Chapter Text
"I've got a story, ain't got no moral
Let the bad guy win every once in a while"
Billy Preston - "Will It Go Round In Circles"
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It was a battle for the ages. The Princess of Darkness, who looked deceptively not-so-dark in her pink bubble dress and Mary Janes, lunged at the Prince of Eternal Light with her sword. The prince parried. He came at her with a counterstrike, but tragically he was too late. Before he could land his attack, the princess swung down with an overhand strike and caught him squarely on the shoulder. Having been fatally struck, the prince shrugged and lowered his sword. The Princess of Darkness giggled with delight.
“Cut! Franklin, you were supposed to best her in combat! You can’t lose!”
Frank and Julie were only a few feet away, in the part of Sally's living room she had converted into a practice stage. She really didn't have to yell, but the lack of necessity wasn't about to stop her.
“I’m trying,” Frank groaned, “but Julie’s sword is twice the size of mine.”
Julie beamed, pointing her wooden sword tip-down and spinning it like a top.
“You just don’t wanna admit that I’m the better sword fighter,” she preened before giving her sword another spin.
Frank rolled his eyes fondly. “I hardly see the point in stating something so obvious. Still, the script does call for you to lose, and that might be more feasible if our swords were more evenly matched.”
For Sally, that was the final straw. She could stand there and watch as Frank bungled the fight scene choreography and Julie scratched up her hardwood floors, but for her script to be so grossly misinterpreted? How could she possibly ignore such an injustice?
“No, no, no!" Sally objected, throwing her script to the floor. “Don't you understand? It’s an underdog story! Yes, the Prince of Eternal Light is untrained and uncoordinated, and his sword is little more than a glorified letter-opener. But that’s what makes it all the more impressive when he wins! It’s about rising to the challenge and overcoming adversity! It’s about becoming the hero you were always meant to be! It’s inspirational!”
Neither Frank nor Julie looked particularly inspired.
“Yes, I get all that,” insisted Frank, “but from a purely practical standpoint, I still can’t reach Julie with my sword. Or maybe that’s just me being ‘untrained and uncoordinated.’”
“You know, I don’t think it’s a problem at all,” Julie offered, sheathing her sword in a blessed act of mercy towards Sally's floor. “We can just change the story so the Princess of Darkness wins the battle. Eddie says there’s plenty of plays where the bad guy wins!”
Sally grimaced. Eddie, who was playing the minor role of the prince’s loyal page, had been given a non-speaking role for a reason. He wasn’t supposed to have any say in the direction of the story, and knowing Eddie, he hadn’t actually meant to have a say in it either.
Her suspicions were confirmed when the mailman in question peeked out from behind the curtain. He had been waiting in the wings, which in the case of Sally's practice stage meant standing between the pulled-back curtain and the wall. “I’m sorry, Sally. I didn’t mean the bad guy should win in this play, necessarily. It’s just that… Oh, what was her name? The one with the dragons and the poisoned crown?”
Julie perked up immediately. “Ooh, that sounds like fun! Can we do the play with the dragons next, Sally?”
“I mean, ‘fun’ isn’t exactly the word I would use…” Eddie looked like he regretted ever opening his mouth. He ducked back behind the curtain before Sally could task him with explaining the plot of Medea.
It wasn’t that Julie wouldn’t like Medea. In fact, she would probably like it too much. Sally could easily envision Julie in the lead role, relishing the spotlight as she rode triumphantly away on a chariot pulled by dragons. But Julie had a love of practical effects that rivaled even Sally’s, and whatever she might plan for the flying chariot would doubtlessly land at least one neighbor in the hospital. Besides, if Jack and the Beanstalk had ruffled some feathers in the neighborhood, Sally couldn’t imagine that Medea would get a better reception.
Still, the image was compelling, and Barnaby would make a convincing dragon…
Sally picked up her script. If Euripides could do it, then so could she. She just needed an angle.
Clicking her pen, she asked, “Well, what do you want to accomplish by having the villain win? What point do you want to prove?”
Maybe she could turn her inspirational story into a cautionary tale. She could build up the audience's faith in the Prince of Eternal Light before shocking them by having him lose, teaching them not to put their faith in those with seemingly the best intentions. Or maybe the Princess of Darkness could have a change of heart, but only after committing an irredeemable act. She would become a tragic figure, as her enlightenment could only come at the cost of the prince's life.
Julie just shrugged. “Well, I like the Princess of Darkness, so I think it would be fun if she won. And besides, she has a blade of smoldering fury, which is way more powerful than the prince’s regular sword.”
“Way more powerful and twice as long,” Frank groused, as if he hadn’t driven his point into the ground already. “Symbolism aside, how could you ever expect me to win with this?”
Sally pointedly ignored his question. She should have expected this level of riveting literary analysis from her peers. “Well, thank you both for your input. Now I’ll need to edit the script and re-choreograph the fight scene…”
“Why bother? Just give Frank a bigger sword and let the two of us go at it!”
Frank grinned, pointing his tiny sword at Julie. “Oh, just you wait. I’ll-“
“Uhh, Mr. Frankly?” Eddie stepped out from behind the curtain, proffering his wooden sword to Frank. The way he smiled was almost shy. “My character doesn’t even use this, so if you’d like to trade…”
“That’s a very kind offer, Mr. Dear,” Frank smirked, taking the sword from Eddie’s hands, “but I think I’ll dual-wield instead, if it's all the same to you.”
Eddie’s eyes flashed with something Sally couldn’t read, and he stepped back with a massive smile on his face. “If you say so, Mr. Frankly!”
Julie drew her sword from its sheath and assumed a fighting stance. “You can try, but you'll need more swords than that to beat the Princess of Darkness!”
"That's what you think." Frank crossed his larger sword against hers, preparing for battle. "And how would I hold more than two swords?"
Sally waved her script in the air like a warning flag. She was ignored. “Wait! I haven’t done the rewrites yet! We still don’t know who will win!”
“Me, silly! Or maybe Frank, if he’s been working on his riposte. But probably me!”
And before Sally could object again, the battle had begun. At first, it was a bit hard to decipher what was happening. Julie came out swinging, and the intricacies of her attack were lost to the audience in a dizzying swirl of dress and hair. But before long she and Frank had settled into a rhythm of attacks and counterattacks. There was something almost musical about the cracking of their wooden swords.
Eddie, who was no longer prepared to be anywhere near this battle now that he was unarmed, had slunk around to join Sally in the audience. Taking in Sally's frustrated expression, he said, “You know, I think it’s kinda exciting, not knowing who’ll win.”
“While I agree,” Frank grunted, crashing his larger sword against Julie’s, “I believe you’re supposed to be rooting for me, Mr. Dear. You are my page, after all.”
“So?” Julie faked Frank out with a forehand swing before nearly clipping him with a backhand. “If I win, I’ll grant Eddie a dukedom of his own. That’s how the Princess of Darkness ensures loyalty in her ranks.”
“But he’s in my ranks,” protested Frank, blocking Julie’s attack with his larger sword as he used the smaller one to jab towards her abdomen. He barely missed. “And besides, who says the page would even want a dukedom?”
“Oh, you’re right! Eddie?” Julie called, pulling a spinning move that Sally swore would have gotten her killed in a real battle. “Would you say your character values power over loyalty?”
“Well, I…” Eddie looked down at his shoes. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean, I think he’s loyal to the prince, but what if he’s also loyal to the common folk, you know? He could probably do more good than sheep's wool in a yarn factory if he was given that dukedom. But then again, could he even trust himself to be a good leader if he betrayed the prince like that? Or would he get paranoid about people turning on him the same way? He’d be like that king with the dangling sword… You know, names are just escaping me today…”
As Eddie waxed philosophical about a character without lines, the battle raged on in front of him. Julie attempted an overhand strike again, which Frank sidestepped just in time. He retaliated with a forehand strike of his own, which Julie easily parried.
“Those are all good points, Eddie,” Julie puffed. “I’ll get back to you after I win this battle.”
“Who says you’re winning anything?” Frank lunged forward with his smaller sword, forcing Julie to parry again. While she was distracted, he thrust in his larger sword, hitting her square in the chest. It was a perfect riposte.
Julie dropped her sword. With one hand on her forehead and one clutching her chest, she swooned to the ground.
"Oh, cruel fate! Weep not for me, my adoring kingdom! Weep for the world I leave behind!" And with that, Julie went completely still.
The battle had finally been won.
“Hah!" Frank thrust his tiny sword into the air. "How’s that for your underdog story, Sally?”
And wasn't that just the question?
It should have been satisfying. The prince had won, like he was supposed to. But was he even truly an underdog anymore? Or were his two normal blades equal in power to one blade of smoldering fury? And come to think of it, had the Prince of Eternal Light ever been an underdog at all? He had someone in his corner - even if that someone was an unarmed mailman without any lines - while the Princess of Darkness fought alone. Sally had meant for this to humanize the prince and emphasize the princess's self-sufficiency, but now that she saw the princess lying lifeless on the stage, she wasn't so sure.
Huh. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted the ruthless, antisocial princess to vanquish her opponents and ride off in a chariot pulled by dragons. Somehow this was Eddie's fault.
Sally pressed a hand to her temple. “Alright, but what does it mean? Why bother watching it at all?”
“I have no idea,” Julie panted, still lying flat on her back, “but it sure was fun!”
Well, at least that was demonstrably true. Julie wasn't the most reliable litmus test when it came to fun, having once referred to an ill-fated ride in a runaway wheelbarrow as "a blast and a half," but even Frank was smiling as he sat down next to Julie to catch his breath. And if Eddie's red-faced stare was anything to go by, the audience would find the fight scene captivating.
“Why don’t we do it like this every time, Sally?" Having recovered her breath, Julie sat up excitedly. "Frank and I can fight like we just did, and sometimes he wins, and sometimes I win! It'll be a surprise!”
“A play with multiple endings…” Sally mused. Now there was an idea with legs. Some experimental theatre was just what this small town needed to elevate its art scene, and the premise gave the audience reason to return for multiple showings. Besides, who could be more of an underdog than a character whose victory wasn’t guaranteed by the script? At the very least, it was more practical than putting on Medea. "I can work with that. But it means I'll have to write more lines, so come back tomorrow and be prepared to memorize."
Usually, Sally's casts would whine at the mention of added lines, but Frank, Julie, and Eddie all seemed excited as they said their goodbyes and headed back out into the neighborhood. And if she had gotten her neighbors excited about theatre, Sally figured, she was one step closer to bringing culture and stardom to this cosmically unimportant town - an underdog story in its own right, if Sally did say so herself. She clicked her pen once more and began to write.