Tristan bitterly thought back on the day his life had fallen apart. She was tall and curvy, her golden hair flowing over delicate shoulders. Wide cerulean eyes held the sky between lush lashes, a cascade of freckles beneath them highlighting angular cheekbones.
She touched her lips to his, and that was the end of everything for him. Sighing deeply, he drains his glass of champagne, gesturing with a wave to his manservant. Sinking into the foam of the sumptuous bathtub, its smooth obsidian sides caress him like silk, as hatred boils in his gut.
"Your majesty, the delegation from Snarm will be here within the hour, may I offer your robe to you sire?" Chaddeus says as he refills the crystal flute with the merry bubbles of fine wine. Shaking Stephanie from his head, Tristian grunts in agreement.
The man from Snarm goes on and on, his heavily beaded beard wiggling as he speaks. "We believe this trade agreement would..." his words fizzle out as his beard becomes a snake. Old memories flood back to Tristan, a cool pond on a hot summer night. He sits on the rock, enjoying his panoramic view of the fireflies which hover all around. Then he sees it, a ripple below the surface.
As the water snake slithers towards his rock, Tristian is as still as stone, waiting. At the last second, he leaps away, his hind legs catapulting him to safety. He blinks the memory away, a prisoner in a useless human body, seething with his desire for revenge. He gestures for the magistrate to finish the meeting. Stumbling out of the throne room, he is oblivious to the looks he receives.
We've all heard that age old story. A gorgeous prince is turned into a frog, stuck living his life out as an amphibian until someone comes along and kisses him. Except, where is HIS say in that? Had anyone considered that maybe living your life as a frog is a kinda sweet deal?
That wretched woman, plucking him from his lily pad wonderland clearly only thought of herself- find the prince and be a queen! Selfish fool, she probably didn't even take the time to think over the fact that some frogs are GAY! Tristain certainly was, confirmed by the slimy kiss that ruined his life.
Oh... and then he transforms, six feet tall and strapping, and the wench goes in for round two! The horror of it all, this greedy little peasant imaging herself some great hero for having lips!
At first, he missed being a prince, sure. Lavish baths, soft sheets, the best of every harvest- who wouldn't miss these things? However, as time passed, he felt a weight slide from his back, he didn't have to marry and produce an heir. He saw the world as he never had before, the view through the eyes of a frog turning the mundane into magic! Bliss began to overtake him.
Years passed by like a needle through fabric, stitching up the doorways to worry, and replacing them with adventure. To croak out to friends in the night, leaping from spot to spot. Seeing everything his human mind neglected to appreciate, his previous life began to feel worthless.
All stolen away by the daughter of a sheep farmer, doe eyed and ignorant of the freedom she was snatching from his heart. Well, he had played it off, uncertain of what awaited him when he returned home. It was what it was. Standing on two feet once more, he waited for his chance to avenge himself. Except, Stephanie seemed impervious to his attempts.
Before the wedding, he had sent several young men out to seduce her, each one more handsome than the last. And every time, they failed. It seemed she was virtuous and true, sending them all swiftly to the dungeon. Tristian had to order a rapid and quiet string of executions, before any of them could speak his plans aloud. Annoyed, he tried something new.
The day of the wedding, he called into question the faith of his betrothed. It was customary in these situations to balance on one foot at the edge of the court's lion pit, and if you were true, God would gift you balance. She stood there, descendant of some kind of flamingo people apparently, steadfast as a statue. Now, all the priests were calling her God's chosen bride! Unbelievable.
Wedding bells rung, and Tristian found himself in the grips of desperation. He didn't want to kill her, but what choice did he have? There seemed no other way to rid himself of the golden girl of the kingdom. The people loved her, the church loved her, shoot- even his ancient mother who survived on judgement loved her! With a heavy heart, he decided to poison her that night.
The violins carry their tune over polished stone, agitating Tristian as he waits for Stephanie to finally sip her wine. She smiles at him, grasping his hand beneath the table. "It is a lovely night, husband. Let us take some air together." her voice is like velvet on raw skin.
He nods his approval, as she brings her glass along. In the dim light of the gardens, they walk for some time in silence. She presses her lips to the brim at last, delicately drawing in the smallest sip of the crimson wine. That wasn't going to do it, "A toast! To our marriage!" Tristan says, raising his glass. Satisfied, he watches excitedly as she takes a large gulp. Done and done!
He can barely hide his happiness as they walk along, he whistles a merry tune, unaware that Stephanie is watching him closely. His feet begin to feel heavy; the wine must have had a strong fermentation! Great he thinks as he takes another swig, I'll need it in another minute.
Passing through the shadows cast by arching latticework covered in hanging vines, Tristian feels a sharp stab in his gut. "Do you remember why I turned you into a frog?" her voice is different. Stumbling forward he passes the edge of the trellis, back into the moonlight once more. The earth swims beneath his feet, as she emerges behind him, no longer the golden-haired farmer's daughter.
"Shit." he falls onto his face, agony twisting in his stomach. As the world begins to go dark, he remembers. "Indeed." the Crone says, "I promised you and your father that I would plague you to the ends of the earth for what you did to me." Tristain's mind fills with the recollection of the terrible shriek he had heard that night. A hut with chicken's legs in flame, screaming out in fury.
"I had hoped your time as a gentler creature would humble you Tristian." she leans in, her mismatched eyes meeting his. "It didn't though, did it?" She straightens up, shaking dust from her skirts. "You would've killed a sweet peasant girl just for being inconvenient." she begins to walk away. He tries to speak, but foam replaces words, as everything blurs to black.
"You took my home, and now I will live in yours." she pauses, "With your father and you gone, perhaps I can find solace in a new purpose." her feet begin to move again, as she transforms back into Stephanie. But Tristian doesn't see her smile, basking in the knowledge that her revenge is complete. The wine fulfilled its purpose, just not for him.
This is my submission for the monthly invitational from the Scholar and Scribe community. The thematic prompt was Vengeance, and the genre was Commedy/Humor/Satire. Does this prompt bring something to mind? Well, there are still five days to enter!
I've always loved stories that take a conventional fairy tale and add a twist. The prince never enjoys being a frog, the wild forest Witch never is the protagonist... I hope you enjoyed the silliness of that :)
