The Rescue of Princess Lingonberry

Someday my prince (princess?) will come

*

Author's Note

I've been in a bit of a silly mood again and this time it has resulted in a fairy tale. It's a strange fairy tale, full of anachronisms, princesses who talk to animals, a ninja, and bits of my oddball humor. And it's all topped off with a suitably romantic fairy tale ending. There's also quite a build up before you get to the juicy bits, so hang in there.

Enjoy,
Wax Philosophic

*

The events and characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All characters are at least eighteen years of age, and you should be too if you're reading this.

*

Long, long ago, in an enchanted forest

Princess Lingonberry woke to golden light of morning streaming through the window of her spacious bed chamber high atop the castle where she lived. She threw aside the cozy goose down comforter, sat up and stretched, basking in the glorious warmth of the sun as its shining rays played upon her creamy white skin and silken sheets.

Half a dozen goldfinches floated effortlessly through her bedroom window, singing a happy song and clutching in their tiny talons a crown of the finest laurel branches that they had fashioned in the forest only moments ago. With a gentleness befitting a princess, they placed the crown atop her golden hair that was already shiny and full of body despite the fact that she had only recently awakened.

Princess Lingonberry smiled and raised her long slender index finger into the air and beckoned one of the birds to alight. The tiny creature landed and turned to face her as she spoke. "Good morning my fine feathered friend," she said. "Please thank your brothers and sisters for this beautiful crown that you have made for me on my wedding day. I shall cherish it always."

The little bird tweeted its happy reply and then flew off to relay the joyful news to the rest of the flock. Because of course it is known that all princesses speak bird, and there's at least one bird in every bunch that is fluent in princess.

"O Glorious day!" Princess Lingonberry said to no one in particular. And it was, for today on her eighteenth birthday, she was to be wed in an opulent ceremony taking place this very evening, right here on the castle grounds. Nothing could possibly spoil her mood on such a fine morning. Nothing except for ... O Bother. What was that racket?

The princess sprang from her bed, put on her dressing gown and floated gracefully to the window. She looked down upon the courtyard below and spied the source of the disturbance, clad in a black dress and a severe black corset topped off with a long black cape, its starched collar standing straight up.

So much dreary black clothing could only mean one person. Mother's step-sister Luna. And accompanying her as always, was her snarling beast of a dog. She was going to ruin everything.

"I will not have that woman and her mutt ruining my wedding day," the princess muttered as she stormed down the wide spiral staircase, her silken slippers swishing against the fine Italian marble.

"What is that woman doing here!" Lingonberry demanded of her parents as she burst into their throne room. "Who invited her? It certainly wasn't me. She's going to ruin everything! That -- that mutt will surely slobber on my wedding cake!"

The princess glared at her mother and father who saying nothing, hung their heads, refusing to meet their daughter's gaze.

"Mother! Father! Do something. Tell her she cannot come to my wedding. She's not invited! I won't allow it!"

The princess's tirade was met by a long and uncomfortable silence. It was her father who spoke first. Though still dressed in his kingly robes and perched upon his royal throne, he somehow looked smaller than the man she knew. Tired. Defeated.

"I'm sorry Lingonberry," he said, "but we cannot send her away."

"Why not?" the princess demanded. "It is my wedding day, and I say she is to be chased back to that dark and dreary tower she calls home."

The king hung his head in his hands. "I'm sorry my daughter, but it is not such a simple matter."

"O Daddy, do tell your men to send her away! I will not have her here. Not today. Not ever!"

"My dear Lingonberry, how shall I tell you this?" The king stood and stepped toward the princess with outstretched arms.

Princess Lingonberry drew back. "Unless you're going to tell me she is leaving, save your breath Father."

"Dearest," her mother spoke. "What your father is trying to say is that we were not always so well off as we are now ..."

"And the payments on the castle were more than we anticipated," her father put in. "We thought we landed a great deal on an adjustable rate mortgage, and then everything went to hell in a handbasket. Rates went up, the bottom fell out of the market ..."

"My dearest, the fact is that we needed money. And my step-sister Luna -- well, she offered to help us out. And in return, on your eighteenth birthday ..."

"Save it mother. I'm not interested."

"O You will be, deary. You will be," Luna's voice cackled as the doors to the throne room burst open. A pale-skinned woman with a headful of untamed raven and silver hair strode into the room, cape billowing out behind her, the heels of her black leather boots clicking on the marble tile and echoing throughout the hall.

Behind her, a breathless armor-clad guard threw up his hands and shrugged. The king waved him off and he slunk away, closing the door behind him.

Luna stepped forward.

"One year, no more," the queen said, spitting defiance as she stood.

"That was the deal, dear sister. And I shall honor it."

"Do not call me that. No relation of mine would ever be so cruel as to take a child from her mother."

Luna raised her nose in the air. "Come along now, Lingonberry. See you next year, dear sister. Tah-tah and all."

And with that the woman in black spun on her heel and strode off as quickly and as purposefully as she had entered. She left with the struggling Princess Lingonberry securely in her grasp and the snarling wolf-hound bringing up the rear.

*

That same day, on the other side of the forest

Princess Solange stood just outside her family's castle beside a grand and gilded carriage that was harnessed to a pair of sleek white Arabian geldings. She clutched a tall mug of latte in her hand, and after taking a long pull on the mug, she wiped the foam from her lips with the back of her hand.

"Guys, I appreciate the gesture, I really do, but I said I wanted a steed not a carriage." Princess Solange said. "I mean it's nice and all, but I was looking for something a little sportier."

"Darling," her mother spoke, "you're nineteen now. Your father and I think it is time you stopped behaving like such a tomboy and learned how to travel like a proper princess."

"I am a proper princess, Mom. Just a little different from the others."

"A little different?" her father blurted out. "You gallop around the countryside bareback wearing those -- those jodhpurs. And your haircut! What's that even called? You look like some sort of woodland nymph. No daughter of mine ..."

Princess Solange's mother laid her hand gently on the king's arm and he ceased his lecture.

"What your father is trying to say, dear, is that we wish you could behave in a way that is a little more fitting with your station in life. After all, you are of marrying age, and how you ever hope to attract the attention of any of the eligible suitors when you continue to dress and act like an impudent child is beyond me."

"Mom, I'm going out," Princess Solange announced. She turned her attention to the two geldings. "Which one of you is the faster?" she asked.

The horse on the right leaned his head toward his brother, indicating that he was the swifter of the pair. Because of course it is widely known that all princesses speak horse, and there's at least one horse in every bunch that speaks princess.

The faster gelding pawed at the ground, anxious to run free.

"And no more clunky old carriage for you boys, I promise," she said as she deposited her latte mug in one of the carriage's numerous cup holders. Solange unharnessed the two horses, resting her hand gently on the faster of the pair.

And without so much as a wave to her parents, Princess Solange mounted her steed and galloped off into the morning sun. The king and queen just shook their heads and watched the dust rising from the trail as the image of their daughter grew smaller on the horizon, until finally she was gone from sight.

*

Deeper into the enchanted forest

Solange had ridden hard and fast for some time when she came to a clearing at the top of a small platteau. She decided it was a good time to pause and let the horse rest.

"Whew, you really are fast," she said as she brushed the dust from her tan jodhpurs and loose-fitting white blouse. Let's get you a drink. Solange led her horse to a nearby stream while she herself strode over to a convenient apple tree to pluck two delicious pieces of perfectly ripe fruit.

"I brought you something." She held the apple to the horse's muzzle as she sunk her teeth into her own. Solange patted her horse on the neck and looked off to the gentle rolling hills on the horizon.

"How far shall we ride today?" she inquired of the gelding. But he seemed more interested in the apple at the moment and said nothing.

As she waited for the horse to mull it over, Solange noticed something peculiar on one of the trails in the distance. It was a long way off, but it looked to be an old Roman chariot pulled by a single horse and driven by a woman dressed in all black. An odd sight for sure in these parts, but it became stranger still as she looked more closely.

Behind the chariot, secured by a length of rope was a young woman in a white dressing gown, tripping along behind with a large hound nipping at her heels.

Intrigued, Solange turned to her steed. "Just a little farther, OK? Can you do that for me?"

Princess Solange's horse pawed at the ground.

"That's the spirit. I promise we'll stop for more apples on the way back."

*

A dark and dreary tower in an otherwise enchanted forest

Luna brought her chariot to a halt a short way from a tower that stood in the midst of a number of dead trees and withering vines. She untied the rope from the chariot and held it in her hand as she walked toward the tower.

"Where are you taking me, you -- you evil step-sister?" Princess Lingonberry said as Luna dragged her through the archway and inside. "You can't just take me from my parents and lock me up! I won't allow it!"

"And just what are you planning to do about it, deary?" Luna marched the princess up a narrow, curving stairway.

Princess Lingonberry stumbled after being roughly shoved through the door to the dreary little room atop the dreary little tower. She landed butt first on a pile of straw, frowning and huffing with indignation.

"And technically, deary, I am your mother's step-sister, so that would make me your -- your what? -- step-auntie?" Luna turned the key in the lock, sealing Lingonberry inside. "But you may call me your highness."

Luna let loose a high-pitched cackle and strode down the dingy stone staircase, the click of her boots and maniacal laughter echoing throughout.

*

Just outside the dark and dreary tower

"What a dump," Princess Solange muttered as she stood at the base of the tower where she had seen the woman being taken.

"Hello?" she shouted.

Standing beside Solange was her faithful horse whose name she had just discovered was Stedman. Stedman the swift, Stedman the brave, Stedman the magnificent. He had suggested all of these, but Solange convinced him that just plain Stedman might make him appear a little less arrogant.

"Hello?" she repeated. "I say, is anybody there? I thought I saw a girl in a white dressing gown being dragged this way against her will." Solange paced for a moment, waiting for an answer. Hearing none, she tried again. "Hello? Is there anyone in need of rescue? I've got a fast horse."

Stedman pawed at the ground and whinnied.

"He says he's very gentle and won't jounce you around like other horses. His name is Stedman."

"Go away you noisy peasant! And take Stedman with you," yelled Lingonberry from atop the tower. "I wish to be rescued by a prince, not by some loony commoner who fancies she can speak to animals. So if it's quite alright with you, I'll sit tight and wait for a proper rescue."

"Very well, suit yourself." Solange turned to her horse and said in a voice loud enough that surely even the grumpy woman in the tower could hear. "Let's go get some more apples, Stedman. We'll come back later and see if Miss Prissy Pants has changed her mind."

"I am not a prissy pants!" came another shout from the tower. "I am a princess and I am fit to be rescued only by royalty, not by -- by commoners!"

Solange cupped her hands around her mouth and lifted her head toward the top of the tower. "I'm a princess if that helps." She watched as a small white face framed by a mop of blonde hair appeared at the window.

"Uggh! You can't be a princess. You dress like a pageboy, and you have the hair of a woodland pixie." Princess Lingonberry shouted, her frowning visage now jutting from the window above. "And besides, you're -- you're dark!"

"Technically mulatto, but I find the term offensive, so how about you just call me Solange, OK?" She paced a moment more before deciding that honor dictated that she at least try to rescue this princess in the tower, no matter how foul-tongued and off-putting she might be.

"Listen sister, I don't see any princes around here, do you? So unless you're happy up there, maybe you could find it in your heart to let me rescue you, OK? Maybe? Just this once?"

"Fine. You can rescue me."

"Great." Princess Solange began pacing again. "OK listen, I wasn't really planning on rescuing anyone when I set out this morning. You don't happen to have a rope or something so I can climb up, do you?"

"No."

"How long is your hair?"

"What's my hair got to do with anything?"

"Never mind. I'll think of something."

Princess Solange paced some more. She walked up to the tower door, but as she suspected, the portcullis was lowered and locked into place from the inside. Solange continued pacing around the tower when she noticed some vines. It looked risky, but she took a chance.

*

A tiny window, high atop the tower

"Hi, I'm Solange, and I'm here to rescue you," gasped the princess leaning over the window sill, feet pedaling in the air behind her in an attempt to find purchase. Finding none, she grimaced. "It was a long and perilous climb, so perhaps you could help me out a little." She thrust her hand through the window.

Princess Lingonberry took the long slender mocha-colored hand that was sticking through the opening and pulled. Along with the hand came the long and lean body of a woman dressed in jodhpurs and a puffy white blouse. She was dusty and her short hair was somewhat disheveled, but otherwise she seemed unharmed.

"Princess Solange at your service, my lady."

Princess Lingonberry stared at the woman. She did not appear to be wearing a corset, or any type of undergarment for that matter, and Lingonberry found her gaze wandering to the dusky nipples that were pressing up through the thin white fabric.

"Um, I'm in now. You can let go of my hand."

"Huh?" Princess Lingonberry blushed. "Oh yes. Of course."

"Are you alright? You haven't been poisoned or anything have you? You seem a little -- I don't know -- a little off."

"No, no -- I'm fine." Princess Lingonberry let out a long sigh and swooned.

Princess Solange caught her mid-faint with just enough time to lower her gently to the floor. "Maybe you should rest awhile."

Lingonberry reached out with a shaking hand and touched a finger gently to Solange's cheek, slowly tracing a line downward to her chin. "You're much softer than I expected. You really are a princess. I mean -- well, with the distance and all ..."

"You should rest, I think you're ..."

But Princess Solange did not get a chance to finish. Princess Lingonberry was attacking her lips with determination, and she had her hand tucked behind Solange's head to ensure that she could not escape. Not that Solange really minded, though she was surprised by the woman's sudden change of heart.

"Yes, much softer," Princess Lingonberry cooed, "and much prettier too. I shall let you proceed with your rescuing of me."

Princess Solange stood up suddenly, leaving Lingonberry leaning against the wall like a worn out rag doll. "Excuse me? You'll let me rescue you? You'll -- Let -- Me? In case you hadn't noticed, sister, Stedman and I were doing just fine on our own ..."

"Stedman?"

"My horse!"

"Oh yes, the one who promised not to jounce me around." Princess Lingonberry hoisted herself to her feet and dusted off her dressing gown. "Yes, you may take me to him so that we may ride off together. I'm sorry, I hadn't realized you were a princess and that you talk to animals as I do. Honestly, I had assumed that you were not quite right in the head."

Solange shook her head and began to wonder what kind of madness she had stumbled into.

"But now that I know you are of royal blood, I shall permit you to spirit me away on your swift steed so that we may be wed in the great hall of my parent's castle." Princess Lingonberry threw her arms around Solange and began covering her face in kisses. "The ceremony is this evening, so we must hurry."

Princess Solange stared into the eyes of the raving princess who had just released her from a decidedly lecherous embrace. Solange decided she liked Lingonberry an awful lot more when she was swooning and unable to carry on a conversation, but knocking her over the head with a rock seemed decidedly uncivilized.

"Listen, I'll rescue you, but marriage is out of the question. I mean, I just met you for goodness sake!"

"Lingonberry?" came Luna's voice from below. "Lingonberry, what's going on up there?"

"Uggh. It's my evil step-auntie." Princess Lingonberry groaned. "She wants to keep me locked up in this dreary tower for a whole year. Can you believe it? And all because she loaned my mom some money or something. So please. Please, I beg of you, get me out of here."

"Fine, but no marriage." Solange leaned in so that her lips were only a short distance from Princess Lingonberry's ear. "OK, here's the plan."

Princess Lingonberry nodded politely, but she was much more interested in the tickling sensation of Solange's warm breath on her neck, and was soon unable to recall any more than half of what was being said.

*

Back at the castle

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry I ran off earlier." Princess Solange stood before her parents at the castle gate. The sun was nearly at the horizon and it cast a beautiful golden light, making the castle look even warmer and more inviting than usual.

At Solange's prodding, Princess Lingonberry stepped forward, but kept her gaze fixed at her feet.

"This is Princess Lingonberry. I just rescued her from the clutches of her evil step-mother."

"Step-auntie," Lingonberry whispered, looking at the ground.

"Oh, honey." The queen stepped forward and placed her finger under Lingonberry's chin, raising her gaze. "She's just adorable. When is the wedding?"

"Mom!"

"Darling," the king said. "Perhaps they are not yet ready to be married. She did just rescue the girl this afternoon."

Princess Solange expelled the breath she was holding. "Thank you, Dad," she thought to herself.

"Give them a week, then we'll call the caterers to discuss the menu. I'm thinking roast boar. The kind with the little apples in their mouths. I do so love a good barbecue."