A Wedding Proposal
A Winning Fairy-Tale
Hello, everyone, and thank you for reading. Last week, I promised to publish my group-winning story for NYC Midnight’s Short Story Competition. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this one, and I hope you enjoy reading it. The judges stated it was ‘beautifully crafted’ and a ‘wonderful setup for a new fairytale. I’d love to know if you agree!
A Wedding Proposal
By Kenny Penn
Once upon a time, a proud queen of fairy blood ruled over the land of Eules. Her name was Peony. Like the flower, her beauty was legendary, her hand sought by kings and nobles worldwide. Her people loved her, for though her fury was said to be dreadful, she was fair in judgments and fiercely protective of her subjects.
One day, while Queen Peony tended her rose garden, one of her maidservants entered through a garden gate and hurriedly knelt at her feet. “My Queen,” she said, “Lord Basel has arrived and has requested the grace of your presence.”
“Myriam,” the queen chided, “how often must I tell you there is no need to prostrate yourself? I am not a goddess to be worshipped.”
“Apologies, your Grace,” Myriam replied, bowing deeper, “but it wouldn’t be proper for your servant to be seen as discourteous.”
Tiny silver bells woven in the queen’s golden hair whispered musically as her head shook. “Foolish Myriam, there is none but us out here to witness such formality.”
“Your Grace, Lord Basel?”
“Yes, lead the way. We mustn’t keep him waiting.”
Myriam straightened gracefully and led the way inside the palace proper. As always, the queen felt a pang of regret upon passing through its wooden arches. The palace’s white-marbled walls and grey-tiled floors were forever silent, indifferent as death, its many colorful paintings and grand murals cold compared to the bountiful life thriving amongst her flowers and shrubs.
Lord Basel bowed as Peony entered the great hall. A handsome man, human, and young, even by the standards of his race. He wore a dark silk coat embroidered with gold thread and was bejeweled on his wrists, fingers, and neck. His black hair had been braided with eagle feathers and slicked back with scented oils in the fashion of the nobility. He’d brought a servant with him, a bearded middle-aged man who wore naught but a simple brown tunic over grey trousers the Queen surmised could hardly have cost more than the thread used to make them.
“Lord Basel,” she said. “How can your queen be of service?”
The young lord straightened and smiled charmingly. “Your Grace, I have come seeking your hand in marriage.”
“That is bold of you, Lord Basel,” the queen remarked, raising an eyebrow. “Usually, your father would be the one to ask for such a boon, but he died of inebriety, did he not?”
The nobleman flushed. “If you’ll excuse me, your grace, my late lord father was a drunken fool. I am not such as he.”
“Indeed,” she replied. “What makes you different than the others before you?”
Basel took a deep breath and spread his hands. “Before my father passed, he found a prize of great value and thought to keep it to himself. If you agree to marry me, I will give it to you.”
Peony glanced at Myriam, who looked bewildered. “And what might that be, my Lord?”
The nobleman smiled. “Wings, my queen. Iridescent, glorious. Your wings. Found by my father years ago, though where I know not.”
“My wings,” the queen whispered, lips thinly pressed. “You would gift me my wings as a bridal offering?”
The manservant’s eyes widened at the queen’s words, but Lord Basel didn’t notice. “Yes, if it pleases you, your Grace.”
Queen Peony nodded slowly. “At last, to fly again,” she mused. “Long have I cursed the thief who stole them in my sleep. In three days, hence, then. Let it be done.” She gestured beside her. “This is my most trusted servant, Myriam. She shall serve as my bridesmaid. I shall send her to you each day with a quest. Should you succeed, we shall marry on the eve of the third day, and you shall return me my wings.”
The young lord beamed. “As you say, my queen, so shall it be.”
***
Early on the morning of the first day, Myriam knocked on the door to Lord Basel’s palace rooms. His manservant answered, greeting her with the utmost courtesy due to someone far beyond her station. Curious about a man with such manners, she asked for his name.
“Orlen, my lady, may it please you.” He bowed deeply. “Will you let me take your coat?”
“Please,” Myriam agreed, watching as he hung it carefully on the rack. Only one other coat hung there; the same Lord Basel had been wearing the previous day. Did Orlen not have coats of his own? Indeed, he must, for the nights in Eules were yet cold.
Before she could inquire, Orlen extended his hand. “Now, my lady, if you will follow me to my Lord’s study.”
Lord Basel was busy writing a letter when they entered, so he bid them wait. He wore a red silk shirt with deep bluestone buttons on the chest and cuffs tucked into black-dyed trousers fastened to his waist by a broad gold buckle.
“Ah, the bridesmaid,” he said, without further greeting, and set down his quill, “here to give me my first quest.”
“It is a simple task, my Lord. Outside these palace walls lives a family whose father has fallen ill. Our Queen’s physician has assured her the man will be well again given enough time, but he cannot provide the nourishment his family needs while the illness remains. The queen would like you to see to this matter at once.”
“The Queen wishes me to intercede on behalf of a peasant family, like some manor lord?” The young nobleman shook his head. “For what purpose?”
“But, my Lord!” Orlen exclaimed. “This is a matter easily resolved! We yet have much of the wheat we brought with us. More than we need to return home. Give me the word, and I shall fetch enough for them to quiet their bellies for a full fortnight.”
“No,” Lord Basel sneered. “I’ll not have good wheat wasted on peasant mouths.” He tapped his narrow chin in thought. “Send the family to the lower city with a few guardsmen and order one of the innkeepers to give them loaves.”
“That may cost the good innkeeper more than he can afford, Lord Basel,” Myriam warned.
“I care not about what he feeds them,” Basel shrugged, “as long as they are fed. Give them pig slop if he has any.”
“As you say, my Lord,” Myriam bowed. Orlen showed her to the door, laying her coat gently about her shoulders, and she saw he was quite saddened.
***
On the morning of the second day, Myriam brought the nobleman to the market plaza. “Our Queen wishes to look radiant for your wedding, my Lord, and would like you to find a trinket for her hair.”
Lord Basel was pleased to be given such a task and set about with gusto, sampling gems, ribbons, pearls, and brooches of all shapes and sizes. Finally, he selected a red silk ribbon woven with dozens of tiny pearls, sapphires, and rubies.
“Please give this to the queen with my compliments,” the lord said. “It is my fondest hope that it should bring her joy.”
“Thank you, Lord Basel,” Myriam said, carefully pocketing the trinket. “It shall be as you say.”
A beggar child, dressed in rags, smeared with dirt and grime, and smelling most foul, ran from a nearby alley and approached them. Its face was pale and hollow-cheeked, its eyes downcast and sagging in exhaustion.
“Excuse me,” the wretched child pleaded, “Could you spare a copper or two? I’ve eaten naught for days.”
Lord Basel clutched a handkerchief to his nose and shook with rage. “How dare you!” He motioned to a nearby guard. “Take this street urchin away and have it whipped within an inch of its life! That will teach it some manners!”
As the guard dragged the child away, Orlen hurriedly pressed something hard into Myriam’s palm.
“Please, my lady,” he whispered, glancing warily at his master’s back. “It is only food the child seeks. Give the child this small token from my own purse.”
He bowed and left. When Myriam opened her hand, she saw Orlen had given her an entire piece of silver and was moved to tears.
***
On the morning of the third day, Myriam brought the nobleman to the edge of the Queen’s wood. “Queen Peony wishes to celebrate your wedding with a feast and has asked that you hunt and kill a wild boar.”
Lord Basel grinned, nodding eagerly over his horse’s neck. “If my queen desires boar, then boar she shall have!” But though the nobleman hunted all morning and into the early afternoon, he could find neither hoof nor hair of a boar and, not wanting to be late for his meeting with the queen, bitterly called an end to the hunt.
Before they returned to the safety of the queen’s walls, a brawny man stepped out of the shadows and into their path. He held a magicked longsword wrapped in glowing bluish hues.
“I am called Robert, the Bold,” the brawny man said. “Give me all of your gold or die by my blade.”
“I-“ Lord Basel licked his lips and stepped back, his hand trembling on his sword pommel. “I will do no s-such thing, you c-cur. We outnumber you three to one, so b-begone!”
The bandit nodded thoughtfully. “It’s true; there are three of you and but one of me.” He pointed his sword at Myriam. “But one of you is a woman, which makes the odds better for me.” He looked to the sky, pretending to think. “Tell you what. I could take you both, but I’m feeling generous. How about you give me the lady to warm my bed, and I’ll let you pass unharmed?”
Looking relieved, Lord Basel opened his mouth, but Orlen brandished his short sword and shouted, “Over my dead body, fiend!”
“Then die!” The bandit shouted back and rushed them, glowing sword held high.
Basel screamed and nearly tripped as he skipped backward, placing himself behind his servant. Orlen rushed forward to meet the threat. Myriam, seeing he was no true swordsman, screamed for fear of his safety, but Robert the Bold tripped over a rock, impaled himself upon Orlen’s sword, and died soon thereafter.
“Orlen!” Myriam dashed to and embraced him, her tears hot against his cheek. “You saved me!”
“Yes,” Lord Basel mused, “you did. Now the wedding is saved, for surely the queen will find that since we saved her bridesmaid, the boar no longer matters. Fortune has smiled on me this day!”
“As you say, my Lord,” Myriam said, grateful to be alive.
***
Later, Queen Peony entered the great hall where Lord Basel waited, brimming with confidence. Myriam entered behind her, dressed beautifully in a long yellow satin gown embroidered with white flowers, her hair woven with the gem-encrusted ribbon the young lord had intended for the queen.
The nobleman’s smile faltered, but he quickly recovered. “Your lady makes a lovely bridesmaid, your Grace, beautiful as a star. Does this mean you have agreed to our marriage?”
The queen favored him with a smile. “You have brought my wings?”
“Of course, your Grace,” Basel said, gesturing to Orlen. “My servant has them tucked away safely in my palace rooms.”
Orlen blushed but remained silent. The queen looked to Myriam, who nodded. She had confirmed this detail with Orlen earlier.
“Very good, my Lord,” Queen Peony said. “I have but three final matters to attend. Perhaps you’d like to assist me?”
Lord Basel bowed. “Of course, my queen, you have but to ask.”
Queen Peony nodded. “Three criminals have been brought before my court this day and judged guilty. I need help determining what judgments to impose. The first is a farmer who has refused to give his lawful share of crops to the realm. He insists I find food from other sources needing it less. The second is a merchant caught lying about his profits to avoid paying proper taxes to his queen, and the third is a soldier turned deserter. How shall I punish these criminals, my lord?”
“Despicable crimes, my queen.” Basel shook his head grimly. “Because of the farmer’s selfishness, people of the realm may go hungry and starve during famine. You should order all his crops taken to teach him the value of sharing. The merchant is greedy, but more than that, he shows little compassion for the well-being of his fellows. My queen may be less capable of paying the kingdom’s debts and fulfilling its obligations, which threatens our peace. For that, the merchant should lose everything, condemned to live the rest of his life as a beggar.”
Peony pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “Very wise, Lord Basel. And the soldier?”
The nobleman scowled. “The law is clear. The penalty for desertion is death. The kingdom should not suffer cowards to live.”
Again, the queen nodded. “Thank you, Lord Basel. You have given your answers and thus sealed your fate.”
Basel drew back, unsure he’d heard his queen correctly. When he met her gaze, he visibly paled, for the corners of her eyes smoked with an icy frost. “M-my queen! What –“
The Queen cut him off with a finger. “You expect the farmer to give freely of his crops, yet you refused to help a hungry family with crops of your own.” She lifted a second finger. “You rightly accuse the merchant of greed and lack of compassion, yet you sent a destitute child away to be whipped instead of offering coin or food.” She lifted a third. “You accuse the soldier of cowardice, yet when Lady Myriam’s life was in danger, you screamed in terror and fled behind your manservant, Orlen.”
“Wait!” The nobleman pleaded. “I still –“
“Furthermore,” the queen continued cooly, “you offer me the wings your father cut from my back whilst I slept, pretending to know nothing of his treachery and would sell back to me that which is mine by right. For these crimes, I take from you that which you would take from those criminals. Lord Basel, your home and title, I bestow to Orlen, who has shown far more compassion and bravery than his master. Your life, however, belongs to me. A new statue for my garden, I think.”
Peony’s eyes grew larger, and the air grew colder with them. Basel screamed as light erupted from his eyes, mouth, and nose before bursting from every pore until he was shrouded in light. Orlen and Myriam covered their faces and screamed.
When the light dimmed, Lord Basel stood frozen in stone, his mouth forever open in an expression of fear and disbelief.
“Myriam,” the queen said calmly, “see that my new statue is moved to the garden. Close to the aviary, I think. Lord Orlen?”
Face pale, Orlen forced his gaze away from his former master. “Yes, my queen?”
“Bring me my wings. After that, you should arrange to sup with Myriam. I think she likes you.”
###
Well, what do you think? I hope you enjoyed it. If so, please consider subscribing to be notified of future publications. Thanks again for reading!
-Kenny