The library's looming grandfather clock ticked the seconds in an ominous tone, and in-between those ticks Fredrick made his choice.

He rushed to the window beside Myrielle, opening it as silently as he could. "The sacks!" he whispered urgently.

For a moment Myrielle was stunned. A loyal servant of the kingdom was now her accomplice in treason.

"Hurry!" He urged.

She understood the urgency but promised herself to contemplate this act of generosity later. "Thank you!" she whispered.

She sprung into action and together they tossed the sacks of stolen food out the window. One by one they landed in the academy's overgrown courtyard with a "splat!"

Once all the evidence was gone and the prince's steps grew closer, Myrielle and Fredrick stared at each other breathless.

"Do you solemnly swear that what you said about your family is true?"

She nodded. "I do!" And it was. She may have used the truth to draw some sympathy out of Fredrick, but none of that made her father's ailment or Emilia's obsession with tarts any less real. The only part that seemed difficult to fathom was a total stranger who had sworn to serve the kingdom saving her in a time of need. When she'd first seen Fredrick up on stage polishing the thrones, she'd assumed that duty was the only thing that mattered to servants. She'd been wrong.

She spotted the prince's shadow approaching from around the corner, and in the brief final moment she had alone with Fredrick, she squeezed his shoulder and smiled. "You're amazing!"

For Fredrick, time suddenly stopped. He'd never heard that he was amazing before, not from a member of the king's court, not from the butcher's daughter, not from anyone. The words had disarmed him completely, and for a second he found his whole body dissolving in the sandy brown desert of her eyes.

"What's going on here?" said the prince.

Myrielle released her grip on Fredrick and stepped back, bowing her head in a second attempt at meekness.

Fredrick turned towards the prince and smiled in a reassuring manner. "Nothing to worry about here, your majesty. This contestant, she uhh...simply lost her way and...I saw her wander in here and...since this big academy can be quite confusing..."

The prince raised his hand. "I never said I was worried, I said what's going on."

Fredrick had practiced telling lies in terms of complimenting the prince's hair or telling the king he seemed as fit as a teenage gymnast, but not so much in covering up acts of treason.

As Fredrick struggled to gloss over the criminal act and his subsequent choice to be an accessory to the crime, Myrielle seemed to be mesmerized by the prince's beauty.

"Hello," she said timidly.

The prince was stunned. He looked to Fredrick in disbelief. "Did the peasant just address me? Correction: did the village idiot who got lost in a simple corridor address me, the official heir to the throne?"

Myrielle cast her eyes down in apparent shame, but really she was hiding her instinctive glare.

The prince took a closer look at Myrielle, examining her bulbous skirt with disgusted eyes. "So this is the kingdom's finest, is it?" He shook his head. "Didn't they consider the genetic ramifications of mixed-breed royals?"

Myrielle seemed confused as to why the prince was so anti-contest.

"What if the rest of them are even worse?" the prince said shuddering. His focused his eyes back to her hideous skirt. "At least we know who we'll cut from the list first; isn't that right Fredrick?" He elbowed Fredrick. "Isn't that right?"

Fredrick faked a coughing fit so he wouldn't have to respond.

The prince clapped him on the back. "You're just having a reaction to the layer of dirt enveloping the peasant." He pulled Fredrick a few feet away from Myrielle. "Make sure the ones who make the cut hosed down."

The prince led Fredrick back into the corridor with Myrielle a safe distance behind them. As Fredrick's fake cough persisted, he realized it wouldn't be long until Myrielle was eliminated and sent back home to the village. The only other thought that followed was to figure out a way to stop it...

***

With Myrielle now back in the queue and her temporary absence explained as 'village idiocy syndrome,' Fairy Godmother walked the queue with eagle eyes, examining each and every girl. "Too round...too tall...too offensive to the naked eye..." She shuddered at a girl who was slightly cross-eyed, who then immediately burst into tears. Fairy Godmother moved right past her with Gianni following close behind, his notebook balanced on his forearm as he recorded every ruthless comment.

By the time Fairy Godmother reached Myrielle, she was tired, bored, and desperately in need of a drink. "What in the kingdom's name are you wearing?" As she absorbed the full scope of the dress she could barely suppress a laugh. "If you're trying to use a massive skirt to minimize the size of your waist, you've taken it a dozen steps too far."

Based on the prince's cruel evaluation, Myrielle knew that in just a few moments, her quest to be a princess would be over. Far from feeling tearful, she basked in the freedom of having nothing left to lose. "I suppose I was just trying to stand out!" she said proudly, faking a smile and fanning out her skirt as if somehow she wasn't humiliated. She hoped that her insane confidence along with her attempt to be different would lead to some unexpected praise.

If praise came in the form of uncontrollable laughter, then Myrielle had already won. Fairy Godmother and Gianni laughed until they had tears in their eyes, which prompted the other contestants to join in the public mockery.

"Stupid dress!" one of them cried.

"Is it because you're fat?" said another.

They weren't so good at insults, these peasants, but for their lack of education they were holding their own.

Fairy Godmother caught her breath and gestured to the girls. "Now now," she chided, "I believe that's enough shame and ridicule for today." The contestants' laughter slowed to a hush as Fairy Godmother gestured to the prince. "Let's confer."

As the two of them and Gianni formed a secret huddle, Fredrick hurried over and squeezed his way in. He was met with blank stares.

"Wait by the girls," said Gianni.

Fredrick stayed here was. "I just thought that I might—"

Gianni pushed Fredrick aside. "It's time for you to leave while the judges confer."

The prince frowned. "Judges? Aren't I the only one who's meant to decide?"

Gianni's various smiles ranged from 'horrifying clown' to 'creepy guy who lures you into his windowless van'; this latest one belonged in the category of 'used car salesman.' "Of course you're the judge, your highness, of course! But even a prince needs his trusted advisors."

"If it makes the process shorter than fine," he said sighing. "I'm already missing a foot massage for this."

"Splendid!" said Gianni.

"And he can stay," confirmed the prince, gesturing to Fredrick.

Gianni was having trouble computing his decision. "You want the opinion of a servant?"

"Why not? He knows me a lot better than the rest of you."

Gianni couldn't really argue with that, but he could definitely ignore the lowly servant to the point where he would feel irrelevant. "Right then..." he said, as Fredrick rejoined the huddle. "Our overall impressions of the girls are based on: facial symmetry..."

The prince nodded. "No one likes a crooked chin."

"Potential for bouffant hairstyles..." Gianni went on, "...bosom size--of course--and...most complete set of teeth."

A few of the girls overheard him and made sure to close their mouths.

As Gianni finished reading out his notes, Fairy Godmother turned away and took a chug from a flask that was hidden inside her cloak. Afterwards she seemed much more relaxed. "You forgot to share my most important impression." Gianni looked at her quizzically. "We don't have a good enough batch to even pick a final twelve."

"Hear hear!" exclaimed the prince, eager for them to render the contest null and void.

Gianni glared at the rogue Fairy Godmother, seething at her threat to his well-crafted plan. "We will choose a dozen, as per the clearly defined contest rules."

The spineless prince slumped his shoulders in immediate defeat. "Fine," he conceded. "Just not the slow one." The others looked at him confused. "The village idiot? The one in the horrendous large skirt?"

Fairy Godmother nodded. "Oh of course not; she's atrocious."

Fredrick watched helplessly as the decision was confirmed. He had to do something and he had to do it soon, or the peculiar girl he'd connected with would be gone from his life forever.

"I must object to that," said Fredrick, stunned by his own audacity. In all his years as a servant he'd never dared question a royal, but today couldn't be measured against he last ten years; today had been a strange surprise.

Gianni circled Fredrick like a hungry shark. "You object, do you? Then what fresh insight are we missing, servant?"

Fredrick had possessed the audacity to speak but he hadn't exactly formulated a plan. "I just feel that...er..."

Gianni slapped him on the back. "Spit it out, servant boy!"

The slap seemed to do the trick in releasing his inner liar. " I just feel that if there's diversity in the entrants, it will make things far more interesting in this contest and therefore...will give the prince more publicity across the seven lands." Fredrick was essentially echoing the strategy of every producer on every season of ABC's 'The Bachelor.' The underdog...the villain...the one who isn't white...Fredrick was centuries ahead of his time, and he crossed his fingers that the judges would be as progressive.

Fairy Godmother cackled in Fredrick's face. "Diversity! Isn't that precious!"

Gianni laughed too but mostly he was annoyed; he'd heard enough from the servant and manhandled him out of the huddle.

To Fredrick's surprise the prince didn't prevent his removal.

"Your highness!" he cried out.

The prince merely shrugged. "Best to leave it the professionals," he said. "They did set the rules, after all; now why don't you go and get the flowers for the ceremony?"

With those simple dismissive words, Fredrick was cast outside to return to his servant duties. It was only natural for him to stay within his lane, as anything else he ever tried to be seemed to turn him into a mockery of the kingdom.

As he made his way to the doors with a defeated air, he passed by Myrielle who gave him a pleading look.

He avoided her stare and kept going. 

[WRITER COMMENTARY: this chapter is the beginning of an exploration of the importance of attractiveness and "official titles' in fairy tales. Are those things really all that matter? Or is it only scratching the surface? Well...I'll keep posting chapters so you can find out soon, thanks for reading! :-)]