"Marry you?" I paused just long enough to direct a politely incredulous glance at him. "No, thank you very much. I’d rather not." I continued brushing off the dust that had accrued on my person during the past century.
He stared in evident disbelief. It was a most unbecoming expression on an otherwise blandly handsome visage. I wondered what it was about princes that made it so hard for them to accept that they might not be the object of every maiden’s desire? Inbreeding? Overindulgent mothers? Past experience?
"Look," I said. "I’m very grateful to you for rescuing me, and am conscious of the honor you seek to do me by marrying me, but it’s quite unnecessary. I’m sure," I added helpfully, "that my father will be happy to reward you appropriately."
"But--the prince always marries the beautiful princess and they live happily ever after! That’s the way it always goes." He sighed. "I’m the youngest, you see, and the youngest is always the one to succeed in the quest and marry the princess. What would Mother say?"
Definitely an overindulgent mother.
"Do you realize," I said brightly, "that I am nearly a hundred years older than you? Certainly older than your grandmother, or even your great grandmother."
The prince apparently hadn’t seen this angle of it. His fair skin went a little whiter. "But you spent it sleeping, so it doesn’t count," he reasoned aloud. "So you’re only eighteen," he concluded, in obvious relief that he wouldn’t be marrying a crone of a hundred and eighteen. What, I wondered, would his mother say to the matter presented in that light?
I pointed out that, by that logic, he was only about fourteen and I was only twelve.
"What?"
"Never mind." I waited until I could speak without telling him he was a moron. "I’m flattered that you think I’m beautiful, particularly when covered with approximately a century’s worth of dust--"
"Perhaps you clean up nicely?" he suggested hopefully.
"I’m considered only mildly pretty."
"Oh," the prince said. "I did have rather a lot of trouble finding you. I first had to kiss all the well dressed ladies in the tower room. I was sure the beautiful blonde woman lying on the bed would be the princess."
"That would have been my half sister Liana. She has a tower room, too, since she is a princess. She’s something of a traditionalist. She’s even beautiful."
He flushed. "Well, how was I supposed to know that the princess would be in old clothes in the library with a book over her face? It was lucky that I found you at all."
"And you, of course, broke the spell with a kiss," I said.
The prince said indignantly, "Of course I did! That’s the way it always works! A clear sign that you were meant to be mine, 'true love’s kiss will break the spell.' I kissed you and your eyes fluttered open..."
"And then I hit you and wanted to know exactly what you thought you were doing."
"Well, yes." He paused, frowning, and said, "I think Mother forgot to mention that possibility when she sent me out to rescue you."
"She forgot to mention several things," I said. "First of all, you are not my true love. You’ve only just met me, and I’m beginning to suspect we wouldn’t suit at all. Secondly, what on earth makes you suppose that a mere kiss has magical powers? I’m sure that was invented as a justification to kiss hapless unconscious women--one which I believe you took full advantage of."
"You don’t look anything like a princess," the prince said defensively. "I had to figure it out by process of elimination. Surely you don’t think kissing dozens of unresponsive and rather dusty women is entertaining?"
"I’ve never tried it. At any rate, surely you remember removing and closing the book that was on my face shortly before kissing me."
He picked up the book and dangled it carelessly upside down. "This one?" He made as if to open it.
"Yes, that one, you moron! Put it down!" I hissed, snatching it before it could fall open. "My stepmother, I fear, is patient, if not exceptionally intelligent--"
"Your stepmother? But I thought it was a wicked fairy who cursed you."
I said absently, "Fairies don’t live in this realm. You’re thinking of Arlania. Much better climate, or so I’ve heard. Anyway, my stepmother first cursed a spinning wheel--"
"Do you spin straw into gold?" the prince interjected eagerly, probably thinking that it might make up for my other shortcomings as a princess.
I shook my head. "No, how could I? I’m not a miller’s daughter, and I’m not convinced that they really have the secret either, though you’ll have to take it up with them. Do shut up and let me finish. Anyway, she realized, after about ten years, that it wasn’t going to work since I never went near spinning wheels. She put it instead on a book and placed amongst the other restricted, rare, or downright forbidden books that she knew I would find it among.
"Unfortunately, she isn’t a particularly talented sorceress, so instead of simply sending me into a sleep of death, she managed to curse the entire castle. Such a lovely woman. Are you certain you’d like her as a mother-in-law?"
"I would, of course, be honored to meet her," the prince said politely, although his expression was doubtful. "Is that where we’re going? Where are you going? What are you doing?" He became somewhat alarmed as I climbed the narrow staircase to my tower, very obviously not heading for the throne room.
"Packing," I answered.
"What?"
I repeated, very clearly and loudly in case meaning was proving unexpectedly elusive, "Packing. I’m leaving."
"You can’t leave! You’re a princess! You belong in a castle. What would your father say?"
"My father," I retorted, "is going to tell me to go up to my room and stay out of trouble, there’s a good girl. Stepmother is going to lock me up in my tower for having caused so much trouble, quite apart from the fact that the curse was entirely her doing and the unexpected results equally so." I added thoughtfully, "Or, she could attempt to feed me a poisoned apple or ask the huntsman to take me for a last walk in the woods, if she were feeling a trifle impatient. I’m afraid that it would take a great deal more than a hundred years of sleep to change anything in this castle. At any rate, I’m not going to wait around here for things to change."
"But I have to marry the princess," the prince protested, seeing his happily ever after ending getting away. "It’s traditional."
I turned around in exasperation. "Fine. Marry Liana. She’s a princess, she’s likes fairy tales, and I’m sure she’ll be amenable to living happily ever after. Your mother never specified that you had to marry the princess whom the curse was attached to." I began to fill my knapsack.
"Oh. All right, then," he said, noticeably cheerier. He ventured to ask a remotely sensible question. "But what are you going to do if you leave the castle?"
"I don’t know, quite. I haven't had a lot of time to think about it. Whatever I choose to, I suppose, regardless of whether or not it is quite proper for princesses to do or not."
I paused, looking around for anything else I wished to take with me and found that I wanted few mementos of my life here, though there was something in me that was more than a little frightened and hesitant.
But I shook my head, and said aloud, "I’m not going to let myself conform to the princess of the tales any longer. I can’t. I refuse to believe that being a princess is exclusive of having any sense or ability to direct her own future or to rescue herself from her own muddles. Most of the time, anyway."
I shouldered the bag, thankful that my old clothes were practical and sturdy, not much the worse for being a little dusty. "Well, thank you very much. I hope your happily ever after is fully what you anticipate it to be." I turned to head back down the stairs, where the first muffled sounds of renewed life were making their way up to my tower.
"You’re not going to climb down the tower with your hair? Or at least with knotted bedsheets?" The prince asked, bewildered by this latest display of sense.
"No," I said, giving up on him as a lost cause. "I’m going out one of the servants’ exits, and unless you’d like to leave as well, you might wish to stop following me. The throne room is through that hall and then to your right, if you still wish to meet the king and the queen. Goodbye." Giving me one last deeply puzzled look, Prince Geoffrey bowed and left me. I sighed in relief and hoped that I would not have to deal with too many more heroic princes.
At the end of the corridor I found myself before the small door that led out of the castle. "And the princess," I murmured to myself, stepping outside, "lived interestingly ever after."
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