Gillian Trownson

True Love Waits

Prince Charming’s parents had decided a year ago that he needed to get married, and soon. They were getting on in years, and wanted him to have someone with whom he could share their modest kingdom when they were gone. They became obsessed with the idea of marrying him off to someone, anyone, provided she had royal blood or, at the very least, a wealthy family.

That’s why they held the balls. For three nights in a row, women of fine breeding from all over the continent came and danced and mingled with him, hoping for a connection. And he had found one, but much to his parents’ chagrin, the woman he chose had not even been invited to the ball, but had crashed the gates; he fell in love with a dancing scullery maid in clear plastic shoes.

After announcing his intentions to marry Cinderella, Charming’s parents did all they could to get rid of her. Eventually, of course, they succeeded; they always did. He didn’t know what happened to Cindy, only that she had been there one day, and the next she was gone. Charming’s father declared his innocence, but his mother simply told him that the little tramp wasn’t coming back, ever, and that no bleach blonde hussy would ever be queen as long as she had anything to do with it.

Some months later, to assuage his grief, he adopted a dog, a butter yellow long-haired mongrel with a ratty tail and big paws. Princess was ugly but faithful, and somehow helped to fill the void Cindy’s absence had left. The two of them would pass their days together going for walks in the palace gardens or playing fetch with his father’s royal scepter, and Charming was, for the most part, happy. He missed Cinderella, but as the months went by, he slowly released the last remnants of hope he retained of ever seeing her again. He let the lock of hair she’d given him fly in the wind, imagining it to be a deep and symbolic gesture of his readiness to move on with his life: he was giving the only thing he had of hers to the birds and it was free to soar away as she had. Unfortunately, as the wind carried the lock from his hand, Princess jumped up and devoured it in one long and labored gulp, and Charming doubted that he would ever have Cinderella completely gone from his life.

It was around this time that his parents started nagging him about getting married again. “You’re not going to have us around forever,” his mother said, “and we just want someone to be there to take care of you when we’re gone.”

“I’ll do it in my own time,” he said, repeating the mantra his therapist had once made him chant on a weekly basis.

“We’ll see,” his mother said with a smile.

In bed that night, with Princess curled up by his side, Charming began to worry about what his mother had said. “I still love Cindy,” he told her. Princess licked his hand and he scratched her ear. He thought for a moment. “If I could just marry you, I would,” he said. “But it isn’t legal. Even so, you understand me better than anyone else, and you never leave the bathroom a mess. You don’t care about money or jewelry, and I don’t think you’ll ever leave me. You’re the best dog a prince could ask for.” Princess whined and nuzzled closer to him, and Charming put his arm around her and fell asleep.

The next morning, Charming’s mother knocked on the door.

“My darling boy.” She was grinning.

“What is it, your majesty?”

“Your father and I have a young lady coming for you today, a lovely young heiress from Bulgaria. You must get ready! Your facial begins in one hour, and then you have a mani-pedi at one. Finally, we want you to have a detoxifying body wrap before she arrives. I think it will make you less irritable. She is very special, son; I do hope you will make a good impression on her. Oh, and keep that mongrel in your room while she’s here.”

Charming dismissed his mother. “What a witch.”

Princess growled in agreement.

Seven hours later, the preparations for Mila’s arrival from Sophia were complete, and Charming stood in the foyer waiting for her white stretch Hummer to cross the moat. He was wearing a tuxedo, a burgundy velvet cloak and his crown, which he hadn’t worn since his parents had arranged for MTV to host his sixteenth birthday party three years earlier.

The Hummer drove through the front entrance. Charming opened the door for Mila and bowed to her lightly. She was slight, dark and beautiful, with long, chocolate colored hair, deep brown eyes and long lashes. She brushed by him with a quiet “Thank you,” and stood in the center of the foyer, the broken colored light that filtered through the stained glass window shining on her. She smelled like gardenias and he instantly hated her.

“I’m Charming,” he said, in case she hadn’t noticed his crown.

“I know. Mila.”

He led her into the main dining room, where his parents were waiting.

"Mila,” his mother said, rising from her seat and kissing the girl on each cheek. “We are delighted to see you.”

Mila smiled and curtsied, and took a seat at the table.

“Tell us a little about yourself dear,” said the queen.

“I’m an only child and my father owns a mine. I grew up in Bulgaria, but I went to school in France. I speak four languages fluently, and I have my own chateau in Switzerland. I’m a world class ballerina.”

“Oh how fascinating!” his mother said.

The rest of the dinner went on in a similar way. Charming learned that Mila could play both the piano and the violin, that she wanted to be an actress some day, and that her favorite drink was Cristal. She didn’t want to have children, but instead to adopt, and if she and Charming were to marry, they would own twenty three houses in nineteen countries between the two of them to start. Throughout this, Charming was elated to learn that he need not speak at all. He simply sat at the table, nodded when Mila spoke and drank beer after beer, waiting for the meal to end.

As the servants cleared dessert, there was a large crash in the kitchen. Amid the sound of crystal goblets and the good silver tumbling to the ground, there was a long, low growl. The door to the dining room burst open and in bounded Princess, the chain that kept her tied in the menagerie broken. She snarled at Charming’s parents and bared her teeth at Mila, who slowly backed away, clutching her champagne flute.

“I told you to keep that mutt under control, Charming!” his mother said. “It’s scaring your guest!”

Charming stumbled to his feet and reached for Princess’ chain. The dog calmed down immediately and began to rub up against Charming’s leg, more like a kitten than the 120 pound oaf that she was. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, patting her head. She looked up at him, and from the sudden comfort reflected in the dog’s eyes, he saw something, something his parents would not have wanted him to see.

A flash of recognition. That’s all it was, one brief millisecond, and he knew. This wasn’t a real dog; it couldn’t be. The look in her eyes was too human, too understanding. And was her fur not the same color as Cindy’s hair? The dog’s coat was shinier, but Princess’ fur had never experienced the damaging effects of peroxide bleach that Cinderella’s hair had. No wonder the dog was so loyal, so faithful to him, no wonder she loved him and detested everyone else. He’d always thought it was the hint of pitt bull in her, but no. She hated the others because she knew they were trying to make him forget her. He fell to his knees.

“Cindy, Cindy! I can’t believe it’s you Cinderella!” he threw his arms around the dog’s neck and she licked his face.

“Charming, what are you doing?” His mother looked genuinely concerned. She frowned at him and crossed her arms. “Are you feeling okay?”

“No! You turned my girlfriend into a dog! I loved her then and I love her now. Change her back!”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear. Why don’t you go up to bed and we can talk about this later...”

“No. I want you to change her back. Now. Please,” he added.

“You’re crazy,” Mila said.

“No, he’s drunk. Mila, how about I have the king escort you back to your car?”

Mila nodded and the king pulled her away quickly.

His mother tried to pull him up, but Charming could no longer stand. He was unable to do anything but hold onto Princess’ neck and laugh.

“Maybe if I kiss her, it will break the spell.” He leaned in and kissed Princess squarely on the mouth, but when he pulled away, nothing happened. The dog licked his face and whined. His mother left the room.

“You must think I’m an idiot for not noticing before,” he said between fits. “But if you won’t change her back, I want to marry her like this, now.”

He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and called information. “Yes I would like to speak with Fred Wednesday,” he said, giving the name of the local television station’s investigative reporter. “It’s very important.”

His call was transfered, and after two rings, Fred Wednesday picked up. “Fred Wednesday, Channel Five News.”

“Fred, Fred, hi, this is Prince Charming and I need you to uncover some dirt on my parents.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Only a little. Look, my mom is a witch and she turned my girlfriend into a dog and I really need you to expose her as the horrible person she is, and also get my girlfriend turned back into a human so I can legally marry her, or find out how to make it okay for humans to marry dogs, or--”

“Son, son. You want to marry your dog?”

“Yes, but she’s actually my girlfriend and she had a horrible spell cast on her.”

"And what is your dog’s name?”

“Well, she was named Princess, but now her name is Cindy, because I know her secret identity.”

“I see. Well, it certainly sounds like an interesting story, Prince Charming. I’ll see what I can do for you.” There was a click, and the call was over.

“Thanks,” Charming said into the dead phone line. “I really do appreciate it.”

The next morning, Charming awoke on the dining room floor curled up with Princess. He had a massive headache.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said. She yawned and stretched. “I’m going to get you some breakfast and see if we can’t figure this thing out. There’s got to be a way to turn you back.”

He went into the kitchen, wincing at the fluorescent lights above him. He grabbed some microwaved bacon, a bagel and the disheveled newspaper, and headed back into the dining room. He fed Princess the bacon, piece by piece, as he struggled to put the paper back together. On the front page, he saw a fuzzy picture of himself from last night, trying to kiss Princess.

Royal Heir Wants to Marry Mutt, the headline read. Underneath was an eyewitness account by some of the kitchen staff, stating that the prince had gone crazy last night, eschewing a beautiful maiden in favor of his mangy rescue dog. “We’ve always known he was a bit strange,” the head cook was quoted as saying, “but I never thought he would resort to bestiality. His parents are so nice and normal, and I’m pretty sure that bitch must have fleas.”

This is only the latest in a string of strange behavior from our future ruler. Last fall, he tried to marry a poor scullery maid. Channel Five investigative reporter Fred Wednesday says he believes that the prince suffers from a classic case of “White Knight syndrome,” the desire to rescue any woman he perceives as being in trouble. “I will of course go more in-depth in my hour-long special Wednesday night at eleven o’clock, but I believe that the Prince truly thinks that the only way he can adequately save this dog is by marrying it. I hope to prod as deeply as possible into his psyche, showing the imbalance that awaits us as a society if he is allowed to rule in the future.

"That bastard,” Charming said. “I trusted him. So much for an unbiased media!”

The article continued on, and while everyone had his own theories about the prince, there was one consensus opinion. All the interviewees seemed to believe that Charming was dangerous, at the very least to himself, but more than likely to the people as well.

And then, just as suddenly as he’d known that Princess was actually Cinderella, Prince Charming knew what he had to do to save face. He called a press conference for later that evening. He had some very important news to share with the kingdom.

“My friends,” Charming began, “I will be brief. I will not take any questions; I would simply like to tell my side of the story. Almost a year ago, I fell in love with a wonderful woman, Cinderella. She was a scullery maid, but she was a good person and a fantastic dancer. My parents, as you may know, did not approve of her, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me that she disappeared one day, and despite my best efforts, I was never able to track her down. I was distraught. The only comfort I found was in my dog, Princess. This is where things, admittedly, get a bit strange. I have reason--serious reason--to believe that this dog is none other than my beloved Cinderella, put under a spell by my mother, whom I believe is not a royal, but a witch.”

The crowd booed.

“As such, I can no longer in good conscience continue living life as I have with my family. I do not trust them, nor do I condone the actions that I believe they perpetrated. Consequently, I feel that I must give up my birthright. I shall no longer be your prince. I wish only for a normal life with my dog, who I love with all my heart. I am formally handing over my claim to the throne to my dear uncle, Prince Obsequious, effective immediately. I shall leave the castle under the cover of night, and I would like to live out the rest of my days in anonymity. Please respect my wishes.”

Camera bulbs flashed and the crowd cheered. Charming quickly left the stage, ignoring photographers’ requests for him to hug the dog for their cameras.

That night, he and the dog climbed into a black Buick LeSabre his parents had procured for him, and they left the kingdom forever. Charming and Princess moved into a small cottage in the Scottish highlands, where he made his living as a fortune teller and Princess served as his protection against intruders. They lived a happy life together for the next several years; Princess grew fat on haggis and blood pudding, and Charming felt the sort of freedom he’d never had as prince. He was a doting lover, and when Princess finally died of old age, he started a lost dogs home on his property. Somehow, every few years, a dog was born that possessed the exact characteristics of the woman he once loved, and Charming knew that Cindy was always with him. Although he now realized the spell could never be broken, he still kept hope that someday he would wake up to find the beautiful bottle blonde with the clear plastic shoes lying next to him instead of a yellow dog, if for nothing else then to get rid of the fleas that had become a permanent fixture in his bed.