The Dog Princess: A Tom Holland Fairy Tale

An Impossible Choice

"My God, Tom..." Rosemary pushed his hair back, startled by the slash across the left side of his face. "Look what they've done to you—because of me—"

Tom grunted in protest, trying to push words out. His throat was dry and strained from screaming and lack of water. "No Rosemary—don't—don't blame yourself—"

"I knew the risks—I did this to you—"

"Please—" He started, but began to cough violently. Rosemary instinctively supported his back, causing him to wince loudly at the touch. Her hands flew away from him; she felt gutted at what's she'd done. She began to weep, but he managed to look at her in a way that made her feel the tiniest bit better. He spoke again, leaning close. "What you did was the best thing that ever happened to me and this doesn't change that."

She looked over at the wall, really taking it in for the first time, her eyes filling with terror. Spotting a small knife on the wall, she got up and carefully removed it, shuddering at what harm it may have caused. While uncertain of herself handling the weapon, she managed to cut the binding off of his hands. He gasped in relief, rubbing his red and swollen wrists slowly upon their release.

"I hope that feels better." She sighed, happy to see him so much more at ease.

"You have no idea." He smiled, holding out his newly freed arms. "Come here."

Rosemary carefully nuzzled into him, worried he'd break like a china doll if touched. Tom, however, hungrily held her tight, as he feared he never would again. With a newfound strength he pulled her even closer, kissing her passionately with everything he had. He couldn't stop, traveling down her neck and back up to her lips again, caressing every inch of her body as he went. The nightgown she was wearing was enough to make his imagination run wild, although he was in no condition to do all that he wanted. Every movement, even the simple gliding of his hands, caused him great pain. But what's love without a little pain?

They were suddenly interrupted by the slow, heavy swing of the door opening. They luckily had enough time to compose themselves before the medic came in, carrying a wooden bucket of water and a bag of supplies. Rosemary stood back to let the medic help, but was startled to see him quickly dump the entire bucket of water over Tom's back without warning. Tom screamed out, the smell of salt and vinegar filling the room. Tears slowly fell as she scrunched her nose up in surprise, looking to the medic in confusion.

"To prevent infection, ma'am." He grumbled in response. He began his grueling task of cleaning and dressing Tom's wounds, trying to ignore Rosemary's horrified reactions throughout. He was used to the agonizing screams of his patient, but not an audience.

***

"I assure you, your Majesty, he'll be here!" Jon said as positively as he could with his nerves running amok. "I'm certain! This...time..."

King Benedict stood tall with his arms crossed, his glaring brow making Jon sweat. Meanwhile, King Robert lounged on his throne unphased, bitterly tossing back grape after grape from a nearby fruit bowl, having been cut off from the wine by order of the prince. King Benedict tapped his foot violently, growing more and more tired of waiting. "Robert, Jon, if he's not down in five minutes I'll—"

"You'll what? This is my kingdom—you have no power here. None at all." Robert said, popping another grape in his mouth.

"I should have the right to see my own daughter!" Benedict exploded, charging up to the throne. He had a crazed look in his eyes that made Robert laugh.

"Calm down. Have an apple." Robert chuckled in his face, popping yet another grape into his mouth, grinning widely. "Mmm...juicy one."

"Show some decorum for Christ's sake! Where is your son!" Benedict bellowed in Robert's face, maintaining serious eye contact.

"Taking care of your daughter." Robert replied calmly.

As if on cue,  Timothée entered the throne room, sauntering in without a shred of urgency. His under eyes were darker than normal, his face pale. His curls were misshapen and untamed, his clothes askew. Untucked, unbuttoned, and stained with a small splatter of bile he just coughed up.

"Sire! You've arrived!" Jon exclaimed loudly before whispering. "And might I say very, very late—"

"Hello father. King Benedict." He said flatly, strolling further into the room.

"Where's Rosemary?" Benedict demanded.

"In bed. She'll join you for a midday meal tomorrow. She needs lots of care and rest after the ordeal."

"See, Benny old chum, everything's fine! The witch is happy, your daughter is safe with my boy! Now we can focus on more important matters like the wedding!" Robert chimed in, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

"First things first, father."  Timothée stopped him, raining on his parade. "We need to take care of the sentences. I don't want it hanging in the air once we're wed."

"Of course, your Majesties! Just say the word! A flogging? Banishment?? A beheading—" Jon almost squealed at his own ideas, slightly disgusting Timothée.

"Boring." Robert rolled his eyes, but suddenly his tone shifted to something more sinister, leaning in towards Timothée from his throne. "I know exactly what you need to do."

"What is it?"  Timothée asked, somehow feeling unsure. It was strange to him to look in his father's eyes. He thought he'd relish in the idea of revenge, but seeing how Rosemary cared for the poor creature tugged at his heart. But he had to see it through. It was the law after all.

"There is that other girl up there? Correct?" Robert asked.

"Two, actually." Jon piped up. "Princess Katherine and Princess Zendaya—"

"Oh, Katherine! I'd forgotten—she must be freed, as she told me the truth—" Timothée realized, putting a worried hand to the nape of his neck, tugging the hair.

"I'll see to it right away, sir!" Jon said, exiting with a few guards who were already on stand by.

"But Zendaya, she is guilty of crimes?" Robert continued.

"Yes, treason against the crown. She was privy to the affair." Timothée replied, the shame subsiding and the anger rising up again.

Robert rose from his throne, clapping his hand on Timothée's shoulder in support. "I learned of this punishment on the crusade. It's called...the lady or the tiger."

"What nonsense is that? Shouldn't you be more concerned with Rosemary—" Benedict interrupted.

Timothée cut him off with one swift motion of his hand. "Go on."

Robert continued, a gleam in his eye as he raved on. "It goes like this: two doors, a tiger behind one, and a lady behind the other. Which is which is a mystery. The prisoner chooses his own fate! He's either mauled to death by the tiger, or married to the lady on the spot and banished. Either way, it's misery."

"Zendaya's family would never allow such a marriage—" Benedict protested.

"It's a fifty-fifty shot. She may get off easy. And she still leaves with her life, which for committing treason is unheard of. I'd say that's showing her great mercy, don't you agree son?" Robert replied with a slimy smile.

"I couldn't agree more, father. Let's do it." Timothée smiled an almost identical one to his father's. They started to make their way out of the throne room, when he suddenly remembered. "Oh, and there is one more peasant up there. Also privy to the crime. What shall we do with him?"

Robert pondered a moment, then laughed heartily. "Well if he chooses the lady, the tiger will need a snack...and what the hell! Have him marry the princess if the other chooses the tiger. This will surely be entertaining!"

"If there's one thing for sure, father, it's an impossible choice. And I know just the twist I'll add."

"Oh?"

"Rosemary betrayed my trust. I intend for her to be mine, but she must pay for that infraction. She wants to make her own choices, I'll give her a choice to make."