Trifecta: The Frog Prince
The frog contemplated the golden ball. It glittered through the murky water, half-buried in the black silt of the pond’s bottom. He could hear the princess crying above, her voice weirdly distorted by the water but still distinguishable. The wavering image on the surface showed him a green dress and dark red hair. Red. Never his favorite.
He swam over and prodded the ball with one sticky toe. It was his way out of this mess, he supposed. Back to the old life of flavored ices and servant girls, assuming he could avoid marrying the weeper. He slowly blinked the nictitating membrane across his eye, the best he could do for a nostalgic sigh in this clammy body. It had been a good life, if not useful. He’d been an idle prince at best, years from responsibility in a peaceful kingdom that did just fine with no help from him. Lovely.
His parents had put it about that it had been a spiteful fairy, he’d heard. It probably sounded better than admitting that he’d insulted a witch on his way out of her rumpled cottage bed the second night, and that she had decided sliminess suited him. True love. He would have rolled his eyes if he could have. But it only had to be true love for her, didn’t it? That might not be so hard.
Red-headed, though. He peered up through the water, trying to discern what sort of figure was attached to all that red hair. Hm. He pushed off of the golden ball with a back foot, and swished back into the depths of the pond. Princesses were so much work, after all. And perhaps a blonde would come by later.
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