"I have come, my pretty, and I bring you—GWENDOLYN!"
Cordelia, feared sorceress, scourge of Nilfton, Bringer of Fire, and proud member of the International Union for Wicked Witches, Evil Uncles, Treacherous Viziers and Butlers Who Did It, stared transfixed at the sight before her: her captive, the lovely Princess Gwendolyn Mere lounging around in her ivory tower, with a book in her hands, and not a stitch on her body.
"PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON THIS INSTANT!" she roared.
"Why?" said the princess with an annoyed huff, bafflingly unconcerned by her nudity.
"Because, because...because cavorting around naked like that is not proper behavior for a princess! You should know that, young lady!"
"Don't talk to me about proper behavior. You're not my mother, you're my kidnapper," Gwendolyn snorted. "Besides, why do you care so much?"
"I can't have my princess showing her lady bits to every prince, knight, or dashing rogue who comes waltzing in here waving a sword around. What kind of respectable witch would I be if my princess wasn't the perfect picture of virginal innocence? I'd be ruined!"
"I thought the idea was to keep the princes, knights, and dashing rogues from getting in here in the first place," said the naked girl. "If they come and rescue me, you lose your princess no matter how much, or how little, she's wearing."
"It's the principle of the thing!" said Cordelia. "Now you start getting dressed right now or else!"
"Or else what?" said Gwendolyn as she stood up and slapped her hands on her bare waist in an authoritative stance. "What are you going to do to me? Send to me my room? You've only been keeping me there for...five years now?"
"Don't get smart with me, young lady," said the witch. "Just for this cheek, you won't be getting this fine wine I was going to leave for you." She shook the bottle she was holding in her hand to emphasize that point. "And I'll be confiscating your library of storybooks for a week!"
"You wouldn't."
"I can...and I have!" With a snap of her finger, nearly every book that lined the shelves in Gwendolyn's chamber vanished, as did the one she had just been reading.
"You FIEND!" screamed Gwendolyn with a stamp of her bare foot on the floor, which sounded a bit more like a wet slap. "What am I supposed to do now?"
"You should have thought about that before you got naked and smart with me, young lady," said Cordelia. "You still have your dresses, your shoes, your cosmetics, and all the documents on how to apply them. I would suggest you find more creative ways to make yourself pretty."
Satisfied that their conversation was over and that her message was received, the witch hopped out the window and flew off on her staff for...wherever it was that she went when she wasn't tending to Gwendolyn. The princess could only scowl bitterly after her. She hated her. She hated this tower she was locked up in. She hated just sitting in here all the time waiting for some wannabe hero to come to her rescue. And most of all, she hated all these damn clothes!
Cordelia had given Gwendolyn all the garments to please a hundred princesses over. There were spectacular gowns in shades of white, red, blue, pink, and purple, with more ruffles in their fabric than waves in the ocean. Some were long enough to just barely display her feet, others would completely hide them, and even more would pool around her on the floor. Some were meant to flow freely from her waist, while others would require the use of the wooden crinoline to look wider and poofier than they really were. And that was just what she wore over her legs. There were still stockings and shoes and slippers and blouses and petticoats and gloves and ruffs and bodices and corsets and chokers and necklaces and bracelets and rings and, and...
...And they were all a royal pain in her royal posterior! Day after day, year after year, Gwendolyn had been dressing herself in these fanciful garbs like the good princess she was and had been before she had been so indignantly kidnapped. Spending hours upon hours tying this end to that end, wrapping this cloth around that appendage, and standing, sitting, and laying in the proper way that each outfit would permit, all to look ready for when her Prince Charming would come bursting through the tower, with sword in hand and fire in his eyes, ready to make off with his bride.
It was all...so...absolutely...TIRING! Putting those outfits on in the morning, layer after layer after layer, and taking them off at night, layer after layer after layer. That was all Gwendolyn had to dress herself with. The witch couldn't be bothered to give her something simple, oh, no, it had to be all fancy dresses all the time! What the princess wouldn't give just to put on a flaxen tunic and a pair of boyish trousers.
Well, Cordelia couldn't give her something simple but functional to put on, but she couldn't take her body! Going naked had been the best decision Gwendolyn had ever made, and it astounded her just what a welcome change of pace it was. She could sit and lay down in whatever position she liked; there was no restriction in her movement. She didn't need to worry about how she ate her food or drank her wine either; skin was much easier to clean than cotton, silk, satin, and even linen after all. And it just felt so
good
to feel the warmth of the sun or the flutter of a breeze on her skin. She spent all of last week just lounging around in the buff, and it was honestly the best week she could ever remember living through. Without having to spend so much time dressing and prettying herself up for the day, Gwendolyn got to do a lot more reading, expanding her knowledge on great historical events and revisiting some old fairy tales as well.
Looking at her bookshelves, most of which were now just as naked as she was, Gwendolyn sighed. All good things had to come to an end. Stupid witch had to take away all the good reading material and leave her with only more worthless trash about dressing herself up nicely. "I suppose I have no choice," she grumbled, pulling a random beautifying book off the shelf. It's not like she had anything else to do now.
"'Magically Transform Your Looks,'" she said, reading the title disinterestedly. "Yes, as if catching up on the latest fashion trends or putting on makeup is all that magical or transformative."
Lying down on the bed, if only to appreciate the feeling of the soft mattress on her naked skin one last time, Gwendolyn opened the book and started reading.
Beautifying Thy Lips in Any Colour.
The lips are an integral part to personal beauty, but finding the correct level of fullness and a colour that is right for thy face is an often trying, if not payneful, experience when using more konventional methods. This invokation will allow thee to shift the shape of thy lips with but a gesture of thy hand. To enakt this ritual, gather forth the following reagents:
1 vial sheep blood
3 pinches powdered bone
5 mulberries
1 eye of newt
That last bit made Gwendolyn raise an eyebrow. "Eye of newt? What kind of cosmetic ingredient is that? And do I even have that in here?"
Deciding to skip past the list of reagents, she went straight for the step-by-step instructions.
Bring the honey to a boil in the cauldron. As it begins to bubble, sprinkle the bone powder slowly in a circle, and stir thoroughly. Wait for white smoke to form, and add the mulberries, one at a time. Chant the second verse to "O! Scarlet, Scarlet" (refer to payge 493 for the list of inkantations), and deeply inhale the red mist that appears in the cloud before thine eyes.
"This isn't sounding like any makeup guide I have ever read," said the princess. "If I didn't know any better, I would say this reads more like a spell book."
