Jasmine

"Oh dear, it seems that she gave herself a mudbath."



When Jasmine was born, her adoptive parents called her their little blessing. Pure white in color, she was a thing of beauty. Her eyes paid dues to the Gladekeeper, two shiny emeralds nestled amongst pearly scales, and from her gently fluttering wings there whispered songs of praise. People from far and wide came to marvel at the little forest goddess, and a day was set for her debut at the royal palace.

Her parents dabbed away tears of joy as their daughter was announced by the court herald. The whole assembly held their breath as the door opened on her brilliant, angelic self---

Jasmine tears through the hall, shrieking madly, covered head to toe in mud. She leaves a trail of it on the royal carpet, bits of it flinging to the scales and capes of mortified nobles, and as she skids to halt in front of the throne, some of the mud in her hair catapulted forward to land on the King's face with an echoing splat.

All was quiet. The birds of the forest stopped singing, and everyone now held their breath for an entirely different reason.

Then Jasmine smiles up to the king, cheeky as you please, and drops into a proper curtsy. The move was so jarring that it surprised a titter out of the usually-dignified Queen. Then the absurdity of the situation caught up with her, and she began laughing in earnest - great, belly-aching laughter that echoed in the high-ceiling court.

She became the Queen's personal hand-maid after that day, much to the King's exasperation. And when she was old enough to be deemed appropriate, they crowned her Princess of the Realm, to rule over their lands after their deaths. She still likes to frolic through the mud whenever she can, and the birds in the branches sing to her as they glorify the girl who flung mud at the King and lived to take over the throne.