A few weeks later, after Valdan and Sylvie had already departed, Prince Argo of Solis arrived at Vandan Castle, along with his entourage. This consisted of several young noblemen, a few priests of Solis’s sun-worshipping religion, and about two hundred soldiers of the Imperial Guard, clad in impressive-looking armour, and surrounding their leader and his friends quite effectively. At the back came a procession of slaves bearing gifts from the Emperor Malmo.
Alban directed the slaves to a side entrance, where Valerie would be receiving their gifts. The priests and fifty guardsmen accompanied them, after a command from the crown prince. Argo himself then rode up to the front door, with his aristocratic friends and all the remaining soldiers following. Alban had been expecting his daughter’s suitor to be a remarkable young man, but he was still taken rather aback. The crown prince was almost seven feet tall, he guessed, handsome and well-built, and wearing the finest royal garb, adorned with the coat-of-arms of his empire. He had short, dark hair an appeared to be in his early twenties.
“Welcome”, the King said, as Argo and his nobles dismounted. “I am Alban, king and co-regent of this land. You must be the crown prince…”
“Of course I am!” the young man announced. “So you’re the king, eh? I’m sorry, I was expecting someone a bit…bigger. What with this enormous castle and all…”
“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you. This castle was built by the long-gone race of Giants – my wife and daughters are their only known living descendants.”
“And you like having a giant for a wife?” Argo sounded dumbfounded. “Were there no normal women for you to choose from?”
“There were – quite a few, too – but once I really began to know Valerie, I knew she was the one for me. In any case, seeing as how you’re here to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage, I’d imagine the notion of having a giantess wife appeals to you as well.”
The prince simply gazed silently at him, and Alban began to wonder if it would be a good idea for him and Belena to meet. As they passed through the 250-foot-high wooden front door and began making their way towards the throne room, the men from Solis grew quieter and quieter. They all felt, Alban imagined, like insects on the floor, dwarfed by the gargantuan furnishings around them. He was glad that Sylvie wasn’t here: though she could be sweet and polite when she wanted to, his youngest had an unfortunate tendency to frighten foreign visitors, just for ‘a little joke’, as she put it.
Beneath one of the giant tables Argo saw an immense, thirty foot-long wooden figure, almost like a fallen statue, and clothed like a soldier. He asked Alban about it, and was told that it was just one of Princess Sylvie’s dolls, which she must have dropped there and forgotten about.
“She can be so thoughtless sometimes,” the king laughed. “I’ll have to have a talk with her when she returns from her ‘adventure’. In any case, a fourteen-year-old shouldn’t be playing with dolls anymore, but she just can’t seem to grow out of it…”
As he spoke one of Argo’s friends pulled him aside and whispered in his ear.
“Perhaps we should return home, sire,” the man insisted. “I have a very bad feeling about this. The princess…”
“Is only a girl!” Argo interrupted. “And I am not frightened of a young girl, Riros. I will make her my wife, and that shall be the end of it! I am not letting my father think I am a coward. Understood?”
“Yes, sire, absolutely…but what if…”
“Shut up! I think we’ve arrived.”
The great throne room was five hundred yards long, with a staggeringly high ceiling. Most of its length was covered by a vast red carpet, and it was along this that the men walked. They eventually approached the Queen’s throne, 150 feet tall and intricately decorated. Alban bid the prince and his company to wait, while he went off and fetched the princess.
“Won’t…won’t you be here as well?” Argo asked.
“Oh no! Forgive me, Your Highness, but I have other pressing duties to attend to. Furthermore, my daughter has requested that I be absent during your meeting. She is quite nervous, you see, and doesn’t want me to ruin her special moment by making an inappropriate comment. I believe she is eager to prove, too, that she can conduct herself regally, and that her father’s worries are all for nothing.” He winked and smiled.
“But…but…but…” the prince babbled.
“Calm down, Prince Argo!” Alban said, gripping him by the arm. “She is no different than the maidens in your own great city. If you find her great size to be too much, just relax. You will get used to it. She is just as full of anxiety as you are, believe me, and she seems eager to start off on the best of terms. Now, excuse me for a moment, and I shall fetch her for you.”
Belena turned around in front of the mirror for the hundredth time, making absolutely sure that her appearance was as perfect as could be. She wanted to make an impression on Prince Argo, and was convinced that the tiniest imperfection would lead to his great disappointment. She had spent all day getting her makeup and hair flawless: ruby-red lipstick, not too much eyeliner, tasteful jewelled earrings, a golden band to secure her hair…the list of necessities went on and on. She had chosen a magnificent orange gown to wear, which hugged her figure nicely and showed just the right amount of cleavage, while still giving her a royal and splendid appearance. Along with this came high-heeled shoes, velvet gloves and a sash, in matching colours. The final touch was a giant pink flower, five feet across, which she tucked into her hair.
She turned towards her tiny handmaidens, who were standing on her dressing table, and who had helped her to prepare.
“How do I look?” she asked nervously. “Not…not too bad, I hope?”
“Your Highness,” said Carina, a short, pretty girl of seventeen. “You look lovely beyond words. Every man I know would be speechless just to look at you.”
“Really?”
“No question about it, Princess,” said Merinette, Carina’s fourteen-year-old sister. “The prince will be smitten the instant he lays eyes on you.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” added Arily. “You’ve never looked as beautiful as you look now, Belena. Go on, and don’t be afraid. If he doesn’t fancy you, the fault lies with him.”
At that moment another servant girl came running into the room. She stared at the princess for a few seconds, before remembering to deliver her message.
“The prince awaits you, Your Highness!” she said excitedly. “He’s in the throne room!”
Belena gave a little gasp, but managed to stay composed. She lifted her friends carefully off the table and set them down by her feet. Then, looking down on them from her great height, she said “Wish me luck!”, and hurried out of the bedroom.
She entered the throne room from a side door, behind the great throne, so she did not immediately see the prince and his entourage. But then she noticed the small crowd of men, waiting near the foot of the steps leading to the throne, and she nearly turned around in shock.
“I thought it would be just the two of us,” she thought to herself. “But there’s so many of them! What do I…no, I won’t turn back. I will be brave, and talk to him, and I won’t let them see how nervous I am!”
When the men saw the giantess approaching them, many of them gasped and even screamed. Two or three of the noblemen fainted, several dozen of the soldiers instinctively drew their swords, and Prince Argo himself turned deathly pale and gripped the nearest bystander by the arm.
“No…no…no…” he babbled. “No, I…I can’t…I can’t do this! I…we…I mean, I can’t…we…we have to go home! We have to…leave…”
He swallowed hard, as the immense young princess came ever closer. She towered above them, like a pillar of fire, and even after she had gracefully knelt down before them, she was still as tall as a good-sized tree. The men retreated slightly as she leant forward a bit. The face looking down on them was as beautiful as that of a goddess, but it was twenty-five feet from forehead to chin.
While the sight of such an enormous person might be upsetting to most men who had never seen one, the fact that this giant was a woman – no, a girl – was more than Argo could possibly tolerate. He knew at once what his men, his soldiers, his subjects, would think of him if he married her – and they were right. No worthy man of Solis would ever let his woman, naturally his inferior, surpass him in anything, particularly not such masculine attributes as strength and martial prowess. He would be known as the king who needed his wife to protect him from the eager hands of their infant daughter, and that was simply not an option.
“I’m never marrying her,” he swore to himself. “She’s not even remotely human. And I won’t let myself be ordered around by her – I won’t!”
“Greetings!” said the princess, a charming smile upon her lips. “Welcome to Vandan, my lords. I am Princess Belena, and it is a great honour for me to finally meet you. Which one of you is the prince?”
There was no answer for several moments, before one of the men stepped a pace forward and responded with “I…I am Prince Argo.”
Belena looked down at the tall, attractive man. He certainly looked like one of the princes in her stories, but he did not at all act like one. Instead of being the courageous yet romantic hero she’d been expecting him to be, he instead stared up at her with what appeared to be a mix of mistrust, fear and repulsion. She felt her heart sink in her chest, but remained determined to try and win his approval.
“I know how I must appear to you, my lord,” she said. “But I am not in the least a monster like the giants of old. Your size does not mean that I cannot love you, and I beg you not to reject me based upon my size either. If you would care to know me a bit better, I assure you…”
“I’ve seen enough!” he interrupted. “And I’ve made my choice. Did you think I’d consent to living a life…with you? You’re not in the least bit my idea of a…a wife! You’d have more luck if you tried to marry an ogre!” He began to laugh, and several of his men also.
“I mean, just look at you!” he continued. “Would any of you men even consider marrying something like…like this? I’m sorry, but I won’t allow myself to become a giant’s plaything, like your father.”
She simply stared at him in mute shock, unable to understand why he was being so callous, her expression close to tears. Prince Argo, feeling more than pleased with himself for putting this stupid giant girl in her place, carried on belittling her.
“How sad it must be, to be the last of such a monstrous race,” he said. “You’ll never experience the pleasure of having a man between your legs, will you, ‘Princess’? Hell, I’d wager an ogre would start to look very tempting not too long from now…”
Her oversized hand began to descend towards him, and he hastily stepped back a few a few paces and drew his longsword.
“Do not dare and touch me!” he yelled furiously, waving his sword about. “I am not your little doll, you brute! I am a crown prince, and you are not my equal! The only possible use I could have for you would be to work in one of our mines – although, being a girl, you’d probably do nothing but cry and complain…”
He kept on yelling at her, but Belena didn’t listen to his words. She couldn’t. She was beyond the point where she cared. Of course, she’d always considered the possibility that her prince wouldn’t be able to love her, but a true gentleman would still tell her so in a respectful manner, and this little louse was anything but. Her heart completely in pieces, she wanted nothing more to run back to her room and cry and cry, until she felt better. The beginning of a tear formed in her eye, but suddenly disappeared, as her will changed.
“I won’t let this happen!” she convinced herself. “I am a lady and a princess, and no man has any right to treat me like this – not even a king! If I just let him leave, this so-called ‘prince’ will continue to treat other women like dirt if they don’t please him. Well, I’m going to teach him a lesson, and if he doesn’t apologize afterwards he’ll regret it!”
Once more she reached for him with her hand, and once more he waved his sword at her and yelled. But she pinched the blade of his sword between her fingertips, yanked it out of his grip, and tossed it into a far corner of the room. Then, gently (but not too gently), she wrapped her fingers around him and, to his utter dismay, picked him up. She stood up, and watched in satisfaction as the soldiers on the ground scurried about like ants, unable to help their prince in any way: they were too afraid to even come near her.
“Put me down!” Argo kept shouting, amongst a multitude of curses. He was completely immobilized – only his head and shoulders stuck out the top of her curled-up fist – and his great strength was less than nothing compared to hers. “You…can’t…do….this! Lieutenant!” he called down to one of his soldiers. “Attack her! Make her put me down!”
Belena silenced him with her fingertip, twice as large as his entire face. Seeing how helpless he was made her feel a lot more confident, and she spoke to him casually and without a hint of nervousness.
“Not so bossy now, are you, little prince?” she said. “I don’t know what exactly you men from Solis are famous for, but it obviously isn’t chivalry. Your men might think you to be an awesome leader and all that, but from up here it’s obvious that you’re nothing more than a nasty, spoiled little rodent. I mean, how low must you be when even a young girl could overcome you so easily?”
Turning around, she left the soldiers and noblemen and headed back to her room. Her tiny captive began struggling even more intensely, but she held him firm.
“No need to be afraid, ‘my lord’,” she said nonchalantly. “I’ve never hurt a man before, not even one as deserving as you are. That being said, if I find that my lessons don’t teach you to behave courteously to a lady like me, I might have to make an exception to that.”