Maybe a Bit More Planning Was in Order

You sneak out of the castle with your bag of supplies just before dawn, hoping that you're only making a huge mistake rather than a cataclysmic one. You're off on the right foot, at least; you had been worried that it would be difficult to find a tavern where the pre-You prince hadn't plowed through every female member of the staff. To your relief (and vague interest), you discover that he seems to have been strictly limiting his leisure activities to the relative privacy of the castle. How decorous of him.

The innkeeper recognizes you none the less, stiffening and trying to desperately grab whatever is within arms reach that you might possibly want. He's thrilled when you tell him you're looking to indefinitely rent a room, though you start to lose him in the details. Before long you've gathered a little crowd of previously bored barmaids as you weakly try to explain yourself to the man.

The innkeeper tries to take another run at it. "So, you're gonna to be sharin' the room with another prince."

You nod. "Yes, that's right."

"But, we'll never see you together."

"Um, no."

"And sometimes it will seem like you entered, but then he left. And, uh, so forth."

"Yes?"

He's, understandably, having some trouble here. "Uh..."

This is so awful. "It's, ah....a prince thing. You, you wouldn't get it?"

The man seems to go for that, for some utterly insane reason, the barmaids sharing shrugs and nods of acceptance as you shove a small pouch of gold into the innkeepers hand and scurry up to your room. Okay, that was the hard part. This is definitely going to work.

This is definitely not going to work. THAT was the hard part? You are the worst at plans! You frown despondently at your reflection in the mirror, struck again that you look like a pastel Dread Pirate Roberts.

The mask was almost good start, credit where it's due. The large black bandana ably covers your distinctively colored hair and has holes in it so you can still see. So that's two important aspects of a mask down. Unfortunately, it doesn't quite rise to the task of hiding, you know, your fucking identity. Goddamn it, why are you such a singular dreamboat?! It doesn't help that no matter how many wardrobes you raided you were unable to find many clothes that weren't gowns, maid's dresses or the bright pink that seems to be your signature color. After some long and hard consideration over a maids dress, you reluctantly settled on a pink tunic, a rakish silk sash and black leggings tucked into the only pair of pink men's boots you've ever seen. It's like Zorro got jizzed on by the Easter Bunny.

"You are such an idiot." You remark to the hunky dolt in mirror dressed in the Even Scarlet-er Pimpernel costume.

You shrug, and the candy-colored moron shrugs back at you, his eyes at least having the decency to be thoroughly embarrassed.

Groaning, you throw open your door and stumble down to the bar floor, giving up on your plan and turning instead to drowning your sorrows in booze. Goodbye, Sweet Ginny, Hello, Brother-in-Law Gaspar. Will they even live in the castle? You have to imagine as older sibling you're the heir, not Ginny. Is she slipping away from you forever?! You are stricken to the core by this revelation, stumbling into a concerned looking barmaid.

"Oh sir, are you....! Oh! Oh, you must be the prince's friend!"

What.

She smiles widely, eyes a bit far-off. "Two princes at once! God, that's like my dream!"

Seriously, what.

You can't get much more out of the furiously blushing girl, who rushed off mortified as soon as she accidentally admitted to her princely DP fetish. In a daze, you shuffle over to the bar, facing the innkeeper and wordlessly pointing to your face. Dumbshit, you know this is, right?

The innkeeper squints, then brightens. "Oh! It's a right honor and a privilege, sir! Prince like you comin' 'cross the world, courtin' our dear little princess!"

How is this witless idiot falling for this; doesn't this dunce know you are a TERRIBLE man with a TERRIBLE plan?!

"Ohho, and stayin' with our prince too? He must think right highly of you!" The man starts winking at you and won't stop, and it makes you want to strangle him.

"Gah, what? Can't you see it's-?!"

Wait. Oh wait. Forest for the fucking trees. In your rage over the tavern's inability to fully grasp how stupid your plan is, you almost missed that the fucking stupid plan is working. The innkeeper stares at you wide-eyed.

"....it's so lovely to be here?!"

He grins at that and starts winking at you all over again. You can only turn and dazedly start walking out of the tavern. You guess it's on to the next step? Because somehow the obscenely flimsy Step One worked.

It looks like in the Land of Fucking Morons, the Stupid Man can be Prince.