Princess Sabina and the Quest for the Golden Fiddle

Sweeeeeeeeet Caroline

The grease from the cheesy tomato bread glistened on Sabina's face as she and Ben sat on the parapets. The sun was just beginning to set, and carriages were starting to arrive for the ball. Sabina watched as a lanky man with intense muttonchops stepped out of a sleek black carriage.

"What about him?" she asked, pointing out the man to Ben.

Ben squinted, scrutinizing the man. "Nah, him? Really, Sabina, I thought you had more taste."

Sabina laughed. "I'm only kidding. You could hide a small child in that facial hair."

"Hey, there's another one," Ben said, gesturing with his pizza. This prince was tall, with sleek shoulder length black hair. 

"Ooh, he has potential," Sabina said. She leaned forward, studying the man. As if sensing her gaze, the man looked up, and locked eyes with the princess.

He winked.

"Oh yes, I'll definitely dance with him," Sabina smiled, leaning back and taking another bite of cheesy tomato bread.

"I thought you might," smirked Ben. "You have a type."

"Shut up! I do not!"

"You totally do," Ben snickered. "He looks exactly like the prince from your favorite book of fairy tales."

Sabina looked closer at the man. He did indeed look remarkable close to Prince Arik...

"Which one he is, anyway?" Sabina mumbled around a mouthful of bread.

Ben looked down at his Nobility Spotter's Guide. A handy scroll of parchment, the Nobility Spotter's Guide was apparently quite popular among the peasants around the time of royal events. One side of the parchment was adorned with miniature portraits of each noble; the other side, with their names. Ben scanned the portraits until he came across the face of the mystery prince.

"Ah, here he is! Number 17." Ben flipped the parchment over. "Prince Levi of Berg. Apparently he is fond of skiing, painting, and climbing mountains and glaciers. "

"Climbing mountains? Really?"

"And glaciers."

Sabina glared at Ben.

"Hey, it's a northern kingdom. Maybe that's what they do for fun up there."

"Eh, well, if I am forced to marry him and move to the north, at least I can finally learn how to figure skate. Every Christmas Caroline skates literal circles around me and I--"

"SABINA SERAPHINA GWENDOLYN ANDROMEDA OF HINCAPIE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

Ben yelped and almost fell off the parapet. His face turned as white as a sheet as he saw a figure in pink climbing up the stairs.

"It's... it's..." he stammered, trying to speak words that would not come.

Sabina calmly took the last bite of her cheesy tomato bread. Then she stood up, brushed the crumbs off her skirt, and turned to face the pink nightmare rapidly approaching. 

Ben grabbed her arm as she walked past. His face was full of concern. He opened his mouth to say something.

"Don't worry, Ben. We all have to die sometime." Sabina said reassuringly. "Sure I'll get in trouble but they'll forget soon enough."

Ben closed his mouth and let go of her arm. "Oh, uh, actually, I was going to ask how my hair looked," he mumbled sheepishly. He gestured vaguely in the direction of the pink monstrosity.

Sabina punched his arm.

Hard.

"OW!" yelped Ben, "What was that for?"

"For once I thought you were actually concerned for my well-being, but you're just trying to impress my sister AGAIN?"

"Someday she'll realize what a catch I am!" Ben huffed.

"She's getting married in two weeks!"

"Divorces are on the rise!"

A polite cough interrupted their squabble.

The Pink Horror, aka Princess Caroline of Hincapie, was standing at the top the stairs.  She was wearing a strikingly vivid pink dress, complete with real petite roses sewn onto the bodice. Her hair and makeup were immaculate; clearly she had spent all day getting ready for the ball. Her eyes raked over Sabina's mildly disheveled appearance with obvious distaste.

"Now, if you are quite done with you little adventure, Sabina..." She glared at Ben. Ben tossed his hair, and gave her his most dashing smile. She rolled her eyes.

"Come with me, sister. There may still be time to make you presentable." She grabbed Sabina's wrist and began towing her towards the stairs. Sabina gave Ben one last pitiful look before he laughed and dashed off.

Caroline watched him go with disgust.

"Honestly, Sabina, when will you grow out of this phase? We are nobility, we are not meant to mingle with the common folk."

Sabina scowled and tore her wrist free. "How are we supposed to know what the people need if we do not know the people?" she demanded. "Someday you'll be ruling these people, Caroline, don't you care about them at all?"

"Of course I care," snapped Caroline. "This is my kingdom and they are my people. But we are royalty, Sabina! We are above the peasants for a reason! If we are one with the people, how will they respect us? How will they obey our rules if we are just another one of them? If the peasants realize that we are just people too, the monarchy will fall, and there will be anarchy. Do you want anarchy, Sabina?"

"Of course not," Sabina mumbled. "But I wish you wouldn't be so snooty sometimes. Just because they're poor doesn't mean we should treat them like dirt."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, you can tell me all about your plans for social reform when I'm queen, but right now we have to get you ready! Go to your room and see if Clarisse can do something with that hair of yours. No, wait, I'll send Hannah to you, she's much better at that sort of thing."

"I like Clarisse!"

"I don't like the way she does your makeup, it washes you out completely."

"Better washed out than a walking oil painting!"

"Hannah will be there shortly. In the meantime, do try to get rid of that tomato sauce on your face will you?" And with that Caroline turned and flounced away.

Sabina stared after her, watching the slew of servants she sent careening with one wave of her hand. One day, that woman would be queen, ruling over hundreds of thousands of innocent peasants. Well, if she could order armies half as well as she could order servants, who knew? Maybe Hincapie could grow into a glorious empire.

Then again, her sister also might cause a linen shortage with all of her dresses.

Eh, well, Sabina supposed it wasn't her problem any more.  Soon she would be living in the north with her arranged-marriage husband, watching him climb mountains... and glaciers.  Or watching her husband groom his elaborate facial hair. Or rearing 17 children to be royal heirs. Sabina shuddered, and ran up the rest of the stairs to her room. None of the maids were there yet, thank goodness. She took a deep breath, appreciating the silence, before flopping onto the bed.

Then the door slammed open, and the beautification harpies descended.