8/19/22 — Dowry

The long procession of sycophantic well-wishers and gift-givers was winding down, and the Princess knew that she would have to face him, have to graciously accept whatever ridiculous bauble he had brought her in hope of winning her favor.

The prince of the neighboring kingdom, he’d been pursuing her for years, hoping to join their two kingdoms by marriage, knowing full well that his father, a wretched man, would rule over both of them with an iron fist having long ago killed her father in an attempted takeover. And while the young man was handsome and not without his charms, she wouldn’t do that to her people on principle.

Three people left.

She thanked the Duke and his wife for the gift of their finest stallion.

Two people remained.

She watched the prince as he watched her, wondering about the oddly-shaped, lumpy parcel in his satchel. She politely thanked the castle baker for his gift of her favorite pastry.

The prince approached.

Without so much as a flourish he offered her two parcels. One, the overstuffed satchel. The other, a tiny box.

She opened the satchel and out rolled the severed head of his father, the tyrant king. The crowd gasped, but she just smiled devilishly at him.

The tiny box contained a key and a note. “To my kingdom, and my heart, you may have either, or both.” She picked it up and held it to her glinting eye, happy to have received such wonderful gifts.