Beauty And The Beast: The Classic Fantasy Fairy Tale With A Twist
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Chapter Eight
Princess Virago
“Princess, please come out,” a fair haired Lady Flaxen beckoned. “Prince Edward shall be here soon. Please, we must dress you for the ceremony.”
“No!” Virago screamed as she remained in her locked room, stroking her long ebony hair. She wore a flame colored dress. “I do not wish to marry the Cretin of Fletching.”
“You do not know if he is a clod,” Flaxen said as she bit her lip in desperation. Her hair was pulled back in long braids. “I heard he is handsome.”
The princess’ room lay in shambles from an earlier tantrum. Dresses, jewelry, combs, brushes, and other small objects laid scattered about. Virago said, “I have had enough of people telling me what I am to do.” She sat in the middle of the floor, clinging to her bed post, face wet with tears as she yelled, “You are my lady in waiting... so wait!”
The thin man, standing behind Flaxen, moved to the door and beckoned to her, “Dear princess, please...” Lord Caliber leaned on his staff with an engraved wolf-head as he said, “Your kingdom is depending on you. Think of all the wealth and power you shall gain when you have the authority to make laws and judge the Five Kingdoms.”
Virago didn’t answer.
Lord Caliber massaged his temple and tried again, telling her, “Your father, King Elan arranged this marriage long ago. You shall dishonor him if you do not follow through.” He glanced at Flaxen, straightened his red robe’s gray-black fur trim, faced the door, and asked, “What about your mother?”
“Leave her out of this,” Virago demanded. “Why can you not leave the dead alone?”
Flaxen put a hand to the thin man’s shoulder, shook her head, and told him, “That is not the way. For the princess’ Advisor you are wise in many things, but you do not know how to deal with matters of the heart.” She smoothed her hand down her fiery yellow dress, bit her lip thinking, and said, “There is only one thing that may lure her out, but I do not know if it shall work.”
“Try it,” Lord Caliber urged as he stroked his long inky-black goatee. “The navy is escorting the prince’s ships into port. We do not have much time.”
Flaxen cleared her throat, praying to the Creator that this would work and said, “Edward shall have presents.”
“Presents?” Virago repeated as she perked up, moving to her door, leaned on its frame, and raked her ebony bangs from her blue eyes.
“Yes, many and costly.”
Lord Caliber jumped at the opportunity and added, “Edward shall surely turn back if he hears you have called off the wedding. He shall take all his presents with him.”
“No presents,” Virago said, thought about it, then unlocked her door, and ordered, “Do not just stand there, dress me.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the handkerchief Flaxen offered as she said, “We do not want to keep my husband waiting.”