A Pancake of Thrones

How Not to Rescue a Princess

It had been over two weeks, but the kingdom was still in chaos. Princess Ashley of Javin, famed for her beauty, had vanished without a trace. Rumors spread like wildfire, reaching the farthest corners of Fabletale. Kingdoms all around were on edge, the nerves of rulers frayed with worry that if it happened to her, it could happen to any of them. Among the countless anxious hearts, the princes and knights were perhaps the most restless, for the hand of the missing princess was a prize coveted by many. To find her and become her savior, her prince charming, was a dream too tempting to ignore. No one even knew where to start looking. Regardless, they all set out on their quests, seeking the missing princess in hopes of claiming her for themselves.

As Prince William pushed open the heavy doors of the castle, the creaking of the aged hinges groaned like some ancient creature waking from its centuries-long slumber. Making his way up the grand staircase and walking down the long hallways, he passed room after room, each with people fast asleep in odd poses of slumber as if they had just fallen asleep in the middle of what they were doing. It was a strange sight, almost as if the entire castle had synchronized their nap times for the middle of the day—a castle-wide nap-time. He half-expected to see a sign that said, "Silence, please, castle-wide nap-time in progress.” The sight was so bizarre, it bordered on comical.

William's search had taken him all over the castle, from its tallest towers to its deepest chambers. Now, finally, he found himself pushing open the kitchen door.

There, among the pots and pans and the sleeping kitchen staff, lay the person everyone was looking for. She was stretched out across the wooden table as if she’d been forgotten there, a misplaced centerpiece. It was Ashley, the missing princess.

Her hair, the color of charcoal, was pulled back into a ponytail, as if saying to the world, "Sure, I'm royalty, but I can kick your butt if need be."

As William stood there, he couldn't help but notice the way the princess's rose-hued lips were slightly parted, the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each slow, rhythmic breath she took, it looked like she was suspended between the realm of the awake and the domain of the dreaming. He wondered what dreams she was having as she lay there, unaware that all of Fabletale was searching for her.

William was just wandering across Fabletale, waiting and wasting time until some other brave knight or prince found her or until the hoopla over her disappearance faded, so that he could head back home. Yet fate, with its strange sense of humor, decided that he was the one who should find her.

He never expected to find himself in this situation. After all, saving princesses didn’t come with a “how-to manual,” no step-by-step instructions on how to handle an enchanted slumber. Still, he had to do something. He considered his options. He could give her a gentle shake, jostling her awake like an obnoxious chamber maid, but that probably wouldn’t have any effect at all. Or should he opt for the classic fairy-tale solution, the one he'd read about as a child.

As William played with the thought, he couldn't help but glance around, checking if anyone was watching. But how could they? Every soul in the kitchen was deep in their own dream world. Still, he felt a sudden shyness, as though he was about to trespass into some private, sacred territory. He turned his attention back to Ashley.

William took a nervous step closer. With the awkward grace of a prince who was on his first rescue mission and who clearly hadn't read the chapter on "How to Gracefully Rescue a Princess," he leaned over Ashley, ready to wake her with a kiss.

As he moved closer, the logistics of the situation started to dawn on him. What was the appropriate angle for a prince-to-princess smooch? Was there a manual on Proper Kissing Technique for Breaking Enchantments? He could really use one right now.

Slowly, his lips inched closer toward Ashley's. Just as he was about to make contact, her eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, hi,” Prince William managed to squeak, his voice cracking. Ashley stared at him for a moment with familiar eyes that clearly hadn't read the same fairy tales. Without so much as a royal warning, she drove her knee into William’s family jewels, and with a shove, he found himself sprawled out on the cold kitchen floor. William felt a shock of pain so intense it seemed to be auditioning for the lead role in The Most Excruciating Pain of All Time. He wondered if it was even possible for pain to be this painful.

"Didn't see that coming," he managed to mutter, straining to keep his voice level but still sounding like a singing chipmunk. He tried to suppress the tears welling up in his eyes. This was not the way the fairy tales he'd read as a kid were supposed to go. It seemed that Princess Ashley had either missed that volume or had been reading from a completely different library.

So this was his reward for his effort? It’s not like he wanted to be here or cared for adventures; he’s simply not the saddle up and rescue damsels in danger type. But when your dad's the king and your kingdom's reputation is on the line, well, what's a prince to do? "How would it look," his father had pointed out with all the subtlety of a rampaging elephant, "if the crown prince of Asarum was the only one not searching for the Javin princess?" Even princes of Slightly Too Far Away Land had gone in search of the princess.

So here he was, a first-timer in the princess-saving business, way out of his depth. He had never left the kingdom of Asarum without an entourage since he was in a cradle, for crying out loud. And now twelve days on the road alone, tracking down a princess who had apparently decided to play hide-and-seek with all of Fabletale.

Not to mention that this particular princess, judging by the strength of her knee thrust, was hardly a delicate flower wilting in a tower somewhere. No, this princess seemed perfectly capable of handling herself—and any prince who dared to cross her path, it seemed.

Slowly and painfully, William managed to struggle to his feet, one hand still protectively clutching his royal lineage. He tried to regain some of his princely pride, but it seemed to have scampered off with his dignity.

"I thought you were under the Sleep Dragon's spell," he said, his voice still at a pitch that could make dogs bark in anxiety.

Ashley glared at him. "So, let me get this straight: because you're a prince, you thought it would be perfectly acceptable to capitalize on my supposed enchanted slumber?" "Swoop in and save the day by, what, kissing me awake?" a hint of laughter underlying her irritation. "Your royal entitlement could use a good reality check, Your Highness."

William couldn't help feeling a bit indignant, too. He was, after all, just trying to help. "Well, I didn't see anyone else around here offering to do the job," he retorted, even if his voice still sounded like it was on helium.

William cautiously straightened his posture, taking deliberate breaths in an attempt to will away the pain. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the sleeping kitchen staff, who seemed to have also decided to take part in the impromptu, synchronized power nap. He wondered if he could perhaps pull a Rip Van Winkle and pretend to fall asleep too, but alas, he had drunk enough coffee earlier to keep a bear awake through the winter. He hastily tried to change the subject.

"So, I can't help but notice you seem to be the only one not taking part in this Great Castle Snooze-fest," he said, trying to add some casualness to his voice and steer the conversation away from his ill-fated effort at a fairy-tale rescue. "Why aren’t you out cold like the rest of them?"

Princess Ashley rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and gave William a look as if she were measuring him up for a dunce cap.

"Seriously?" she asked, as if it were obvious. "You think I'd just waltz into a Sleep Dragon’s space bubble unprepared?" she asked, sounding like she was ready to explain basic dragonology to this poor misguided prince.

"Do I look like an amateur to you?" she continued. "For your information, I'm a slayer," she declared with a hint of pride as she tapped the silver rose pin holding her cape around her shoulder. She paused as if waiting for some imaginary drum roll to end. "I’m Night Raider, to be precise," she added, as if mentioning a highly prestigious title that should have been obvious to anyone with half a brain.

William raised an eyebrow, giving her a slow clap. "Bravo, bravo," he said, heavy with sarcasm. "Ladies and gentlemen, behold the legendary Night Raider in the flesh, master slayer who’s none other than Princess Ashley of Javin!"

Ashley's eyes widened, like a kid caught stealing cookies.

“Look, you can drop the act,” said William. “I know you’re princess Ashley of Javin, and from the unceremonious hello you just gave me, I think it's safe to assume you know who I am, too."

"Wha..what?" Ashley sputtered. "Please, that soft-footed, frilly-dressed princess wouldn’t know a werewolf from a tabby cat," she said with a nervous chuckle.

William leaned in close with an eat-shit grin on his face. He lowered his voice as if not wanting the sleeping kitchen staff to hear him. "First Born Luncheon, pancake sandwich, Gingerbread café," he replied.

The aroma of pastries at the edge of the capital of Lanvador had lured William into the Gingerbread Café. It was there that he heard from the café’s owner, Donpalo, that Night Raider, the legendary slayer who could strike fear into the hearts of dragons and demons alike, was in Lanvador. She’d been hired to rid the local castle of a Sleep Dragon that had taken up residence. However, Night Raider hadn’t been heard from since entering the castle, leaving the city in a little bit of a panic. Donpalo, seizing any opportunity to brag about Night Raider eating at his café, had offered William the Night Raider Special: strawberries and whipped cream sandwiched between cinnamon pancakes.

It all clicked. William knew of only one person with that peculiar food habit. The unique dish reminded William of the First Born Luncheon from a decade ago, where little princes and princesses from all over Fabletale had gathered. One princess stood out like a sore thumb, or rather, like a pancake at a steak dinner. She had an odd obsession with pancakes; that’s all she ate at the luncheon. The other royal brats made fun of her.

But William had his own secret, which he kept to himself. There were so many new dishes and wonderful new fruits to try at the week-long luncheon; it was as if he had made a wish to the culinary gods, and they answered. Every chance he got, he would steal away into the kitchen, just to be around all the master bakers and chefs.

The only good thing about this impromptu adventure he was on, was he was able to experiment with new and exotic wild herbs and spices. In every hamlet and village, William made sure he sampled the local cuisine.

“I see you stopped at Donpalo’s café,” Ashley finally mumbled. "He was bragging again, wasn't he?" She continued with an exaggerated eye roll. "The Slayer that vanquished the werewolf of the Red Woods, Night Raider, eats at my café. Honestly, I should start charging him for advertising."

William had a gut feeling that Night Raider could be Princess Ashley. And he was right. Maybe he’s not so bad at this adventuring stuff after all. Still, he was a bit annoyed.

“Nine kingdoms are searching for you,” William huffed. "They're tearing up the continent searching for you, and here you are, a runaway princess playing slayer as if it's a hobby."

"First of all," Ashley began, "I'm not playing at anything. I earned my slayer crest, thank you very much, and secondly, I didn't run away,” her voice rising with every word. “I’m usually home before dawn.”

As it turned out, Ashley had a secret trick up her royal sleeve. She pulled out a hand mirror the size of a plate from her bag. “This always takes me home."

“A mirror?” the prince questioned.

“A teleportation mirror, but it doesn’t seem to work in here,” Ashley replied.

Thanks to the teleportation mirror, Princess Ashley always made it home before her mother barged into her room or even before her chamber maid came to wake her. She got the mirror from some witch that she vanquished, who was going around offering unsuspecting maidens apples with a side of eternal sleep. Using the mirror, the witch would teleport her sleeping victims to her lair and leech off their youth like a vampire.

Before the mirror, Ashley couldn’t go very far; it was a mad ride chasing the rising sun back home. With the mirror, she gained access to all of Fabletale. All she had to do was say, “Mirror, mirror, take me to this place,” and when she wanted to return home, “Mirror, mirror, take me home,” but for some reason the Sleep Dragon space bubble was preventing it from working.

“So, unless you know how to wake these people or kill the Sleep Dragon, I’m stuck here,” she said, sliding the mirror back into her bag.

“So, I can’t just walk out the way I came in?” William asked.

Ashley gave Prince William a sideways glance, as if she were putting the finishing touches on the dunce cap. "Did I just speak in some secret dragon tongue, or are you always this dull?" she replied. "I just told you, you're stuck here until the dragon dies or everyone wakes up."

William gave her a perplexed look.

"And before you say anything," Ashley continued, a bit exasperated, "let me spell it out for you. I can't get to the dragon because it's holed up in the north tower. It destroyed the bridge leading there, probably to sleep without any interruptions. And trust me, I've tried everything short of punching these people in the face. Nothing worked. So yes, we're trapped."

William tried not to look too disappointed; but, knowing how long dragons tend to sleep, made it hard.

“By the way, why aren’t you falling asleep?” Ashley asked. "You’ve been inside the sleep bubble long enough; you should be snoring like a bear by now.”

“Lots of coffee,” the prince replied.

Ashley seemed to consider this for a moment, then rummaged through her bag and tossed him a small bottle of blue liquid. “Drink it,” she instructed. “The caffeine will wear off soon, and that will keep the sleep spell from affecting you.”

William hesitated for a moment, looking at the liquid suspiciously, then at Ashley, who in return gave him a "what-are-you-waiting-for?" look that turned into a "you-can-drink-it-or-not, I-don’t-care" look.

He pulled the cork out and finished the liquid in one gulp, making a sour face. After coughing and clearing his throat, William couldn't resist saying, “Wow, I can’t believe the pancake princess is the famous Night Raider.”

Everyone in Fabletale has heard of at least one of the Night Raider's exploits. William is no different. His favorite story is the one where she fought a three-headed demon pig. Still, his subconscious was having a hard time reconciling the image of the small princess with a pancake obsession with the fearless Night Raider in front of him.

“You guys made fun of me the whole weekend,” Ashley finally said.

“Look, we were kids, and everyone did it to keep the focus on you, hoping their insecurities didn’t show, but you didn’t care; you did what you wanted and how you wanted it, but you know what? They did it because they wanted so desperately to do what you were doing.”

“Well, knowing that now doesn’t do much good, I spent the whole time crying on my way home, and you know what my mother said? I have to start acting like a real princess and stop being weird.” And in that moment, Ashley felt like that anxious, unsure eight-year-old kid all over again.

Prince William remembered that weekend well. Amid the gossip and laughter, he noticed Ashley, always sitting alone at a table hovering over a tower of pancakes. While the others pointed and laughed, he felt an odd kinship with the outcast princess. He didn’t tease her like the rest, but he didn’t defend her either. But as the years rolled by, she became the most desired princess in all of Fabletale.

“I’m guessing that your mother doesn’t know anything about this Night Raider business, then?” asked William. He took her silence as a yes and continued.

“So, you’ve gone up against werewolves and ran into a castle to face off against a dragon, but telling your mother that you’re a slayer—that’s what scares you?” asked the prince.

“You don’t know my mother,” replied Ashley.

“She’s so... aah,” the princess sighed, “I can bench press 200 kilos... with one hand! And yet I feel so week around her, god.”

“I can’t do anything right; you’re slouching; stop picking your fingers; princesses chew thirty-three times before swallowing; princesses don’t ride horses; blah, blah, blah.” William felt a swell of sympathy for the princess, accompanied by a flash of anger at the unfairness of it all.

“Everything I like, she hates."

"I don’t mind being a princess, you know, but I’m also Night Raider, the Slayer.”

William knows all too well about expectations and personal dreams. He knew what it felt like to hide his own desires and dreams for someone else's. If he were being honest with himself, he doesn’t want to rule.

If faced with a choice, he would gladly let his younger brother take the crown of Asarum. In secret, he sharpens his culinary skills in the kitchen. He's mastered a lemon-peach pie that his father loves. However, he never revealed that he was the one who baked it. He fears his father's disapproval. His father always said that only peasants work with their hands. William loves working with his hands, especially when cooking. William dreams of someday opening his own restaurant. A king with a restaurant—preposterous. But then again, if a pancake-loving princess can become a slayer, then why not?

"That's it," William thought. When he gets back, he’ll tell his father he doesn’t want to be king. That is, if he can get out of this castle.

“I’m starving,” Ashley said, pulling William from his epiphany moment. “All I ate were fruits, and the rest are beginning to rot.”

"Man, I could really go for some cinnamon pancakes right now," she said.

“What?” said William. “You’ve been sleeping in a kitchen all this time.”

“It’s the only place I could stay warm,” Ashley protested.

“What's Fabletale coming to when a princess-slayer can’t cook,” said William.

“And you can?” Ashley asked.

William gave the Ashley a sheepish grin and strolled over to the other side of the kitchen, where a lady lay fast asleep on the table. “Excuse me, madam,” he said to the sleeping woman as he grabbed a skillet, then he waltzed over to the fire.

Ashley stared at the prince with interest as he moved around the kitchen. He grabbed some flour and a couple of eggs; he strode over to a brine-filled barrel and pulled out a slab of meat; he grabbed a knife from the knife rack; and with several quick slashes, he had carved off several thin pieces of meat.

“Wait, you know how to cook!” Ashley asked with genuine surprise.

"What is Fabletale coming to when a prince likes to cook his own food?”

"What can I say,” Prince William said. “A man's got to eat, right?" He winked at the princess as he continued his culinary creation.

He sprinkled pepper on the thinly sliced meat as the skillet heated over the open fire. Ashley watched him with growing curiosity, her annoyance at his attempted kiss a distant memory. He threw the strips of meat into the skillet.

As the smell of cooking meat filled the kitchen, Ashley leaned against the table, her eyebrows furrowed in thought, as the prince cracked two eggs into the bowl of flour. She knew that her mother would have declared her missing, but she wasn't sure whether she was relieved or annoyed. She didn't need rescuing; after all, she was a slayer, one of the best there was, and she could handle this dragon on her own if she could get to it. But she couldn't help but feel touched that her mother cared for her enough to mobilize the entire Fabletale to find her.

William strolled over to the window and pulled up a bottle of milk that was hanging in the cold, early winter air.

He popped the top and smelled it as he walked back over to the table. Prince William noticed her watching him. He poured the milk into the bowl and began to wisp it delicately. He turned towards her with a teasing smile on his face and said, "So, princess-slayer, how’d you like your pancakes?”

Ashley rolled her eyes at him and said, “Seems like I’m not the only one with secrets, huh?” She grabbed a pinch of pepper and flicked it at him. Just then the woman sleeping at the table close to the pots and pans sneezed awake, moaned, and asked, “What’s going on?”

Prince William and Princess Ashley smiled at each other and, in unison, said, “I know how to wakeup everyone!”