The work of a fairy tale

Once upon a time there was a kingdom, be-knownst by all the lands, and revered by all its occupants. This kingdom was filled with systematically built fortresses of concrete and steel, towers that seemed to ascend forever, and black asphalt roads that bent around every corner. Small aerodynamic carriages of plastic, metal and rubber poisoned the air as they carried about the kingdoms occupants in style and speed. Vendors pedaled all manner of conceivable wares from stalls that lined the hallways of vast indoor market places and glimmering screens transported a symphony of sound and colour, from far and wide, into every home.

That aside, what made the kingdom truly great was its surface. All the bleakness of reality lay beneath the synthetic gleam of cheap boot polish, perfectly parted hair, powdered faces and polite smiles. The iron bars of every window were hidden behind neatly trimmed hedges and electronically watered flower beds. Benign racism was termed ‘affirmative action’, date rape was ‘boys-being-boys’ and homophobia was a religious belief. Yes, there was massive social oppression, yes anyone daring to live an alternative lifestyle was made to suffer, and yes none of it mattered to the majority of this kingdom.

From birth all children of the kingdom had their fate allocated. Every little girl had to be a princess, a beautiful helpless object, like the colour pink, and wait patiently for her prince charming/knight in shining armor. She had to be a virgin or else she was a whore. Every little boy had to be a prince or a knight, like the colour blue, and driven by an overwhelming compulsion to kill dragons, enchantresses, cultural minorities and other evil creatures. He had to produce regular pay checks or else he was worthless.

There were many children in the kingdom that grew to fulfill their allocated fate. This tale, however, is about one who did not: 

Two days before the wedding was to be held, while the king prowled the castle hallways, Kayla and Kiya found themselves alone in the servant’s quarters. They stood at the end of the bed embracing and kissing one another softly, grateful for the opportunity to do so without the imposition of wanting eyes.
“Kayla, what am I to do? I am to be the bride and victim in marriage to this prince and his happily ever afters”, said princess Kiya as she sat down upon the maids bed, creasing the quilt that was to be kept perfectly straight during the daylight hours. 
“Marriage? Have you not told your parents about us?” the handmaid knew the answer but asked anyway. She sat down beside Kiya, unintentionally adding more creases to the quilt.
“Yeah right!” Kiya replied, her voice dowsed in sarcasm and then returning to its natural tone “I did mentioned to my mother once, years ago, of my love for another girl. She recoiled, said that it was a passing phase. Thank god I didn’t mention that you were the subject of my affection.”
“That’s true,” Kayla conceded. “They would have seen us separated long ago”.  She let her head rest upon Kiya’s shoulder, her long hair falling about her face and covering her pale features. “I would have lost you” she said and then paused a moment. “Tell me, do you want to marry this nameless prince?”
“Ha-ha, don’t be absurd I’d rather slit my wrists with a straight razor,” Kiya answered and then added, “I love you Kayla, you know that but…” Both hearing the sudden click of footsteps at the same time they paused and turned towards the door. Silence again. Expecting an intrusion at any moment Kayla stood, moved some distance away from Kiya and straightened her dress. When none came she moved close to Kiya again. This time instead of sitting beside her she knelt at Kiya's feet, looking up to meet her glance. She took Kiya’s hands in hers.
“Run away with me! Tomorrow night before your wedding, under the cover of dark, we’ll take our leave of these walls. What do you say?” said Kayla.
Kiya paused, pretending she needed a moment to think the matter through, and then replied, “You would have to make all the arrangements, lest anyone be the wiser, but you know I will!”

Unbeknownst to Kiya and Kayla, the king stood outside the servant’s chamber. Having overheard fragments upon his daily wanderings, he pressed his prying ear against the door and listened in on the whole conversation. He called, with haste, upon the prince to whom his daughter was betrothed.
“Hearken, brave prince!” the king said, “You must go about this task as I tell you now, lest there be no happily ever after.” Hearing that his bride-to-be had taken a female lover did not bother the prince. Like many of the kingdom’s occupants, he lived under the pretense that two women were only ever romantically affectionate for the pleasure of men but they intended to elope and leave him at the alter which he could not abide.

The following morning princess Kiya, her mother and all but one of the servants gathered in the castles courtyard were they made final preparations for the coming wedding. She played the role of complacent bride-to-be well, pretending to care about trivial matters like the hem of her dress and how her make-up was applied. All the while Kayla was inside the servants quarters preoccupied packing what few necessities she could, and making arrangements for her and Kiya's departure. She didn’t notice the prince enter her chambers and lock the door behind him. With the kings assistance he had easily infiltrated the castle through the rear door without being noticed. The prince was alone with Kayla. Suddenly aware of his presence she turned and addressed him.
“My lord, you’ve startled me.” she curtsied politely, “What brings you into my quarters?”
Wielding a colt revolver he spoke, “I have come to slay thee, wicked enchantress. Thou shalt not deprive my princess and I of our happily ever after.”
“Wha… I don’t unders…” she began, terrified, knowing well what he meant, but not how he'd come to know.
“Kneel before me” he demanded. She was neither weak nor helpless but the scales were tipped. Like in all fairy tales fate favoured the prince and so did the revolver. Kayla knelt and brought her hands together as if in prayer.
“Please, I beg of you, have mer…” The prince forced the revolver into her mouth. She didn’t dare move, save her trembling jaw that tapped her teeth against the barrel and the tears that now rolled freely down her face.
“Make it look like suicide, just as the king hath instructed,” the prince mumbled to himself in a barely audible tone before blowing the back of the handmaids head apart. He wiped his prints from the gun and placed it in her hands. He straightened the quilt on her bed and then left.

Later that evening the king, providing the prince a perfect alibi, confronted his daughter. “My beloved daughter! This day is one of sorrow. Your servant girl, she has taken her own life.”  His words were stained with false sincerity and coupled with a hint of remorse as he now saw his bidding done.
“What? How is that possible? I don’t under…” she began but he interrupted,
“Come see, this is all that remains of her”. Kiya stood silently, staring at the blood splattered wall and the corpse of her lover piled upon the floor. She forced back the tears that threatened her composure. She knew immediately the extent of her father’s deceit; that he was somehow responsible. “Come now, my dear,” he said, sincerely wanting to comfort her. He placed his arm around her neck and gently ushered her away from the room. “We must not let this besiege tomorrow’s joyful occasion. You are to be wed, rejoice!” In a voice so cold and removed that it cut through the stale air like a blade, she replied,
“Yes father, wed tomorrow and then happily ever after.” She retired to her bedroom where in privacy she wept for Kayla.          
                   
The next morning as guests congregated in the courtyard, waiting for the marriage ceremony to commence, Kiya was no where to be found. The king was a little distraught but told him self this was to be expected. After a frantic search for the belated bride, the queen finally found her in the bathroom of the servant’s quarters.
“Kiya? Kiya! Is that you?” she said in a tone of frustration and disappointment as she entered the dark room. She reached for the light switch. The light flickered a little before illuminating the room with its fluorescent glow. Kiya lay still in the bathtub unyielding to her mother’s calls. The water, that just covered the top of her breasts, was a diluted red. On the titled floor beside the bath sat a straight razor. The queen in a panic grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and shook her naked body. “Kiya! Kiya! Sweetheart are you…” she screamed with frantic desperation but prompting no response “No! no no Kiya!” Kiya’s eyes were wide open but showed no sign of awareness. It was then that the queen noticed her wrists, a blatantly obvious detail but one that had escaped her in the confusion. They were slashed vertically. Kiya had opted to join her lover in death rather than be subjected to a union, forced upon her by a kingdom that neither understood nor cared for her. On the tiled wall above her, where she’d pressed her open wrists like pen to paper, were the words in blood;
Happily ever after