A Devil's Beauty

“Azaela, I would like you to meet Prince Ralin of Untalia,” my father—King Olfred of Tanita, the largest Kingdom in the land said. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Prince Ralin said, bending down to kiss my hand politely . 

“The pleasure is mine,” I replied in the customary response. 

“Come, sit down,” my father said. “A feast awaits us!” 

Servants trickled out of the side doors, holding trays and platters stacked high with fresh meats and breads. 

As Tanitan law required, my father sat first. Then, Prince Ralin pulled out my chair for me and sat down across the table. His delicate gestures and neat propriety, something only achievable after years of training under the finest of royals and nobles. He was quite handsome too. I walked over to my seat, and as daintily as I could muster, sat down in my seat. The chair made a loud creak as I let my weight rest on it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my father cringing and servants stifling laughter as they set their steaming platters down on the table. 

“So, how are you today?” Prince Ralin asked, bringing a sliver of mutton up to his lips. 

“Very fine,” I replied. “And you?” 

“Fine as well.” 

I scooted my chair forward and another creak came from it. 

“Sorry, I seem to be dragging the chair legs,” I apologized, then the chair broke, splintering apart beneath me. 

There was a moment of silence, then father jumped up from his seat and ordered the nearest servants to help me up. They scurried over to me, and hefted me up back to my feet. 

“Looks like we can end dinner here,” my father said. I couldn’t meet Prince Ralin’s eyes. 

“Thank you very much for the hospitality, Your Highness,” Prince Ralin said. 

“Hedna!" Father said. "Would you escort Azaela back to her quarters? Thank you dear.”

My handmaid, Hedna, curtseyed, and looped her arm with mine, leading me out of the dining hall. She led me in silence to my room, where she closed the door behind us, and a barrage of words came pouring out of her mouth. 

“Did you see him?!” she cried. “He’s gorgeous! His hair, his jawline, his eyebrows—oh I love those eyebrows!”

“Me too, Hed,” I grumbled. 

“And—and—I think he looked at me! Me, of all people!”

My face flushed. 

“H—how did he look at you?”

“Do you think he might like me! He is such a handsome boy isn’t he?!”

“Yes, he is.” 

“I think I’m in love! You’re a lucky girl Azaela!”

“Like he’ll marry me.”

“What do you mean?” Hedna sat beside me on my bed, which squealed under both our weights. “It’s an arranged marriage, isn’t it?”

“Remember what happened to the supposed ten other arranged marriages?!”

Hedna thought for a minute, then said, “Look, they had good reasons to not go through. Prince Taitus has allergies to the cement of the castle, and Prince Perpof had a terrible accident and was afraid you wouldn’t like how he looked.”

“They just don’t want me because I’m not the dainty princess they were expecting!” I buried my face in my pillow, my mouth poking out of the bottom. “You can’t call it anything different! I look more like a pig than a royal.”

Hedna gave me a reassuring pat on the back.

“I’m sure Ralin will be delighted with you! You’re funny, and…” Hedna trailed off, seemingly stumped. 

“See! Even you think I’m a lost cause.”

“Of course not! It’s just that there are so many things—I can’t list them all! And you’re only slightly overweight…”

“Stop lying.” I pulled my blanket over me and sighed. “Goodnight Hed.”

“Night, Princess,” Hedna said, then blew out the candles, and left. 

It was late at night. The moon shone through the window, and the cool night air drifted in. Ralin's face was stuck in my mind. He wasn’t like the other princes. He was actually… a prince. Taitus was a slimeball with greasy, side-swept hair—Perpof had anger issues and had skin pale as a ghost—McClay had an odd obsession with my jewelry—but all of them were the same. They laughed at my weight. But Ralin hadn’t. He had at least kept his innermost thoughts to himself. And although he was from a smaller kingdom, he was the most beautiful human being I had seen in my entire life. 

I closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep. But the thoughts of Ralin kept invading every attempt of sleep I made, so I got up, and put on a cloak. 

The garden was quiet tonight. The fish glided gently through the pond, and the crickets chirped in a quiet lullaby. I wonder what Ralin must be thinking now. About the fat Princess that his father is forcing him to marry. I walked under a veil of long, wavy willow trees, watching the moon on the pond’s surface. 

“You seem down, Princess,” a voice said. I jumped, spinning around to locate the voice. “I’m over here.”

A fire lit, illuminating the figure. He was a tall man, the flame of the crooked torch painting his skin red. 

“Wh—who are you?!” 

“Sshh. We wouldn’t want anyone hearing you in the middle of the night.”

“What do you want?” I lowered my voice when I said this. 

“Actually, it is about what you want. I hear that you are going to marry that Prince—Ralin, was it?”

“Yes?”

“Now look Princess, I understand that you have some… insecurities about yourself.”

“W—what? How do you know of that?”

The man smiled. 

“Let’s just say a little birdy told me.” The man cleared his throat. “I will cut to the chase. I have an offer for you.”

“An offer? No, I will not accept offers from strangers.” I turned away. “Please do not bother me further.”

“I can make you beautiful,” he said. I stopped. “I’m a magician you see.”

“How?” I asked. 

“Well that is my secret to keep. Here is the deal. I will make you into a beautiful wife, and you will have to give nothing in return.”

“What’s the catch?”

“It’s not much of a catch really. It is just that whatever happens, you cannot go back.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. That is it. And if you try to back out, I can kill you.” 

He will make Prince Ralin marry me. 

“Of course,” I said. 

“I would like you to put your finger in the air and write out your name.” I did as he asked, and wrote my name out in the air. A trail of red light followed my finger until my entire name was spelt out. Azaela Lucia Petzwelia Latripicius. The name suddenly burst into flames, and vanished into the night. 

A devilish smile spread across the man’s face. 

“A good choice,” he said. “A very good choice indeed.”

“Sir, you have been so kind to me. I would like to at least ask the name of the person who has helped me this much.”

“Some people call me Luke, but most people know me as the Devil.”

My eyes widened as the torch started to curl into the shape of a gnarled hand, and his head erupted with fire. 

It was then that I realized that his skin wasn't red because of the fire’s illumination, it was red because that was the natural color. 

“Y—y—you t—tricked me!”

“I didn’t trick you at all,” the devil said. “I will make you into a beautiful wife! My beautiful wife!”

“You said you’d make me into Prince Ralin’s wife!”

“Did I, though?” 

I thought back to his words. I will make you into a beautiful wife, and you will have to give nothing in return. 

Oh no. 

“Then please sir,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice. “Make me beautiful!”

The devil chuckled, and I saw thick, twisting horns come up from the top of his head. 

“I think you are beautiful,” he said. “It all depends on what beautiful means to you, my dear.”

“Please,” I pleaded, “don’t do this. I made a mistake. I—”

“A deal’s a deal.” Giant wings sprouted from his back, and he grabbed me by the shoulder, soaring up into the air. “You are mine now!” he cackled as he flew. 

“There must be at least a way for me to back out!” I cried. “I’ll do anything!”

“I think you’ll make a good wife,” he laughed, “and you’re beautiful just the way you are.”

And I didn’t think I would hear those words from the Devil. But I realized they were true. Whatever the Devil meant when he said that, I was beautiful—in my own way.