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Princess Evelyn

A fiction piece by Anonymous

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Princess Evelyn wore a most pained expression as a man in an all-teal suit entered the throne room. He looked quite ridiculous, in her opinion, with all the frills and ruffs on his suit fluttering about. But she had promised her father to meet each of her suitors with grace and kindness.


She had managed well for the first twenty or thirty men she had met, but this man was somewhere around number seventy, and her patience had worn thin. She had met knights in shining armor, lords of fortunes, scholars of vast knowledge, and every man in between. Yet they all lacked the same quality, an interest in her.


They did not care who the princess was; they merely cared what marrying the princess would mean for them. To lead an army, to expand a fortune, to gain access to a library, and every other thing a man wishes for.

She wished desperately for one of them to ask her a single question. Even, “How are you today?” would suffice. But each would enter and begin to tell her what she would gain from their engagement.


The man in teal was no different, blabbering on about the hardiness of his crops. “How daft can he be?” thought Princess Evelyn. “I must look most desperately bored or in deep pain, yet he continues on about his wheat. Hardy wheat I have. A strong frost couldn’t kill it.


After what seemed to be hours, the man finished his proposal and bid the Princess farewell. Immediately upon the man’s exit, Francis Veltrop appeared in the doorway with a pained expression upon his face. “Shall I bring the next suitor, milady?”


“Does this pain you as much as it does I, Francis?” asked Princess Evelyn.


“No, milady,” answered Francis closing the doors to the throne room behind him. “It’s just been a long day, it has.”


“Be honest Francis,” said Princess Evelyn. “These men bore you as much as they do I?”


“Do you ask or tell, milady?”


“I ask,” responded Princess Evelyn, a smile upon her face. “I ask, and I expect a truthful response.”


Francis stood for a moment fidgeting with his trousers. “I. I. I believe as your father does that one of them is your future suitor.”


“Horseshit!” shouted Princess Evelyn. “Pardon my French, but I asked for the truth, Francis, and I still have yet to hear it.”


“The truth does not matter, milady,” Francis said firmly. “Your father expects you to choose a suitor, and that is what you must do. So, shall I bring the next suitor, milady.”


“Very well then,” sighed Princess Evelyn slumping in her throne. She had no intention of meeting any more suitors with grace or kindness or even polite boredom. If these men were to be her suitor, then she had some proposals of her own to make.


The next man, dressed in shimmering white armor, entered to find an empty throne. As he turned to locate the princess, he was struck upon the back sending him face first into the white marble floor.


“Some knight you are,” laughed Princess Evelyn dropping a large flagpole in which she had ripped her kingdom’s flag from.


“My, my, my princess you caught me by surprise,” said the knight stumbling to his feet. “What, what incited you to do such a thing?”


“I can do what I wish. I am a princess, am I not?” asked Princess Evelyn with a wicked grin.


“You, you cannot do whatever you wish, milady. You, you must answer to the king, your, your father. And you, you must answer to the future king, your, your husband.”


“And do you wish to be my husband, the future king or just a knight stumbling with his words?”


“I, I, I,” the knight began, but before he could finish, Princess Evelyn, who once again held her flagpole, chased him out of the throne room.


She watched, a smile plastered between her rosy red cheeks, as the remaining suitors slowly backed away from her. “It only took a little fear to see some respect,” thought Princess Evelyn feeling light as a feather.


“Ahh!” shouted Princess Evelyn holding the flagpole above her head which sent the remaining suitors shuffling down the castle steps.


“Princess, what have you done?” asked Francis cowering in a corner, slightly shocked, slightly frightened.


“I have done what I have thought about doing my whole life dear Francis,” said Princess Evelyn. “Have you never wished to do the same? Has the king never unnerved you?”


“Never, milady,” said Francis shaking his head.


“You surprise me then,” said Princess Evelyn losing her smile. “I never figured you to be a loyal servant through and through.”


“Well, I am,” said Francis straightening himself. “And what shall I tell the king of this, he will be most disappointed.”


“Tell him what you wish. I am a princess, and I intend to use my title for more than tea parties, social appearances, and being married off,” said Princess Evelyn admiring the kingdom stretched out before her. The kingdom she had only admired from one side of the window for all her life, and the kingdom in which she intended to admire firsthand for the rest of her life.

“You do not consider leaving, milady? Do you?” asked Francis.


“I do not consider, Francis,” said Princess Evelyn. “I must. I will. I am. And I wish for you to come with me. Come see the world beyond these walls.”


“I cannot, and you cannot. The king, your father, insists for you to be married. And so you must!”


“That’s the spirit,” said Princess Evelyn looking upon Francis with a smile. “Deep within you is a person, much more than a servant. I hope while I’m away that you will find him. And I hope that you will tell my father that I love him and that I will return upon finding my suitor. Not a suitor that wishes to marry Princess Evelyn, but just Evelyn. And a suitor that cares to know me, not just what marrying me will provide them.”


“But, b--,” trailed off Francis because Princess Evelyn had already begun her way down the stairs and out of the castle. But instead of stopping her, Francis watched while digesting her words. Maybe there was more to her than being princess, and more to him than being servant.


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