The Beauty That Lies Within – A Tale of True Love

In a kingdom where integrity, wisdom, and compassion were valued far more than physical appearance, lived a princess unlike any the bards sang about. She was not what one might call traditionally beautiful. Her face was freckled and round, her nose blunt, and her frame more stout than slender—features better suited, some whispered, to a village dairymaid than to royalty. Yet within her beat a heart of gold. She was wise beyond her years, kind to all, and ever gracious. Her people revered her deeply, not for her looks, but for the beauty she spread with her deeds and spirit.

When the time came for her to marry, her royal parents commissioned a portrait to be sent to neighboring kingdoms, accompanied by a scroll that described her many virtues—her intelligence, kindness, leadership, and grace. Weeks passed. Then months. Yet no suitors came forward. No letters arrived. The court grew puzzled.

“She is admirable in so many ways,” the king said to the queen. “Surely, one prince at least must see her worth.”

One day, their trusted royal advisor—an astute man who had traveled far and studied the customs of foreign lands—offered a new plan.

“Let me send out a second set of portraits,” he suggested. “But trust me to handle this matter with care. Within a week, I shall bring back a response from a worthy prince.”

The king and queen, though uncertain, agreed.

The advisor commissioned new portraits and dispatched them once again, this time with a scroll crafted in his own, clever hand. As promised, within days a letter arrived from a neighboring prince expressing great interest and requesting an audience with the princess.

The kingdom was overjoyed. The princess blushed at the thought of romance, her heart filled with both hope and trepidation.

To meet the prince, she would travel across the border accompanied by the advisor, a few guards, and one handmaid. Oddly, it was not one of her usual, intelligent companions, but a quiet, simple girl of common birth. The advisor had personally selected her.

“She may lack refinement,” the princess whispered to him, “but she is sweet and loyal.”

The journey began. But once they crossed the border, the advisor made a curious request: the princess was to wear a veil over her face and not remove it under any circumstance. He insisted it was a necessary custom of the prince’s land, and she must honor her parents’ instruction to obey him.

Reluctantly, the princess complied.

When they arrived at the foreign palace, the advisor made an unusual presentation. To the prince, he introduced the handmaid first: “Behold, the embodiment of our kingdom’s heart.” Then he gestured to the veiled princess. “And here is the heart itself—hidden, yet filled with wonders for those who seek with care.”

The prince, intrigued by the mystery, accepted the arrangement.

From that day on, the three spent time together in the palace gardens. The prince could not take his eyes off the handmaid’s beauty, but it was the veiled maiden—the real princess—whose voice enchanted him, whose wit matched his own, and whose words brought warmth to his soul.

Conflicted, he found himself torn. He longed for the face of one, but the heart of the other.

Weeks passed, and finally, consumed by curiosity and frustration, the prince demanded that the veiled woman show her face.

The princess, having fallen for him, hesitated but then slowly removed her veil.

The prince recoiled.

“You are not beautiful,” he said bluntly, disappointment thick in his voice.

The princess stood silently for a moment, stunned. “Did you not say you admired my voice, my heart, my spirit? Have all those qualities vanished because of my face?”

Shamed, the prince muttered something about expecting the outer beauty to match the inner.

She looked at him sadly. “Then you have not loved me. You have only imagined loving me.”

The prince said nothing. And so, broken-hearted, the princess left, refusing him even if he were to offer her a thousand kingdoms.

The advisor, coldly disappointed, confirmed his judgment. “You failed the test,” he said. “We hoped you would value a deeper beauty. But we were wrong.”

Angry, the prince lashed out, accusing the kingdom of deceit. But the advisor reminded him, “The scroll said the portrait represented the beauty of the princess’s heart. Never once did we claim it was her likeness.”

Banished from the kingdom, the advisor and princess departed, leaving the handmaid behind.

Back home, the princess nursed her sorrow in quiet strength. She focused on serving her people, never allowing bitterness to take root. When gazing into the mirror, she would gently remind herself, “True love cannot be measured by what the eyes see.”

Months later, an invitation arrived—for the prince’s wedding. The princess was shaken. But curiosity stirred: had he truly chosen the handmaid, who had always looked confused and uncomfortable under his gaze?

When she arrived with her royal family, she was required—again—to wear a veil. The guards instructed her not to remove it or reveal her identity. Though wounded, she agreed.

To her surprise, every maiden in the hall was veiled.

Then the prince entered, searching the crowd, scanning each face—or rather, each hidden face.

One by one, he moved among them.

When he paused before the princess, her breath caught. Her heart pounded. Overcome with emotion, she turned to flee.

But he caught her hand.

Leading her to the dais, he knelt before her.

“I once failed to see the truth,” he said. “But I set a test for myself, to prove that love is not born of sight alone.”

The room fell silent.

“You may still hide your face,” he continued, “but your voice, your grace, your soul—I know them. My heart knows you. It knew you the moment I stood near you today. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “But how can you be certain I’m the one?”

“Even if I were blind, I would know you,” he said softly. “My eyes once deceived me. My heart never has.”

She smiled. “Then yes. I will marry you.”

Cheers erupted. The priest was called.

As vows were exchanged, the prince lifted her veil—and this time, when he looked upon her face, he saw not what was plain, but what was precious. Her love had transformed her in his eyes. He kissed her, and with joy, welcomed the beauty of her heart into his own forever.

💡 Moral of the Story:

True love is not found in outward appearances, but in the beauty of the heart. What the eyes admire may fade, but the heart’s treasures endure.