The Real Princess – A Funny Retelling with a Surprising Romantic Twist

In a lavish palace filled with silk curtains, jewel-encrusted chandeliers, and the world’s most extravagant beds, a Real Princess was waking up with more bruises than dignity. She descended an absurdly tall ladder from a tower of mattresses, grimacing at every painful step. The palace Lackey, who had been conveniently stationed at the bottom, watched her every wince with concern… and a little too much interest.

“I’m absolutely shattered!” the Princess snapped, wincing. “What sort of sadistic lodging is this? I’m black and blue from head to toe!”

“Ah, but Your Highness, you’ve passed the test!” the Lackey beamed, producing a tiny, shriveled pea from beneath the lowest mattress. “Only a Real Princess could feel such discomfort from a mere pea hidden under twenty mattresses!”

The Princess stared at him with disbelief. “You mean to tell me you battered me half to death with… a vegetable?”

The Lackey nodded proudly. “Indeed! Our Prince will be delighted. He seeks only a Real Princess, and you’ve proven yourself worthy.”

“Your Prince owes me an apology, a physician, and a very expensive lawyer,” the Princess snapped, cradling her bruised limbs. “And I don’t marry idiots.”

Meanwhile, in his opulent breakfast chamber, Prince Gorgeous was lounging in a golden dressing gown, delicately sipping coffee brewed from beans that had passed through the intestines of a swamp dragon. He was scrolling stock prices on his Y-pad when the Lackey arrived.

“She passed the test, Sire,” the Lackey announced. “And she’s asked for a doctor… and a lawyer.”

“Bring her here!” Prince Gorgeous declared, ignoring the marmalade smudge on his golden sleeve. “I must meet this bruised paragon of royalty.”

When the Lackey returned to the guest chamber, the Princess was pacing furiously, still waiting for medical attention and, more pressingly, breakfast. “I’ve been kidnapped, battered, and starved! And now you’re telling me I need to dress up to meet some egotistical royal?”

“You’ll have to help me dress then,” she said, shrugging off her nightdress without a care, much to the Lackey’s shock. Before he could assist, the door burst open — the Prince himself, still in his coffee-stained robe.

“This is the Real Princess? She looks dreadful!”

“Gee, I wonder why,” she snapped back. “Try spending a night on your ridiculous bed torture device and see how you look come morning! And by the way, you have marmalade on your sleeve.”

The Prince’s face drained of color. “But… but… you’re supposed to be perfect!”

“Get me a doctor before I make your imperfections even more obvious,” she shot back.

Sensing disaster, the Lackey summoned the palace physician — but not just any physician. In galloped Chiron, the legendary healer and centaur, his deep auburn coat shimmering like polished wood, his hair dark as midnight, and his diamond-grey eyes both kind and commanding.

The Princess’s breath caught. She had never seen anything — or anyone — so devastatingly handsome.

“My Lady,” Chiron said with a voice like velvet thunder, “may I tend to your injuries?”

As his enormous, gentle hands passed over her battered body, aches dissolved and bruises faded, but her heart raced for reasons far beyond pain relief. Chiron’s very presence was intoxicating — a mixture of ancient wisdom and unbridled allure.

When her body was healed, her mind was made up.

The Prince offered his marmalade-streaked hand. “Now that you’re presentable, you may join me for breakfast.”

The Princess glanced between the vain, shallow prince and the magnificent centaur. Her decision was swift.

“Keep my clothes,” she told the Prince flatly.

She ran after Chiron, who was already trotting down the hall. “Hey! My name’s Godiva, and I want your babies!”

Chiron paused, turned, and broke into a radiant smile. Without hesitation, he swept her up onto his broad back and galloped away, the two of them vanishing into the golden sunset — a centaur and his very own Surprise Princess.

As for Prince Gorgeous? His next test subject was so buxom that the entire mattress tower collapsed under her, crushing the Prince, the Lackey, and the remnants of breakfast beneath a royal landslide of fabric and peas. The palace was abandoned, soon swallowed by ivy and wild peas. Some say they’re still under that heap, right next to the marmite.

Moral of the Story

A real princess knows her worth — and that worth isn’t measured by bruises or peas. Sometimes the perfect partner isn’t a prince at all, but a centaur with healing hands and a dazzling smile.