A Messed-Up Melodrama

Sir Handsome Hero confidently adjusted his bright, shining armor as he rode up to the castle of his sweetheart, Princess Ingénue. To see his pure blue eyes, his unruffled brown hair, and his spotless ceremonial armor, no one would have expected that he had just come from saving yet another witless old peasant from being crushed in the mud by an overturned cart.

He dismounted his white horse and quietly tuned his lute. Because of the whole peasant-in-the-mud episode, he hadn’t had the time to do this at home. Despite his hectic schedule as everyone’s most popular hero, he had managed to meet the famed beauty Princess Ingénue and had, on first sighting of her, fallen madly in love. Everything about her was perfect—her noble title, her face, her purity, and, of course, the fact that she was single.

Ah, there was the right note. . .

He strummed the lute with all his might, took in a deep breath, and belted in a rich, expressive tenor,

“MY LADY HAS EYES LIKE THE SEA!

THERE’S NO PLACE I’D RATHER BE!

MY LADY HAS HAIR LIKE THE DAWN!

I LOVE TO SING HERE ON HER LAWN!

LADY, PLEASE COME DOWN TO ME!”

“Can’t you find a boyfriend who’s a better poet?”

Princess Ingénue shrugged, half-listening to the strains of what could be loosely called music floating in through her window. “He’s not really my boyfriend,” she gave her companion a smoldering look. “I entertain him to please you.”

He gave an evil laugh. “Oh, I know you do! Remember, we need that awful lute of his before you and I can rule the world.” He swirled his long, velvet black cape as he laughed and spoke, tripping over his shiny black boots. “I’ll leave you to it. I need to go get our friend.”

“Take care,” she whispered as she pulled him into a passionate kiss. “I’ll be down in a minute!” she yelled to the music outside as she opened the door to the Super Secret Passage and let her companion out. She quickly straightened her white gossamer gown and crammed a wreath of big, fat white roses onto her blonde hair.

She made a flawless entrance onto the castle balcony, which was also wreathed in white roses. In her clear, soprano voice, she sang back to him,

“Oh, my love, my one and only

I should be begging--not you.

There’s none but you I’d rather see;

Only your love could ever be true.

Without you, I’m always so blue.”

There was an exchange of smiles featuring disturbingly perfect white teeth. Then Ingénue leapt lightly from the balcony, straight into Handsome’s strong arms, which had quickly cast away the lute to accommodate their new load. “I brought a gift for you,” he whispered gently, though there was no need to do so as they were alone.

He brought forth a single red rose. “Oh, thank you!” Ingenue took it and breathed its scent in deeply. “Your song was so wonderful. I especially enjoyed the words. I didn’t know you were such a good poet.”

He blushed. “Nothing I can say in words will ever be equal to the astounding beauty they describe.”

“You flatter me,” Ingenue replied. I could be a hag and that could be true, she thought. “I am so glad you came. I have been longing for your return ever since you departed a fortnight ago. I get so lonely, being by myself in that huge castle.”

“I get lonely as well. People shout my name in the streets and I am always honored, but none of that equals your company. I have been faithful to you.”

“Who could I ever love but my very own Handsome Hero?”

“You know,” Handsome said, “what if we could be together all the time? I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” he got down on one knee, “and I was wondering if you would marry me.”

He waited expectantly for her reply, but instead of the sweet “yes” that he wished to hear, he heard the evil cackle of his worst enemy, the Vile Villain. Handsome whirled around to see the Vile Villain riding high up on a dragon that snatched up Princess Ingénue in his steely claws. The Villain carefully tucked the folds of his large, black velvet cape beneath him and slid down the arm of the dragon so that he could look at Ingénue eye-to-eye.

“Let me go!” Ingénue screamed theatrically.

The Vile Villain twirled his thick black mustache with gusto and said in a silky deep bass, “Perhaps I could let you go, if. . .”

“If what?” Sir Handsome Hero asked, annoyed. He hated it when villains felt the need to play the game of demands and conditions before getting down to the fighting. It cramped his style.

“Don’t interrupt me while I’m chewing the scenery!” the Vile Villain snapped, equally irritated. “Now,” he turned back to the princess and resumed his silky tone, “You could marry me.”

“Hey! I asked her that already!”

“And you didn’t get a reply?” The Vile Villain arched an eyebrow. “Bad form, princess.”

“I’d rather die!” she shrieked.

“That can be arranged.” He grinned evilly. “Dragon!” he snapped his fingers. The massive head looked down at the Villain, bemused, and opened his horrendous jaws.

“No!” cried Sir Handsome Hero, springing onto his white horse, brandishing his sword and shield. They gleamed impressively in the sunlight; he had paid extra for designer armor. “Stop!”

“Very well,” said the Villain, snapping his fingers once more. “Perhaps we can come to a more suitable arrangement, no?”

“Whatever,” the knight replied. “I just want my lady back.”

The Villain wrinkled his brow impressively for a moment and then said, “Too bad. I don’t feel like negotiating today.”

The dragon let out a blast of steam, but instead of reducing Princess Ingénue to ashes, she was encased in ice.

“Dumb Dragon!” the Villain chided.

Sir Hero rushed to the spot where his princess lay frozen on the ground. He tenderly touched the ice, gazing into her clear blue eyes. It seemed as though a funeral dirge played inside his heart, a slow, sad song strummed on the strings of a lute. . .

Suddenly, he frowned. Since when did people play funeral dirges on lutes? An oboe would be much more appropriate.

He looked up and sure enough, the Vile Villain was triumphantly strumming Sir Hero’s lute. “Left it behind on your saddle, no? How touching. As you know, I can revive her with this magnificent instrument of yours. How badly do you want her to live?”

Sir Hero silently cursed at himself for not thinking of the lute instantly. He had paid a good deal for it to cover up those instances where his daring did not pay off.

“More than anything,” he half-whispered, half-cried.

“I can switch you. She will live, and you will be frozen. To switch or not to switch? That is the question.”

Handsome gazed once more upon the Princess’s golden tresses, her rosy cheeks, and lovely frame. “A life without you is not worth living. Let it be so!”

The Villain grinned and strummed the lute in a strange series of chords. In his deep, deep voice he sang:

“Steel and roses, roses and steel

Let the two be traded.

Let no man ever truly feel

His affections ever faded.

Let no woman ever forget

This useful knight she has met.”

Sir Handsome Hero felt himself stiffen to the point where he could not move, could not feel a thing. This he had expected. What he had not expected was that he could see perfectly well, and he was thinking as clearly as before. He watched with joy as the color came to his lady’s cheeks, she blinked, and her chest rose and fell with living breath. She got up and smiled.

Then, to his surprise, she did not so much as glance at him, but ran to the Vile Villain, threw herself into his arms, and cried, “At last!”

“At last,” the Vile Villain repeated, sweeping her off her feet. “We can be together. No more sneaking behind your knight’s back.”

“No more pretending to be loyal.”

“Say you’ll marry me.”

“Of course,” Princess Ingénue answered. “I’d rather die than marry a stereotype.”

Just my luck, thought Sir Handsome Hero with disgust. Just my luck.