To Mr. Fleck,    my first "true-love"    

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!