Feel the Fear, Prince Charming, and Do It Anyway
He stands in front of the full-length mirror admiring his reflection. Trimmer than he can remember being for a while, with a suggestion of muscles rippling across his chest and upper arms, he lingers in his white vest and smart black trousers. A gold velvet stripe stretches up the sides. For this important occasion, he has been granted full stately pampering; sharp haircut, touch of colour for his greys, clean shave, facial.
He thinks, I deserve this. I am a Prince. I always will be. It’s in my blood. They may say I am disgraced, but they don’t know me. My family has cut me off to save their spindly reputation. Nothing is the same with Mummy gone. They’ll come to their senses eventually. At least I have been allowed to take part tonight, to be seen in public again. Why do I care about their permission anyway? I am free. Royal and free!
He spreads out his arms and twirls a confident circle, returning to the image in the mirror without any hint of dizziness or imbalance. There is a knock on the door and an attendant enters. ‘Sir, we are nearly ready to call you in. Ten minutes. Is there anything you need?’ The word Sir grates on him. How he misses being addressed with the full formality of Your Royal -. He is nettled only momentarily though.
My, her smile is so warm and genuine. And those wide helpful eyes. Pools of innocence and trust. If I could have all my attendants back and they were like this, I would be truly happy again. They must have chosen this one carefully, for me!
‘Just a little spin, to calm my nerves.’ Without waiting for her to reply, he grabs her hand to pull her toward him, letting the door close. He lifts his arm to allow her to turn and skilfully draws her nearer. Another move is in store, but he pauses when he sees startlement in the wide eyes and realises he must let go. The attendant backs away with cheeks flushed and exits. ‘Ten minutes, Sir.’
On goes the uniform jacket, navy blue and resplendent with gold bands on the cuffs and rows of brass buttons. The wide shoulder boards have tassels that sway haphazardly at every movement. There is a loose thread dangling down and he picks at it. The jacket is scratchy. This is not the uniform he desperately wants to wear again. The collar suddenly feels tight and he runs his finger around his neck to open up more room. A bead of sweat forms from nowhere and trickles down the side of his face. He reaches for his phone and taps three times.
‘Darling, I don’t know if I can face the public again. I look silly in this outfit.’
‘We talked about this. You have nothing to fear. You have charisma. The public can’t get enough of it and that makes you special. Ridicule is nothing to be scared of. When this is over, you can leave and we’ll be together again, snuggling by the fire, all the richer for it. Remember, your Mother simply adored Strictly. Do it for her at least.’
There is a knock on the door. The attendant spots a missing detail, picks up a container from the dressing table and smears two lines of white war paint across the prince’s face. It is time. He leaves the room and marches down the corridor. The tall double doors yawn open before him, pulled by invisible helpers. Bright lights hit him and TV cameras swivel in his direction. The applause is deafening. ‘Please welcome, our next contestant, who will perform his dance to the song Prince Charming by Adam Ant, accompanied by the dazzling Sirena!’ The crowd gasps.
About this piece
It was influenced by news stories but the content and characters are entirely fictional. It has echoes of a fairytale. The aim was to reflect on a moment when a figure with a damaged reputation has to face their fears to try to find their place again, even if in a different form.