The Frog Prince // Mr. Gold

000. PROLOGUE

ONCE UPON A TIME....

       

       The court life is filled with rats and vultures alike—their hunger for greed and games never-ending. Their ears burn to hear their beloved Tiana to exhibit the same needs. If only I could grant them the satisfaction of knowing something truly scandalous and fresh gossip to whisper about within the glistening white halls. To cause drama in the ballroom with a simple mischievous smile.

They wait for me to be just like them. That is their wish.

My single wish is to escape this life, the life of a princess. As long as I can remember, the desire to be far away from this lavish lifestyle tickled my heart. For most, those who wanted to be away from the working class would quickly scold my naivety for wanting to be out there in the real world. Yet, as I see it, the real world is what gives individuals character. A sense of self and pride. Not this horrible mask royals are born with and must wear until the day of their tragic end.

How could anyone live with pride as a princess or prince?

They're told what to eat or drink. They're told how to feel and how to look. They're even told when to take a break to relieve themselves. It is embarrassing, saddening, and disgusting. That is not life or freedom. It is slavery. Slavery to the body and soul.

As I stood there, gazing at my reflection- the pull for liberation grew intense with every passing second.

"Chin up, my dear," My mother, Queen Chartreuse, cooed from behind me. The Queen's cold fingers clutch my bare shoulders as a smile twitched upon her perfect face.

My mother's hands always held a chilling effect. Many say her heart is only warm; this is why her hands are always cold to the touch. I'm inclined to say that I think otherwise. At times, I've questioned if that beating heart buried deep within Chartreuse's chest is warm enough to keep it pumping. Perhaps she truly was born with a heart of gold, but over time her hopes and dreams dwindled, and she fell into a state of frigid falsehood, much like everyone else.

My brown eyes fall onto the beautiful emerald green gown made purely for tonight. The front is shoulderless. The bodice resembles bright green leaves in the middle of a summer's day, cutting just at the beginning of my breast. The skirts shimmer with a hint of silver on top of the gorgeous fabric. My fingers gently tug at the silk gloves that halt just at the elbow. As I do so, the queen places a glamorous tiara on top of her daughter's pulled-up curls. Giving this refined look the finishing touches.

And as my reflection looks back at the spitting image of my outer surface, the heart in my chest twists with grief. This is what I had been told to be, an elegant young lady who is meant to marry. However, deep down, this all feels wrong.

"You must appear cheery for your betrothed," Mother continued. She ignores my blank expression, or possibly she does not see it.

Instead of arguing, my chin is raised ever so slightly, attempting to find a glimpse of prosperity somewhere in my sanity.

"He will love everything about you -"

"What if he does not?" I questioned.

Mother paused from what she was doing from behind me. Her reflection in the extended body mirror held what looked like a fabric that had been discarded from the choices for my beautiful dress. A puzzled look fell onto Chartreuse's face—as if the question of whether this prince may or may not love me had ever crossed her mind before. It must be an inquisitive concern.

"That will not be the case," Mother says with a toothy grin. She now stood facing my backside fully, her hands held in front of her so tight—I am so sure she'll break a finger or two. "You two will fall for each other the instant -"

"Perhaps we should come to terms that I am not meant to marry."

The words fall out of my mouth like running water. Unable to stop it from showing my true inner self. Turning quickly to face the ladder with my brows furrowed—I half expect mother to bad mouth those words. However, she continues to smile.

There it is, the mask.

"Nonsense," she says, "Prince Naveen came all this way. He needs a hand in marriage, and you are the best choice."

"What if I do not love him?" I inquire another unusual question with sharp speed.

"You will merely fall in love with him over time just as I did your father." Mother's eyes gleamed with a whiff of sorrow for only a moment. But that moment passed so quickly, I'm confident that the emotion had been imagined as Queen Chartreuse replaced her distress with yet another grin. Her feet draw her closer to me, and once again, those cold hands touch my shoulders. "He would be so proud of you. So proud of everything you have accomplished. His little girl. I am sure he is smiling down at you from the heavens."

With a soft caress to the cheek, my mother finally falls away from me to gracefully waltz towards the large double doors leading out of my privy chambers. She gives her only child a last look before disappearing into the hall, shutting the doors behind her to provide me with a single moment of privacy. My hands snap up to cover the bewildered expression on my face seconds later. Palms dug deep into my eye sockets as I carefully walked towards the large archway leading to a single balcony.

I can't do this. Not now. Not never. How can I?

Letting out a sigh, my hands slip away from my dazed head and I quickly grab at the ledge of the balcony. Those brown eyes search the skies for answers. Searching for something to fight my way out of this mess I'm forced to accept. If this doesn't change, I may surely die here tonight.

Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. A silly one that I hadn't thought of since my childhood. A glimpse of the Wishing Star creates a foolish plan, and with desperation, my hands clap together. Fingers wrap to the back of each hand with a grip.

Suppose the queen could not see that this forced marriage will drive me to the ground - if I can't cancel the wedding. Then, I will wish it away.

Tonight will be the night where my happy ending begins. And a fresh start shall be my victory.

With one long breath, my eyes flutter shut and my lips part slowly. The image of being ordinary flicks behind my eyelids. The false scenes are glorious and perfect. Peaceful and bright. My happy ending at last.

"I wish...I wish to be set free from this castle..."