Shadow of the Prince

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Dal thought hard about her mousy appearance, her long curly locks pulled back in a quick knot at the back of her head. The servant, Lidia she'd seen about the kitchens before had gap teeth, brown eyes, and plumpness in her cheeks from years of good eating. 

She felt her clothes begin to restrict her, but when the process was complete she could still breathe fine. She smoothed her hand over her newfound curves, so much prettier than the sharpness in her own features.

The guards in front of the Prince's large, golden door, never stood a chance against her tricks.

Grant me cunning for my mission. Allow me grace and elegance, to enchant. Give me a voice to convince. To convince to convince to convince.

"Good evening, Soldiers," she said, a foreign, deeper voice came from her mouth. Dal was pleased in an odd way to find that it didn't sound altogether unpleasant. "I have brought a glass of wine, at the Prince's behest."

"The Prince didn't send for wine," one of the guardsmen replied, his tone cautious. 

"It was arranged for by his majesty earlier," she said dismissively, erring for blind confidence rather than meekness. She hoped she was not misguided.

The guards exchanged a glance, but she felt her magic working, its tendrils reaching out and wrapping itself around the guard's bodies like a warm blanket.

The guard smiled at her, and opened the door.

Dal slipped through before she could think better of it.

She padded through the hall, letting her feet guide her before her mind could catch up. She found herself standing in the same archway as yesterday, but this time in an entirely different face and body than she had been in before.

Prince Tullvomm was lounging on a couch, his feet propped up and a book in his hand. She was lucky in her guess that he would be here. Otherwise, she would have had to wander around his private quarters aimlessly, trying to fumble for an excuse as to why she was here.

Sort of like she was fumbling right now.

Prince Tullvomm looked up from his book, surprise alighting on his face at her form in the archway.

"...Yes?"

Dal dashed a quick curtsy, swallowing hard before she began to speak.

"A glass of wine, sent from your mother," another lie. 

For a moment she thought he might send her away, but the same tendrils of feeling left her and brushed against his skin, and he broke under the weight, completely unaware of the intrusion.

"Well, do bring it, then."

Dal shuffled forward, and held the tray out to the Prince, avoiding his gaze as he took the glass. She watched in wide-eyed fear as he immediately tossed the wine back.

Before he could finish the glass, Dal broke for the exit, needing to be far away from the Prince when the magic took hold of him. 

The last thing she needed was for the Prince to look up at her and wonder why one moment he was in love with the servant Lidia, and the next he fervently adored the Magistrar's apprentice.

Without a second look back, she fled the Prince's chambers, back through the hall and out the Prince's gilded door. She had to forcibly slow herself as she passed the guards, trying to look as bored and inconspicuous as possible.

She felt the final tremor of victory as she ascended the stairs to the third floor, and relief set in as she realized that she had finally set her terrible plan into motion. In a few days, Princess Aramaia would be leaving the castle, and it would only be a matter of time before Prince Tullvomm, driven mad by his love for her, would ask for her hand in marriage. Her mother's wish would finally be complete, and she could break the curse on the kingdom of Eidas. She could see Theikuth again, and perhaps have rooms for him here in the castle, near hers. She wouldn't have to be alone once she was protected by the Prince's name.

So lost in thought was Dal, that she failed to see the guards at the top of the stairs before it was too late.

The guards jumped out from behind their positions on the sides of the wall, half-hidden by curtains, and took hold of her arms, swept her feet out from under her, and threw her onto the ground before she could even utter a sound of surprise. 

Her face pressed against the regal carpet on the floor. Her heart raced wildly, and panicked tears sprung to her eyes.

Her worst fears were confirmed, as a beautifully gold toed boot came into her line of vision.

"Take the witch to the dungeons, and lock her away," King Belatron's booming voice angrily ordered above her. She didn't have to see his face to know that hatred was there. "She'll burn for her treachery."

The world around her darkened, and Dal knew not what happened around her.