Speaker 1: Welcome to the fairy Tales of Princess Power. With me,
Melody B. Class is in session. But this isn't just
any school. This is the Princess Academy. And you, honey,
are a Princess Professor. I am Melody B. And I
will be a fly on the wall or a bee
on the wall while you and your best friend Princess
Power teach the next generation of princesses how to princess.
Speaker 2: Give me a crown and a rule book. I'll take
a both. If it can't be questioned, it can't be princessed.
It might get messy, but that's always more fun.
Speaker 1: Today at the Princess Academy, the Princess Professors prepare for
one of the most highly anticipated days of the school year,
open house, and they do this by accidentally turning the
Grand Banquet Hall into three completely different kingdoms to teach
about harmony, survival, and innovation at the same time in
the same exact room, and not exactly on purpose. I
think this will be fun. I can't say as much
for the principle of the Academy. Whoops. All you have
to do is close your eyes, get cozy and listen
to the sound of my voice, Melody Bee, will be
your guide. Let's begin. You are here approaching the grand
baquet hall of the Honeybee Princess Academy, where the stone
walls hold centuries of wisdom and the floor shines with
the sparkling toil of a thousand nervous fairies. Looking down
at your favorite pair of glittering shoes you picked out
for this special occasion, you soften your already careful footsteps
so as to not scuff the shine. As you make
your way through the awe inspiring threshold, take a slow,
deep breath in through your feel your chest and your
spirits lift, lightened by the fresh scent of lemon polish
wafting through the rows of ceremonial books that line the
heavy wooden shelves. Then slowly breathe all the way out
for your mouth. If you tilt your head just a little,
you can feel something rather unexpected in the air. What
is that you sense is that a breeze inside in
a room with no open windows. Look your head all
the way up until you can feel a little stretch
and see that a portion of the roof is now
a sun roof. Typically, this room has a full roof. Typically,
this elegant regal room is used for dignified assemblies, inspiring speeches,
and is host to only the most polite volume of applause.
But today today is open house. More specifically, the house
is open for loved ones of the pupils to meet
the professors. The loved ones are set to arrive mere
minutes from now in preparation, but without the Principle's knowledge,
the banquet hall has been divided into three quote unquote
learning realms, not by a committee or a plan, but
by three princess professors who all had the same thought
at the same time, without any prompting it, giving ex
On your left stands Princess Petra, pure elegance, that has
been here preparing her realm since sunrise. On your right
their survival. Princess Pia is not currently here, but you
can tell this is her doing, and above your head
a brand new problem caused by none other.
Speaker 3: Than honey, it's me, Princess Powell. Over here, no here.
Speaker 1: Before you can make your way to Princess Powa, you
are whisked away in a flurry of rose petals, which
are actually Princess Petra's fairies, her gal pals who have
been with her since dawn preparing her portion of the presentation.
Speaker 4: Ladies, this is a curated experience. Remember, not a muddy
dog pile like that side of the room. Be gentle
with the guests. Oh, Honey, I see you've met the
welcoming committee Galandria, the new gals haven't yet met. Honey,
Honey is not a guest, but the most distinguished Princess
professor on the faculty. Please rectify this grave error. Accept
my sincerest apologies, my dearest Honey. Galentha, Galicia, Golowin, Galfia
and Galencia are a little excitable.
Speaker 2: The rose petals are kind of nice, though.
Speaker 1: Right in a sparkling blink, the fairies rebundled the rose
petal confetti and straighten up your hair and outfit for you,
as Princess Petra gives you the grand tour of what
she's deemed the Finer Realm. The chairs are velvet, the
tables polished, and the teacups appear to be too antique
to actually touch. Everything is in such order. This is
so pristine that Princess Petra can see a single speck
of dust floating on the air. The only speck not
to reflect the light of the sparkle clouds emanating from
the fairies ck.
Speaker 4: Please pardon our disgust. Galindra Dust now.
Speaker 1: Just as horrified by the spec as Petra. The head
fairy in charge of tidiness, captures the nearly invisible speck
from the air with an impossibly tiny net and holds
her breath as she escorts the dust outside.
Speaker 4: Galpals, Please, we are hosting open house to show the
loved ones of our beloved pupils exactly what we are about.
Everything needs to be perfect. Continue your tidy.
Speaker 2: Excuse me, mams.
Speaker 4: We do not fly at that speed near the antique china.
Do you want to create a breeze? My porcelain cannot
withstand such violence.
Speaker 1: Princess Petra briskly walks over to the flurry of fairies
who fly well above her yet look up to her
for every little thing. They part just enough for her
to run through and place tiny signs on each teacup,
one by one with utmost seriousness.
Speaker 4: Do not touch, do not breathe, and this one says,
do not think about touching.
Speaker 5: Did you hear that, Galensia.
Speaker 3: This new generation of fairies are so diffined, they'll fall
in line.
Speaker 2: They always do at what cost.
Speaker 1: Honey. You blink slowly because you're polite, but also because
you're wondering if this house is perhaps too open, and
then you hear it. Not Petra's fall to the ground,
which was broken by thousands of fairies who promptly recovered
her consciousness after fainting, but Princess Pia arriving to the
open house in her own particular style, that is, with
muddy feet and a wheelbarrow in tow. She winks at
you as she walks by, mud squelching beneath her feet,
and dumps a wheelbarrow full of dirt onto the hardwood floor.
The polish wood boards disappear under mud, like the room
is being swallowed by a swamp.
Speaker 2: This is a BiVO whack. I know what you're thinking, honey.
Speaker 6: But shoes muddle you're thinking you would know that if
you weren't wearing shoes.
Speaker 1: Pia sits on the upturned wheelbarrow like it's a throne,
because for all intents and purposes it is. She sits
in perfect silence, sharpening a stick with a rock, calmly, patiently,
slightly annoyed at having to do so.
Speaker 6: The loved ones of our students need to know we're
teaching the princesses valuable lessons survival, shelter, foraging, tactical silence.
Speaker 1: You think her list of concerns has come to an end,
and open your mouth to speak.
Speaker 6: How to stare down a threat without blue.
Speaker 1: Princess Pias stares unblinkingly at Princess Petra, who has been
revived and is approaching quite rapidly.
Speaker 6: Loved ones will respect this, will respect us for this
is that? Is she?
Speaker 3: How?
Speaker 1: Why faster than even ps reflexes? The fairies rush to
Princess Petra's side, her right side specifically, or what she
calls her best side for fainting. Princess Pia nods approvingly
at her former roommate's instincts. You look up, wide eyed
and astonished, as if you can look through your own
mind for an answer that could possibly solve what's happening
right now, wondering if you will need to carry this
entire open house on your own when your gaze meets
princess palace. Finally, wait, why is Princess Paua up so
high with a woodworking saw?
Speaker 3: Okay, so great news. The classroom renovations are going to
be done on time. Here is the open air observatory workshop.
Speaker 1: A beam of daylight pours through the opening. You can
feel it warm your cheeks. You can hear birds outside
close enough that it almost sounds like they're part of
the lesson plan. Take another slow, deep breath in through
your nose. Feel the cool air coming in through your nose,
expand in your chest as your heart beats once three times,
then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth.
Princess Petra and Princess Pia run over to join you,
and standing beneath two double stacked wooden ladders held together
by two rather large and even more helpful ogres, you
ready yourself for the slew bickering that will surely start
to fly from each of the princesses at your side. Instead,
in a remarkable feat of harmony, this brings them together.
Speaker 3: Incredible, You've outgone yourself, Paula. Thanks, I feel really good
about this open house. Now we can study the stars
and the clouds and the constellations that look like an archer,
or maybe it's a spoon holding a smaller spoon. Either way,
it's educational honey, I'll be right down to show you around.
Speaker 1: You stand there, honey, as steady as ever, flanked by
Princess Pia and Princess Petra, who both drape their arms
around your shoulders. While you will love this moment of
friendship and harmony, your experience tells you that this kind
of placid peace tends to be short lived in the
Kingdom of Ronzio, and that's why you love it here
so much. Your satchel rest at your side, carrying your
magic wand that mister Honey be made and Princess Paua
upgraded without telling him and your other best friend Ember,
she is tacked inside, sleeping quietly and in stark opposition to.
Speaker 7: Meet me, Meet me, me, meet me.
Speaker 3: Me, yes meep, I know this is big and bold.
I told you I was gonna do a bit of
reimagining me.
Speaker 5: Why would I.
Speaker 2: Need to talk to Principal candaloo?
Speaker 1: Oh, you don't say anything out loud, because your facial
expression says it all. Looking directly at your bestest friend,
your face says, Pawa, bestie, what.
Speaker 2: Did you do?
Speaker 1: And to everyone's astonishment but yours, she responds, I don't know, Hugh, suddenly,
amidst the worry and panic and open window breathe. The heavy,
orny door that fills the majestic threshold to this banquet
hall slams closed by the wind and then opens rather timidly.
Speaker 8: Hello, my ever so lovely princess professes, what a fine
day for an open house. Everything is going according to plan.
Nothing will go raw. Oh no, oh dear, oh dear.
Everything will be fine. Everything will be.
Speaker 2: Is it just me? Or did that kind of go? Okay?
Speaker 6: Pretty good?
Speaker 1: Not bad?
Speaker 2: He'll come around. We don't need a roof when we're.
Speaker 3: Doing astronomy and woodworking and cloud research and possibly bird interviews. Oh,
bird interviews.
Speaker 6: I remain impressed. There are hawks around here.
Speaker 1: Right before any answer can be asked, the door again
creaks open. Principal Candlewick enters the centuries old banquet hall,
which he had a personal hand in restoring to its
current luster, Breathing sharply into and out of a paper bag.
Speaker 4: Principal Candlewick, my dear, do you need to be retrieved?
Speaker 8: No, I'm hyperventilating. It's become somewhat standard.
Speaker 6: Weak lungs.
Speaker 2: It's not weak lungs. Should we call it pleasantly surprised lungs.
Speaker 1: There was nothing pleasant about this surprise for Principal Candlewick,
but he's found, as have you, that things typically have
a way of working themselves out, one way or another.
The loud clicking of the clock helps him maintain a
certain veneer of calm, because, whether he likes it or not,
and he most certainly does not at this moment, much
like it. Time is up. The pupils, as well as
their excited loved ones, are on the grounds, following the
shimmering guideposts and signs that meet help the fairies install
various alerts have gone through various chains of command to
confirm this well. Just before the elegant, majestic door slams
open and hundreds of people.
Speaker 5: Stream in.
Speaker 1: The entirety of your being feels it before your mind
has time to catch up. The sound, the shuffle of
shoes on polished wood, the little coughs and proud whispers
that bounce off the medieval stone walls, the large oak
doors creak wider, and the incoming class of princesses step
in first, shoulders squared, chins lifted, trying very hard to
look the part that they already are that they could
never not be even if they tried. Hordes of families
and friends follow behind, strolling politely. Behind this group are
the little sisters who have banded together in admiration of
this place. But behind them are the little brothers who
smell distinctly of sticky, sweet jam and trouble. Everyone is
dressed up, everyone is proud, But what registers most for
you is that everyone is here. These princesses are surrounded
by people who love and support them like you are.
But by golly, are there lots of supporters in this place.
You do what you do best to calm the chaos
and quiet the noise so you can focus on being
the best to you that you can be. Take your slowest,
deepest breath in through your nose. Feel the love and
support that surround you, wrap around you, fully, holding you
tightly like the best hug. Then slowly breathe all the
way out through your mouth, like the calm at the
center of the storm of excitement that swirls around you.
The quiet center of calm within your spirit, the one
that grounds, nurtures, and reinforces your goodness, radiates out from
your heart and brings joyful peace along with it. A
small smile perks up from the corners of your mouth,
and people walking by you left and right cannot help
but smile back. They all know who you are, of course,
and to be greeted by your sweet smiles the highest
honor they could have felt at the start of this
open house. Princess Paua follows the long trail of smiles
in your wake and parts the crowd to meet you
arm in arm. She cannot believe the long awaited day
is finally here. As you walk around the room, watching
the guests and pupils take in the stately and rather
unexpected state of the grand banquet hall, you hear whispers
that you know, Princess Pawa hears as well.
Speaker 3: Is the ceiling supposed to do that?
Speaker 1: And another that's a lot of mud, and yet another
Are we allowed to be in the fancy part of
this room with the teacups? And the response, Princess Professor
Petra said, technically yes, but no, you remain your glittering
self in the center of it all. Honey, your shoes
still unscuffed, your satchels still snug against your side. Yet
you can feel the energy of the crowd washing around
you like a tide, a tide made of perfume and
ambition and polite opinions. The first wave of loved ones
steps forward and then stops, because the banquet hall is
not one room anymore, but three competing spaces that confuse
the guess. Petra's realm glows with the princessly principle of harmony.
Velvet chairs, polished tables, antique teacups wearing the little sun
like tiny crowns.
Speaker 2: Welcome, beloved loved ones.
Speaker 4: Please keep your hands at your sides and your thoughts respectful.
These are antiques.
Speaker 1: Pias realm lives and breathes the princessly principle of stewardship,
raw gritty practical stewardship, dirt on hardwid tools of the trade,
and Princess Pia herself giving a detailed tour of the
most optimal forest bivouac set up.
Speaker 9: This is what the world is made of. It is
not our job to always understand it at every turn.
It is our job, Princesses, to get used to it.
Hard truths, folks, These are hard truths we learn at
the Princess Academy.
Speaker 1: And above you, the Princessly principle of honesty, an honest
account of where we are and how we can get
to where we want to be. In a word, Princess
Pawa is always trying to leap forward, persistent in her
quest for innovation and growth. Powa's realm doesn't just exist
on the floor of the banquet hall. It exists up
there where the roof used to be, in the sunlight,
with the sky peeking through a jagged hole in the
roof that the crowd wonders in the direction.
Speaker 2: Of Sometimes innovation looks strange.
Speaker 3: It's supposed to be like that, honey, I don't know
if they're getting the roof they need.
Speaker 2: Was that too much?
Speaker 1: No?
Speaker 2: Right?
Speaker 1: You reassure Princess Pawa that all principles of princessing can
be messy at first, but there is plenty of space
and time to iron out the wrinkles. You say this
very confidently to your friend, and she is reassured. But
out of the side of your eye you notice a
pattern in the movement of the crowd that piques your interest.
The loved ones and their beloved princesses begin to split,
Some drift toward the tea, some toward the mud, and
some stop beneath the open roof with their necks craned upward,
and then they stay there. Each princess steps into the
helm of their realm, eager to explain the philosophy behind
their aesthetic choices, eager to address their pupils and their
pupils loved ones about what each of them is most
excited to teach this upcoming year, and most eager to
explain why this principle of princessing is the most important
real according to them. Princess Pawa, Pi and Petra do
this without seeing the dangerous undercurrent forming groups, separate groups,
forsaking the glorious wholeness of princessing for a mere part.
You realize this because you effortlessly contain all aspects of
princesship within you, And that is why you're here, honey,
to remind the princesses and the princesses to be that
it's about all the principles, not just one. If a
princess is tending to the entirety of self, not just
the pretty part, but the hard truth part and the
growth part, there's no wrong way to be a princess.
Right in the middle of your realization in walk two
more forces of nature. King and Queen Ronzio an outwalks
Principal Candlewick right by you, breathing into his paper bag
more vigorously. Now I knew Queen Ronzio's eyes locked unto
Princess Pierre.
Speaker 10: Oh no, no, no, no, absolutely not. This just cannot stand.
Princess Pierre, what did we discuss about mud?
Speaker 4: I tried to tell her, Queen Ronzio, but she wouldn't listen.
This is why I sent the urgent messenger.
Speaker 6: You tattled on me to.
Speaker 2: Be Queen Pedra. What did we discuss about Tadley?
Speaker 4: I know, That's why I sent an anonymous message. It
was a dick really for public safety?
Speaker 3: Mom, Dad you're here, Yes we are, and apparently just
in time.
Speaker 2: Good thing. I do not travel without my medical bag.
Speaker 5: I need gloves.
Speaker 10: This is going to get messy.
Speaker 1: The Queen of Ronzio is on the move. She does
not float like a fairy nor glad like the Royalty.
She is Oh no. The Queen advances like a doctor
who has just discovered an unsanitary mystery.
Speaker 10: Princess piare, I'm seeing signs of contagious soil psycosis it's mud.
Speaker 6: Queen Ronzio, this is the best possible thing for the
immune system.
Speaker 10: It's exposure, it's pathogens. It's inside. Why is there mud inside?
Speaker 2: Again, it's not inside, there's no roof. Look.
Speaker 1: She looks around, confused at first than up to see
the telltale sign of her daughter's handiwork. Princess Powell waves
to her mother, the Queen. Just as the Queen lets
out a big sigh, Princess Pia gives an even bigger
thumbs up to Powa, who doesn't know what she accidentally
did to help Pia's muddy cause.
Speaker 6: See plenty of unfortune. Take off that one black boot
of yours and squish your tones around. It really is
quite nice.
Speaker 2: Do not push your luck, Pia. It's taking everything in
me not to quarantine you.
Speaker 1: A small group of Princess pupils attempt to approach Pia's mudpit,
masquerading as a lesson in stewardship, magnetized by the wildness
of it, and the Queen ever so slightly blocks them
from advancing any further, resulting in a sort of dosey
dough that Princess Pia's slips and slides out of the
mud trying to break up. One of the princesses to
be looks up to Queen Ronzio with all the reverence
she can muster, and politely says that she and her
peers would like to learn about stewardship from Princess Pia.
Speaker 10: You can learn it from a safe distance.
Speaker 6: Cowardice is not stewardship, Queen Lazi.
Speaker 10: Infection is not character building, Princess Pia.
Speaker 1: Oh no, before you can get Princess Powell's attention to
help smooth things over with as little mud slinging as possible.
King Ronzio, who has been watching this with the delighted
confusion of a man who believes every situation is secretly
a parade, spots the cluster of student princesses hovering with
uncertainty near the mud, trying to decide whether they are
allowed to approach the bivouac or not. Uh huh. He
steps forward like he has been waiting his whole life
for this moment, and in doing so commands the attention
of the entire hall. But no one more so than Princess.
Speaker 11: Pia recruits chilla, noble mind, noble heart, with all.
Speaker 8: Due respect, dear King, they are but students, my dear
dear king.
Speaker 1: Sh.
Speaker 2: Let the man speak.
Speaker 11: Students today, leaders tomorrow Now, march in last step.
Speaker 6: Lock step, march that left, left, right left.
Speaker 1: A few brave among them try to mimic him, stepping
together with determined little stops. Their loved ones smile and
clap politely, wondering if this is a performance or if
they're being drafted into a spontaneous marching unit as part
of the curriculum. Judging by Princess Pia's enthusiasm, it is.
The marching line accidentally drifts directly toward Petra's realm, and
no one is more horrified than Princess Petra herself.
Speaker 4: Absolutely not march away that way, Students, this is not
the behavior becoming of princesses.
Speaker 2: Not true, march on princesses.
Speaker 1: Petra's fairies flutter up in a worried cloud, and Petra
spreads her arms slightly, as if her body can physically
block the chaos from touching her teacups.
Speaker 4: Please I beg of you. March somewhere else, preferably outside,
where all tomfoolery should be directed.
Speaker 11: Discipline knows no.
Speaker 2: Walls, none at all, Oh.
Speaker 1: Right, above it all the crowd's nervous attention keeps returning
to the roof or black thereof, and the hushed tones
start to amplify in volume. As the guests begin to
crowd around the marching princesses. A grandmother points upward with
her fan to show a grandfather that it's not really
a skylight, but just the sky's light beaming through. A
little brother tries to flick a pebble into the hole
to see if it could be possible to climb away
from his required participation in this open house through the roof.
Before he can begin his ascent, King Ronzio marches the
procession by him and Princess Pia climb times up to
retrieve the little brother, much to the amazement of the
little brother and his parents. Looking over all of this hubbub,
you can feel a decision forming within you. Absorb the
chaos and make it yours, or let it wash over
you and retain your inner pillar of peace. Take your slowest,
deepest breath in through your nose. Feel the sensation of
your heart beating once twice, three times as an inner
sanctuary of calm that is always available to you. Then
slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth. The
noise fades, and you keep your eyes peeled for Princess Pawa.
When suddenly you are pulled aside, just in time for
the princess procession to march past you, making and says
Petra's teacups rattle.
Speaker 5: Honey, honey, come with me, quick quick.
Speaker 1: She gently takes your sleeve and guides you toward the
back of the room to a quieter pocket behind a
tall decorative screen. Paula leans in close, excited and guilty
at the same time, the exact expression she gets when
she has improved something that did not ask to be improved.
Speaker 3: Okay, don't panic, actually no panic a tiny nit because
it's kind of amazing. I I know, I know, but
I did it for the big finale.
Speaker 2: Get your wand out.
Speaker 1: You slide your hand inside and feel for your wand
the familiar shape, smooth and comforting, made by mister Honeybee
with care. But when you lift it, the weight is different.
There is something clunky, tape to the handle, something that
hums ever so faintly, tad power points to the mechanism,
a ring of mismatched gears, a little lever that absolutely
did not come with the original design and tape, so
much tape, the kind of tape that tells you, Princess
Power trusted the process a bit too much.
Speaker 2: It's called a turbo sparkle injector.
Speaker 3: That sounded cooler in my head. I mean that's the
working name. That's just the name I've been calling it.
Speaker 2: You need a better name.
Speaker 1: What's a better name? You blink once, slowly because you
are politely registering copious amounts of shock. How did she
get your wand your wand and did she say finale?
Your mind cannot process all the thoughts that stream in,
but your facial expression manages to capture each one. Your
best friend, Princess Palla, notices.
Speaker 2: I uh modified mister Honeybee's design.
Speaker 3: Just the teamy bit teeny diny bit like no more than.
Speaker 6: Three.
Speaker 3: The magic contained within that one is now three hundred
percent more efficient for the finale.
Speaker 1: From the front of the hall, you hear the king
booming again.
Speaker 11: Lostep, princesses, noble mind, noble heart.
Speaker 10: Patra sure Bus stays over this mud is a hands
you're not march near?
Speaker 3: Yeah, you are the directs?
Speaker 6: Sorry, you hear your.
Speaker 1: You hold the wand closer feeling the gears humming within.
Speaker 2: It's gonna be fine.
Speaker 3: It's probably gonna be fine.
Speaker 1: The crowd's confusion swells, the hum of your magic wand
upgrade grows. The roof breathes a breeze into the hall
that suddenly gets everyone's attention. There is so much wind
that little bits of ceiling crumbled down, sprinkling the Principle
and Princess Petro with a layer of dust that makes
them both shriek Aha.
Speaker 5: It's going to be fine.
Speaker 2: Innovation is messy.
Speaker 5: It's going to be fine.
Speaker 1: A storm cloud rolls in above and announces itself through
the hole in the roof that's looking more and more
accidental with each passing moment. Loved ones tilt their faces upward.
Grandmothers clutch pearls, Princess is to be squeal and press
close together, their shoes squeaking on the polished floor. Principal
Candlewick opens his mouth to call the room to order,
and closes it again, because how do you order a cloud?
But you, honey, you suddenly remember that you can do
just that, and you've been able to do just that
since the day you received your invitation to attend this academy,
which you are at the helm of. Now, take another
of your slowest, deepest breaths in through your nose. Quiet
yourself from the inside out until all you can senses
your breath expanding. Gather it along with your inner power,
and hold it still as silence empowers you. Then slowly
breathe all the way out through your mouth. With a
slight wave of your hand. The powerful rain cloud wobbles
in the sky just enough to diffuse the darkening grayness
of the approaching storm. Sunshine peeks through, as a reminder
that no matter what kind of chaos or darkness the
clouds bring, the sun is always shining behind them. Princess
Palla briefly looks up, distracted from her race thoughts, to
see what you're doing and to marvel at how you're
doing it. With a more forceful flick of your wrist,
the gray black breaks up even more. Now all the
princesses and the principles see what you can do, but
that's not why you do it. This secret influence of
yours is an embodiment of what it means to be
a princess, and you cannot help but use it for good.
The clouds seem to hang in the sky waiting for
your next command, but the winds of challenge and change
continue to blow, counteracting your magic. Your fingertips sparkle with
the familiar tingle that awakens something within you. Lightly round
your fingertips around each other to activate your spark, which
wakes Ember up from her slumber. Instantly, she peeks out
from your satchel just as you raise your hand toward
the cloud. Steady calm practiced, and the clouds respond once again.
It wobbles and hesitates before the soft gray belly of
the storm begins to recede. A few loved ones relax,
a few pupils stop squealing mid squeal. Even the fairies
pause their buzzing for one tiny, hopeful moment. No one
breathes more relief into his bones than the principle. But
Princess Powa feels differently, quite differently hawny look. She launches
toward you with the urgency of a best friend, sparing
you from something, and your attention diverts out the floor
to ceiling windows, just for a moment, long enough to
see what looks like a tidal wave of black clouds
descending upon the Princess Academy.
Speaker 2: There's no time money.
Speaker 4: You couldn't have at least checked the weather before your renovations, PAUA,
now look my hair is going to Yeah, Friz, this
is so cool.
Speaker 1: Your hand falters in mid air, responding to what you're seeing.
The cloud, still responding to you, hovers uncertainly, as if confused.
You glance at Powa Pawa glances at the crowd. The
crowd glances at the roof hole and the roof hole
somehow glances back. Tension builds. The sparkle in your fingertips
burst as Ember bursts out of your satchel to save
the day with her fiery breath.
Speaker 2: She doesn't hesitate to.
Speaker 1: Protect you at all costs, but Principal candlewick enforces a
hesitation that is unnatural to Ember. Understanding this situation as
a principal and not a princess, as a practical issue
of dollars and cents in years of renovation, he leaps
out to bravely intervene the crowd of loved ones, and
Princess is a like shriek and some even giggle, thinking
this is all part of some play that Princess Pawa
has become quite known for. With a full grown dragon
sitting by your side, you pat Ember's belly to keep
her on standby. You got this, you assure her. You
lower your hand and in its place raise your wand
your upgraded wand, which still hums in a way that
makes you wonder how much Princess Powa improvise. You wave
the wand and Oh no, that's not the sound of
the canopy materializing over princess palace skylight. That is not
a good sound.
Speaker 2: Why does it sound like it's chewing.
Speaker 1: The wand bucks in your hand violently, not with magic,
but with mischievous mechanics. And instead of a gentle dome
of sparkle light, it fires a pulse of jagged gray
static electricity that startles even Ember, crackles through the air
like torn fabric. Then it launches exactly one piece of
burnt popcorn into the roof hole, and then more. The
popcorn arcs upward in a slow, proud absurdity and disappears
into the chaos above.
Speaker 6: Is that.
Speaker 2: Fruit?
Speaker 10: Do not ingest anything that came from a malfunctioning wand?
Speaker 3: I thought popcorn always made things better, but now understand
the error of my ways.
Speaker 1: The jagged static polse hits the storm cloud, while popcorn
falls gently into the hands of all spectators, falsely reinforcing
that this is in fact choreograph show. And the storm
cloud freezes rather unnaturally. It locks in place, anchored directly
over the roof hole, like it has been hung there
on purpose by invisible stage hands during a performance. The
Wand vibrates even harder in your hand, honey, emitting a
new sound, a deep, ugly hum that doesn't feel like magic.
It feels like malfunction. The gears tape to the handle shutter,
the lever jitters, the tape flutters like it wants to
escape the consequences. Oh, your instincts kick back in immediately.
You lift your free hand toward the cloud again, steady
and calm, ready to wave it away the way you
know you can't.
Speaker 12: The cloud doesn't respond, It won't budge because now it's anchored,
stuck in place by the Wand's chaotic static. And as
if this guy is delighted by this new arrangement, rain
pours in and the crowd spills out.
Speaker 8: Everyone. Please, we must remain calm, We need to.
Speaker 1: Ram. You stand there with Princess Paula and Ember, steady
and silent. One hand is lifted in calm command, the
other trapped around a humming static spitting turbo wand while
the storm rains straight down through the roof hole in
a fantastic display of Princess Paulla's messy innovation. She looks
at you with worry and regret, but you look back
with your sweet smile that no one can imitate, as
if to say, this is messy, but we'll innovate through it.
Like the princesses we are. Princess Palace smiles back. Two
of your biggest supporters are at your side, Ember being
your largest supporter, And in this moment of chaos, you
find that spark within again, lightly rubbing your palms together,
building heat from your inner spark outward until you can
feel your hands warm. Take another slow, deep breath in
through your nose, place your palms gently over your eyes,
resting on the bones of your brows. Feel the warmth
of your palms, melting your furrowed brow to relaxation, calming
your mind. Then slowly breathe all the way out through
your mouth and see a shining solution present itself to
you in the form of a single sunflower basking in
a single sunbeam. How the picturesque windows. You turn, ever
so briefly to point this out to Princess Powa, And
when you look back, both Missus and mister Honeybee are
also by your side, your two other biggest supporters.
Speaker 2: How do you do that, missus Honeybee?
Speaker 1: How do we get here? My dear?
Speaker 7: I think there are bigger questions at hand? How can
I safely assume you had something to do with the
hole in the roof?
Speaker 2: You'd be very safe in saying that.
Speaker 1: What happened to your magic wand?
Speaker 2: Honey Powa?
Speaker 3: I uh happened to the magic wand?
Speaker 7: It seems we got here just in time, mister Honeybee.
Speaker 1: Mister Honeybee takes in the scene in one sweep and
secures his tool belt. The wrenches and hammers jingle as
if giddy about what he's seeing. Princess Petra's velvet chairs
are drenched, Princess Pia's mud puddling. The princesses, Princesses to
be and loved ones huddling outside the banquet hall, craning
to see what will happen next. Within Principal candlewick is
somewhere nearby, making a pitiful noise that can only be
described as bureaucratic despair. And then mister Honeybee's eyes land
on the open air space where the roof used to be.
He looks up at the storm cloud and then back
down at the.
Speaker 11: Wand ah, I know exactly how this happened.
Speaker 1: Someone tried to overclock the sparkle regulator.
Speaker 2: Yeah, that you've created a static interference loop. That cloud isn't.
Speaker 3: Going anywhere until we break the circuit.
Speaker 11: But it should be a simple fix.
Speaker 2: Simple did he say simple or impossible?
Speaker 1: Princess Pawa's eyes widen with fear and respect. The cloud
rumbles above, as if part of the conversation. Your gaze
meets mister Honeybees. He doesn't tell you what to do
with words, because he knows you already know. He simply
extends his hand carefully. Because your wand is currently shaking
like a power tool, you offer it to him. He
reaches into tool belt and pulls out a tiny precision screwdriver,
so small it looks like it belongs to a watchmaker. Fairy.
Your eyes dart to missus honeybew without thinking, and that
possibility suddenly becomes a fact. He taps the side of
the wand twice the wand gives a slightly relieved wine,
and then he unscrews Palla's turbo attachment with calm, steady hands.
The mismatch gear ring loosens, much to Princess Palla's dismay.
The tape peels back fully, ready to be released from responsibility.
Speaker 2: My turbo sparkle injector.
Speaker 11: Remember, Pawa, we cannot get attached to a working prototype.
It's in progress.
Speaker 1: This still needs some adjustments, to say the least. The
moment the attachment comes free, your wand quiets down from
a power tool back to a magic wand the static
collapses into silence, and the banquet hall suddenly feels as
enormous as it is. The gray static binding the cloud dissolves.
The storm cloud finally shudders, unhooks, and drifts away, dismissed.
All that's left of what feels like a catastrophe is
the echo of water droplets falling from the roof, and
then the most shocking sound of all. For a moment,
you think you must be imagining it, because why would
anybody clap Right now? The hall is dripping with bad decisions.
The mud is even muddier. The roof is still a
roof shaped memory, and yet the applau swells. A few
loved ones step cautiously back into the threshold, peeking around
the ornate door curiously. The Queen fans herself dramatically, eyes bright, frantically,
tended to by Princess Pia and a swarm of fairies.
The King nods like he is witnessing a masterpiece of
his beloved daughter's making. A little brother, sticky sweet JEMs
still on his sleeve, gasps and whispers the highest compliment
he knows, and the loved ones begin to murmur with reverence,
connecting imaginary dots with absolute confidence. Whispers float through the
air to your ear. The crowd has morphed into an
audience before your very eyes. Performance reviews are in you.
Hear things like so bold, so immerse. The rain must
have been symbolic, like in Twelfth Night and the popcorn brilliant,
soggy but brilliant. You glance toward Principal candlewick, paper bag
dangling from his fingers, eyes wide behind his spectacles. Then
he looks at the applause and at you. He straightens
his jacket.
Speaker 8: Ah, yes, this was an excellent demonstration. Princesses. You had
me a bit worried there for a moment.
Speaker 4: Honey, he thinks it was a purpose.
Speaker 2: They all think it was on purpose.
Speaker 1: Princess Petra's still damp, still offended, lifts her chin like
she planned every single water droplet to save face, no
matter how drenched.
Speaker 5: Of course, it was on purpose.
Speaker 2: Did you all enjoy the show?
Speaker 1: Princess Pia crosses her arms, rainwater dripping from her hair
onto her mud like a victory ceremony.
Speaker 6: That storm had excellent timing.
Speaker 10: I will admit the controlled chaos had a certain educational value.
Speaker 11: Noble mind, noble heart, noble art.
Speaker 1: Mister Honeybee gives you a smile. Don't worry, I won't
out missus. Honeybee saunters no flutters in through the door,
parting the crowd, carrying a silver platter lavender cookies. Anyone
but you, Honey, You know what really happened. You know
improvisation is a skill, a tool you wear on your
figurative belt, just as mister Honeybee wears his. You know
that your creativity is a brilliant results of that inner
sparkle that awakens your soul and your dragon ember alike,
and occasionally improvisation is the most honest kind of creativity
there is. Take your slowest, deepest breath into your nose,
feel the wand in your hand, now calm and steady,
click into place with your focus. Then slowly breathe all
the way out through your mouth, and as you exhale,
you lift your wand with an intentional swirl, a gentle
ring of magic blooms outward. The rain water on the
floor shimmers, lifts, and gathers into floating bubbles, like pearls
returning to their necklace. They drift upward and vanish through
the roof hole, as if the storm never dared to
touch this room. The velvet chairs fluff themselves dry with
a sigh of relief. The antique teacup stopped trembling and
subtle into dignified stillness. The dust swept into Petra's now
frizzy hair sparkles like the glitter. It's become even the mud, yes, honey.
The mud stirs and smooths into a neat, intentional training circle,
bordered by tiny stones that arrange themselves like a proper
lesson space. Princess Pia's eyes widened, delighted against her best
effort to remain unbothered.
Speaker 6: Okay, that's good, that's really.
Speaker 3: Good, my chairs, honey, you're incredible.
Speaker 1: The banquet hall transforms right before for everyone's eyes restored
and improved. Because you didn't erase the chaos. You worked
through it with honest evaluation and acceptance of help, healthy stewardship,
to use all of your resources to strike a balance
between preservation and improvisation, to achieve the pleasant harmony of
making it work against all odds. And in response, the
applause grows louder. Principal Candlewick watches the room become whole again.
He blinks once twice, then his shoulders drop, his chin
elevates confidence in his choices. Return.
Speaker 8: Yes, yes, exactly, Princesses to be and their loved ones,
Welcome to the Princess Academy. Here you do not merely
learn how to curtsy or memorize royal etiquette.
Speaker 2: But we do learn those things, right.
Speaker 8: Yes, Princess Petra. But you will also learn adaptability. You
learn resilience. You learn that when a plan becomes unexpectedly chaotic,
you do not panic, but you may carry a paper
bag in case there's hyperventilating you. My dear princesses, improvise
with creativity and courage, not seeking perfection, but that brave
act of making something even better out of what you have.
Speaker 1: You fill the three princesses closing around you in a
huddle hunt Honey. Princess Petro hooks her arm through yours. Careful,
Princess Piare drapes an elbow over your shoulder. Princess Powis
squeezes your hand tight, grateful, trembling with relief. Then Palla
leans in close so only you can hear thank you.
The princess is to be swarm, the way that sunlight
swarms a window. When the curtains open, they rush toward you,
Princess Palla, Princess Pia, and Princess Petra with bright eyes
and bursting questions. How did you do? The water pearls
the stewardship?
Speaker 3: Always are we allowed to make our own realms?
Speaker 2: Was the popcorn part of the lesson?
Speaker 4: Yes it is now everything is a lesson if you
say it with confidence, Princesses.
Speaker 1: You stand in the center of it all. Honey, Glittering
shoes steady heart, magic wand warm in your hand while
the Princess Academy buzzes with the exact magic is built
for real magic, the kind that you make together and
with that class is dismissed for the Princess Professors on
behalf of the Princess Academy. Thank you for listening, learning,
and princessing in your own way, honey, and always remember
when things don't go as planned, they're going as princessed.