idiopathicsmile:

idiopathicsmile:

“So you see,” said the Royal Advisor, wringing his hands, “the curse states the princess will die on the night before her twenty-fifth birthday–”

“Hang on,” said the princess, “‘ON the night before’–”

The Advisor nodded grimly.

“So what you’re saying is that, until that one specific date, I am effectively immortal?”

“Technically yes, but then–” the King stammered.

“Wow,” said the princess, who was sixteen and did not possess amazing impulse control. “I’m gonna go teach myself how to juggle chainsaws while hang gliding over shark-infested waters, catch you chuckleheads later.”

Here’s the thing about curses that most people don’t realize: curses are selfish.

Not the motives behind them—not necessarily, at any rate—but the curses themselves, the nuts and bolts of the magic, so to speak. If someone wraps an enchantment around you, and that enchantment’s sole purpose is to doom you on a particular day and time—the stroke of midnight is pretty popular, for whatever reason—well.

Something that complex and powerful operates according to its own rules. It wants vengeance, and that means doing whatever must be done to ensure that no rival foe shows up at the eleventh hour to steal its thunder. Princess Hammerhands the Sharkpuncher, as she would later come to be known, was an extremely rash and somewhat foolish person, but the “immortality until you die” loophole is real.

Knowing your body will defy death takes some of the thrill out of death-defying stunts, as it turns out. Some, not all. Princess Hammerhands the Sharkpuncher had some good years on the daredevil circuit. She picked up several neat tricks—a good performance wasn’t just about survival, but artistry, she figured. She befriended sword swallowers and fire breathers and professional dragon ticklers. But after three years, she was feeling antsy again.

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