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I’ve worn the dress before. We’ve rehearsed the proposal more than once, and after the first few times, Bowser started claiming that he couldn’t get “into the right mood” without the proper visual. I thought, at the time, I had played the role of the Princess well enough – my voice pitched higher, my eyelashes fluttering. I fell into the rhythm more easily than I expected to. And Bowser, he certainly seemed to more easily follow the outline for the proposal we had discussed. He’s a confident king in so many arenas – perhaps it’s only fate that the one thing he wants most would put him in a situation he would feel the most uncomfortable in.
I suppose it should discomfort me, too. I mean, it’s not why he keeps me around, as some sort of crash test dummy for his romances. Putting that dress on, adjusting the wig in the mirror, it was unusual at first. I don’t put a lot of stock in my appearance, as a rule. I like the flowing blue robe, it allows me a lot of movement, which is ideal for spellcasting. In theory, the tighter bodice of the dress, and the mess of hair framing the face should be the least appealing situation.
But when I looked into the mirror, I saw…
It didn’t happen all at once. The first time, I was looking only to make sure I matched the model. The time we’d taken, the Koopas and I, to make sure the dress was a perfect match to the Princess’s formal robes. I was focused on the small things, the crinoline being straight and the shoulders not pinching. I barely saw myself beneath it, because if we’d done our job correctly, neither would Bowser. He’d see the Princess.
It wasn’t gradual, now that I think about it. The turn. It simply happened one time. I put on the dress, and saw myself wearing it. Not some simulacrum of the Princess. Me. Kamek. In a dress.
I felt warm.
I’m not overly given to sentiment. Especially in my duty as Bowser’s second-in-command, I aim to provide the right balance of reason and logic to his more emotional style of leadership. He needs me. He does, even if he won’t always admit it. And I’ve been by his side so long that it’s left me little time to reconsider myself. Perhaps that’s why the mirror stirred something in me. For the first time in a long while, I’d looked at myself and seen something other than the magical advisor to the King of the Koopas.
My breath grew shorter as I looked in the glass. A crown balanced daintily above a swoosh of blonde hair, set just so. The pink dress, with the blue jewel accenting the center of the chest, to match the earrings. The white opera gloves, masking my claws and giving my hands the delicate aspect they never had before. And the smallest of touches, unasked for but sparked by my commitment to the King – or, perhaps, my commitment to the role: the lipstick, brightening the end of my beak.
It all felt so… right , somehow. Myself, in this getup. I slowly moved my arm, the fingertips tracing up the side of the torso, finding their way across the top of my chest. I tilted my head down, and peaked my gaze just a touch above my goggles. The image looking back at me surprised me: not one turtle in a sea of villains, but a gentle soul shining through underneath the costume jewelry.
Oh, my , I thought. I’m pretty.
“KAMEK,” boomed the familiar voice, the sound ricocheting down the hallway beyond the door. “How can I win the heart of my dear Peaches if I can’t rehearse?”
“On my way, my King,” I shouted back, before taking a final look in the mirror. Adjusting my goggles, I felt my heart flutter again in the recognition. Yes. This is me. This is who I could be.
I scuttled back to the throne room, the fabric of the dress clutched gingerly in each gloved claw.
- - - - -
“Princess Peach…what a pleasure it is to finally make your acquaintance.”
I gulped, and unfolded a hand fan.
“Lord Bowser,” I sighed, fanning myself. “What displeasure it is to look upon you.”
“Yes, it’s truly…what did you say?”
“I’m surprised you bothered to show your face here, what with the threats you’ve made to my people.”
“That’s not right,” said Bowser, dropping the flowers. He stomped closer. “She’s supposed to be smitten by my rougeish charms! Stick to the notes, Kamek!”
“But your grace,” I said, adjusting the wig, “don’t you expect she will come to your meeting with…some bitterness?”
Bowser’s brow furrowed, and I could smell already the brimstone building for a fiery burst of breath. “She is never bitter,” he countered. “The Princess is a beam of bright light, the sun that shines down upon the pitiful Mushroom people she calls her subjects. And it’s for that reason that I love her so ardently.”
He seemed pleased by his use of the word ardently . I made the choice to avoid reminding him that he’d learned it from me.
“And it’s for that reason that she’s the perfect queen for my devilish kingdom!” Bowser turned, and made his way to the window. From the top of his castle, he had a clear view down into the lava-drenched heart of his floating realm. I’d traversed it well – many of the safety precautions were spells of my own devising, after too many of the Koopa Troopas returned from training as members of the Dry Bones Corps. Again, while I wouldn’t tell him outright, it was evidence that the Boss’s ambitions outpaced their implementation.
With his back turned to me, I fluffed out the dress again. We’d had to improvise on the petticoats, and given how little they’d be seen while rehearsing, that felt like a fair trade-off. But as the person wearing the costume, I missed the full truth of the outfit. Princess Peach wouldn’t cut corners on her formal attire. Why should I?
Though it may have simply been my newfound desire for the full dress that snagged my attention.
“You doubt that she will be enthralled to be my wife?” asked Bowser, without turning.
I looked down. “Not for an instant, my King. However…”
“Then it is settled: you spoke untrue to deny her affections for me.”
“I…”
Nervously, but emboldened by the dual roles I was in, I pressed on.
“I will adjust, Lord Bowser,” I said. “In my respect, you must be prepared if she is…if the love she feels for you already is not as…forthcoming as you wish.”
This seemed to stop him. He turned his head a notch.
“Not as forthcoming? ”
Exhaling, I continued. “Yes, my King. For, of course, you have of late made many threats upon the safety of her kingdom and subjects. Simple as they are, she cares for them, and places their welfare as her highest priority. We know she beholds you as her adversary, and…”
He growled at this, but said nothing more.
“...in light of this, her love may be…hidden at first. She may feel the need to test the waters, rather than falling directly and openly for you. The truth is there, but we must tease it out. Her true nature must be called forth.”
“Hm.”
“That is, of course, why we are rehearsing at all, my Lord,” I added. “If she were prepared to love you openly, we would need no preamble. Yes?”
I felt a pit in my stomach, exacerbated by the tightness of the dress across my abdomen. It’s often necessary to speak up in opposition to Bowser, particularly when he’s in an agitated state. But it always comes with a certain level of risk. I’m blessed to be protected from any bodily harm, by virtue of my position, but the King can dole out an emotional wound like few others I know.
This time, however, he seemed to calm his nerves before replying. “I suppose…you are right, Kamek. My charms, though numerous, are not always apparent. I must show her, prove to her, that she is wrong about me.”
“Very good, sir.”
Bowser turned around to face me again. In the flash of a moment, I saw the wounded heart beneath the scales, the longing glint in his eye, that showed how deep the cavern of his want yawned within him. Somewhere within that cavern is a heart that beats truer than any other, and circling around that heart, I know, is the reason I still follow him, after all these years. Why I’m standing here in his throne room, wearing the dress of a Princess he will always love more than me.
The heart yearns for what it cannot have, I’ve heard it said. And we go blind to what is standing in front of us.
“Once again,” he said, brushing off the sentimental and returning to his puppy-dog glances, his ideas of romance tailored to his royal paramour. Committing myself further than ever, I sat down once again, with my hands clasped submissively in my lap. He cleared his throat.
“Princess Peach. I…humbly thank you for speaking with me.”
“It is the base kindness you deserve, I presume,” I said. The words came easy, her heightened tone.
“And you, fair one, deserve ever much more,” he said. Realizing he dropped them, he picked up the bouquet of flowers once again. “I know you may see me as nothing more than a beast, but I ask that you look beyond that. Love has made a new man of me, a better one than ever entered your kingdom before now.”
A line came into my head, unbidden.
“Say, ‘Love really makes a guy come out of his shell,’” I offered.
Bowser seemed thrown. “Is that a joke?”
“It shows humor. Wit.” I placed a hand on my chest once again. “Refinement. That you are a suitable partner to a Princess.”
“I know that.”
“But she may not. Prove to her.”
That seemed to land with him. He took a step back.
“I know, on the outside, I may seem nothing more than a great beast,” he began. “But I ask you to look beyond that. After all, it’s love that makes a guy come out of his shell.”
He wiggled an eyebrow, and I giggled inadvertently. Before he could respond, I beckoned him forward. “A poet!” I exclaimed. “Why, I never knew there was this side of you beneath the scales.”
Bowser lit up, his eyes sparkling. “I have many sides, Princess. I hope you will get to know them, as I will learn yours.”
“Will you show me?”
Bowser leaned in closer – closer than he’d gotten in our previous rehearsals. “I would be glad to do so, Peaches.”
“Oh, Bowser…”
I felt something stir in my chest, lower than I’d felt before. It was a good practice run on the seduction, and at first it seemed to be pride for my King that was rumbling within me. But as I caught Bowser’s glance, looking at me and seeming to see someone beautiful, and worthy of adulation, I realized that it was more than that. More elemental of a desire. You may expect, in your own view, that I was falling in love with my King. But I promise you, it wasn’t his charm that shocked me.
It was my own .
As he continued rattling off praises of my beauty, and his desire to make our two kingdoms into one, I felt the electric thrill that comes from being truly desired. To be courted, and to be hopefully won. For so much of my life, I have had power over others. So to have someone else offer to guide me, to be my suitor, to treat me with the respect due to a pretty damsel…it opened something within me. A weed I’d stamped out before, or perhaps a flower I’d never watered. As I turned my head with a demuring expression, to encourage Bowser to pursue me further, I glanced down at the dress. Once again, I recalled myself in the mirror, the truth it revealed to me, the identity I saw as a possibility now.
“Princess,” came the gravely voice of my Lord. “Will you marry me?”
And before I could answer, I’d made the decision: I wanted to be loved like this for real. Not in rehearsal. Not dressed as someone else. But as myself.
I wanted a man to make me his wife.
Oh, God. That’s who I am.
“Princess.” Bowser shuffled his feet. “You haven’t answered.”
“Yes,” I whispered, a tear welling in my cheek. Then, louder: “Oh, yes! Make me yours!"