ANOTHER CASTLE by MacKenzie McGee
World 1 – Stage 1
The problem, the Princess says, is that I promised him a cake.
* * *
World 2 – Stage 1
I came to the Mushroom Kingdom looking for work. I wasn’t skilled, but I was willing to do anything – hawk items, build blocks, plant coins. Polish the Hero’s shoes, or the Evil King’s spiked shell. I had no loyalty or illusions about good and evil.
Browsing the job postings in the town square, I heard a chorus of squeals behind me. In and out of my skirt the people of the land ran, none more than a foot tall, their spotted hats hardly lifting my hem. They screamed with a hoarse-throated glee, calling out that the Princess was here, a welcome surprise visit. They came out of their primary-color cottages in a swarm, pushing paws towards my gloved fingers, stupid smiles creasing their beady eyes.
One crawled up my arm to plant a kiss on my cheek. I flung it so hard it hit an oak tree in the face. The tree frowned at me.
They brought me to their Princess in the Forest World Castle. A colored‑in copy of me. Blonde hair to my grey, pink dress to my grey, peach skin to my grey. Her teacup shattered on the floor.
Sister, she said. I shook my head. Clone? She drew back, and I laughed. Do you work for the King or the Hero? I don’t work for anyone, I said.
The long silk glove slid from my arm. She pushed her bare palm against mine. The tips of our long, strong fingernails touched, sending tingles to my elbow.
Handmaiden then, the Princess declared. Her people cheered.
* * *
World 3 – Stage 1
The Mushroom Kingdom has an ingenious underground travel system of warp pipes. Through a trick of time and space, they whisk travelers to and from the Stages within Worlds, even between Worlds. Desert World to Forest World, Forest World to Water World. The web linking these locations is so convoluted that most citizens have a working knowledge of only two or three favorite connections: take the Forest Stage 2 to the Dessert Desert in the morning for an indulgent breakfast; take your date to Cloud World in the evening for an unforgettable sunset. Most of this underground map is a mystery.
Glittering ash from the lava flows surrounding the castle illuminated the night, making torches unnecessary as we strolled in the lush castle garden of Dark World one evening. The Princess and I often took midnight strolls when she couldn’t sleep. Telling the story of her people to me, she said, was like telling a bedtime story to herself.
The pipes are how the Evil King and his dastardly crew found the Mushroom Kingdom. Some accident in the plumbing brought them from the darkest corner of the sewers into the light, where they immediately began wreaking havoc on the peaceful toads. Toad is a term of endearment, she clarified. My poor toads told me of a Hero in a distant land who could best the Evil King, and I sent him a letter. I promised him all sorts of things, including my heart and a crown. He came as fast as he could and engaged the Evil King in a gentleman’s duel, hand-to‑hand combat.
The Evil King doesn’t strike me as a dragon with a sense of honor, I said.
The Princess shrugged, not exactly. But if all he wanted was the kingdom, he could just take it. No, he wants real devotion. True love, affection, all those things. So I made a deal. I said, I will keep to the castles and hold court with no man until you or the Hero emerges victorious.
And he agreed?
No. But the Hero bested him so easily the first time, it was almost sad. The King limped into my tower, roaring. He said, you must give me another chance. Flee to another World so I can prove myself to you, my queen.
I plucked a fat fire flower from the loamy earth by my feet. It turned its bright center towards one of us, then the other, illuminating our faces in turn.
I couldn’t let the Hero win that easily, either. Where’s the challenge?
So they’ve been fighting ever since, I said.
Yes, she said, still tickling the flower, a tiny giggle emitting from its center. Until someone is proven worthy, I rule alone.
* * *
World 4 – Stage 1
Every cycle ends like this: we wait in the castle at the end of each World for a victor to emerge from the final battle. The Evil King sends swarms of minions armed with a variety of weapons: swords and hammers, things to be thrown and to crack open the Hero’s thick skull as he traipses through the world, starting at the beginning. Sometimes the Hero will pause the journey to switch Worlds, stocking up on items or cashing in coins or waxing his moustache for a few days. The King delights in this, takes it as a veritable sign of surrender and plans a romantic proposal, but then the Hero returns to run the gamut again. The King is shocked and despaired every time.
Tonight, the Hero arrives as the sun sets. His arms and legs bear scratches and burns from the Evil King’s boobytraps, but his obnoxiously colorful clothes are pristine. I wonder if he’s ever considered camouflage, or even basic armor. A purple bruise sits on his right cheek above his thick moustache, the flesh swelling into his eye. He smiles, his front two teeth missing.
The Princess sits at the window in her bare bedroom, gazing out from the tallest part of the tower. Below stomps the Evil King, glancing up, waving at her with his big-clawed hand. The Princess shrieks. He laughs menacingly.
The Princess pats the seat next to her, and I sit down. I can see the battle, but I’m sitting at an angle where the warriors below can’t see me – only their fair-haired maiden, shrieking out the window for a savior.
The Hero looks up at the Princess and tips his cap. Then he readies his stance.
The Princess catches my disapproving look. He has to believe he can win, she says.
* * *
World 1 – Stage 2
I ask her why she doesn’t just keep her promise. Bake him the cake. Or have one of her many servants bake it. Or buy one from a village bakery.
* * *
World 2 – Stage 2
We pass the days in circular conversation. When she comments on the Hero’s short stature, I concur. When she remarks on the Evil King’s hideousness, I sneer. The toads do the laundry and cooking and cleaning and packing, down in the depths of the tower’s hot and humid workrooms. When her dresses are clean, I bring them to her chambers. When her food is ready, I offer it on a silver platter.
The toads brush my hair and wash my clothes and set the table for two. I repay them in pats on the head and stilted conversation. I am as radiant as their Princess. I know their names and speak kindly to them, as if they were my own subjects. I think they delight in this game, the doubled ruler bringing a second helping of affection and tasks. I coo at them as softly as I can when they do well and chastise them fairly when they fail.
I alone brush the Princess’s hair. It’s never tangled, always wavy, incredibly thick. I brush it in sections, and somehow it always seems there’s more spun gold underneath. It smells of soft-fleshed fruit. I could get lost in that hair.
We chatter girlishly as she watches the Hero’s progress from the window. When he gets close enough, we can hear him, whooping for joy when he vanquishes an enemy, wailing when he is bested. In the last stages before he fights the King, we can even see him jumping over the tops of trees or sand dunes or out of the sea, depending on what World we’re in.
Once, very early in our time together, I asked what will happen when the Hero has proven himself. If she will become his queen, and he, the king of the realm.
Yes, that is the proper way to do things.
I asked if this is a patriarchal system.
She answered, it has been a long time since the kingdom has had a king.
I drew the brush three times through curls as big as my fist. The room was silent but for the birdsong in the canopy below our window.
But he must prove himself, she said, a smile crawling across her face. And I decide who is worthy.
* * *
World 3 – Stage 2
The Princess keeps up her end of the bargain and never leaves the castle grounds. But sometimes, when a corner of the kingdom crumbles under the weight of the war, her people cry out for their sovereign. This is when she sends me.
I was finally given my own uniform for my first diplomatic mission. The seamstress toads took the fabric from ten pairs of their overalls and sewed me a fitting pair. That, with my hair in a long braid and my feet in a cobbled pair of work boots, and I was a new creature no World in this kingdom had ever seen before. Though nothing can be done to erase the resemblance, this is just enough to distinguish me from this world’s true Princess.
Don’t you look adventurous, the Princess says when she sees me in my new outfit. I hop and whoop, imitating the Hero’s voice. She laughs.
Our task: to visit Port City in Ocean World, the site of a particularly vicious battle between the Hero and the Evil King’s bomb squad. Two of the Princess’s most trusty toads will assess the damage and make plans to delegate more resources to the area – Blue will see to the armory, and Red to the merchant district and cultural centers. I don’t know if these are their real names, or just the colors of their vests spoken aloud by the Princess. If she’s wrong, they don’t correct her.
I don’t confess that I’ve given plenty of orders in my time, but never carried one out myself. I clasp my hands behind my back, awkward as the Princess rattles off more detailed instructions for the toads. When she’s finished, they bow at the waist, their noses nearly touching the ground. They’re practiced, organized. I bow too, a beat late, not as deep. The Princess hides her amusement behind a gloved hand. This is a new game for her, with more weight, more stakes. She delights in my nerve.
The Princess tucks a loose piece of hair behind my ear. You, my dear one, have the most important job of all. You must give my people hope.
When the toads turn their backs, she offers her hand. When I take it, she squeezes. I squeeze back.
With Red and Blue by my side, I run out the castle gate and leap into the closest pipe.
* * *
World 4 – Stage 2
Great balls of fire fly from the Evil King’s toothed maw. The Hero leaps, his short legs wound like a spring, carrying him out of the way just in time. Each step the scaled foot takes shakes the castle’s stones, causing dust to rain on us. It takes great effort for the Hero to dodge each swipe, flying through the air. Both of them grow more tired with the effort of each parry, more frustrated and determined to win.
Just for a second, the great beast slows. The Hero charges forward, one leap – two – and whack! His big boots come down hard on the dragon’s head.
Isn’t it marvelous? the Princess declares. She has a bloodlust, this one. She cheers to the Hero when he pummels the villain. We snicker to each other when the Hero catches fire. Who could help it, the way he grabs his own behind and runs in tight circles? Or how the Evil King’s stumpy legs churn when he’s knocked on his back, desperately trying to right himself? Who wouldn’t delight in the greatest show in the kingdom, such savagery, all for you?
* * *
World 1 – Stage 3
The Princess smooths the pink satin of her dress and shakes her curls. Oh, you know. First it’s a cake. Then the next time, it’s a feast. Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile, so I thought, why give him the inch?
* * *
World 2 – Stage 3
There are plenty of ways to pass the time in a stone tower if you have another body and total trust. We braid hair, we play dress up. We shred a tapestry and spend days sewing the pieces back together. The Princess can suffer three corsets before she starts to choke. I can do five.
We invented the fainting game in the Desert World. Palm trees swayed outside the window, dry heat and dust wafted into the room, whipped the slick silks on our bodies. The Princess held all her hair back with both delicate hands, and I bound it with a white ribbon. A handful of toads fanned us with huge leaves. In the wavering distance stood a blue oasis, water frothy with jumping piranhas, signaling the Hero’s location.
The Princess sighed, the sound like chimes. He better get here soon. I could die in this heat.
The toads began wailing, big tears rolling down their cheeks. I leaned down to touch each one, wiped a couple of tears. I think I’ll die like this, I said, and flopped dramatically onto the chaise lounge.
She cocked her head. Charming, but it needs to be more delicate, she said, standing up. Like this. Her body dropped like a feather on top of mine. Skirts plumed around us.
I tried again and fell like a rock, sprawling on top of her. The Princess giggled uncontrollably underneath me, her hot breath on my neck.
Please bring us a pitcher of prickly pear juice, I asked the toads, who had calmed down and were now laughing with their monarch. They skittered out of the room in a tidy line and shut the door behind them.
The Princess stood up and fixed her hair ribbon, still laughing. Let me show you how it should feel, she said. You play the Hero.
When she fell, it was like the wind kicked up in the room. All her loose garments and jewelry and hair lifted from her tiny frame. Her whole self fell slowly, bones faster than everything else, so she seemed truly in danger. As if in slow motion I scooped her up from behind, settled her safely in my arms. All bird bones. She would have been too easy to break. I couldn’t believe we were the same.
Now you try.
We took turns falling into each other’s arms, sighing softer and softer and never being satisfied. It was a swell, a step away from each other, a full risk every time we fell, and still we were caught. We saved each other every time.
* * *
World 3 – Stage 3
It took us four tries to get to Water World, but the patient toads seemed pleased. Last time, they said, it took them almost ten. I have a knack for warp travel, Blue winked.
We knew we were in Port City when we found a scuba shack in shambles. Most of the boardwalk was in piles of planks, and what was once a grand arcade had been turned to rubble, a few lonely arches still standing. Every toad in the village was busy clearing debris, sorting what materials could be salvaged into neat square piles.
We watched from the dunes, a pair of elders told us. Almost every building in the city is blown sky-high once a year, and on any given day, the city is a patchwork of projects. But this is the first time the arcade has fallen since anyone can remember.
The elders buzzed when they said this, grinning with excitement. The bombers came out of the air, dropping all the way from Sky World.
A group of children played nearby in a newly cleared section, arms outstretched, toes kicking up dirt. They laughed when they fell. One in a green vest spied me, knew me at a glance as the interloping sovereign. He made a silly face as he pointed.
An elder said, we’re building it even bigger this time.
* * *
World 4 – Stage 3
There is a pattern, I discover. The dragon reels fire, sometimes huge blasts, other times a rain of sparks. The Hero dodges as best as he can, bouncing around the courtyard in dashes and leaps, whooping wildly when he’s hit. It’s not so hard to learn, I think. Yes, the King changes patterns each time, but he is a creature of habit.
The Hero runs around the courtyard, frazzled, unsure of what is coming next. After the first fireball, he sprints to the corner of the courtyard to make as much distance as possible between him and the dragon before the next attack, but it’s only another fireball, one that misses him by a comically large distance. He’s still doubled over, recovering from the sprint when the little rain comes and his hat catches fire. He takes it off and stomps the flame out, hopping with both feet, revealing a small bald patch at the crown of his head.
He’s too busy spitting wildly on his hat to put out the last of the embers to notice the dragon pause, taking a big breath. Come on! I scream, throwing my hands up. The Princess shushes me through her own laughter. Fireball, fireball, little rain, pause! It’s four things!
The Princess shushes me through giggles.
Give me a powerup and I would best the both of them in one shot, I say.
The Princess covers her heart with her hand. Of course, she says. My true hero has been right here the whole time!
I blush when I realize she said this in jest.
The Evil King, covered in scales and a shell of steel, takes more than one kick to the cranium to defeat. But time wanes, the punches keep coming, and his attacks become more wheezing smoke than flame.
I watch excitement curdle into disappointment on her face. Sometimes the Hero zooms out the castle gates nearly charred to a crisp, and we’re off to the next World before the King can even ask for another chance. Today, we will have the other kind of ending, leaving an emboldened Hero, eager to finally have the Princess’s hand.
Neither of these endings are particularly satisfying for the Princess. Both mean a swift getaway in the airship to another World, any World where the Princess raises her flag, and the warring parties follow. Both mean she’ll have to declare the winner unworthy, either the small man with a burnt bottom or the bumbling beast with brimstone breath, and of course they’re unworthy, no one is worthy of a Princess like this except herself.
* * *
World 1 – Stage 4
I have baked a thousand cakes for you.
* * *
World 2 – Stage 4
The Princess asks me to play Hero when the toads aren’t around. She needs to practice being saved, and thanking her savior, showing appreciation for her bravery.
A soft peck on the cheek from her heart-shaped lips; a softer peck on the mouth. Both hands delicately holding mine as she bows to meet me. It isn’t much.
It shouldn’t trouble me, after the airship has been packed, before each rousing battle in the castle courtyard, when the Princess postures on the balcony and waves over the combatants, assures them if she feels that the victor is worthy, she will pledge her hand.
This is, after all, what she has been practicing for. Just practice: kissing in the mirror, but better. All while she waits for him. But if he isn’t worthy, then I suppose she’ll just have to keep saving herself, over and over.
* * *
World 3 – Stage 4
The item hawkers were happy to see us. We didn’t need much, just a few perfumes and creams for the Princess, but we took what was left of their inventory and paid double with heavy gold coins.
Toad villages operate on a barter-and-trade economy, with only luxury items requiring capital to purchase. Most of this capital comes from the royal coffers and circulates briefly among toads before they bury them for the Hero to find. When he blows through a World, he shoves as many coins as he can find into his bottomless pockets.
Sometimes, if he hits it big, he’ll go back to a region over and over, warping through the pipes to find gold. He spends it on items and nights in inns and anything else a weary adventurer might need or desire. Eventually the toads grow tired of the cumbersome capital and bury it somewhere for him to find, and the cycle continues.
Having done our part to stimulate the Hero’s economy, Blue spent the rest of the afternoon with a group of blacksmiths while Red and I floated around the rubble. The toad worked with an intensity I’d never seen before, peering curiously into seemingly random corners of ruins, taking meticulous notes and asking complicated questions of the local carpenters. I guessed that toads in the castles must work like this too, in the kitchens and laundries and armories and all the other places the Princess and I have never been.
I attended them all day, Blue and Red and the countless Port City Citizens, and I felt I knew less about toads every moment. Outside the castle walls for the first time since I’d arrived in this kingdom, the simple sketch of these people that I had held true – that the Princess in her gilded halls still believed – was colored in, rendered in vibrant detail. I glimpsed an inner world that I, as the constant companion of the Princess, had never been privy to. I sensed that every child handing me a flower, every worker wiping their brow and puffing their chest at my compliment, might be enacting a performance of sorts, as much for my benefit as for their own.
I had always known that toad cities conducted themselves almost independently across Worlds, ruled by a generous but distant crown. I supposed that this has always been their side of the cycle of battles – wreckage cleared and civilization restored efficiently, faster every time. It only made sense that they would be able to work wonders, have pride and take joy in their ability to rebuild over and over again.
Still it surprised me, the scaffolding rising in an afternoon, the intricate blueprints of a city determined to flourish despite everything. I stood in awe of them, deeply ashamed of my misjudgment, and couldn’t help but wonder what they could create if there weren’t another devastating battle looming in the near future.
By the time we were preparing to depart, the toads had rebuilt the scuba shack with an added story and scenic balcony. They shuffled around the outside walls inspecting for cracks, adding ornaments and toting cans of aquamarine paint.
We turned the corner to see a technicolor mural of their Princess, surrounded by her people. The halo of orange sun behind her head cast a shadow, one that is also holding hands with toads, only all grey. Red elbowed me and smiled, her bottomless black eyes swimming with meaning.
Toads are an industrious people, the Princess had said that night in the Dark World garden. If they don’t have a mission, or some sort of pursuit, they feel utterly hopeless.
I should have pushed her. I should have regaled her of the wonders her people achieved in war and the wonders that could have been in peacetime. I should have told her that I was becoming something in between a toad and a princess, something else I couldn’t name or understand, but I didn’t. Her face was so serene, and we were having such a lovely evening.
* * *
World 0 – Stage 1
I come from a place underneath the Mushroom Kingdom, underneath the pipes and sewers. My kingdom had a hero, and an evil king, and a princess a long time ago. But when the evil king and the hero came, she made her choice swiftly. Thinking herself clever, she said, I would have both of you, if you would have me, and we can rule all together in harmony.
And it was so. All the rulers lived peacefully together, and the people rejoiced that there was no war in the land. It was so peaceful that the hero had no one to save, and he fell into a deep despair. The evil king, with no one to fight, found he could only muster an ashy cough.
Then one day, the kingdom woke up and found their princess gone. Each believing the other had hidden her, the hero and the king turned against one another, and a civil war the likes of which no one has ever seen raged across the land.
The evil king became a dragon again. The hero grew strong once more, and the villages bloomed from the rubble each time they were knocked down. Each evening the hero and king sat in their fortresses, after establishing battle plans with their generals, and felt a hot desire burning in their chests, alive again, because having something to fight for was so much more fun than having anything at all.
* * *
World 4 – Stage 4
The Princess’s gloved hand grabs mine and pulls me down a stone staircase, spiraling to a battlement where toads wait to guide the Princess into the hovering airship. I carry her skirts behind her.
This time, as we clatter up the drawbridge into the ship, she glances back at me to smile. Every escape feels more and more like a victory.
By this time the Evil King is defeated and skulks half-dead into the sewers; the airship zooms out of sight as the Hero crosses the threshold into the interior of the castle and, instead of the clean Princess with her smiling pink lips, he finds a lone toad standing guard, who says I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, valiant Hero, but she is no longer here.
Mackenzie McGee has published a story in Porter House Review. “Another Castle” is her second publication.