, secretly growing in strength, as Wannabe returned the bottle to the knight stand. As she turned back and collected the tray to leave, a smile crept across her face.

Lady Wannabe found the Queen directing the decorators in the Court Yard, center stage for the receiving of the suitors and the night’s main event: The Courting Ceremony. Meter upon meter of woven gold were draped between the columns which lined the yard. (An area far longer than an American football field and far wider than a European football pitch.) The challenge for the Queen was turning this immense setting into a warm and intimate arena.

Lady Wannabe approached the Queen with all the grace and guile of a snake slithering her way between the columns, around the workers, under the decorations and over an enchanting silver bridge stationed in the center of the yard. The bridge, known as the Bridge of Destiny, spread out across a pool, accented with swans and created especially for the Courting Ceremony. There at the center of the bridge, where the moonlight reflected the brightest, the Princess would encounter her would-be king for the first time. He would be escorted by his proud parents and ushered between the walls of minstrels and members of the Royal Guard, paired side by side and creating a royal arch. (This formation could be quite striking for those chosen few, lucky enough to get a closer view. At the front of the bridge, two rows of men would form two lines, beginning where the handrails ended. These lines went on as far as the eye could see and lead directly back into the castle’s main corridor. Each line consisted of a horn player, standing next to a guardsman, standing next to a horn player, standing next to a guardsman and so on and so forth. Directly across from each man and beginning at the opposite hand rail of the bridge, stood a mirror image of the line facing them. So horn player faced horn player and guardsman faced guardsman and on the appropriate signal, both horns and swords would be raised, creating a silver and gold arch, through which this would be future king and his parents would walk to meet the future Queen. The golden horns were blown representing the announcement of the future king, while the silver swords were raised representing the strength of the future king.)

Once parents and child reached the base of the bridge, all would stop. In a stillness that sent chills up the spine, Mother and Father would curtsy and bow to the waiting Princess, who would be standing nervously at the center of the bridge. It was the proud mother’s duty to then boldly announce, My Princess, it is with great honor that Lord so and so and myself, Lady what’s her name, do proudly present to you, our graced and humbled son... well, you get the picture. At that point the parents would quietly slip away, leaving junior to his own devices.

This half bewildered suitor would then traverse the shimmering planks of this seemingly endless bridge alone, until he reached the center and greeted his awaiting Princess. All this would repeat itself until the Princess eventually selected the Chosen One. From there, the greeting itself set the tone for what remained of the Gala. In the past, greetings had produced everything from nervous laughter, to a romantic first kiss and from an icy cold stare to an outright kick between the legs for King Limpsabout some 300 years earlier. Once the meet and greet was completed, the music would play and the Princess and her date would begin the first dance, signifying the official start of the Gala.

Now at the base of the bridge, Queen Beetrice gave orders to the Royal carpenter, Sir Richard, who stood nodding his head, as Lady Wannabe pretended to patiently wait to deliver her potent concoction. Several moments passed before the Queen sent Sir Richard off to build yet another fanciful creation he knew would be far beyond reality and time, but for now at least, got him out of the Queen’s line of fire. Lady Wannabe smiled, as the Queen turned to see her waiting with her Bee Juice, but just as she took her first step forward to present the tray, the Queen waved her off declaring, I am far too busy for that now.

Wannabe was stunned. A look of outrage seized her, as she stood there motionless, in mid-step. This however went unnoticed by the Queen, who was already moving on to the next order of business. See to it that the Princess is keeping to the schedule and report back to me, post haste, the Queen commanded and trotted off.

Finally, Wannabe’s frozen, statue-like figure, thawed, as she dipped to the Queen and grumbled, Yes, my Lady.

Wannabe turned and made her way back to the castle, mumbling filth under her breath the entire way. She reached the servants entrance, still stewing over the fact that her great and glorious plan had been foiled and now she was being sent to check on the Princess like a common house maid. Her blood boiled, as she proceeded up the grand stairway leading to the Royal Chamber of Princess Anne Ironfist.

Reaching the door, she prepared to knock when a rattle distracted her. Only then did she realize that her anger had caused the glass to shake and rattle on the tray. In her disgust, she had all but forgotten the potion she still carried. Wannabe stopped and regained her composure.

Calm yourself fool, she scolded herself and quickly hid the tray behind a planter decorating a table in the hall, across from Princess Anne’s quarters.

Wannabe returned and gently rapped on the door. Several moments passed before the massive structure opened to reveal the enormous chamber that was Anne Ironfist’s suite. As the doors opened wide, another massive pair greeted Wannabe, but these were attached to Maid Amilking, the wet nurse who had remained with the Princess from the time of her birth.

(Although a bit unusual to us in the modern age, the name Amilking was quite common at this time. In fact, it was such a common name, there were eight maids Amilking living in her village alone. And the title of Wet Nurse was not so strange a career in her day either. Amilking was one of nine sisters, all of whom had entered the field of wet nursing at an early age, due in part to the advanced size of a particular set of glands and ran the most popular nursing home in the village. All the sisters had become quite popular in the Queendom and all but Amilking had gone on to marry and raise up whelps of their own. Only Maid Amilking remained true to her calling and although the personal hand maiden to the Princess, she still found time and clients enough for the occasional suckle on the side.)

Maid Amilking politely waved Wannabe into the chamber, while keeping a close eye on her guest. My Lady, what brings you to the Princess’ chamber this fine day? Amilking questioned.

I am here at the request of the Queen. Her Highness wishes to be informed as to the Princess’ progress, Wannabe announced, with all the authority she could muster for such a trivial task.

Ah yes, Lady Wannabe. If you will come with me, you can see for yourself my Lady’s progress, and with that, Maid Amilking escorted Lady Wannabe into the dressing room where Princess Anne was being prepared.

As Wannabe stepped through the doorway of this room within a room, she was stopped dead in her tracks. Well, not dead, dead. Stunned if you will, for the second time in only minutes. For standing there in front of the mirror was not the Princess, Wannabe had come to know and ignore, but a beautiful, young woman of stature. Her ivory gown draped her delicate form like a curtain drapes the sun. (Look, I know, curtains don’t drape the sun, they’d burn up. It’s just a fancy way to say, she wore it well.) The lightly fitting fabric, no match for the radiance of the young woman wearing it. A silver brush glided the length of her long, flowing hair, black as any night, as it poured itself down the back and over the creamy white of her exposed shoulders.

At only twelve, this long, lean girl already stood tall as many twice her age. Her journey into womanhood had begun long before the thoughts of any Courting Ceremony. Years spent in the pursuit of what many thought tomfoolery or at best the sport of men, had hidden her true nature, her true figure.

Princess Anne stood in front of the mirror, not in admiration of herself, but deep in thought. Suddenly she spoke to the reflection staring back at her with eyes the color of Guinness.

This, the will of the Princess, shall be enacted as follows. A full, one third portion of all monies gathered into my accounts shall be distributed to the poor. One third of this money shall go to meet the immediate needs of food, shelter and clothing. The remaining two thirds should be set aside for long-term needs: parcels of land for farming, tools for building and industry, hospitals and medicine for the sick and churches for the people to worship. By the time I am Queen the people will be prospering and strong and will remember who set them on the path of this prosperity. Medicine, food and religion may see to their bodies and souls, but I will see to their hearts. A scribe, seated quietly in the corner, took down every word the young Princess uttered.

It was then that a chill shot up Lady Wannabe’s spine. She had spent so much time and effort crawling for the Queen, that she never took notice of the Queen’s replacement. Why this Princess, this child, this imp could be far more formidable than the Queen had ever been, she thought to herself. With a haunting and sudden realization, Wannabe understood that the Princess was a far greater threat to her, than the Queen could ever be and the time to act was now. Before the queendom at large came to know the Princess who stood before her.

Anne tossed her hair back over her shoulder, as the reflection of Lady Wannabe caught her eye. She turned and bowed politely to Wannabe. Although it was not the custom of the Royal family to bow to the servants, Princess Anne respected and valued the wisdom of elders. She had learned much about what to do and what not to do and how to live and how not to live by observing not only her parents but even those called to serve her.

My Lady, you grace me with your presence. How may I be of service? the Princess asked.

You are far too kind my Princess, Wannabe’s words dripped with deceit. The Queen has sent me to see as to your progress. She has worked feverishly to see that this night be as enchanting as the Princess herself.

Again, you are too kind, but please assure my mother, my duty seems only to appear. It is her assignment which is most challenging. Please, inform the Queen that I am well looked after and will be available at her request, the Princess said.

Let it be so, Wannabe replied and bowed, as she backed out of the room. Maid Amilking moved to see Lady Wannabe to the door, but was quickly waved off.

I will see myself out Amilking. Yours is only to attend to the Princess, Wannabe declared.

As you wish, agreed Maid Amilking and returned to her Princess.

Back in the grand hall, outside Princess Anne’s chamber, Wannabe began to pace. Think woman, think, she scolded herself. She must be stopped before the queendom sees the true face of the future Queen. Then it hit her. A face of beauty is one thing, but an incompetent fool is still a fool and a disgrace. Even beauty wears thin when the one behind the mask is nothing but a jester’s punch line.

And so a plan had begun. If Wannabe could not destroy Princess Anne’s beauty, she could certainly destroy her character. But how? There must be a way that would go undetected, she thought and indeed there it was. Hidden just out of view, each time she paced by. The drink. The Queen’s Bee Juice called to Wannabe as if to say, I am silent, I will tell no one. Wannabe salivated at the thought. What was once meant for the Queen, would now serve even better as a gift for the Princess.

One drink of this and our beautiful Princess will be nothing more than a stumbling, babbling buffoon, Wannabe whispered. But I cannot be the bearer of this little gift. I must not be implicated.

The pacing began again in earnest, as Wannabe stewed. The answer sits at arm’s reach, but how do I get this precious potion to the Princess? Potion! That’s it. What mother would not want to share her secret joys in life with her only daughter? The Princess is becoming a woman, so why not share a woman’s drink with her child on this special day. A day of womanhood, a day of romance and maybe even a day of love. What the Queen calls Bee Juice will become a love potion for the Princess. All I need do is add a little note from the Queen, to her precious little Princess and I can sit back and watch the two of them fall from grace and flat on their faces.

Wannabe was delighted with herself, as she scurried to the drawing room at the end of the hall, in search of a quill and paper. She quietly snuck into the room and quickly found pen and paper in the enormous oak desk, which sat with its back against an even more enormous wall of windows. Windows that even now revealed that the details for the Courting Ceremony below were nearing completion.

The plan was inspired, Wannabe thought, as she took quill in hand and began to write.

My Darling Anne, tonight all the kingdom will see and adore the child and yes, now the woman I have always known. And as a woman, many new doors will open to you. The door to power, the door to riches, the door to love. Take this offering as my gift and one of many keys which will open the door of love. A Love Potion fit for a Queen. My fondest regards, your Mother. Wannabe puffed with pride at the work of her own hand. This is only the beginning of my rise to power, she gloated to herself.

In no time at all, the loving note and potion sat waiting for the Princess to find. In fact it could not be missed. As the doors of Princess Anne’s chamber opened inward, the very first thing that one saw was the table stationed directly across the hall. Each and every morning the servants would replenish the freshly cut flowers, so delicately arranged in the golden vase which sat atop the table. And today would be no different. When the Princess opened the door of her chamber, the scent of gardenias would fill her nostrils and a splash of pastel colors would brighten her gaze, but today there would be more. So much more.

Chapter 2

The Queen is Dead, Long Live the Queen!

The image of Princess Anne’s downfall played through Wannabe’s head, as she returned to report to the Queen. Queen Beetrice leaned over the rail of the Royal Viewing Gallery, the spot from which she would oversee the evening’s festivities. As she surveyed her work, a flush of pride and sorrow spread through her heart. This would be the first official step toward passing the torch (or scepter in this case) of Queenhood, on to Princess Anne. This also meant that the first step toward Anne’s own rule and independence was about to take place. A rule that would eat away at the few precious moments the two would share together in the castle.

Since the accidental death of King Runs-With-Scissors, the Queen had been forced to spend more time away from her daughter. In the seven years the Queen and King ruled together, the King had proven to be a true asset in running the Queendom. He had in fact been so successful in his duties, that the Queen hadn’t noticed how flawlessly he had performed them. Not until she was forced to take over his share of the work, after the funeral. (The funeral ceremony for the King was a bit of an event in itself. As a Native of a nearby land, the customs of his people were incorporated into the service. In this case he was cremated in the very kiln he often used, at the craft shop where he met his demise and his ashes placed in a ceramic pot, made by his very own hands. Then once a year, on the anniversary of his death, a pinch of ash was taken from the pot and mixed into the morning cups of tea for the Queen and the Princess. This custom was meant as a remembrance of the King, as well as a means to keep the King forever with them. This was also the only day of the year when both the Queen and the Princess requested four lumps of sugar with their tea.)

The Queen turned to see Wannabe standing at the ready, waiting to give her report. Pray tell Lady Wannabe, what progress has the Princess made in her preparations? Wannabe’s mind swirled with the details, as she spewed forth her yarn of deception.

My Queen, the Princess nears readiness for the Ceremony as we speak. As I understand it, her agenda is to be dressed within the hour and her young guest shall be departing soon, Wannabe lied.

Guest? What time is there for guests? Her duty on this day is the Ceremony and nothing more, the Queen ranted, sounding alarmed.

If I might be so bold as to speak freely my Queen, the Princess is young and still a child at heart. I can only imagine what pressures this day must thrust upon you both, Wannabe’s tongue dripped with her poisoned words.

Your point Wannabe, you must have one, demanded the Queen.

Yes, My Lady. My point is simply this, today could in many ways be considered the last of Princess Anne’s youth. Although her life has been filled with responsibilities, after the Ceremony this eve those responsibilities will increase tenfold. The Queen’s sternness seemed to ease as Wannabe spoke. Forgive me for my arrogance, that I might presume to give advice to her Majesty, but if you would permit me this one word My Queen? Wannabe had never been so humble, as she buttered up the Queen.

Yes, Lady Wannabe, speak as you please, the Queen acquiesced.

Thank you, my Queen, Wannabe hesitated, pretending to collect her thoughts. I cannot believe any could ignore the importance of this night, the Princess included. And if this be true, is there not even a wisp of room for the Princess to bid farewell to her youth, as any child might? With friends, festivities and song? One last look behind before taking such an enormous step ahead, Wannabe argued, then fell silent and bowed her head.

Queen Beetrice reeled from Wannabe’s insightful words. Knowing the importance of the day at hand, yet remembering the fullness of responsibility this day had brought for her so many years before, the Queen paused. Her head still bowed, Wannabe peered up to examine Her Majesty, in time to see a look of concern sweep over the Queen, as she spoke, The events and outcome of this day are far too great to extend on selfish indulgences. However, I believe that there is some truth in what you have said, the Queen conceded.

Wannabe couldn’t hide her smile, as she straightened to face the Queen. You are too gracious your Highness.

I do not believe so. For truth is truth and your words have rightly put me in my place, the Queen said, sounding almost humble.

Forgive me My Queen, for what place is it of mine, to put you in yours. I simply meant to say, let today be whatever it may be. Tomorrow is time enough for a new beginning...

The Queen took a deep breath and fell silent. Wannabe was certain she saw the glint of a tear in the Queen’s eye, as she turned back to survey the activity on the field. I have been far too blind to many things it seems. For tomorrow all this gold and silver, all the silk and shine will be but a memory, but my daughter will still be my daughter. This day could never hold as much value for me as she does. And you, Lady Wannabe, I have long ignored your simple wisdom in the ways of life. Could it be that my own reign might have enjoyed even greater success had I sought your counsel before this day? From this day forth Lady Wannabe, I shall decree that your name and statue be raised throughout the kingdom and all save the Princess and your Queen shall bow in your presence.

Wannabe’s eyes widened to the size of shields. A warmth spread through her like she had never known, as the fruit of her scheme began to blossom. But as suddenly as it had bloomed, the blossom wilted. The Queen thinks me wise, thought Wannabe. She has shown me a degree of respect like that I have never known. More than I have ever hoped for and now I am about to sabotage it all.

Everything was unraveling for Wannabe. Years of schemes and deception had cost her much and gained her only contempt. While thirty seconds of honesty and friendship toward the Queen had given her more than she ever dreamed. (Okay, so even Wannabe’s honesty was meant only as a scheme and a lie, but in the end, her words did indeed carry some wisdom. Intended or not.) Do you mean to tell me that I could have..., her thought ended abruptly, not wanting to admit the possibility. I did not need to do all that, that..., again she couldn’t bring herself to even think it. Then the big bomb fell.

I think it is time that a mother went to hug her daughter, the Queen said softly. Her words nearly escaped Lady Wannabe, as she stood there stunned (yes, that’s the third time in just the past few pages...get over it!), trying to put her thoughts back in order.

Then suddenly, Do what? Go where? Wannabe panicked. The Bee Juice, the potion! Her mind raced, imagining only two possible scenarios and neither had a happy ending. One: It could already be too late and the Princess had downed her little gift or Two: The drink and note still sat on the tray in the hall. A drink the Queen never actually sent and a note the Queen never actually wrote. Wannabe had to act and she had to act fast!

My Lady, if you will allow me. Let me go and return the Princess to you. You have been so busy with the proceedings and surely a few moments rest is due you. I could fetch the Princess and return before the next movement of the sundial, Wannabe implored.

Precisely why I must go. I have been far too busy with the trappings of the Ceremony, that I have ignored the one for whom it is being held. My own darling daughter. It is high time I made my priorities clear to her, Beetrice announced.

With that, the Queen marched past Wannabe, heading straight to her daughter’s chamber. Wannabe waited for the Queen to vanish out of sight before sprinting down the stairs and across the courtyard toward the servant’s entrance. Lady Wannabe had the advantage by cutting through the kitchen and taking the servants stairs to the third floor, but the Queen had the head start. It would be a close call under perfect conditions, but with the castle abuzz preparing for the festivities, Wannabe was forced to weave her way through an obstacle course of workers.

The kitchen was the first hurdle; literally, as she sprang over a maiden bent low, checking the goose in the oven and narrowly missed goosing the maiden. (In this case, it was a tofu and rice goose, as these days, Princess Anne was an ovo-lacto vegetarian.) Wannabe landed in full stride, as her mad dash continued. She stiffed-armed the head waiter and clipped the chef, but reached the staircase to the second floor without losing time. The servant’s tower was smaller in size than the other castle towers and without windows on the first and second floors. Only the occasional torch, hanging far too low, illuminated the way.

Wannabe climbed the steps two at a time, as she raced up the turning, stone stairway. In no time at all she reached the second floor door, but passed it by on a gamble. Princess Anne’s Chamber sat in the center of the third floor, but the servant’s tower was hidden just to the East, off the tiny bedroom of the Chamber Maid. It was a bit further than the main stairway, which her status certainly entitled her to take, but by sticking to the servant’s entry, she was far less likely to be seen. As Wannabe climbed, she could feel the ache in her legs and the burn in her lungs beginning to take their toll. The charge in her heart was fresh, but the charge in her legs was slowing considerably.

Now is not the time to weaken, Wannabe scolded herself. With her focus back on track, she surged ahead with all her might until suddenly...CRASH! Wannabe was catapulted back into the wall and crumpled in a heap onto the stairs. This was followed almost instantly