She’s still for a disconcertingly long time. Because, sure, she knows what she wants! Boon: easy. When you meet a princess, a real princess, of her own planet, with the laurel wreath in her wheat-blonde hair, with the red dress dripping with the golden beads and the purple sash, with a face that’s on the adorable side of pretty, with the gloves, the real white silk gloves— that’s the kind of thing you can’t miss out on! You have to ask her for the opportunity for service, or for a kiss, or for a sword to fight her enemies with, but she keeps digging deeper into the things she [i]knows,[/i] in her bones, in her blood.

“All right,” she says, looking the princess in the eye, how odd that they’re the same height. “I know what I have to ask. What’s the impossible deed that’s troubling you? Is it… taming a giant lion made out of five smaller lions? A truth hidden at the very heart of a death-moon? Picking between three eggs, one of which has the fire that does not go out inside of it, one of which has the sea that is not quenched inside of it, and the last one has your heart inside of it, only nobody knows which one is which? Beating you in a cross-planet race, because you can only marry someone who beats you fairly?” She considers for a moment. “I’m not sure I can help you with the last one. I’d have to ask… you know, the triangles? [i]Her.[/i] She might still say yes, though, so if that’s it, we should— no? Okay, well, the reason, the [i]reason[/i], is that when you meet a princess who’s just [i]miserable,[/i] it’s because she has an impossible wish in her heart, like… like…”

[i](“Like looking up through the clouds and catching sight of a star, impossibly far away, and wishing you could close your hand around that star, not because you want to drag it down to earth but because you want to use it as a handhold to pull yourself up and see all the places you’d read about, dreamed about, imagined— only, you would never get to see them, because you were a doll shut away inside of a closet, waiting, and if the throne was ever empty, you’d be brought out and sat on it so that you could be a replacement, and that would be even worse, because it would mean that your mother was gone, your confusing and loud mother, your mother who would yell at you so that she could smile like a cat and say that she loved you when you ran to see what was wrong, your mother who wanted you to be the you that she could see in her heart, only you didn’t know how to be that girl, and you sat in the closet and grew heavier and stupider and you stared out at that one star, a gift from your father, and you made a wish to go— and then you realized that if you stayed in the closet, you would never ever see that wish come true. So you pushed the door open and slipped away, a little doll with a bruised cheek, dragging a statue along with you in a pleasure yacht you didn’t know how to sail, but you prayed to the lord of the shining rainbow sea, and he took his beloved niece where she needed to go most of all.”)[/i]

“Like that! Exactly! And that’s all over your face, your highness. And the only way to make things better is to make that impossible wish happen. Then you can be yourself, instead of a miserable princess, because all miserable princesses are the same in how sad they are, or how they’re sad— that’s better. So what’s your impossible wish, and the impossible deed I have to do? I think I’m good at doing them. How else would I know all about them?”

[i](”…”)[/i]

“Well, if you don’t know, or you can’t say— I bet it’s because you can’t say, that’s usually part of it, princesses are always having their voices stolen away one way or another— then come with me. I think we’ll figure it out on the way! Come on, take my hand, try slipping that wreath off, and we can find you an incognito dress! It’s not an impossible task, but it might just make you smile, your highness. And that’s part of the quest! Just take my hand, and I promise: I’ll find a way to help. What’s your name?”

[i](“…Redana Claudius?”)[/i]

A very long stare. “No,” she says, finally, “I don’t think that’s your name. Because your name is supposed to make you feel good, not look like you’re waiting for the world to crash down on your head, your highness. Maybe that’s your official princess name, sure— but I think we might be able to find something better. Not like I’m one to talk. Triangles has got it, I think. She’s the dependable one…”