That morning the bog had been horribly beautiful, as it always was.
Statues of retainers, knights, beasts of burden and beast of beauty, darted the waters. Most of them half sunken in the water, perfectly preserved in various moments as the bog and time refused to eat away at them. Their regal forms was interpreted as mockery, by the princess, “How noble was your world before, such beauty innate in its form, SEE HOW YOU RUINED IT!.” was the message she read into their placement. Mists would clear around the statues around the statues, framing them against the fog. Fireflies darted about, their light gleaming of and highlighting the marble figures. She would describe the bog as sublime, if she had not actually had to live in it.
She slept in a hut of her own construction, she would fell the trees and shake the firmament in her pain fueled rage, yet that would not fix her. So she had built a hut, out of reeds and wood and whatever she could find, to sleep in a place of her own construction.
She hid in that hut, she had ripped her long and sharp spike shaped claws that she’d grown, and bent them into knitting needles. The claws would regrow, she could not change her shape, but she could make, and that was something.
Every few nights she hunted, and she killed. She did not like hunting, but if she did not hunt while she was awake her body would end up dragging in and messily consuming a fresh carcass. “If its going to happen, I should at least do it conscious” she had reasoned.
As she hunted she found that she could make needles of the thinnest bones, and after she punched a hole in them with her claws. Ripping her hair from her head, which had grown to an absurd length and volume, another inconvenience, she used her hair like thread. Her hair would restore itself to its length in the morning, but she could patch her clothes and creations, and that was something.
She had been made a amalgam, a chimera, she had not realized, for the first few days, that her transformation had been finished, she had most of her head, her body was in a human like shape, her digits moved as she expected them to move, yet she was all wrong, She had scales along her ribs and thighs, along her back was fur of many types, mixed in randomly, on her arms and legs where fins that riffled at times she wished they did not, and on her hands where where Spike-like claws, and that was not all.
After a bad slip directly into the bog, she found that she could breath underwater, through gills in the center of her chest. She kept breaking things, weather her own crafts, or the branches and trunks of trees, because she was stronger than she had expected. She saw more, heard more, dealt more, her nose picked up on scents, which she could never noticed before. The strengthened sense overwhelmed her but she could sniff out flowers in the bog, and with that she
The crone watched her, she had felt the crone watching her, and the crone had gotten angry, when she first saw the rug she had knitted, and the tapestry she had made from her hair and flower dye, yet the crone held her tongue. The crone had said that the princess was a creature of her bog now, and that she would not permit her leaving. The crone had meant to strip the princess of shelter until she came to her cottage and begged for it, she did not expect her to build her own. Yet she held her tongue, for the princess had been yet to try and run.
Noon that day, three knocks came. on the side of her huts entrance. There had been no door, only a curtain, the princess perked up, but she waited, if it was the witch that crone would soon begin to scream and demand entrance, making claims that since this was her bog this was her hut. The crone could not enter without permission, and Princess had made a vow to never grant her entrance.
Three more knocks came, then silence.
. . . She remained silent, except for Labored breaths as she began working herself up, it hurt to stand. Most of the time she moved with her hands and feet, pushing off the treeline or swimming in the waters.
“Hello? Anyone home?” said a voice the princess had not heard before, yet recognized the cadence. It was a controlled voice, similar to the one she had been taught to use in the presence of other nobility.
“Come in.” She heard her voice echo, it changed along with her, it was one of the only part of the change that she liked was how her voice boomed, and her new lungs.
The voice came into the room, it belonged to a young man, wearing a sturdy leather coat and lightweight chain male, an metal circlet decorated his head,and a thinner long-sword hung by his waste.
Overall he locked worse for wear, his shoes worn by having to walk through the roots and mud, he had fallen a few times and clothes had dried badly, and his skin was covered and bruises and some mud. “Hello madam, May I ask if this is the residence of her highness Theophania, the First and sole of their line, Flower of their house?”
“Who speaks” Theophania questioned brusquelly, A few others had come to the bog before, one had attempted to slay her, the fool ended up with a claw through his skull. The second demonstrated some wits and ran she respected that one. The third proclaimed that his kiss would undo her curse.(Ahe did not know if it would have, as she refused the offer.)
“I am prince Michael, third of my line” he responded
“I am who your looking for” She spoke neutrally, and watched as a shiver went down Michael spine, “I’m curious,” she continued “How did you make past witch Ha-”
“By not mentioning her till I was 3 days into the journey and being incredibly polite and cautious when she stumbled into me.” The Prince interrupted “sorry for interrupting, from what I know she knows when her name is said.”
the princess stared at him, and furrowed her brow, “I accept your apology, now, state your purpose here with me here or get out now”
“how frank do you wish me to be, there is a lot I wish to cover.” Micheal said, which to the princess annoyance, was not him stating his purpose.
“Simply state your purpose and I will reserve the right to ask questions later.” Theophania reiterated
The prince nodded “I’ve come to ask your hand in marriage.” He stated. Then there was silence. . . .
The Princess burst out in laughter. As she was still partially haunch-ed, she rose to a full stand. A back up straight head up tall kinda stand, and raised her arms to display her full span. The prince looked short a foot when she stood tall, yet she new it was because she had grown bigger “Now this is a good one, I may ask your motivation to come and visit my humble abode?” she said with a tone she would use if she had to make fun of somebody, and did not have to worry about propriety.
He just shrugged “My family encouraged me to seek a wife.” Micheal responded in a frank tone that sounded almost chipper.
Bemused, the princess asked “you have traveled, what, 5, maybe 6 days, just to hit on me?” the princess began to laugh again, “Your funny prince, tell me, how many years has it been since I was gone, what rumors do they spread of me, and why your family ever allowed you to venture to this bog, even as a third son.” she paused for a second “in that order” the beast clarified.
“Going through the questions, A: it has been three years since you had been reported missing, B: a bard has spread the tale of a beast in the bog that needs a true loves kiss to be freed, who’s claims are dubious, reports of a nobles son claim that you had been cursed and transformed into a monster, and your father has hired a mage to scry on you, apparently, who’s reports match that of the nobles son, and C:. . . ”
He leaned in, the noble facade dropping a-little, a conspiratorial smile “okay so, your ailing father promised your hand in marriage to any who could banish the curse and save you, and as the three years by and he also proclaimed to leave the kingdom to your husband, so, if we marry, keep it a secret until your father dies, we can reveal our marriage and be the only family with an actual claim to succession in the land.” Micheal beamed, it was clear that this plan was his, and he was proud of it.
The princess scoffed “So your just a schemer, with the veneer of a prince, be gone from here, I do not wish the world to see me as the monster I am. No populace would accept a beast as a queen.
The prince seemed a little bit offended and not at all afraid “Just a schemer, please, I am not Just a schemer, along with my scheming I’m a decent swordsmen and a above average orator.” he said with a strange confidence “and don’t talk down on yourself.” he continued “With the right framing you're gorgeous, hell given a proper makeover we could convince the populace of anything. If you put on armor you could be a Courageous leader, given the right lighting you’d look divine, a gift from god. If you threw on a vale and a black dress.” he looked wistfully “I can hear those in the courts calling your beauty sublime” The prince finished.
“Pretty words” the princess admitted, “but why would I marry you, a mediocre swordsmen, a average orator, who schemes to use me for political gain”
The prince nodded “I admit I am not the greatest catch, but this is purely a political gesture, and while I would not mind being your betrothed, but I have two other unmarried brothers, my family would allow your choice among us.”
“How would you even get me out, not without the crone turning you into a newt, or some other horrid thing?” the princess asked, as a rhetorical, she wanted to end the conversation. She wanted to just sleep and rest. Her body ached and she hated that she made herself stand.
“I mentioned how I conversed with the Witch.” The schemer began “She asked me what my purpose in coming was, I said that I had come to get flowers, she asked why I had taken none, and I said that I did not wish to disturb her land without her permission. She said I could take one flower.” A sly smile crept up along his face “and if I had my choice it would be the first flower of her house”
The beast was taken aback, they had settled into their life in the bog, in the hut, they had excepted that they where never to be free from their new body, and she assumed that meant never being free from the bog. Yet she could go, she could go right now, she could go and leave this place behind. The crone was bounded by her words, and she had made it possible for Theophania to escape what bound her to the bog.”
“So” the prince finished “sublime princess of the northern kingdoms, beautiful beast of the witches land, will you come with me and escape to be my or my brothers betrothed, in a purely political, definitely non romantic marriage?”
The Princess considered for a moment, as she did silence filled the room.
. . .
She, then, made her choice.