The Royal Servant

Chapter 3

"Stand straight!" I hissed, slapping Penny’s wrist as she tried to slouch, her shoulders falling forward.

"I am!" she screamed, slapping my hand right back, but immediately pulling her shoulders back into the form I had shown her.

"I – am – trying to making this bodice – bring in – your waist," I said forcefully, giving another tug at the lace to bring the material together. My face was pink from the effort and my breathing was coming out in short gasps, I really needed to work on my physical endurance.

"I can't breathe," panted Penny holding her now tiny waist in a show of discomfort.

"Good," I said satisfied, "That is how it is supposed to be." At least now she would understand what it was like to be me every day. I think over time I had come to endure it, but I can’t imagine what Penny must be going though.

"It's like an instrument of torture!" Penny cried, emphasising the word torture. "Why do you inflict this upon yourself?"

"Being royal is not such a bed of roses now then, eh? I haven't even started on the shoes."

Penny turned around questioningly "I love shoes; the ones you wear are so pretty and dainty, with little crystals stitched onto the slipper."

To that I scoffed. "Just you wait and see, shoes are not your friends, they are your biggest enemy, trust me."

Penny’s smile trembled between fear and happiness, "But I love shoes."

Sighing, I lowered my satin burgundy dress over her head, making sure that the ruffles where all in place, the delicate stitch work making Penny look regal and dainty. "It weighs a tonne," she said, her forehead heating up at the effort of trying to pull the dress over her head. It was a tight squeeze.

"This is the lightest dress I could find," I said, tying up the back. "Now your hair," I said, reaching for my ivory brush, rolling it in-between my fingers before bringing it to her hair.

It took thirty minutes to de-knot her hair, and by the end I was pleased with my master piece, "Well, you look like a proper princess."

Penny, upon me handing her a mirror, looked admiringly at herself; her cheeks were flushed and lips a deep crimson. She looked just like me except for her eyes which were greener than my muddy brown, almost dirty dishwater brown. I knew she wasn’t been vain when the pride poured off her, she was merely seeing herself truly for the first time, something that she was not, a royal.

"I can't believe that's me," she said, whispering to herself.

"Don't be too pleased, we haven't started on your posture yet," I said, feeling slightly bad that I was ruining her glory moment. She really did look stunning.

"Oh, I'm sure it can't be that bad," she said giving me a smile, not learning from her prior mistakes, or even taking anything that I said into consideration.

I looked at her in dismay, thinking about her naivety. With a swift action I yanked her shoulders back. "Well first off don't slouch, let’s make that rule number one shall we?"

She looked up at me slightly surprised by my attack. "We have until tomorrow morning to transform you into a princess, we need all the time we can get," I said, giving her a shrug, not embarrassed by my bluntness.

"Suppose… so what's rule number two?" she asked, her enthusiasm not faltering, the flickering of the candle making her look like some crazed demon that loomed over children in their sleep, only she looked more like a crazed angel than a demon.

"Well, rule number two is to always smile.” I paused, looking over at her thoughtfully, “But that shouldn't be too hard for you. For some reason you never stop smiling." In answer to that I got another smile from her smiley face, except this one was like a chapel full of beaming candles.