Queen Merah Muda: Part One (complete)

My father passed away before I was born, so the crown was heavy upon me even before my birth. My mother hoped for a girl - someone who would be like her, gentle and sweet, but wholly unlike my father. My father was a good king, but he was not the best man. He was often cold towards my mother, sometimes even forgetting she existed. She was only another piece to the puzzle that was his monarchy.

My mother, Bianca, was not used to males, having grown up in a household of women, but she did her best to raise me. Until I came of age, she was Regent, which caused more difficulties for her, but ones she took too affably. She had help from the royal advisor, Father Chesterly, who became my adoptive father. Together they made arrangements for my own reign, which would come when I was still a teenager. Looking back, I would wholeheartedly say a teenager should not be made to rule, and I would never press that duty on my own children. They deserve to be children.

I was a handful for my mother, but I was completely devoted to her. I am not afraid to admit that I was a total mama’s boy - she was my moon, my earth, my stars. But like all parents, she had her faults, and for the first few years of my life, she dressed me as a girl. She would put me in frocks and frilly clothes, which became fashion for the rest of Miror. As I grew up, I chose more feminine fashion when I was at home. Out in the world, I wore drab military garb, or whatever school uniform I had to. But wearing my mother’s dresses, or even my own designed fashion, I felt at home. Even when out and about, I always wore high heels, and nothing under four inches. I had class, after all. 

My mother and Father Chesterly - Rossi as he had me call him - are aware that soon I will have to take the throne. This comes with several expectations. During my coronation, I have to read from the Great Tome of Miror. I have trouble reading - it isn’t that I am illiterate, but that words scramble up for me when I try to read them. They appear backwards in my eyes, or switch around. Rossi has found a way to help me by creating a font that doesn’t confuse my eyes, but the Great Tome of Miror is not written in such a font.

On top of this, I am expected to marry before I turn twenty. My mother is frightened by the prospect, as is Rossi. After all, I am a good young man, but a difficult person to get to know. I am not afraid to admit I can be a cocky asshole. I blame the high heels.

There is pressure on my mother to find me a queen, so she has been searching for someone who would suit me. She was in that position before, and knows the toll it can take. She and my father were no good match. On paper they were great, but in reality, they were oil and and mulch; weird, confusing, and a little disgusting. 

So my mother is being thoughtful with her selections. To her, added power and money don’t matter if I’m not going to be happy. The best she can do is find me love, and the least she wants is to find me a good friend.

I have more on my mind than that, between school, the coronation, and dozens of nobles breathing down my neck. I don’t think anyone is excited about me taking the throne. I am the weirdo prince after all. Because of the way I dress and my flamboyant ways, the nobles think I am not going to look out for their interests. This is true. I hate most of them and their snobby, money-grubbing ways, but not because of the way I dress. My frocks don’t tell me to change taxes and funnel money to education. That’s my own big brain.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, getting married. My mother has selected a few young debutantes she thought would suit me, and is holding a royal ball where we can all mingle. I love balls - I love dressing up more than anything, and my mother knows this.

My mother is very petite. Her people are fairies, so she is barely five feet tall and dainty like a doll. I take after my father - big and broad, and extremely masculine. Half of my body is red, to match my father, and my other half is white to match my mother. I enjoy the colors. I have to sit on a stool so my mother can do my hair and help me with my makeup, her tiny doll-like hands making quick work of the curls and patting rouge onto my cheeks.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to pick just anybody, sweetie.” she huffs as she struggles with a curler. “This is just for introductions and fun!”

I wince as my hair is pulled. “Mama, if this is so ridiculous, why not just get rid of such a silly rule? I’m already making everybody around me angry. This won’t hurt anything.”

“I cannot change such rules on my own, even with Rossi on my side.” She looks me in the eye with a small scowl. “You can change the rule when you take the throne, but unfortunately, you must marry in order for that to happen.”

I stick my tongue out. “Oh, fine. I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Just be good to whoever you choose,” she murmurs to me. “Notice them, befriend them, and for the love of god, don’t get them pregnant right away.”

I snort as I laugh. “Thank you for your confidence in my virility, Mama.”

“Your father and I only did it once on our wedding night, and you happened,” she scolds. “I have seen the way you look at people. You could get them pregnant with a charming smile.”

“Mama!” I protest.

“Take care of your partner before you give them someone else to take care of.” Her tone is serious. “I love you, but I was a child when I married, too. I look at you now and want you to remain a child forever.”

“Trust me, I have no interest in children,” I grumble. “I would be perfectly happy never having an heir, and letting the kingdom fall to its own squabbles.”

My mother pulls my hair, and I cry out. “I do want grandchildren someday, but on your own time.”

I scoff and lean back a bit. “How much longer?”

“I’m almost done.” She takes out one final pin, then fluffs my hair. “You look beautiful.”

I stand up and look at myself in the mirror, preening and posing as I enjoy my visage in the glass. “A work of art.” I grin at her. “Let’s go join the party.”

The ballroom is already filled with dozens of beautiful women and young men, in all manner of shapes and sizes, colors and fashions. I can’t help but admire the swirl of activity. As I make my way into the room, a hush falls over the floor, and like the tide, the guests encroach upon my shore. 

I meet dozens of interested parties in a matter of seconds. It’s a treat, and I do enjoy flirting, but it also becomes overwhelming. Eventually, I have to step away and find somewhere to hide myself. I go out to the gardens. It’s cold out, and there is slight precipitation in the air, making the chill more pronounced.

I watch my breath rise into the air and vanish. As I step further out, I hear someone crying. The sobs are soft and stifled. Obviously someone does not want to be found. I take off my heels to keep the noise down and walk around a hedge. There, on a stone bench, I see a small figure curled up with their face in their knees. 

“It’s cold out,” I say gently. “I can show you to a room inside where you’ll be warm, and possibly have snacks, too.”

The figure looks up in shock, sputtering and trying to cover her face. “No! No...” She starts to stand up and nearly trips. She lands on her knees, then sits there and sniffles.

I kneel before her and extend my hand. “Are you hurt?”

She hiccups and squeaks like a mouse. 

I smile, liking the sound very much. “My name is Bellerophon, but you can call me-”

“I know all too well who you are,” she blubbers. She keeps her head down as she scrubs her eyes. “You do not need to introduce yourself to me.”

“But I would very much like an introduction to you.” I try to keep my voice gentle and soft. 

She shakes her head, keeping her face hidden from me. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit, it doesn’t!” I scoff. “I find a crying young woman in my garden. It’s very important to me that I know her and help her.”

She sniffles again. “I’m from Pirlipat.”

“That’s not your name,” I smirk.

She slowly raises her head, and I see a pair of soft lilac eyes. Her lashes are long, sweeping out like wings towards the side. One is falling off and crooked from her tears. “Merah Muda,” she hiccups.

I smile at her. “Such a cute name.” I offer my hand to her again. “You can call me Belle.”

Merah Muda takes hold of my hand, and I help her to stand. She’s a frail-looking girl, very thin and tiny. Her hand looks breakable, and her wrists are so tiny her bracelet is nearly falling off.

“Now, tell me,” I say as I search my pockets for a handkerchief, “what is a lovely lady such as yourself doing out here sobbing?”

Merah Muda looks down at her hands and fidgets with her fingers. “I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“No, don’t apologize to me. I should be the one apologizing to you.” I finally find the handkerchief and hand it to her. “I’m the host.”

She looks at the offering in surprise for a moment before taking it. She peels away the false lashes, then dabs at her eyes. “Exactly,” she sniffles. “You’re the host and, well…”

“Well?” I tilt my head to the side.

She looks up at me with those stunning lilac eyes again. “I don’t want to be here, Your Highness.”

I shrug. “Neither do I.”

She seems taken aback by my comment.

“I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to drag any of those people in there down with me.” I motion to the palace and the ballroom. Then I sit down on the bench. “That’s why I’m out here, too.”

Merah Muda looks down at me, then into the handkerchief. “My father made me come,” she says. “We’re just a small noble family in Pirlipat, you see.”

“No wonder you look so appealing,” I say with a smile. “You come from the land of sweets.”

Merah Muda fidgets, then giggles to herself. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

I wave my hand in the air. “Nah, nah, call me Belle. I insist.” I pat the bench beside me. “Sit, if you’d like.”

She takes the seat, straight-backed and uneasy. I look her over, taking in more than just her frail frame. She has mousy brown hair styled in a braided bun, combed back so tightly it seems to be pulling her skin. Her dress matches her lilac eyes - but then I notice it’s not a dress, but a pantsuit with wide legs gathered at the ankles. “So tell me about yourself, M.M..”

She glances up at me. “Huh?” 

My grin widens as she looks at me. “Sorry, silly nickname.”

Her cheeks turn the sweetest pink color, almost edible. “My family have been ginger farmers for generations.” She dabs her eyes again. “But lately...”

I gasp softly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve heard there is a shortage, but…”

She shakes her head. “That’s just on my mother’s side. My father’s side are famous bakers. That’s why my mother married him - she hoped the money would save the ginger fields.”

I furrow my brow, sensing she has more to say. “But?” I ask softly.

“We’re broke,” she whispers. “That’s why I was forced to come here.”

I nod silently and pick at the beads on my heels. “Do you bake?” I ask.

She nods. “Muffins and cupcakes are my specialty.” She points inside. “I made some and brought them as gifts.”

“Well, then,” I sit up straight and snap my fingers. 

A white rabbit scurries to my side. “How may I help you, Prince Belle?” he asks brightly.

I take a small carrot from my pocket and hand it to him. “Lady Merah Muda here brought me a gift. I would like you to fetch it for me.”

The rabbit fluffs his fur and accepts the carrot. “As you wish, Prince Belle.” He runs off again, and Merah Muda looks at me in surprise. 

“You carry carrots in your pocket?” she asks.

“And dried tuna,” I say with a smile. “For the cats, of course.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Whatever for?”

“To reward the staff, of course! Why else?” 

I look up as the white rabbit comes running back, holding a basket above his head. “I have brought it for you, Prince Belle.” He lifts it up over his head, and I take it. “I found it right by the kitchen!”

“Thank you so very much.” I open the chiffon wrapping to see the muffins inside. The scent coming from within is a rich bouquet of browned butter, sweet cream, and luscious berries. 

“You really don’t have to,” Merah Muda murmurs. 

“No, no.” I reach inside and take a particularly plump-looking muffin, unwrap it and smile at her. “You made these for me. I insist you see my reaction.” I take a bite, and it is like a warm summer morning on my tongue. The flavor of raspberries and strawberries floods my senses, followed by the nutty taste of the butter and soft creamy notes.

Merah Muda watches me with a close eye. Her lips purse, and she slowly moves in closer to me. “Do you like it?”

I swallow the first bite, and my heart starts to race. I turn and look at Merah Muda, whose eyes seem so much brighter to me. Her skin looks more radiant and dewy, and her lips look like the plump berries in her muffins. I lean down, inching closer to her. Our noses brush together, and then her lips touch mine. I drop the muffin as I bring her into my arms. I kiss her over and over, wanting her taste to stain my tongue like the raspberries.

“Belle,” she moans into my ear. 

My lips drag down her neck as I catch myself. I quickly pull back and cup my hand over my mouth. “Oh! Oh dear...” I look away from her, ashamed. “I’m so sorry, M.M., I didn’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

Merah Muda picks the muffin off the bench and breaks off a chunk. She moves my hand aside and places it on my tongue. I capture her finger between my lips, sucking it as I draw closer to her again.

“It’s okay,” she whispers to me.

I kiss her again, feeling an overwhelming hunger. Merah Muda gasps softly as I kiss her bare shoulder and down her arm. I kiss the center of her palm, then look into her eyes. “You’re a really good baker.”

Merah Muda smiles shyly, then lets out a laugh. “Thank you.” She wipes crumbs from the corner of my mouth. “You’re a good kisser.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” I breathe. “I hope you forgive my awful manners, M.M.”

Her small hand rests on my thigh. “Think nothing of it, Belle.”

That evening, I have to bid her farewell as all the guests begin to leave. I didn’t expect to meet anyone, so I am still in shock. The next day, when my mother and Rossi consort with me to discuss the ball, I am still mooning over Merah Muda. I still have her muffins, and eat one while lazily daydreaming about her.

“You actually met someone?” My mother is shocked. “Well, who were they? Where did they hail from?”

I sigh dreamily and set my muffin aside. “Her name is Merah Muda, and she comes from Pirlipat.”

My mother turns to Rossi and frowns. “I don’t recognize that name.”

“Neither do I,” Rossi grumbles as he goes over the list. “Where in Pirlipat did she say she was from, my son?”

“She said her mother’s family were the owners of the Ginger Fields.” I glance between them. “Her father is a famous baker.”

“A Polichinelle?” My mother murmurs. “Did we invite any of that family, Rossi?”

He shakes his head, a look of bewilderment on his face. “I fear we may have found ourselves a party crasher.”

“Oh?” I murmur, leaning forward a bit. “But she said her father forced her to attend when...” I stop myself. “I see now.”

“The Polichinelle are a good family by all standing, but they lost their fortune years ago,” my mother explains. “Rossi and I decided not to invite any of them for fear that they would want to take advantage of us.”

“I wonder how she got in,” Rossi grumbles.

I remember what the white rabbit told me last night, about where he found the basket of muffins. I also remember Merah Muda’s hairstyle, which was lovely but very plain compared to the other guests. It looked similar to the way the cooking staff would do their hair to keep it out of the way. And her ‘dress’ was a pantsuit, something that could easily be slipped inside a staff uniform. 

“She snuck in with the staff.” I take another bite of muffin. “She’s so wonderful!”

My mother and Rossi exchange worried glances again. “Belle, you must be careful,” Rossi warns. “This girl may not be what she seems. The Polichinelle are known for dirty tactics. I do not know who her father could be, but Pirlipat bakers are also known for their skill at witchcraft.”

“I don’t care. I like Merah Muda, and I would like to see her again.” I slap my palm down on the table. “Whatever the reason, she was made to come here. Let me see her again, and I will prove to you she is a kind and innocent soul.”

Rossi and my mother exchange another look.

“Stop that!” I snap at them.

Merah Muda is invited back to the palace for an extended stay, so my mother and I can get to know her. When she arrives, she brings only one of her staff - a pompous-looking man in all black, very much like one of the Licorice Guard from the Pirlipat royal palace.

I am still in a tizzy to see her, and as much as I want to rush up and take her in my arms, I restrain myself. I take her hand and bow to kiss her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, M.M. So glad you could come.”

Her lilac eyes are so enchanting, they have me swooning as she nods and smiles shyly at me. “I was very surprised when you offered the invitation.” She glances at her butler, then back to me. “I didn’t think I made that much of an impression on you, aside from crying.” 

I keep hold of her hand as I lead her into the palace. “Trust me, the crying lured me, but it was the rest of you that held me. Let me show you to your room.”

I take her to the accommodations we have prepared for her. While her butler sets her chests aside, I whisper into her ear. “See that bookcase over there?” I point. “The candlestick beside it can be pulled to open a secret passage.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Merah Muda giggles.

“So we can meet without any eyes on us.” I glance at her butler, who glares at me. I shiver and try to brush it off. “It leads to my study, which is just off my own room.”

“That’s very bold of you, Belle,” she says with a bemused little smile.

I wink at her. “You make me feel so.” I brush my fingers through her hair, which hangs down in frizzy curls. “Meet me tonight if you are not too tired.”

“I shall try,” Merah Muda giggles.

“Merah Muda,” her butler grunts. “Come here for a moment.”

She nods, then says to me, “I’ll be joining you and your mother for tea later. But I will see you later too.”

I kiss her knuckles again. “I’ll leave you to get comfortable then.” I start to leave the room

“Sorry, Papa,” Merah Muda whispers. “Did everything make the trip all right?”

I furrow my brow. “Papa?” I murmur. I shake my head and leave.

The tea is uneventful, but Merah Muda is radiant. I really think my mother is impressed, but she seems to be withholding judgment for the moment, and merely sits with a stoic look on her face until Merah Muda excuses herself.

“Mama?” I ask. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“Oh, yes, of course. A very charming young lady.” She sets her teacup aside. “But I do not think she is good for you.”

I glare at her. “Mama!”

She sighs. “Call it a mother’s intuition,” she says, “but there is something I am not sure of about this young woman. She snuck into the party, Belle. She was dishonest from the start.” She shakes her head. “I do not think I can be won over by her so quickly.”

“I hate to hear that, especially when she was forced to do such a thing. I found her crying, Mama. She was distraught over it.”

“I know what you saw, my Belle, but this is what I feel.” She clasps her hands over her chest. “In my heart I just do not trust. Not yet, anyway.” She gives me a soft smile. “Be patient with me. I need time to see someone as good enough for my son.”

I sigh heavily and nod, then give her a small smile in return. “I understand, Mama. I will try to remember you are only doing what a mother does best.”

“Exactly.” She taps the tip of my nose. 

That evening, I meet with Merah Muda in my study. She’s wearing a silky nightgown of the softest pink color. Her hair is completely down, and hangs in soft curls around her face and shoulders. “I brought you something.” She holds up a muffin. Her smile is so cute and sweet. “I thought you might like a snack.” 

“You were going to be my snack.” I pick up the muffin and take a big bite.

Merah Muda watches me, her eyes darting over my face before she sets down the plate. I capture her waist in my free hand and pull her body against mine. She gasps in alarm and places her hands on my chest. “Easy now,” she giggles. “Be gentle with me, Belle.”

“I will be,” I whisper to her. “If you tell me the truth.”

Her eyes widen. “What?” She forces a smile.

I turn the muffin, showing her that the surface is untouched. Her smile wanes, and turns into a panicked look. She pushes against me, trying to get away, but I hold her fast. 

“It took me a while to figure it out,” I say. “But once I finished off all the muffins you gave me before, it started to click for me.”

“Let me go!” Merah Muda beats against my chest.

“I have no intention to. Not until you tell me the full truth.” I pick her up and set her down on my desk. “You will stay here until you tell me everything. Why you snuck into the party, why you used a love potion on me, and why you’re here with your father posing as your staff.”

“Please, don’t hurt him!” Merah Muda begs.

I furrow my brow. “I won’t be hurting anybody. M.M., I’m trying to help you. If my mother or anyone else finds out, it will be trouble for you, and I do not want you in any such state.”

Merah Muda looks away from me and starts wringing her hands. “I don’t want your pity.”

“And I am giving none. Now, tell me why you are doing this, and whether you really are who you say you are.”

She flinches and nods. “After my mother died, my father and I were banished. They found out he used a love potion on her, and…” She looks back up at me. “My father just wants what is best for me. You must understand!”

“I do. Because my mother wants that as well, which is why she doesn't trust you.” I cup my hand around her cheek and wipe away the tears spilling from her eyes. “And even though the potion has worn off, I still find myself liking you, M.M.. But if that is to stay the same, I need you to be honest with me.”

“I am sorry,” she whispers. “I thought if the potion worked, that was all I needed.” She hangs her head. “That was my idea. My father just wanted me to be at your ball.”

“And what of the crying?” I ask her sternly. “Was that real?”

“No,” she grumbles. “I knew you were fond of small creatures and always helping the wounded, so I played a part that night.”

I take a step back and look her over. “Who are you really, Merah Muda?”

She straightens her back and juts out her chin. “Strong. And I consider myself very smart.”

I smirk at her and rub my chin. “Do you play chess?” I motion to the board on the table. 

She slips down from the desk. “I never lose.”

“Then let’s play a match and talk some more.” I pull out her chair for her. “I may like this real you even more.”

She soundly beats me several times that night. I have never been challenged so severely, and I consider myself a master at chess. More than the muffins, her ruthlessness wins me over. 

“I should go to bed,” she sighs at one point.

“Yes, before I truly embarrass myself.” I stand and put my arm around her. “Sleep well, M.M.”

She places her hand on my arm. “I’m still M.M.?” she asks.

I kiss her forehead. “For now.”