| To
Mr. Fleck,
my first "true-love" J
The Real Thing?
by Sedeara
"The Princess looked at the Caliph, and she shivered.
Something passed between them, and beyond a doubt, they knew
it was the real thing.
"Do you feel what I feel, My Princess?" he whispered.
She gave him her hand. "I believe I do, my lord."
"I know this is sudden, but I want you to spend your
life with me. Will you join with me in sacred marriage?" The
Caliph's eyes were alight with love for the Princess.
"Nothing would make me happier!" she exclaimed, throwing
her arms around his neck.
And so they were married, and spent the rest of their
days happily together . . ."
‡ ‡ ‡
Jasmine sighed and let the pages of the book flutter
closed. She hung her arm lazily over the side of her bed to
stroke her tiger. "Oh Rajah," she murmured. "Isn't it
romantic?"
Rajah raised his head at his mistress's remark and
gave her a look that said he agreed, although he had no idea
what she was talking about.
Jasmine sat up. "You know Rajah," she said matter-of-
factly, "that's the way it's going to happen for me. I'm going
to see someone, and both of us will just know. And then, he'll
ask me to marry him just like the Caliph did."
Tilting his head, Rajah gave her a questioning look.
"And it won't be long now, either," Jasmine continued.
"Why, I'm twelve now, and in a few more years . . ." She pulled
herself off the bed and stood before her mirror, examining her
reflection. She pulled her hair elegantly on top of her head
as she'd seen distinguished women of other kingdoms do and
gave the image of herself her most dazzling smile. She was
pleased with the way she looked . . . almost grown up.
There was a knock on her door, and startled, Jasmine
jumped, causing her hair to once again fall around her shoulders.
Quickly gathering it into a ponytail, she rushed to pull open
her huge doors.
"Yes?" she greeted.
Standing there was one of the palace's servants. "Your
father wants you in the throne room," she said. "A Prince
from Pitosah has arrived, and you must be presented to him.
Your father says to dress finely."
Jasmine went about bedecking herself in attire that was
appropriate, not really paying attention to what she was doing.
It was like a routine to her now, for she'd presented herself
to more of her father's friends and allies than she cared to
remember.
When she was finally ready, the servant led her down
to the throne room, where beside her father, stood an elegantly
dressed Prince.
"Jasmine," said her father, addressing her. "This is
Prince Casimir of Pitosah. He will be staying with us for a
couple days while he waits for his caravan to be sent to him."
Her father continued to talk, but Jasmine could no
longer listen. All her attention focused on the Prince, she
noticed how different he was from the others she'd seen. Since
he was a friend of her father's, she'd assumed he'd be another
elderly ambassador with trained mannerisms and a forced smile.
However, this was definitely not the case.
Prince Casimir was young and handsome, clothed in bright
red silk robes. They made a vivid contrast with his dark skin
and black hair, which just brushed his shoulders. He had a
small, trim beard, lacking any trace of grayness. And when
he smiled at Jasmine, it was genuine and natural, and she felt
immediately at ease.
She curtsied before him. "It is an honor, Prince Casimir,"
she whispered, and instead of simply being polite, she truly
meant her words. As she looked up from her bow, her eyes met
his dark ones and she couldn't draw them away.
"A pleasure to meet you, young Princess," Casimir said,
reaching out his hand to shake hers.
When their hands met, a shiver went through Jasmine.
The words of the book she'd read that morning echoed back to her:
The Princess looked at the Caliph and she shivered. Something
passed between them, and they knew without a doubt that this was
the real thing.
This could be the one! Jasmine thought excitedly. I
know it has to be! Why else would I feel this way?
"My, my," said the Prince as he dropped Jasmine's hand.
"Your father said you were a beauty, but I had to see you to
truly believe it."
Jasmine blushed. How wonderful! He thought her beautiful!
"Thank you, my Prince," she said, smiling up at him.
"In fact," he continued, reaching into his pocket, "I
have a little gift here to compliment your beauty." He drew
out a small box and handed it to Jasmine.
With shaking hands, Jasmine pulled the lid off and gasped.
Sparkling up at her was a pair of shining gold earrings. They
were large and yet not flashy, and Jasmine tilted the box to
make them reflect the sun.
"They are lovely, Prince Casimir!" she exclaimed. "Thank
you so very much!"
"Why, Casimir," said the Sultan, "you did not have to
do that."
"When I heard there was to be a young Princess at the
palace in which I stayed, I knew I had to bring something special
for her," he said, winking at Jasmine.
She smiled and felt suddenly warm inside. Surely the
Prince is in love with me too, she thought excitedly. For he
has given me this wonderful gift and called me beautiful!
Perhaps he is a bit older than me, but I'm sure he'll wait for
me to grow up a little . . .
She unclipped the earrings she was currently wearing and
fastened the new ones into her ears, slipping the old ones into
her pocket.
"Stunning!" remarked Casimir.
"Jasmine dear," said the Sultan. "There is to be a
banquet tonight for Casimir. Dress yourself as is fitting for
such an occasion."
"Yes father!" agreed Jasmine eagerly, rushing out of
the room. I will dress more finely than I ever have before,
thought Jasmine. If I have not won the Prince's heart already,
I surely will tonight.
‡ ‡ ‡
She sat before her mirror to check herself over one
last time. She'd never dressed so elaborately before! Her
hair was pulled up and she had strung flowers and colorful
beads through it. She wore the earrings given to her by
Casimir, of course, and she could not take off the gold
necklace she wore, for it was special to her. But she knew
she needed a little something more and clipped a couple more
around her neck. She also fished a handful of bracelets out
of her jewelry chest and lined both her arms with them. Her
gown was one she'd never worn before, for never had she had
such an occasion to. It had conspicuous poofy sleeves and a
billowing skirt, made of bright blue shiny material. And just
for extra measure and a more grown-up appearance, she had
sneaked into one of her serving-lady's rooms and borrowed her
make-up.
She smiled at herself. Why, she looked like a different
person! She fancied that she appeared much older than twelve,
perhaps even fifteen or sixteen. Very happy with herself, she
rushed down to the banquet hall.
Entering slowly and gracefully, she pretended to be
coolly disinterested in everything as she scanned the room
for the Prince. He and her father were both seated at the
table already talking about something Jasmine couldn't hear.
She knew she had caught the Prince's eye, for he grew
quiet in the conversation, and this made her father also turn
to look at her. He gasped.
"Jasmine, dear!" he exclaimed, rising from his seat and
rushing to her. "Why on earth are you dressed that way?"
"What do you mean, Father?" she asked, glancing down at
herself.
"What's this on your face?" He touched her cheek and
a coat of powder covered his fingers. "Why, Jasmine, you don't
yet wear make-up." He held up her arms. "And all this jewelry!
And your dress!" The Sultan shook his head, a bit embarrassed
by his daughter's gaudy appearance. "Dear, why don't you go
upstairs and have one of your ladies dress you?"
"I can do it myself!" Jasmine said indignantly. "Don't
you like it?"
"It's not that," said the Sultan slowly, not wanting
to hurt her feelings. "But I believe something more simple
would suffice perfectly well."
Simple? thought Jasmine. How could she wear something
simple? This could be the most important day of her life! And
was her father telling her that she didn't look good, when she
had spent all afternoon preparing for this? She looked down,
suddenly ashamed and embarrassed. Perhaps she wasn't as grown
up as she thought she was. "Yes, Father," she murmured dejectedly.
The Prince, seeing her hurt feelings, couldn't help feeling
sorry for her. She was only a child after all, and it was
natural for her to want to be thought grown up. Before she
had a chance to leave, he called out, "I think you look lovely,
Princess!"
She halted in her path toward the door and turned her
head to look at him. "You do?"
"Yes, I do. Come, Sultan, Princess," he said. "Let us
delay no longer and enjoy this meal together."
Jasmine joyfully took her seat at the table, just a few
seats down from Casimir. Her father joined them reluctantly
and again took up his conversation with the Prince.
Eyeing the Prince all night, Jasmine was sure she caught
him glimpse at her a few times, and it made her heart flutter. She
forgot that she had been reprimanded for her appearance by her
father and reveled for the rest of the night in the compliment she'd
received from Casimir.
As the hours drew on, Jasmine found herself becoming
quite sleepy, but she forced herself to stay awake and alert
so Casimir would think her mature enough to stay with the
grown-ups all night. However, when her father instructed her
to go to her room and get some sleep, she was rather relieved.
Once there, she removed all the layers of ornaments
she'd adorned herself with and slipped into her simple
nightgown. Before going to sleep, she read her fairy tale
book once again, and this time, she replaced the Caliph's
name with Casimir's and the Princess's with her own.
‡ ‡ ‡
The next day, Jasmine decided she didn't need to spend
quite so much time on preening as she did the night before,
but she still needed to look better than usual. So she wore
one of her nicer gowns, put on a little extra jewelry, did
her hair differently, and put on a new crown. She decided
not to wear make-up this time, for she didn't like the way it
felt on her face.
By the time she felt she was ready, it was a bit past
mid-morning, and she rushed to the throne room to see Casimir.
Once there, she was horrified to find that beside the
Prince stood two servants, both of them carrying large bags.
Casimir was dressed in traveling attire, and speaking of his
departure with the Sultan.
"Ah, Jasmine," said the Sultan when he saw his daughter
enter, "I'm glad you have come. You're just in time to say
good-bye to Casimir."
"Already?" she whispered, hardly able to get her voice
out.
"That's right," said her father. "His caravan arrived
to pick him up earlier than expected. He must be on his way."
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Little Princess," said
Casimir, coming near her.
"You'll come back, won't you?" she asked hopefully.
"I think I could arrange to," he answered, taking both
her hands between his. "I would enjoy seeing you again. And
when I return, I shall have my wife with me."
Jasmine was sure she'd heard him wrong. "Your . . .
your wife?" she whispered. "You're . . . married?"
"Not yet, Princess. You see, this caravan is taking
me to the kingdom of my fiancee. I will wed her there, and
the next time we meet, I shall have the most beautiful Princess
in the seven deserts on my arm," Casimir said, smiling.
Jasmine felt her heart break, and feeling that Casimir
had betrayed her, she jerked her hands out of his. "Fine!"
she spat, turning away from him and running up to her room.
"Oh, dear," murmured her father. "I wonder what that
was all about?"
"I don't know . . ." said the Prince. "Perhaps I should
find out." With a quick stride, he followed Jasmine's path.
He found her in her room, where she sat on her bed.
Hearing him enter, she glanced up, and then lowered her
eyes again. Tears trickled out of them and she rubbed her
running nose, feeling embarrassed. She wished Casimir couldn't
see her.
"Come, come, now," he said, sitting on the bed beside
her. "What's wrong, Little Princess?"
"You're . . . you're getting married!" sobbed Jasmine.
"Yes . . ." Casimir said slowly. "Does this bother
you?"
Jasmine looked up at him. How could he not know? she
wondered. "I'm in love with you!" she blurted. "I thought
you felt the same way about me!"
The Prince nodded solemnly, understanding what this
was about. He put his arm around Jasmine and pulled her close
to him as a father would. She resisted at first, but then
she calmed down and rested her head on his shoulder. She took
a few deep breaths to steady her breathing. Now that she'd
admitted how she felt, it was time to see how Casimir would
react.
"My little Princess," he murmured. "I don't think you're
really in love with me--"
"Yes I am!" interrupted Jasmine, pulling away from him.
"Shhh," he whispered. "I think rather than being in
love with me, you're in love with the idea of being in love."
"What do you mean?" asked Jasmine, not understanding
his words. She brushed a few tears from her cheeks and
realized that not as many new ones were forming.
"The same thing happened to me when I was around your
age," Casimir told her.
"Really?" Jasmine found it a bit hard to imagine
Casimir . . . or any adult for that matter, being her age.
"Yes," he answered. "When I was thirteen, my mind was
filled with the thoughts of falling in love. Why, I had three
older brothers and watched each of them be wed to the Princess
of their dreams, and I was just waiting my turn. Then, one
day, there was a good friend of my mother's who came to visit
the palace. She treated me wonderfully, and I fancied she
preferred my company over that of everyone else, my father,
my brothers, even my mother. When I discovered she was
married already, I was heartbroken. Then, when I really fell in
lovel, I knew what happened with her was no longer
important."
"Are you saying my feelings aren't real?" asked Jasmine
angrily. "Are you saying that they aren't important?"
"By all means no, Princess," Casimir said. "I know your
feelings are very real, and I know right now they are very
important to you. I'm just saying, don't get too worked up
when it's not yet the real thing."
Jasmine sniffed, wishing she could argue with him but
knowing she couldn't, for he had been through the same thing.
"How will I know?" she asked quietly. "How will I know when
it's the real thing?"
"For one thing," said the Prince, "don't go looking
for it. When the time is right, it will come to you, and you
will know. Trust me."
"All right." Lowering her eyes, Jasmine thought about
what he had said. Maybe it was true, but right now, it seemed
he was the only one she'd ever feel this way about. But she
knew she had to let him go, and pray that he was telling her
the truth.
"Prince Casimir?" came a voice from the other side of
Jasmine's door. "The camels in your caravan are becoming
restless. Are you ready to go?"
"I know you have to leave," said Jasmine, and she
reached up to give him a hug. "And I hope you are happy."
"I wish you happiness in your life too, Princess,"
Casimir said sincerely, returning her embrace.
"I'll never forget you," Jasmine whispered.
"Nor I you." Casimir pulled away. "But now I must
leave."
"I understand."
Jasmine stayed seated on her bed until she heard
Casimir leave her hall, and then she rushed out to her
balcony to watch his departure. She saw him turn on his
horse and wave at her, and she silently returned it.
If she had wanted to be dramatic, she could have
wailed for him not to go, told him he could never leave her,
or given him a lock of her hair or scrap of her dress to
remember her by. That's what the Princess in her book would
have done. But she realized now, there was no point in
wasting her energy . . . at least not before the real thing
came along. And after Casimir's talk with her, she was sure
it would . . . someday . . .but not quite yet. And for now,
that was all right with her.
The End
Thanks for sticking with it till the end! Please e-mail me with
and comments, critiques, or questions at: The_real_Sedeara@yahoo.com
I'd love to hear from you!