A Field of Flowers

Once upon a time, in a country where gears still whirred and turned, powered by the wonders of steam, there was a handsome prince. He had thick, wavy brown hair and vibrant blue eyes like the shade of the sky at high noon. He was a gifted marksman, a swift runner, and had a sharp mind that was only rivalled by his country’s top scholars. Being the oldest of the king and queen’s three children, he had already begun to command his followers as if he had been crowned premature leader.
And this prince knew he was surely blessed by the gods – his arrogance radiated off of him, hanging around his figure like an aura. However, his people were so in awe of him, they pretended to ignore his cockiness and continued to idolize him. His aging parents were concerned about their son’s sense of self worth but kept this to themselves, in fear of their son rising against them. And the prince’s sister and brother simply hovered in the background, hoping for a day when they could be admired as well.

The prince’s one fatal flaw was his extreme narcissism. Every morning and every night, he would examine himself in a fine, gold-framed mirror and praise his face, his figure, and his mind. The servant who was given the honoured task of polishing the mirror, a wise young woman, was also the only servant who did not worship her master. To her, the prince was simply average-looking with average talents, an average intelligence, and a dangerous habit of hubris. No one could compare to the young servant’s lover, with whom she snuck out of the palace every night.

One night, the prince felt particularly confident after his gaze upon the mirror and demanded that the young servant went to bed with him. Naturally, she refused, and in his fury the prince took her for himself anyway. Feeling ashamed, she snuck out after the prince had fallen asleep and travelled to a small cottage on the outskirts of town, where a wise woman resided. After listening to the young servant explain what had happened and beg for help, the wise woman agreed to a plan of revenge. The young servant stayed for the night, broadening her magical knowledge as the wise woman concocted a spell and detailed its results to the young servant. Soon before dawn arrived, the young servant hurried back to the castle and went through the day performing her tasks and chores as usual.

As night approached once again, the prince stood in front of his fine mirror, praising his face, figure, and mind. He soon noticed a gold crown appear over his shoulder in his reflection and turned to examine it. The crown was detailed with precious diamonds, blood-red rubies, vibrant emeralds, and intricately carved patterns in the gold, and seemed to levitate in the air as if the gods were holding it out towards him. As soon as his fingers curled around the edge, gears appeared and began to turn around the mirror’s polished surface, and he turned again in shock to face it. The frame was widening, the gold decor replaced by bronzed gears, and the prince smiled in delight as the mirror expanded, giving him more room to view himself. While gazing straight into the reflection’s eyes, he placed the crown upon his head, failing to notice the young servant appearing behind him. She quickly recited the incantation the wise woman had taught her, and shielded her eyes at the sudden flash of blinding white light. When she peered over the edge of her hand and looked in the mirror, the prince’s eyes stared back in shock. The young servant had trapped him in the mirror, surrounded by a field of narcissus flowers, forever doomed to never view his face again. Enlisting the help of a few others, the young servant smuggled the mirror out of the castle and sent it to a foreign country, where the wonders of steam had been antiquated.

And now, the prince is trapped in the mirror, with no one but the narcissus flowers to hear him scream, “I was given to mortals by the gods! You had no right to do this to me! I’m the best of them all!”

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The shopkeeper peered over the edges of her cat’s-eye glasses, a twinkle in her eye. “That’s the story, anyway. The old woman who sold it to me was an interesting little lady. Convinced that the Greek gods would talk to her.” She shrugged and took out a ring of keys. “Would you still like to see the mirror? It’s in the back.”