Juliet let out a melancholy sigh as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her nurse had just finished applying her makeup, making her face almost glow and mature for her age— lips a light red, mascara framing her light green eyes perfectly, dark brown hair swirls in elegant curls on her back.
She gave another heavy sigh.
“Is something troubling you, love?” Lady Capulet touched her daughter’s shoulder, her brows furrowed worryingly. The nurse, Madelene, wanted to roll her eyes. Here we go again.
“I was just remembering Father’s conversation earlier,” Juliet replied. “About my engagement.”
Lady Capulet nodded her head at that, “Ah, yes. It was a really good match. Prince Paris has a close relationship with Prince Escalus and is respected by many people far and wide. He will be a perfect match for you!”
“But will he?”
“What, darling?”
Juliet turned to her mother, pouting and arms crossed, looking petulant. “I mean, will he be a perfect match for me? I do not want a slightly-above-average man for a husband, Mother! I want him to be perfect! I would not stoop down just because my fiancé is not good enough! What would the people say?!”
This time, the nurse did roll her eyes.
“Of course not, sweetie! You always deserve the best!” Lady Capulet cooed at her lovely daughter. “Be it dresses, jewels, or your future husband, you deserve nothing but the best. Your father and I will assure it. That, of course, includes Lord Paris.”
Juliet looked up at her mother, and Lady Capulet thought her daughter looked too cute, even when she was pouting.
“Really? Pinky promise?”
“Pinky promise. Anything for my beautiful daughter, the fairest on the land. Isn’t it right, oh dear mirror on the wall?”
The large mirror swirled, and a smiling face that reminded the nurse of the ones they put up on an opera stage appeared. “That is of no question, dear ladies. You’ll find no other lady in this land who would best our Lady Juliet! Of that I can assure you.”
Juliet perked up at that, raising her chin with a smirk. “Of course I am. I am the only daughter of the most powerful family in Verona. No girl could ever dream of standing equal to me.”
Lady Capulet continued to coo at her daughter as the magical mirror nodded at her statement. In the nurse’s opinion, there’s probably no girl around who could beat the smugness and arrogance of the young lady Capulet. She tutted and shook her head. This is why you never let growing kids have magic mirrors, or they’ll grow egos bigger than the freaking castle ceiling. Though...
She eyed Lady Capulet as she continued caressing her daughter’s curls while saying whatever flatteries she could come up with.
She shook her head again. Maybe the problem was deeper than any magic mirror.
Paris let out a melancholy sigh as he looked at his reflection on the window of his carriage, on his way to the mansion of the Capulet family. He was idly twirling his long, light-blond hair in his fingers as the view of the Capulet mansion neared.
“Is something wrong, my lord?” his servant asked, wondering what made his master look like... well, like he was walking towards his execution.
“I’m just thinking of the arranged marriage with the Capulet’s daughter.”
“Ah, the one mentioned by your father earlier, right? I heard the girl’s reputed as a fair maiden. I’m sure she would be a good wife for you, my liege,” the servant commented.
“Indeed, that is what my father said as well,” the prince sighed again.
“Then what’s so troubling about it?”
Paris huffed dramatically as he looked at his servant. “Tell me this. Am I a handsome man?”
The servant, taken aback, quickly replied, “Of course, my lord! Many would tell you the same truth!” And it was. Most of the young girls in their city refused to marry anyone when Prince Paris came of age. It was quite a nightmare, actually. There was a riot at the front of the castle for a whole week as girls tried to enter the courtyard. The king had been seriously considering banishing his son if the riots did not stop.
Paris nodded solemnly. “Yes, I am handsome. That is what pretty much everyone I have ever talked with has said, and that I would definitely be a wonderful husband, and that any girl I would ever marry would be lucky to be my partner. However...”
“However?”
The young prince looked at the servant with an almost broken look that the poor man thought he would have a heart attack. Has he done something wrong?!
“Is that really it?” the young prince asked. “My worth as a prince, as a future husband. Will it ever really be measured by looks? Could my entire person only ever be held in such importance when beauty is involved?”
O…kay. That was quite deep, and surprisingly poetic. He really only wanted to know what was bugging the prince, but apparently, he was having an existential crisis right now.
He took a bit of time replying, looking for the right words. “I’m not sure how that’s a problem, my lord?”
He guessed that was the wrong thing to ask, as Paris turned to glare heatedly at the servant. “Can you not see the problem? I am now on my way to meet my future bride-to-be, to get to know the maiden I will spend most of my life with. Everyone said that it was a perfect arrangement, but I can’t make myself feel excited. Not like this.”
He was flailing his arms now. “I want the rush of feelings, of romance! The experience of falling for the perfect girl suited for me! I want to meet someone with whom I can happily spend my time, talk, and share experiences!”
Paris was already standing by the end of his passionate rant, arms raised at his side. The servant could only look at him without saying anything, the moment stretching into such a long, silent moment that Paris just deflated back to his seat, leaning his chin on his palm. “I barely had any choice in my life. Couldn’t they just give me a chance in this, just once?”
The servant didn’t really know what to say to that.
Just then, the carriage stopped. “We’ve arrived, your Grace,” the driver called up front.
Paris quickly got out of the carriage, coughing once and fixing his posture as he looked at the manor. A perfect mirror of a charming prince. “Come on,” he called his servant as the two of them entered.
Ella hated everything right now.
She hid herself in the shadows as much as possible, trying to keep out of the crowd, which proved to be difficult with her shimmering light-blue, billowing dress that was quite heavy and uncomfortable. Shimmering . Could dresses even shimmer this much?
On top of that, the cloth felt itchy, and she was starting to feel warm with the layers of the skirt. She’s itching to adjust her corset—how did she even wear a damn corset?!— but she’s still busy navigating across the ocean of people. At least that fairy Queen didn’t forget her mask , she thought as she saw her stepmother and stepsisters on the other side of the room. She needed to stay as far away from those three as she could.
Already, she could feel the energy draining out of her. She really didn’t want to attend the party. After she arrived earlier, she was quickly approached by a guy filled with such air that she had half a mind to punch him in the face.
A slow song started playing, and the people broke into pairs to dance in the center of the room. Ella can’t help but smile softly as the soft melody of the song floats around them. It was her late mother’s favourite. Her father would often ask for her mother’s hand for an impromptu dance, and the two of them would twirl around the living room laughing while holding on tightly to each other.
Her mother was still smiling brightly at that time, still moving gracefully as she tried to teach Ella how to dance. She loved leaving her hair untied as a child, as it made her think she looked just like her mother, with her dark blond hair and green eyes.
Her heart ached at the memory.
Something wet dropped in Ella’s gloved hand, and when she touched her cheeks, it was wet.
“Are you alright, miss?”
Ella almost jumped at the sudden voice. The young man was wearing a red and gold vest with a white silk cravat around his neck. His long, light-blond hair was tied in a low ponytail, and he was looking at her with slightly widened eyes. He was offering her his handkerchief.
He was handsome .
The two of them stood there for a moment before Ella snapped out of it. She shot a look at her stepfamily, noting that they were still on the other side. “Oh, no—I mean, yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just got something in my eye earlier. So I’m um, just going to the restroom to…freshen up, again.” Ella quickly walked away before the guy said anything, quickly turning to a corner. Was it just her, or did the air feel warm for some reason?
Back at the dance hall, Paris shook himself as he heard his servant calling his name.
“Is something bothering you, your Grace?” the servant asked. The prince had been staring hard at that maiden in a shimmering blue gown after she walked out.
“Beautiful. . .”
“What?”
Paris was smiling widely, cheeks reddening in blush—wait, blush? The prince was blushing?
“I’ve decided. That woman, I want her to be my bride,” Paris claimed. The servant felt his mouth hang open.
Say what?!
“I don’t know how humans could stand wearing this thing without choking,” Puck grumbled as he adjusted his cravat. Humans are weird when it comes to clothes. Whatever. He just had to finish his job quickly and be done with it.
He pulled his hat down to cover his pointy ears better and quickly entered the bustling manor. And whoa, quite the grand sight! Then again, it was Capulet’s only daughter. Of course, they’ll blast the place in such grandeur. Puck rolled his eyes at that. Rich bastards. Though he believes King Oberon would probably enjoy the extravagance.
Puck grabbed a glass of champagne from a servant, patted his pockets, and grabbed a vial with an intricate design. The vial was full of clear liquid dusted with gold dust, making it almost shimmer.
The vial was a congratulatory gift for the Capulets from Oberon, King of the fairies. The potion was the nectar collected from the magical flower he once tasked Puck to acquire, and was processed for easier usage.
Even a small drop of this liquid could make anyone fall in love with the very first person they saw. Emphasis on the person , there, after the last time this was used.
He can’t help but shake involuntarily at the memory. That night was a disaster, really. Titania shouted at the Fairy King for months once he lifted the spell and secured the little Indian boy, and the situation with the Athenian couples mixing up and turning into a heated love triangle was so messy that he sagged in relief when he finally fixed it. He really doesn’t want to imagine what would happen to him if he didn’t.
The people started applauding when the Capulet family arrived at the top of the grand staircase. He peered at the bottle, watching the shimmering gold dust float around. Why would King Oberon want to gift these humans with what must be the most potent love potion there ever was? Did he have another plan in motion? Puck paled at that. He really didn’t want to get involved in another scheme again, if he could help it.
Curious and slightly suspicious, he gingerly pulled the stopper with his teeth—he’s still holding his glass, sue him—and was suddenly elbowed, hard, and now half of the potion fell into the poor guy on the floor without him noticing .
“Romeo! Are you alright?” a guy in a green tunic exclaimed, then his other companion in a light blue suit decked him on the head.
“We are so sorry, my Lord. It was our fault, we were not looking on our path,” the guy in blue said to him.
“No worries there, laddie! Shoulda watched me surroundings better,” Puck replied gruffly with a wave. Disguising yourself from humans could really be entertaining sometimes. He walked towards the wall to get away from the crowd.
Then his eyes went back to the vial. Which was now half empty.
Puck stood there for a whole two minutes as his mind rewound his memory slowly to the little accident earlier.
The guy was dumped with a glassful of alcohol.
He looked at his glass. It was still full.
It was not alcohol.
Well. This sucks.