The Porcelain Princess
part one
Time progressed, as it is wont to, and the time came when His Majesty the King approached his daughter to discuss marriage. Her alliance should, he explained, be both to her own satisfaction and to the kingdom's political benefit. With all her charm she fluttered her eyelashes and replied,
“Father-” smiling with insincere sincerity “- well is it known I am the most beautiful princess who ever lived. I ask only that I may wed the most handsome prince – be the match to your liking.”
The aged king could only smile at his charming daughter and nod, exclaiming that he would send immediately for princes the world over to travel to their kingdom for his daughter's hand. The Princess' smile curved wider still and she turned from the King to resume gazing at her porcelain reflection in the looking glass: it gazed serenely back at her, interrupted only by the Princess wiping at the glass with a cloth forbidding dust to settle upon its surface.
Messengers were sent; within mere days the suitors came flooding in from surrounding kingdoms. Each day that passed brought men yet more exotic, further travelled, with larger retinues. Each hour one was allowed into the palace to be appraised by the Princess – and each hour one was turned out more often than not red-faced with anger and bruised pride, sharply ordering their followers to pack their bags to return home, with the Princess looking on amused. All were entranced by the young woman's beauty, but none found themselves handsome enough to earn more than her scornful dismissal. As the weeks passed, the King's face grew ever more troubled.
“My daughter,” he began on entering her room one morning, “many of the suits these princes bring would greatly benefit the kingdom – perhaps you ought not dismiss them so quickly...” Yet the stubborn girl only shook her head, frowning at her father's request.
“None match me, father. I will wed only he whose beauty can compare to my own.”
And the King sighed and left her.
“Father-” smiling with insincere sincerity “- well is it known I am the most beautiful princess who ever lived. I ask only that I may wed the most handsome prince – be the match to your liking.”
The aged king could only smile at his charming daughter and nod, exclaiming that he would send immediately for princes the world over to travel to their kingdom for his daughter's hand. The Princess' smile curved wider still and she turned from the King to resume gazing at her porcelain reflection in the looking glass: it gazed serenely back at her, interrupted only by the Princess wiping at the glass with a cloth forbidding dust to settle upon its surface.
Messengers were sent; within mere days the suitors came flooding in from surrounding kingdoms. Each day that passed brought men yet more exotic, further travelled, with larger retinues. Each hour one was allowed into the palace to be appraised by the Princess – and each hour one was turned out more often than not red-faced with anger and bruised pride, sharply ordering their followers to pack their bags to return home, with the Princess looking on amused. All were entranced by the young woman's beauty, but none found themselves handsome enough to earn more than her scornful dismissal. As the weeks passed, the King's face grew ever more troubled.
“My daughter,” he began on entering her room one morning, “many of the suits these princes bring would greatly benefit the kingdom – perhaps you ought not dismiss them so quickly...” Yet the stubborn girl only shook her head, frowning at her father's request.
“None match me, father. I will wed only he whose beauty can compare to my own.”
And the King sighed and left her.