A Fairy Tale

The prince staggered over the final steps of the spiral staircase. Leaning against the door, he drank the last few drops from his vial of healing potion. Not enough. His sword broken at the hilt and the obscene looking wound in his chest were proof of the bloody battle he had fought against the bewitched guards of the bell-tower. Slaughtering the last guard with his trusted dagger he had reached the topmost room of the tower, confident that his quest would soon be over. Behind that door lay the fair princess in deep slumber, who had been cursed by the evil Queen many years ago.

The potion, although failing to heal his wounds, had given him renewed hope. He gave the door a strong kick and sent it flying off its hinges. The room was awash with sunlight, filtering through the pastel colored curtains that hung over the diamond casement windows. He could hear birds chirping on the eaves and felt a faint whiff of citrus blossoms in the air. He stepped closer to the four-poster bed and it felt like walking on clouds. He could see now that the stories he had heard did not do her justice. He had not seen anyone so beautiful, so delicate, so exquisite in his life. He sat down and carefully drew away a long ringlet of golden hair that was resting across her face. He looked at her for a long moment as if not wishing to disturb her peace, then bent down and kissed her for what seemed to him like eternity.

He drew away and waited. Moments slipped by, each passing one giving strength to the nagging doubt in his mind. For a moment he had felt that the princess was about to open her eyes, but he knew that it was his mind playing tricks on him. He looked away. For the first time since he had begun his journey, he did not know what to do. He had been confident that his love was true and pure, that it would break the curse, even the fortune teller had said so. But he was wrong. He felt the energy and hope drain away from him, his wound bleeding again as profusely as before, the miniscule effects of the potion having faded away. He knew he could not defeat the guards again. The guards, who thriving on the dark magic of the castle, would have regained their strength by now. But he was a prince and he would rather die fighting than hide in the tower. He drew his dagger again, took one last look at the princess and stumbled down the stairs.

"I ought to have told him about the magic shield. It's too bad he wasn't better looking. Oh well, I'll just wait for the next one. Besides, it's not so bad here."