The morning sun streamed brightly across the vacation
castles that lined the seaward facing hillsides of the Hamptonshires
summer resort, far away from Far Far Away. Rays of sunlight beamed through the balcony
window and into the bedroom of Princess Rapunzel.
Prince Charming was sitting on the edge of the princess’s bed,
having completed donning his fine raiment except for the gold colored boots
which he was pulling on. He finished
the task, stomped the boots on the floor to make sure they were snugly fit, and
then looked across the room to where the beautiful princess herself was sitting
at her vanity, dressed in her nightgown, watching herself in the mirror while
she combed through her long blonde hair with an ornate golden brush. She caught a glance of him looking at her in
her mirror and smiled. “Sorry to take so
long, pookie,” she said.
“Oh, quite understandable, kitten whiskers,” he said,
smiling back. Indeed, her golden locks
flowed down her back and sides and formed small pools on the floor.
While Rapunzel was busy at her
task, Charming decided to attend to his own needs. He pulled out a small mirror which he always
kept handy and checked his face.
Ruggedly handsome, as always, he thought, grinning smugly at his reflection. He brushed a hand through his own blond locks
and checked his teeth. Perfect, of
course.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave so early,” Rapunzel said.
“Sorry, my love, but duties call,” he said, rising from
the bed and approaching her.
“Duties? Or other liaisons?” she asked, sounding
somewhat hurt. “Perhaps tiring of me?”
Charming was surprised.
She wasn’t usually that astute.
“Now, my dear,” he said, weaving his hands through her hair and resting
them on her neck, “it’s true that I’ve had one or two…dalliances in the
past. But trust me, you are the most
magnificent woman I’ve been with since—” Just then a shadow fell across the
balcony window. Charming looked over and
saw a carriage floating just off the balcony, with a familiar stern-faced woman
glaring at him from the passenger window.
“Mummy!” he said.
Rapunzel turned and looked up at him,
aghast. “‘Mummy?’” she echoed. Then
she followed his gaze and gasped.
“Hello, Junior,” the Fairy Godmother said drearily. Then she opened the carriage door, flitted
out of it, through the balcony window, and alighted in the middle of the room. “Sorry to interrupt your…morning,” she said,
glancing at Rapunzel with distaste before turning
back to him, “but we need to talk.”
“Mother, this isn’t what you think!” he protested. Then, seeing the dubious look in her face, he
said, “Well, actually, in a way it is.
But –”
“The Fairy Godmother is your mother?” Rapunzel interrupted,
her face full of rapt surprise.
“My, you are quick on the uptake, aren’t you, dear?” the
Godmother said sarcastically. “That’s a
little fact that we like to keep private.
Such as this little…relationship…between you and my son is private. Understand?”
Rapunzel nodded,
the look of surprise still on her face.
The Godmother rolled her eyes and then addressed Charming again. “Get in the carriage. We have an important matter to discuss. It’s already taken me a couple of days to
track you down and I’m afraid my patience is wearing a bit thin.”
“Yes, Mother,” he said, started to go, then turned back to
Rapunzel, opened his mouth to say something, then
stopped, looked back at his mother, then closed his mouth and headed to the
balcony.
As Charming passed the Fairy Godmother and she saw the
back of his head she said, “Hold on, Junior, you need some work on your
hair. You always did have trouble taking
care of the back.” She then turned back
to Rapunzel and held out her hand. “Let me borrow your brush,” she said.
“Huh?” Rapunzel said. The Godmother impatiently pointed to the
golden brush in her hand. “Oh!” Rupunzel said, and held it toward her. The Godmother snatched it, turned to her son,
and started working on the hair on the back of his head. “And by the way, don’t you have your own prince?” the Godmother asked as she
worked.
“Me?” Rapunzel said. “Well, yes, but you son is so…so…you
know. And his face – it looks like it
was carved by angels!”
“Yes, I know,” the Godmother said.
“I—” Charming started to say.
“Quiet, Junior,” the Godmother
said.
“And my prince’s
face, it’s got all these little scars on it, you know?” Rapunzel
said with distaste.
The Godmother sighed.
“Yes. They’re from where he fell
into thorn bushes one time risking his life visiting you when you were locked
in a tower.”
“Yeah.
They’re really icky. Do you think
you might…be able to do something about them?
It’s kind of embarrassing to be seen with him looking like that.”
The Godmother bit the inside of her mouth, then said
simply, “I think that we should have this discussion at another time, dear.”
“Oh. Yeah,
I…um…understand,” Rapunzel said, and blushed in
embarrassment.
“Good,” the Godmother said, then patted Charming on his
back. “All done, dear. Now go have a seat in the carriage.”
“Yes, mother,” he said resignedly. He then turned, looked at Rapunzel,
again started to say something, again stopped, then just gave a short, curt bow
the turned and headed to the carriage.
“Pookie?” Rapunzel
said, reaching out after him, but then pulled her hand back when he didn’t
respond.
In the mean time the Fairy Godmother continued standing
where she was, her back to the princess, and shook her head. Then she looked down at the brush in her
hand. A thought came to her mind, and a
sinister grin crept up one corner of her mouth.
She took out her wand, quietly uttered a few words as the wand’s star
tip grew brighter, and then she touched it to the brush. Sparkling shimmers of the wand’s tip
transferred to encompass the brush itself for a moment, and then both resumed
their normal appearances.
“Fairy Godmother, did you say something?” Rapunzel asked.
The Godmother turned back to the princess. “No, my dear. Here, take your brush back.” She handed the brush back to Rapunzel, fighting to keep the little grin from reappearing
as the princess took it and a vision entered the Godmother’s mind of the
princess with all of her precious golden hair having fallen out due to ‘unknown
causes’.
“I...I’m sorry you caught us like this,” Rapunzel said.
“Really, if I could just explain—”
“Tut tut,
dear,” the Godmother said, placing a pair if fingers on the princess’s
lips. “Again, we’d best discuss this
another time.”
Rapunzel nodded and looked down
ashamedly. “Good,” the Godmother said,
then turned and flitted into the carriage.
She took a seat across from her son, closed the carriage door, and
looked back to see that Rupunzel was again turned
toward the mirror, although her head was down.
After a moment she looked up at her reflection and began brushing her
hair again. The Godmother smiled. “Oh, dear!” she called, unable to resist. Rapunzel looked out
at her. “Three words, princess,” the
Godmother said. “‘Locks
of love’.”
Rapunzel looked at her, puzzled. “Huh?” the princess said, as clueless as the
Godmother expected.
The Godmother chucked, and then called out to the carriage
driver, “Take us about a hundred feet up where we can have some privacy, Kyle.”
The carriage sped off, leaving a trail of fairy dust in
its wake.
Dama looked sternly across at her
son. It was times such as this that he
brought back the bad memories of his father, a prince himself from another
kingdom, whose brief, impetuous romance and briefer marriage with Dama, then a no-name, struggling young sorceress, annulled
after pressure from the royal family and threatened disownership
which he wouldn’t stand up to, had left Dama alone
except for the child she was to bear. It
had also left her with a deep abiding hatred for royalty and a burning
obsession to beat them at their own game by having her son rise to be king of
the most envied kingdom in all the land.
Not that he would actually run it, of course. Dama would handle
that from behind the scenes. For as she
raised her son, although it became increasingly clear he would become brave and
strong and handsome, all to his mother’s pride and delight, it was also clear
that he was too impetuous and lacked the intellectual and emotional stability
to function as an effective head of state.
He might be able to lead a
coup. But lead a country? Dama had her
doubts.
He didn’t meet her eyes, instead casting them away contritely,
pouting like a little boy. “That was
very embarrassing, Mother,” he said abashedly.
Dama sighed. She just couldn’t stay mad at him. “It’s all right, dear,” she said. “It’s my own fault. I should have intervened sooner.”
He finally looked at her.
“I’m not a cad, Mother,” he said.
“We really do have feelings for each other.”
Like the other ladies and princesses I know you’ve been
with, she wanted to say.
“She’s really not a floozie,” he
continued.
“I’m sure she’s not, dear,” Dama
said, smiling and patting his hand. “But
I’m afraid the time has come to end it now.
It’s time to fulfill your destiny.”
“What?”
“You know that the kingdom of Far Far
Away is to be yours,” Dama said. “But first you must claim the king’s
daughter. It’s time to do so.”
Charming sat back.
“I plan to claim her,” he
said. “But…Mother, before I settle down,
I just wanted to…you know…”
“Yes, I know,” she said, wincing. Clichés involving wild oats sprang to mind.
“I mean, I am
still young, and it’s not like Fiona’s going
anywhere.”
Dama had to beat back a tinge of
impatience. “Junior, the Crown is
getting anxious, and I confess that I don’t blame them. It’s time to fulfill your destiny.”
“But—”
“It’s time,
Junior,” she said with a tone that invited no debate.
Charming sighed.
“Yes, mother,” he said, again pouty.
Seeing his response, Dama
softened again. “Now, dear,” she said
consolingly, “Fiona’s a beautiful young woman.
You’ll no doubt find her just as…interesting as the princess you were
just with, if not more so.”
“When she’s not a dreadful ogre,” he said.
“But your kiss will change all that.”
“So you’ve said.
But…” he looked directly at her.
“What if she doesn’t love me?”
“Now, Junior,” she smiled, “what are the odds of that?”
He shrugged conceitedly.
“That is true.”
“Good,” she said with finality. “You leave today.”
“Today?”
“If you travel directly there from here cross-country by
horseback, it should only take you three or four days.”
“Directly?
You mean through blistering cold and scorching desert—”
“Yes, dear.
The whole schmiel.”
“I suppose you couldn’t just, you know, take me there in
this carriage?”
“No, dear.
We should follow the formula as closely as possible. Besides, the trip will do you good. Not to mention the miles-per-dust in this
thing is a bear. But you do need to get going. As I said, the king and queen are getting
impatient.”
“So what?
What choice do they have?”
“None, really.
Or at least they shouldn’t,” Dama said. “Still, I get the feeling that we need to
move on this quickly.”
Meanwhile, peeking out from her concealed position behind
one of the tall pines that crowned the hilltops, a black-gowned, pointy-hat
wearing crone hovered on her broom.
After watching the floating coach for a while she reached inside her
gown and pulled out a fist-sized crystal ball.
She stared into the swirling mists within it as they slowly congealed
into the face of Rumpelstiltskin.
“Well?” he asked anxiously.
“I followed F.G.M. as you requested. She met with P.C. on the q.t.”
“Excellent!” he said excitedly. “Now, follow Charming, but very
discreetly. If things go well with the
royals, and we have the power of the state to back us when we make our move,
then we’ll be set to launch Operation Boy-toy and neutralize any resistance
from F.G.M., and then no one can stand in our way!”
The witch simply continued to stare patiently at the
crystal ball for a few moments.
Eventually Rumpelstiltskin asked, “What?”
“I’m just waiting for you to burst into maniacal
laughter,” she said matter-of-factly.
Rumpelstiltskin’s face took on an irritated
scowl. “Just keep tabs on Charming,” he
said. “Rumpel out.”