Croaked

The Frog Prince

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The frog sat still on Princess Maria’s palm, its only movement an occasional bulging out of its throat, as its big round eyes watched her.

“A prince?” she said thoughtfully, after a while.  “Prince of where?”

 

 

“Of Lower Lotharingia”, the amphibian croaked.  “A land of prosperous farmers and merchants waiting to welcome me back with my beautiful queen, if you would do me that homour.  It is blessed with a fine climate, and limitless wealth from its - “

 

 

“Silver mines” she interrupted.  “Yes, I know all about them.  Daddy lets me sit in on the military briefings.  We’ve 200,000 men poised on the borders, and we’ve made a deal with Upper Lotharingia to split the country between us.  The enemy army's just a bunch of part-time soldiers - merchants and farmers. They won't last two days against our armoured divisions.  Then we can enslave the survivors and put them to work in the silver mines.  Daddy thinks we can double the output! A chain-gang of 30 miners can produce almost 30 ounces of silver a day, if they're whipped hard enough.”

"So why would I want to marry you?"

 

 

“But… but you could be a beloved queen, and – “ the frog began.

“Or a despotic empress” she laughed, picking the animal up by its back foot, where it dangled helplessly for a moment, before being tossed onto the sun-baked flagstones for the crows.

 

Try clicking on 'fairy tale' in that word cloud to the right, if you liked the words, and on 'heart-stopping beauty' if you preferred the pictures.