#lbgt fairy tale

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Toward the Sun

Summary: A music teacher in a wealthy household starts taking tea with the families eldest son after he returns from college. Unfortunately for Mathias plants start sprouting out of his skin at the sight of the young lord and there’s not enough places to hide, burn, and banish the sprouts to hide his feelings.

Short story loosely based off of @stutterhug art here 

                                  ≿————-　❈　————-≾

There was once a young man who taught music in the grand house at the border between the Druid Hinterlands and the humans domain. 

The family was the wealthiest in the county and the matriarch was certain her family was bound for ascendancy. She sent her son to the college with the largest trophy case and whispered in the night to her daughter about opera houses and theaters and stadiums come to hear her sing.

Mathias arrived and summoned all of his knowledge of their world to bow at the youngest daughter. She sniffed loudly and waved him closer, ‘you better be good.’ The little lady Rachel said back with the authority of a matador to a bull.

Mathias only grinned and took her hand, ‘I will teach you everything I know.’ She only hummed deeply and pointed to the music room.

‘Show me.’

Mathias taught archaic choir songs in dead languages and operatic melodies with notes with no end and sheet music with high tremors and low valleys day in and day out. And for once, he thought he was safe.

But one day the eldest son returned from college to help his ailing father with the estate and he stopped to watch Mathias in the music room. And it was over.

He smiled at him as they finished and asked with a clever tone: ‘tell me, what is your favorite piece, young tutor?’

Mathias blinked several times and tried not to look at the young lord directly in the face, ‘anything by Tchaikovsky, my lord.’

He chuckled and stepped into the room, ‘good answer.’ He nodded and gestured toward the door, ‘once you’re done with my sister, would you want to take tea with me? I’m afraid I don’t know the new staff as well as I would like.’

Mathias nodded and tore his gaze away from the eldest sons golden eyes and the dent in his brow that rivaled ocean trenches. Mathias ignored the faint-headed stir in his chest. ‘I’ll see you there.’

He was officially Jack the Second or the Younger Jack, but everyone called him Jackie-boy and swore on their hearts he would do right by the tenants and staff and anyone he married. He was his mother’s golden sun and his father’s road map to the family’s future.

Mathias tread carefully- or at least, he tried to.

They took tea and it started slowly like drops of paint into clear water until it was all reds and blues and yellows so bright it hurt the eye.

They joked about other composers in the county who made their money making ballads for the king with ear-piercing cannons in the background for his ‘glory.’ They joked about the old housekeeper who swore at anyone who wasn’t directly paying her.

And Mathias laughed and pushed his thick hair back and then he worried.

That night a small sprout tentatively budded from the place on his chest. Mathias woke in a cold sweat the next morning and took a pair of skewers to it’s small head and tossed it into the cold box near the door.

He took tea with the Younger Jack that day too and they talked about the politics of the Druid Wars and the value of a quiet afternoon by the fire and favorite smells and childhood foolishness and everything else in between. By the time they had finished it was almost dinner and Jack plucked something from his pocket as the sun hit the horizon. ‘I almost forgot. Here,’ he cupped his hands. ‘I had them pick it up from the marketplace when I saw it.’

Mathias sat there without a single word left to his name. It was a silver music box that played The Sleeping Beauty Waltz from the ballet and a spinning little red rose sat in the center on a pedestal.

Mathias could only wipe his palms down on his breeches and smile, ‘thank you.’

He barely escaped the room before the head of a sunflower sprouted from his wrist. He tore it out with his hands and threw it out into the duck pond for the animals to devour.

Later, he closed his eyes and dreamt of songs and ballet and music he had never heard of before that night.

Mathias spent his days in a sweet daydream and a wild panic. He chopped and he cut and tore and wore too many layers in the summer to suppress the roses and dandelions and cherry blossoms that sprouted from his shins and rib cage and fingertips.

He was buttoned up all the way to the throat one morning when Rachel turned to him and glowered, ‘Another family came by to present their daughter to Jack.’ She said factually and gave Mathias a calculating look through her violet eyes.

Mathias smiled mildly, ‘did they get on?’ He lifted a hand from the sheet music, ‘was she lovely?’

‘She was lovely,’ Rachel nodded, ‘but brother turned her away.’

‘Oh,’ Mathias gulped. ‘Another one? What a shame.’

‘Tch,’ Rachel shook her thick curls. ‘He’s not going to wait forever.’

‘I’m sure a nice young lady will catch his eye.’ Mathias said with a dull muddy taste in his mouth and a sobering thud in his head. He was sure the bloom behind his ear from that morning was wilting. Good.

‘I suppose,’ Raechel said with a devilish grin. ‘But that would take for his eyes to be looking at them in the first place,’ She lifted her small proud chin up, ‘he won’t wait forever, teacher.’

Mathias sighed, ‘let’s do your basic scales from the top, Rachel.’

‘What?’ She groaned, ‘I was just pointing out the obvious! He lik-’

‘From the top!’

They did doreimei for ten minutes and Jack glanced curiously between the two of them when he came in to invite Mathias for tea that day.

He likes you.

Mathias could barely look at Jack that afternoon. 

‘Mathias,’ Jack waved a hand in front of his nose once the biscuits and drinks had been devoured. ‘You seem distracted. Did Rachel say something? She looked terse this morning too.’

Mathias drew back, ‘it’s nothing.’ He said quickly and tried to stand up before the morning glory behind his ear burst into a weaving vine. ‘I’m sure it’s only a passing thing.’

Jack’s golden eyes alighted over him. ‘She’s getting quite good.’

Mathias grinned softly. ‘She might fill theaters yet.’

Jack nodded slowly. ‘Will you stay for that?’

‘As long as you’ll have me,’ Mathias blurted out before he could stop himself. ‘As long as I’m needed really.’

Jack smiled with his shiny straight teeth and self-confident air, ‘good.’ He reached out and pushed a strand of his hair back from Mathias’s face. ‘Because you must know,’ he breathed softly, ‘I do enjoy your music.’

Mathias’s heart squeezed like a juiced lemon and he took a step back from his touch. ‘Of course… my lord.’

And then he ran.

-------------------

That night Mathias smothered every thought in his head and every excited pulse in his chest from his traitorous heart. He tossed and turned and even opened a bag and put two socks and brown riding pants in it.

At midnight he was still staring at the ceiling and the words haunted him with the bloody vengeance of a restless ghost: Will you stay...

A sprout budded on his collarbone and spread outward like flood water over flat plains. It was the biggest yet- reaching toward the ceiling with mad fury. ‘No!’ He tried to yank it out by the stem but it was rooted deep and refused to budge, ‘don’t!’

He ran through the enormous house: up and down the grand stairs, through the long dining halls, and kitchen pantries, along the garden paths and through the foyers. He ran until he found himself collapsed in the central parlor sitting room in front of the fireplace. He fumbled for the wood pieces in the corner and the flint.

It took several attempts but eventually he watched the kindling spark and blew on it until it roared to spitting life. ‘Enough of this,’ he whispered to himself and grabbed the sprout at the stem. ‘It can never be. He is a nobleman... and you are a crooked druid.’

He gasped as he tore out the plant roots and all and threw the soft multicolored wildflowers into the hungry red embers. It burst to light and Mathias exhaled. ‘No more.’

He watched it burn and then buried everything else left inside him among the ash. Nothing could be left.

Mathias wondered back to his room in a daze and crumpled listlessly into bed.  He dreamed of golden light and whispering dark nights.

Mathias woke up the next morning to a high-pitched scream, ‘bloody hell!’ Erupted Housekeeper Jane and another shout came. ‘What is that?’

Mathias burst fully awake as hurried footsteps squeaked in the hallway outside and he threw his blankets off and bolted outside in his nightwear. He stopped a passing kitchen boy as the halls were alive with bodies and confused murmurs.

‘What is it?’ He asked groggily.

‘It’s the house!’ The boy called over his shoulder. ‘Go see for yourself.’

Mathias rubbed his eyes until he saw spots and then heard a distinct sound: music. It flowed and gasped and played in ethereal trumpets and chimes and twittering voices- strange and unnatural melodies that could only be from one thing.

He was running before he knew it; Mathias tore outside on clumsy feet and skidded to a stop on the great lawn. His mouth fell open as he got a better look at the house: branches snaked out the windows and roots bursting from the ground and a glorious trunk grew directly from the central chimney.

The tree had soft pink feathery leaves, maroon bark, and grew unlike any other human plant. It molded itself into a playful unmistakable shape: upward, out, and softly inward in a delicate arch. The tree grew straight from the central chimney and formed a heart at the very top.

A towering pink heart that could be seen from leagues around.

‘No,’ Mathias fell to his knees. ‘Oh Freyja, no.’

In the branches were dark blue birds with stars in their wings, magnificent crests that were half their size, and long trailing tail feathers. Enchanted nightingales that must have been attracted by the sweet pink Lover’s Tree.

It was worse than he thought.

They sang one song and one alone: The Sleeping Beauty Waltz over and over again. Their voices boomed and filled the air with a lovely and chiming twittering that misted and settled over the land.

Mathias buried his face in his hands and the servants and people of the house all gaped at the display.

‘Evil!’ Someone shouted shrilly. ‘Druid magic, evil as the day.’

Mathias drooped and put his hands up. He had to leave now.

He turned toward the nearest maid and tugged on her skirt, ‘Jane?’ He asked quietly, ‘tell Jack… I’m sorry.’

‘Tell him your bloody self.’

Mathias turned around just as Jack rounded the house. His eyes glowed sunshine bright in the light and his expression was discerning and open.

‘No,’ Mathias scrambled to his feet and turned to run. A hand caught him by the wrist just in time.

‘Don’t.’ Jack said softly and spun him around. ‘I know.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Mathias said emptily and looked down at his shoes with his throat thick with emotion. ‘I should have told your family… what I was.’

Jack shook his head, ‘they knew. My mother bragged about it at all her private lunches. A druid as a music teacher.’ He huffed a laugh.

‘Oh,’ Mathias wilted. ‘It wasn’t,’ he stammered and face flushed red and the music swelled louder from the enchanted nightingales. ‘It wasn’t supposed to grow like that.’

Jack craned his neck back and stared up at the red tree grown into a perfect heart out of their house. He snorted gently, ‘And here I thought I was the one that was going to have to say something.’

‘Excuse me?’

Jack drew closer and closer. ‘It’s a lovely tree.’

Mathias found it in himself to flush a darker red, ‘we have to cut it down. It can’t be… Can it?’

Jack shrugged, ‘I’m a young lord. What if I want it?’

Mathias’s eyes went wide, ‘there may be no end to your troubles then, sir.’

‘Please,’ he took his hand and drew it up to his face. ‘Call me Jack.’ He kissed the soft of his knuckles and Mathias fell into him.

‘Okay.’He swept him closer, Mathias wrapped his arms around his neck, ‘Jack.’

The birds hit a high note in a silver sweeping cry that sent a ripple across the land and watching clouds above. Mathias closed his eyes and the roots took a deep and warm grip over his heart and he tilted his head back. The kiss spread bright and soft across his mouth. 

And the tree reached the sun.

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[christinaroseandrews]

While many of you know that I am absolute trash for time travel romance, what I am only starting to share with you is my deep and abiding love of all things fairy tale. Long before I read my way through the entire romance collection at my public library, I devoured their fairy tale, folklore, and mythology sections.

One of my least favorite fairy tales was Hansel and Gretel. I’ve never liked the misogyny in the tale. And I’ve never liked the moral... witches are bad, step-families are bad, men are smart. You know, the kind of stuff that’s pretty much in all fairy tales.

Gretel: A Fairy Tale Retold by Niamh Murphy takes the core of the Hansel and Gretel tale, shakes it up, and throws it out onto its ear. First off, Hansel and Gretel aren’t children (likely a good thing considering what comes later) and they aren’t running from a wicked stepmother but poverty, war, and displacement. They are refugees struggling to make their way. While in the woods, they are menaced and pursued by wolves until the Witch, Maeve, rescues them. As in the fairy tale, she ‘fattens them up’ or in reality, feeds them; Like the tale, Maeve lives alone in a extremely comfortable cottage. But then the story takes a right turn into the original. Maeve is an exile, driven from society because she dared to love someone her village didn’t approve of.

While Hans is distrustful and disdainful of Maeve, Gretel is captivated by her. Gretel admires her intellect, her charm, and her independent nature. She respects Maeve’s knowledge of the forest and listens to her advice. Gretel develops feelings for the witch.

When I went on my download spree, I didn’t intend on getting a Lesbian Romance. Most of the stories I’ve read in that genre tend to either kill off one of the main characters or have one or both of them be “reformed” by some dude’s cock.

That doesn’t happen here.

The relationship between Maeve and Gretel felt natural. And I liked the characters. Maeve was interesting and had a calm mythical sense about her. Gretel was the ingenue. The innocent. Gretel knew she was missing something, she just didn't know it was. And her discovery that her admiration of Maeve was more than just hero worship was well done.

That being said, I do need to warn for homophobia in this book. It’s not a surprise and considering that the author was putting the tale on its head. It’s no surprise that Hans isn’t the golden boy that he was in the fairy tale. His actions and reactions set up the final act nicely.

The author’s use of language is lovely, and I wish I had her knack for description. The sex is well-written, but I would have liked a verbal check in from Gretel in addition to the one from Maeve... consent goes both ways.

That being said. This book isn’t perfect and it doesn’t quite get top marks. The author was a little too light of a hand with the foreshadowing. I had to go back and make sure something happened because it was buried in the middle of a paragraph in a compound sentence. Additionally, the author had trouble with punctuation... particularly comma and semi-colon faults.

But the real ding comes from the ending. It felt rushed and sort of anticlimactic even though I get why the author stopped there... the end line is good. I mean the end line is really good. But I’m not satisfied with how it ended. It needed a few more paragraphs to wrap things up.

So with that in mind I give this:

Four stars. 

If you want to check it out, it is free from most major retailers!

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[theodoravanyar]

Review: The Mermaid’s Daughter

Review: The Mermaid’s Daughter

By: Ann Claycomb Available on: Amazon, Audible, and Barnes and Noble. Overview: Blurb: Kathleen is a soprano singer. She’s also cursed with a strange affliction all the doctors in the world and quite figure out. It feels like every step she takes is on broken glass and sometimes, it feels like her tongue has been cut out. Kathleen and her girlfriend Harry, who is a mezzo, try to deal with the…

[morgan--reads]

Kissing the Witch: Old Tales in New Skins - Emma Donoghue

Summary: Reimagined fairy tales. 

Quote: “Your songs are still out there on the clifftop, hanging in the air for you when you want them. Wish to speak and you will speak, girl. Wish to die and you can do it. Wish to live and here you are.”

My rating: 4.0/5.0    Goodreads: 3.89/5.0

Review: The retellings are weird, not just in the quirky way that some fairy tale retellings lean into, but in a genuinely unsettling and intriguing way. Donaghue strikes the right matter-of-fact tone for a fairy tale, using the first person to center the personal element of the stories but never straying too far away from the simple but profound nature of the original stories. Many of the stories emphasize a sapphic element, but they rarely turn into a perfect happily ever after, remaining off-balance and strange even if they are also romantic. 

Note: Emma Donoghue later turned some stories from this collection into a play with the same name.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Creativitwins - Talking in the Garden

Following on from ‘Helplessly in Love’, Roman and Remus have a serious conversation about Remus’ motives and the topic of love as a whole.

Word Count: 1,771

(if you ship the twins, I’ll throw a frisbee at you)

-

Roman paced back and forth across the walled garden. This quiet place was considered the most obvious ‘neutral zone’ in the realm of the Imagination both siblings resided over. It was neither overly inspired by fairy tales, nor overrun by monsters and decay, making it the perfect harmony between both halves of Creativity. Playing the role of a Secret Garden, it granted the other Sides an entry into the Imagination without the fear of getting too lost on either side. To the left, there were elegant red rose bushes, trees with ripe and delicious fruit, and wooden frames helping clematis plants climb high overhead and guide you to the elegantly carved maple door. On the right, the grass turned darker. The path was lined with weeds and venus flytraps that would gladly snap at ankles that stepped too close. The trees were barren, yet birds would regularly perch on the branches. Poison ivy climbed the wall surrounding the walnut door with identical carvings to the opposite door. In the middle, a large pond housed a variety of colourful koi and piranha that cohabit the waters peacefully. In the open court between the two doors were two stone stools. When the twins would squabble in their younger days, they would eventually meet here and claim a seat to talk through the problem. It was something that rang true to this day.

After recent events had calmed down, Patton had taken the time during one of their tea parties to fill Roman in on events leading up to the group appearing in his room with Remus of all Sides. Not only that, Remus applied a ‘what would Roman do’ approach. No tricks, no attempts to make Thomas feel worse about matters… It was all rather strange.

“I’m going to have to call him eventually,” Roman muttered, tightly folding his arms as he lapped the pond for the third time. “Talking to myself about it isn’t going to give me answers, and I know I can’t leave this be… Ugh!” He forced himself to stop walking with a firm stomp of his foot. “Remus! Get to the garden now!”

-

The dark door draped in ivy was pushed open to reveal a rather confused Duke. It slammed shut behind him once he was in the garden, leaving the pair in silence for several long seconds.

“While I am one to gladly talk through problems, I don’t know what I did this time.” One of Remus’ traits was honesty, after all, and he had been trying to keep out of the way of the other Sides in recent times.

“No, I know. Nothing’s wrong. I just… I need to talk, okay? This is neutral territory so it’s not gonna make either of us feel out of place, or something.” Roman slumped onto one of the stone stools, hands interlocked to hide potential fidgeting. “I’ve been thinking about what you did recently - when you brought everyone to my room like that. Patton told me what happened… Why did you do it?”

“I told you already. Thomas needed the ‘love expert’, and he trusts you a heck of a lot more than he does me. No one else could get to your room too easily without you, so I was the only option left.”

“But you didn’t try anything. You didn’t hurt Thomas, or ruin the excitement. That would’ve been the perfect chance without me blocking you.” It seemed Thomas had kept his word and didn’t tell Roman about Remus’ good intentions. However, it came at the price of the topic pestering Roman once the excitement of love had faded enough to focus on other matters. “The first time you met Thomas, you wanted to hurt him. Why not now?”

“It’s really not as deep as you’re trying to make it out to be. Thomas needed you, I could help! It was for the greater good for Thomas, really.”

“You could have taken my place! It’s what you always say you’d do. ‘I’m Creativity too. I should be listened to as well’!” Roman’s impression of Remus was emphasised by a wave of his right hand, just like how his brother would do it. “You know about love, just like me. You could have given him advice and taken all the credit -”

“No I don’t.”

“- and showed… What?” Remus’ blunt interruption had Roman’s rambling screech to a halt. He gawked up at his brother with a wide-eyed, puzzled expression. In the pause that followed, Remus made his way to the other stone stool and sat on it. Compared to his brother, Remus was slouched forward with his arms resting on both knees.

“I don’t know about love. I never have.” Why beat around the bush with this? “Sure, I know what it means and what happens when people fall in love, but I can’t talk about it as you could. I don’t have the same desire to fall in love with someone, so why should I be the one trying to tell Thomas how to declare his feelings?”

“You… Don’t know about love?” Roman felt like he had been slapped in the face. Guilt bubbled in his stomach. All this time, did Remus lack any sort of positive relationship with anyone? 

“I did have friends once, you know. I have ‘loved’ platonically,” Remus scoffed. “But this whole ‘one true love’ or ‘wanting a boyfriend’ stuff you’re always on about… That isn’t what I’ve felt about anyone. I never brought it up when we were younger because I thought it wasn’t necessary, or that maybe I’d be proven when I found the guy of my dreams.” He let out a sigh with a quirked eyebrow when he noticed his brother’s reaction to this. “Oh, don’t act like I told you a shark chewed off my leg. It’s not that big of a deal. I could give advice, but it would be an outsider looking in. Since Thomas needed personal experience and better insight, he needed you. We always did say you were the one who could inspire others. I’d never be able to do that for love. But you could, and you did!” Roman has always been the hero. That’s why he was the favoured twin.

“... I’m sorry I never considered your feelings.” Roman’s voice was low as the pity stayed on his face. “All those times I tried to set you up with denizens in the Imagination when we were younger as part of our stories, all those times you’d side-step or find an excuse to worm out of it… I must have made you feel so uncomfortable.”

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t start that. I’m not angry. This isn’t something to guilt you over. You didn’t know, and I didn’t understand. I only learned that being Aromantic was a ‘thing’ when Thomas was learning about all the LBGT strands and worrying about them all in case he offended someone.” At last, Remus’ confidence in the matter seemed to falter a little as he added, “It was a relief knowing I wasn’t completely ‘broken’.”

“You aren’t ‘broken’.” Roman blurted, hoping to stop whatever dark thoughts were bubbling in Remus’ mind. “You’re you. And while I might not like who you are, that… Doesn’t make you the worst.” The last part was admitted as a reluctant grumble. “Me wanting to fall in love doesn’t mean you’re wrong not feeling anything about it. Just like me not wanting any involvement in your sexual opinions on guys I thought were cute doesn’t mean I’m wrong either.”  Now it was Remus’ turn to look surprised once the penny dropped.

“You’re Ace?”

“I guess we both had something to learn today, huh? Not that this was why I called you here.” Maybe it was the magic of the garden, where the feud was left outside the walls and the brothers could simply talk. It allowed Roman to swallow some of his pride on the original matter. “Thank you. For, you know, not using it as a chance to take my place.”

“What can I say? I make a terrible Roman impersonator. Just like when the day comes that Thomas needs my help, you’d make a terrible Remus!” The darker Creativity twin grinned in anticipation. Roman was quick to take the bait with a cocky laugh.

“Oh please. We both know Thomas isn’t gonna resort to using your ideas.”

“This Hallowe’en might be the year. There’s gonna be a full moon this year too. He’d be a fool not to do something terrifying!” Hey, maybe Remus could try and get back in contact with Virgil to get him on the Duke’s side!

“Not a chance! I’ll get him to work on an epic, fantastical tribute to ‘Nightmare Before Christmas’! There’s a simply wonderful suit of an alternate costume that Thomas would look marvellous in!” Fuelled with passion, Roman sprung to his feet with a triumphant laugh.

“And he could try to persuade the cutie to dress as a Sally-inspired character?”

“Why would I… Wait, that’s - that’s not a bad idea.”

“Especially if he gets to wear something short and scandalous~”

“Aaand there goes that little bubble of respect. Good going.” Roman waved a dismissive hand as Remus cackled. “Look, I’m sorry that I was surprised you didn’t wanna hurt Thomas, but don’t ruin this for him, okay?”

“I had no intention to do so. Thomas deserves to be happy, right? There’s plenty of other chances to jump in and have fun! Can’t be too predictable, dear brother, especially when you have the upper hand on the topic!” Now Remus pulled himself onto his feet and turned on the ball of his foot to face his door. “Until next time -”

“Wait!” Roman needed to have the last word. He couldn’t leave like this. “You… You did a good job. Thank you for helping Thomas when I couldn’t.” A gust of wind picked up, briefly obscuring Remus’ vision with rose petals. When the breeze died down, the Prince was gone. Once he realised he was alone in the walled garden, Remus walked to the door to his part of the Imagination, only to pause.

A black rose had blossomed on his side of the garden, thriving despite the weeds that should have suffocated it. He had considered plucking it and taking it with him as a memento… But why kill it? Instead, he knelt down to gently brush his thumb against a thorn.

The black rose amongst weeds was like him with the other Sides - the oddity that shouldn’t exist. Yet they both do in spite of exceptions. In time, maybe both would prosper in their own way.

[gleekto]

AJW: "I’m just tired of them marketing his sexuality." Y'all have built an ENTIRE FANDOM with associated subjective narrative around how his sexuality is/isn't marketed! Just because they're not marketing it how you want them to, does not make you any less reliant on what is/isn't being released to the public to build your own personal fairy tales based on YOUR interpretation of what is shown, which is exactly what PR/marketing is #thehypocrisyhurts

hahahaha! Indeed. The tinhat fandom, and only the tinhat fandom, have created a brand centred on Darren’s (imagined) sexuality.

Don’t let the hypocrisy hurt, anon. It’s kind of funny. My personal favorite is their oft repeated “I know Darren is queer but only Darren can define his sexuality…” Wait. Wait. You mean….

1. “I think it’s more empowering to everybody, including myself, if I’m articulate about identifying myself as a straight male playing a gay character.”  (Darren Criss in 2011)

2. “As a straight, cisgender white guy, I can definitely see how people in the LGBTQ community could be a little weirded out about the consistency of these roles.” (Darren Criss in 2018)

3. “My particular torch that I’m carrying happens to be for that (LBGT rights and representation) because of the luck that I’ve had with playing certain characters on television, to be a symbol for that, and hopefully a shining light for that relationship. But I am a straight dude. I wasn’t in the closet.” (Darren Criss, sometime in between)

BUT NOT IF HE SAYS WHAT I DON’T WANT TO HEAR (Then it’s fake). Ahhhh, I see. 

lolololol always. 

[funnydove-blog]

Through The Looking Glass

In this chapter, we’re going to discuss ideals and illusions. An ideal is the perfect and complete embodiment of a concept, its supreme collection of attributes, qualities, or abilities. An ideal articulates a target, an aspiration. An illusion is the inaccurate interpretation of something or someone we see, think we know and understand, something we assign value to, something we experience, or something we erroneously accept as true.

In a form of government, many people hold up as an ‘ideal’ the concepts of equality, democracy, shared values, and the rule of law. For example, when the United States’ Founding Fathers drafted the Declaration of Independence, they asserted that ‘all men are created equal’. This was one of the ‘ideals’ they set forth. At the time these words were written, however, the inconvenient truth is that many of these men were slave owners. ‘Equality’ obviously did not apply to their slaves; it did not apply to women, to Native Americans, or even to other white men who did not own property.

Nevertheless, we still hold these words and this concept—that all men are created equal—as our ideal in the United States. It has pushed us forward and made us better. Women, Native Americans, and African Americans now have the right to vote, own property, and marry who they wish. Racial discrimination in the workplace and in education is illegal. The LBGT community makes progress toward more equal rights, based on this ideal.

Ideals fall short of ‘reality’, but they are held up by society as goals to which we should aspire. They elevate thought and action. We need them. They benefit us. We may, one day in a perfect world, achieve an ideal. More likely is that we will keep them in mind as we make imperfect progress.

On a personal level, you may have a role model or an ‘ideal’ of what you want to achieve in your career or who you want to become as a person. You may have an ‘idol’ who has your ‘dream job’ or lives your ‘dream life’. While you know this person is human, that they have faults that you don’t want to adopt and private challenges that you don’t know about, you still hold them up as your role model of what you want to become. What you do with this ideal person is look at how they got to where they are, and see if you can follow a similar path. You model the positive behaviors you see them exhibit: hard work, dedication, skill, creativity, professionalism, grace, and generosity.

If you have a concept as an ideal, you may turn that into your mantra. For example, if you want to be a successful novelist, you might say something like, ’I’m going to be the next J.K. Rowling.’ This doesn’t mean you dye your hair blonde and speak with a Scottish accent. It means you strive to create a great work of fiction that readers the world over enjoy.

The thing you do with an ideal is internalize it, keep it to yourself, and let it silently govern your behavior.

Over time, it is a universal law that what you think about constantly and work toward persistently will become real, although sometimes not in the way you’ve imagined. In this truth lies the importance of having an ideal and pursuing it.

THE ILLUSION

An illusion is an inaccurate opinion, belief, or impression, something that we believe to be true, but that is, by evidence and experience, not true. While an ideal is something we work toward, an illusion is something we cling to. It is a something that we often desperately want to be true, need to be true, or hope to be true, but don’t make any effort to make true. For example, if you say you want to be the next J.K. Rowling, but you’re not sitting down almost every day and writing, if you’re not then taking what you’ve written and pursuing agents and publishers, then you may be suffering from an illusion about being a famous writer.

Note: it often feels better to us to have an illusion about something or someone than to acknowledge the reality and act to change it.

Another example of an illusion that is particularly prevalent among many women is the image they have of their body as it relates to the images that are presented to them in the media. Photographs of picture-perfect celebrities or fashion models whose hair, face, figure, and wardrobe are always perfect, create the illusion that this is ‘real’ and that it is attainable by all women everywhere. The truth about these images, and these celebrities or models, is less glamorous. They are acutely aware that they have chosen a very competitive profession. They commit themselves. They work with acting, singing and diction coaches. They regularly work with personal trainers. They hire chefs to make sure they eat well. They have assistants to handle their schedules and maximize their time.

They know that their image is a major part of their career. Regardless of how hard they work, they need to appear relaxed, elegant, and charming in public. To support this appearance, they have stylists for their hair, personal shoppers for their clothes, publicists for their interviews and appearances, and cosmetic surgeons to provide a little nip and tuck to keep them looking ‘youthful’.

So it’s unrealistic to think that they ‘have it all together’ all the time. After a lot of work by a lot of people, they ‘have it together’ on the red carpet or on screen for a limited period of time. Projecting an effortlessness to it all that belies all the hard work is part of their job: creating an illusion. What’s more, when a photo of them does appear on the internet or in a magazine, it has been retouched by editorial professionals to minimize or eliminate any imperfections and provide a final touch or two of radiance and sparkle. No wonder these women look great. With a team of professionals at their beck and call, they should look great.

This aspect of the entertainment and fashion industries is what it is. These women are in the business of selling dreams: movies, television shows, clothes, and cosmetics. The problem begins when young women and working women are constantly exposed to these carefully manufactured creations. It’s tempting to believe that these artificial creations are the norm, the standard, the rule.

Old Money Gals who embrace the Old Money, New Woman philosophy, who work for a living and use their resources wisely, don’t compare their bodies or their look with the size zero, flawless prototypes that are constantly presented as the ‘ideal’. Old Money Gals know instinctively that this illusion is not any kind of ‘ideal’. They don’t aspire to this. They don’t imitate this. They aren’t envious of this. They aren’t influenced by this.

Some celebrities have sensed this disconnect and addressed it. In 2016, for example, the singer/songwriter Alicia Keys started the #nomakeup movement to address the struggles and pressures to ‘look a certain way’ that many women face. She vowed to stop covering up: ‘Not my face, not my mind, not my soul, not my thoughts, not my dreams, not my struggles, not my growth. Nothing.’ Assess her decision and see how or if it makes sense to you. Moderate your exposure to images of an ‘ideal’ that are predicated on appearance. Do not make yourself crazy in the pursuit of an illusion. While an illusion is a dangerous thing to have about a goal or a situation, it can be positively devastating to have it about a person. As I said, an ideal is something we keep to ourselves. Conversely, an illusion is something we project onto another situation or person. You may already know these things, but it’s critically important now that you understand them and apply them to your life, both at work, in relationships, and in love.

Don’t labor under the illusion that your life is just going to ‘turn out fine’ because you daydream about it but don’t work at it; that you’re ‘entitled’ to a pay increase at work just because you’ve been at your job for a couple of years; or that the slacker you’re dating is going to magically evolve into an ambitious young man just because you continue to love and (financially?) support him.

The reason I say these harsh things is because I have seen too many women have illusions about the world, and about their partners, that permanently impact their lives in unpleasant ways. When these women see the reality about the situations and partners they have become involved with, or the financial choices they have made, they are often left with few viable options. They face divorce, debt, children to care for, and careers to jumpstart late in the game or rebuild with limited resources, and often have little time, money, or strength to change or improve their situations.

I don’t advocate approaching life and love like a business, looking at the risk/reward ratio in every friendship or romance through a transactional lens. I also don’t advocate approaching life and love as a fairy tale, thinking that a happy ending will surely turn up, somehow, someday. When you take the time to invest in yourself and learn who you are and what’s important to you, you’ll be more likely to determine what your ‘ideal’ or ‘ideals’ are in life. You’ll also be less susceptible to illusions, whether they involve material possessions or other people.

The things you consider important will be more intangible, like purpose, work, and integrity, but more meaningful. Superficial things that are advertised and promoted will hold less appeal and carry less weight. When this shift in your thinking occurs, you will be able to face ‘reality’ with less trepidation and ‘own’ your future. Tell yourself the truth and live accordingly.

Now that we’ve addressed some illusions on the personal front, let’s discuss some illusions that appear in relationships.

[nesting-dreams]

Blaire white's physical transition from male to female properly. She wanted to show that transitioning is not all fairy tale bullshit like the LBGT sjw community makes it out to be. By the way, she looks great.

[with-her-nose-stuck-in-a-book]

So...occasionally I decide to read children's books. why not?

These books...this series..just..ugh. They’re really nasty.

These two are just filled with misogyny, forgetting LGBT+ exists, and now misandry. They’ve had people talking about how much it defies conventional fairy tales but..it really doesn’t. The characters still follow their ridiculous fairy tale paths, and any deviation there might have been was set back to the traditional by the second book. (in which Agatha wishes she chose her prince instead of her friend)

The first one...this book was really kind of ichy. First of all, all girls in the book expect for one of the main characters is either pink loving overly girly, or evil, as if no variation exists. Why? Heavily emphasizes needing a man to be happy Male character justifies poor decisions by yelling "I'm a man" Main character that wasn't "girly" suddenly is really happy after a makeover(which while wasn't really a change still makes that point) Other main character spends entire story trying to win a prince. That's her entire motivation, even when she turns evil. Sort of acknowledges a girl can like another girl (Spoilers) "Sophie stole Agatha from her prince" but paints it as something horrible and evil Other than all the ichy misogyny and ignoring that LBGT+ is a thing, full of confusing dual pov between the two mains, with no clear indication of the switch leading to confusion and having to re-read parts. Oh, and the character die if they fail. That's kinda glossed over too.

I’m half way through the second one, and just...wow....

Once again, an ichy book Now, the misogyny is tinged with misandry, as all the girls want to kill the men. THe kiss between the two main girls set off a horrible situation that has made all the genders hate each other. And yet, still emphasis on a prince being the only thing to make a girl happy, because obviously a prince is all the girl would ever wish for. Oh, and kissing a girl makes you a boy. Hate to break it to you, book, but lesbians, bi women, pan women, etc, kind of exist. Of course, this book ignores that. Some lovely nastiness right there.

Not even kidding, this is actually in the book.

And then there’s another passage of the male love interest complaining that “his” princess chose a girl.

[doingdewey]

#LGBT+ YA Review: All Out The idea behind this anthology was wonderful. It includes the (fictional) stories of LBGT+ teens throughout history, including a number of pieces with a fairy tale feel.

[layla-stevens-author]

Free on Kindle Unlimited

Hello all how are you.. Im Layla Stevens. Have you heard of me?? Here's my bio I was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma but moved to Pensacola, Florida in 1996. I have a huge family who I shocked them when I told them I was writing my first book. I have had a love a reading since I was young. Reading has always been my escape. I can read and be a princess or a warrior. Reading for me was always something magical. And I hope to pass that on to you all. I'm very opinionated and have no filter. I speak my mind without thinking of the consequences. Does this get me in Trouble? Yes it does every single day. But I will not change. I march to my own beat. My mom says that I can be a one man band. I am always willing to help out anyone who is in need all you have to do is ask. I never knew that writing a book would show me so much about myself. I have learned so much in a short amount of time. And I can't wait to learn more. This past year has truly blessed me in so many ways. I was nominated on several blogs for best LBGT author, and guess what? I won on Coast to Coast Book Besties. Needless to say I'm over the moon excited because I'm firm believer in Equal Rights. So in my books you will find a little bit of everything. I'm not ashamed to step out of the normal cookie cutter box. I like to push the limits, and I love to be different. "Always remember to let your Faith be bigger than your fear." ~ Layla Stevens Are you Stalking me? If your answer is no then you should. Instagram @authorlayla Pintrest authorlayla Google + Layla Stevens Pizap Layla.stevens.author@gmail.com Tumblir @authorlayla Twitter @authorlayla Email Layla.Stevens.author@gmail.com Like page https://www.facebook.com/pages/Layla-Stevens/697947530238039 Amazon page http://www.amazon.com/Layla-Stevens/e/B00MRB0TTM/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1 Buy Links Amazon Us http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MR3HQZ0 Have you one clicked Layla Stevens books they are all FREE with Kindle Unlimited GUESS WHAT???? All of my books are NOW AVAILABLE on KU! Head on over and Instant #OneClick All my books!! #freeonkindleunlimited ¸.••.¸✿ Expect the Unexpected Good news first or bad news first? Would the good soften the blow of the bad? After receiving the best news ever, Rebecca has to swallow the pain she feels from learning she's lost the love of her life. She has to pick up the pieces and move forward, but no matter how hard she tries, the sadness remains. Living without her love will prove to be the greatest and roughest challenge of her life, but what she has to endure will either break her or help her to realize just how much her life is worth. Will it be too much for Rebecca to handle or will her new found strength give her hope to push on? http://amzn.to/2nSUksY ¸.••.¸✿ Fallen Soldier, Risen Pride The Marine Corps defined Justice. She lived by the honor and knew nothing else. But redefining herself after a life altering injury will prove to be her greatest victory or her toughest defeat. Will she reconnect with the solider she once was? Can the help of someone so unexpected help or will she just be lost forever? http://amzn.to/2j5Yn24 •.¸✿¸.• LoveThyself Have you ever felt like you were different, like you didn't belong? Kellie Kingston knows that feeling all too well. She’s not who she pretends to be, instead from the inside out, Kellie is actually Kaleb. For years, Kaleb has wanted to break free from the reins of Kellie’s lifestyle. He knows he was born in a female’s body, but with a soul of a man. What happens when skeletons are forced to be kept in dirty closets? No one should judge a person by the gender of their body, but the passions found within their heart. Will the people of Kaleb’s community ever be able to accept him for who he really is? Will Kaleb ever be free to truly love himself or will southern socialite secrets keep him hidden forever? http://amzn.to/2m8mwra •.¸✿¸.• Forbidden Love Trilogy Claiming Claire synopsis: Longing for companionship due to her loveless marriage, Claire aches for a revival of her dead sex life-- a real orgasm. With secrets not many are aware of, Dana is not your average doctor. Yet lately, Dana has been bored-- until one day, SHE walks into her office. Dana NEEDS to claim her. Will Dana be able to open Claire's eyes and prove that real love does exist? Or will her claim be denied? Loving Claire synopsis: Claiming one another's love has always seemed to be easy; however, loving one another through the good times and the bad is proving to be difficult. Will Dana and Claire have their happily ever after or will they allow forces to rip them apart forever? Leaving Claire Synopsis. This is love you don't read about in fairy tales. Is there really a such thing as happily ever after? Proving that the challenges in their lives are worth everything just to be claimed, owned by one another. Dana and Claire will forever and always belong to one another, even if their love was considered to be forbidden. http://amzn.to/2quUczF •.¸✿¸.• Claiming Claire Longing for companionship due to her loveless marriage, Claire aches for a revival of her dead sex life-- a real orgasm. With secretes not many are aware of, Dana is not your average doctor. Yet lately, Dana has been bored-- until one day, SHE walks into her office. Dana NEEDS to claim her. Will Dana be able to open Claire's eyes and prove that real love does exist? Or will her claim be denied? http://amzn.to/2kDLNsA •.¸✿¸.• Loving Claire To be loved is everything. To be claimed is more... Claiming each other's love has always been easy, simple, however, loving one another through the good times and bad is proving to be a little more difficult and somewhat painful Will Dana and Claire have their happily ever after or will they allow outside forces to rip them apart? http://amzn.to/2kk5EPU •.¸✿¸.• Leaving Claire This is love you don't read about in fairytales. Is there really a such thing as happily ever after? Proving that the challenges in their lives are worth everything just to be claimed, owned by one another. Dana and Claire will forever and always belong to one another, even if their love was considered to be forbidden. http://amzn.to/2kHmUfk •.¸✿¸.•Broken Love & Forever Bound Kayla Ashby has a problem in real life dealing with her demons but at night, while she is sleeping she is no longer the scared little girl she once was. Are her dreams telling her who she really is? And can she break away from her fears to become that person or will she be forever bound by her past? Her heart is bound to another. She has loved him from the very beginning, but is she worthy of him and his love? Is it possible to overcome all those thoughts and dreams that hold her back and move on? Can Kayla overcome her abandonment issues and discover what it is like to truly love? Garrett Winters holds his feelings close to his heart. Keeping his true feelings deep inside, hidden from those who surround him, including the one who he wants nothing more than to capture. Lovers come and go, but no one else comes close to doing what they do for each other their bond is immeasurable. Will fate bring him to his true love or will he forever be bound to finding his heart? When they cross paths again, can their love overcome or will they both be forever, broken. http://amzn.to/2mpge6y •.¸✿¸.•Damaged Love & Forever Bound All Kayla has ever wanted is to feel loved. She has lived her life with the Stantons, feeling scared and unwanted. She has always wondered about her birth parents. How could they have given her up? Should she search for them? If she found them, would she be able to forgive them? Senator Seth Stanton’s image portrayed his love for his family. He has the perfect life—a loving wife, twin sons, and an adopted daughter. What more could he ask for? His life isn’t what it seems, and soon what should have stayed behind closed doors comes bursting through. His family is falling apart, and it’s all his fault. With the help of Dr. Patrice Doyle, Kayla has managed to cope with her demons. Dr. Doyle knows she has her work cut out for her, and she can see there is something special about this young lady who was once so broken. Can Dr. Doyle help convince Kayla she is more than damaged goods? With suicide, weddings, and new discoveries in the picture, will Kayla be able to heal? Or will she be forever damaged? http://amzn.to/2lJxshZ •.¸✿¸.•Bound the Ultimate collection Broken Love and Forever Bound Kayla Ashby has a problem in real life dealing with her demons but at night, while she is sleeping she is no longer the scared little girl she once was. Are her dreams telling her who she really is? And can she break away from her fears to become that person or will she be forever bound by her past? Her heart is bound to another. She has loved him from the very beginning, but is she worthy of him and his love? Is it possible to overcome all those thoughts and dreams that hold her back and move on? Can Kayla overcome her abandonment issues and discover what it is like to truly love? Garrett Winters holds his feelings close to his heart. Keeping his true feelings deep inside, hidden from those who surround him, including the one who he wants nothing more than to capture. Lovers come and go, but no one else comes close to doing what they do for each other their bond is immeasurable. Will fate bring him to his true love or will he forever be bound to finding his heart? When they cross paths again, can their love overcome or will they both be forever, broken. http://amzn.to/2lJxFlh •.¸✿¸.•Tonight Only Addyson McNyte has recently graduated from the Police Academy, and will be starting as an undercover officer in Albuquerque New Mexico. She moved there after the death of her twin Athan. The night before she starts as a rookie, she wants to be carefree, and have one last hoorah. She wants to live just one night with No regrets, that is until she wakes up and can’t remember the night before. Can Addyson let loose enough to have one night only of carefree living? Kalen Drake is a super sexy U.S.M.C., he was wounded in action. But has chose to become a local cop who trains the new undercover rookies... http://amzn.to/2n5rN6m •.¸✿¸.•What the Heart Wants Don't ask. Don't tell." That was the policy in the military. Not only did Anthony have to live by it in his career but he also had to hide his inner desires from his wife. Not being able to love yourself, how can you really love anyone else? Living with this buried deep inside, Anthony soon finds his true passion needs release in more ways than one. All of Anthony's feelings and pinned up emotions came to surface when he’s faced with his trigger…Trevor. Concerned by a loveless marriage and destroying the life he’s built upon, Anthony fears what effects his inner fervor may create. http://amzn.to/2qTdTC3

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Maiden and the Bog Hag

Genre: fantasy, mythology, wlw

Words: 7k

Summary: A maiden betrothed to the crown prince frequents a bridge that a bog hag lives under

they begin to chat

WordPress ⭐Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon

warning: for injury and some disturbing imagery

-

I was a little over 400 years when she arrived. Young for the ages, old for what I used to be.

I felt the vibrations before I saw her: dainty feet, an uneven tilt to her steps, sloppy, like pancakes hitting the hot skillet and scattering. I bet my last five teeth that she was a late-walker, late to crawl, late to lumber across my path.

My lips curl back and I grin wildly, not like something like that would matter after this.

She takes five steps across the wooden planks, barefoot, like she was tempting me with a prayer, then stops. I wait for another minute for those prime pale ankles to come within my reach, but she just stands there.

I peak quietly out of the hole and scowl when I saw a head sticking down over the edge of the railing. Rivers of lank blonde hair cascade toward the water, a small face, frowning slightly, nose wrinkled and eyes sharp- like needle points or homing beacons.

They were pale green eyes under expressive eyebrows, thick and rounded for her small face.

Her mouth quirked to the side and her nose was too big for her small features, I snort loudly. She was wickedly beautiful, I would eat her now if she wasn’t looking at me with the directness only arrogance can summon.

I present my darkened teeth to her, spreading my long thin fingers out and leaning into the dim light, the muddy water parts around me.

“Well, well, well,” I flex my fingers and make the ripples dance, “they really do serve themselves up on a platter these days.” I lick my lips rapaciously.

The young woman just makes her hair flutter as she tilts her head, still observing me upside down. “I don’t think so.” She finally says and then flashes me her fine fingers, chubby and small to match her figure. One golden rose ring shines from her pointer finger, I hiss.

“Royal brat.” She shrugs and finally stands up to peer down at me, “come out.” I scowl, “you may have immunity, but I don’t take orders. You are all temporary,” I squat down into the sludge and pout, “I am the trees and wind. You will pass, I will not.” “Yeah, yeah,” she flicks her wrist, “I just wanna see.” I slit my eyes, “what the inside of my belly looks like? I’d be happy to accomodate.” She could only be around 18, young, blithe, angry about something I couldn’t guess at.

She cushions her chin on her folded arms and blinks down, “I wish I looked like you.” I make a face, more of one than usual, “The little girl wants the devil under her skin. How special.” The girl rolls her eyes in a magnificent circle, “I’m not little.” She says loudly, “and you know what I mean.” I am overtaken with a strange puzzlement with the girl, “what’s your name little bird?” She scowls, “Not. Little.” She repeats, “I’m almost 20 and I’m not dumb enough to give my name to a witch.” I shrug, “it seemed like you were.” “Ugh,” she leans over the railing, “I wish all I had to do was sit under a bridge and tease strangers. And my mom says I’m the ungrateful one.” “Tease and then eat them,” I say in a exasperated tone, “you’re leaving out the most important part. The fun one.”

She hums lowly, “what do people taste like?” I smack my lips together, “like juicy juicy pig meat, but more tender.” She laughs with a rich tin sound, “liar.” I frown at her, “don’t you have places to be? You are a royal.” She scrunches her face up and pushes her loose blonde hair back, “Why do you think I’m here? I’m trying not to have things to do.” I look her up and down, “I don’t remember being invited to the birth of such a brat. Is that Hessia family spurning me again?” She sighs loudly, “Nah.” The girl reaches into her pocket and shines another ring in my direction, “I’m not from here.” “Ah,” I mull that over for a second, “it’s good thing they already extended their immunity to you. Just remember to invite me to the wedding or I’ll-” “Or you’ll unleash the gale force winds and raise the water and curse our children. I’ve heard.”

My eyebrows buckle inward into a grimace, “do they not have manners where you’re from,” I ask mildly, “or are you simply in the mood to push your luck?” I wander further out of my tunnel, feeling the pale sun bathe my earthy hair, covered in twigs and dirt and the wiggling life of one bird pecking for earthworms.

I can feel the girl stiffen as she examines me, taking in the puffy green skin and wrecked knuckles, parched mouth, the hunch of my back and long mud-caked gown. I smile so wide I think I might crack my face in half.

She places her chin on her arms again, “I’m not here to have manners.” She says in a small voice, “you don’t have any, as I can tell. Why should I?” She sighs, “what’s this bargain with the devil again?” I shake my head, “too high a price.” I’m not sure if I say that part aloud or not. I turn my chin upward, eyes glowing ember yellow and long nose catching the light. I am now fully exposed in the swampy waters, “Are you sure you still want to look like me then lovely bird?” She raises her eyebrows, “Oh yes,” she says simply, “who wouldn’t?” She turns around, “Prince Jace will probably send out the dogs if I am gone any longer, but,” she pushes her hair aside and looks over her shoulder, “I’m Tuck.” “Tuck,” I roll the name around my tongue and try to consume the vowels and suck the life out of the rolling sound. I frown.

“Not my real name, obviously,” she says with a smirk, “but everyone calls me that. Or used to.” She shrugs again.

I’m still gnashing on something I can’t quit chew, “fascinating. Of course,” I give her a flat look, “Tuck.” She waves, “they told me there was a powerful Bog Hag in these parts,” she examines me, “it was nice to meet you.”

Now she has manners.

The strange girl turns around and starts walking. I grin after her and imagine sinking my teeth around her pale throat, letting the red droplets spill out and color my muddy brown waters. I blink a couple times and then grumble about the royals. They could always do more to me, apparently including being nuisances.

Tuck’s unsteady footsteps disappear without a trace and I close my eyes to sink into the warm earth again.

I was around 400 at the time, young for the steady trees and arching rivers, old for what I used to be.

-------------------------

“On a scale of one to ten, how clever do you actually find fairies?” Tuck was sitting on the edge of the water, skirt tucked under her and feet narrowly close to the lapping pond in front of her.

I want to sigh in exasperation, “go home little birdie,” I wave my hand in the air, “your presence isn’t requested here.” She hums loudly and glances up, “that isn’t even a proper answer. Are centaurs truly as health-obsessed as they say? My uncle met one and he said all the poor fellow could talk about is his kneecaps and the next plague. A right hypochondriac.” My left eyebrow twitches, “why don’t you go ask one?” Tuck leans her head up and looks up toward the dappled sunlight, “does it looks like I know many mythics?” She says loudly, “I’m asking you.”

I glower over at her, “you must have books.” I sneer, “rooms full of them I hear, houses full.” Tuck crosses her arms over her chest and frowns slightly, “and what would the court say? That’s what Matilda would remind me. The future queen burying herself in otherworldly material.” Tuck sighs noisily, “I would never get away with it.” “But you get away with conversing with a bog hag?” I remind her pointedly, mostly so I could return to my hunting. “How progressive.” She cracks an almost-smile, “oh yes, they call it a glorious new diplomatic mission.” She lifts her chin up, “for only the foreign queen of course. Taking up friendship with the local terrors.”

I hum loudly, “I take it they think you’re out riding.” She doesn’t look back at me, “they think I’m out weeping.” She takes a deep breath in and glances over at me, “a Kiliok tradition before a wedding.”

“Kiliok,” I roll that word around in my mouth, “A northern Queen, very well.” She doesn’t so much as nod as keep staring, “do you know of us?” I shrug, destabilizing clumps of dirt that roll down my shoulder tops, “I know of many things.” That same smile ghosts over her lips again, “cool.” I shake my head and my eyes pour of the warm waters, “you know, perhaps you are safe from me eating you, but there are other scarier things in this forest.” I hit her with a hard look, “it’s old. And the earth here is not as kind as me.” She looks nonplussed, “scarier than you?” She grins boldly, “I highly doubt it.” I huff shortly, “perhaps you should act like it.” I say hotly, “and leave. That’s what you do when you’re scared if you’d like to know.” “So touchy!” Tuck says boisterously, “it almost sounds like you like to be alone.” She winks and I feel for the nearest large fish.

“How did you guess?” I say in a flat tone and she laughs.

“Go on,” she says cheerily, “catch something.” My lips curl back again, “you’re already here.” “Oh come now, we already had this out.” She curls her legs up into her chest, reminding me of a child or a cat. “I want to be you and you want to eat me, neither of us can have what we want.” I give her one last placid look before plunging my hand into the water, my long nails pierce the fish before it can even twitch. It was larger, the largest one I had in months, I smile greedily.

I wrench the catfish from the waters and holding it’s flopping body in my hands, “watch carefully young queen,” my eyes gleam, “you may learn something.” I dig my teeth into it’s moist flesh and wait for it to stop squirming, tearing at it’s soft meat.

“Cool,” is the last soft word I hear before I dig in, I would be rolling my eyes all over again if I wasn’t preoccupied.

Tuck is still there when I finish, and asks me how I find Roc’s- were they slightly above dog intelligence or was it true you could hold a conversation with one? I try to fade back into the muddy waters and we bicker about which weather God’s were the most superior.

-------------------------

“I don’t suppose you ever leave this place.” I come to expect her weekly visit, I don’t turn around this time when she approaches.

“Not like you do princess,” I say soberly as I ooze my way back towards the mid-day sun, she always comes at mid-day.

“Ha, right.” She says with a slight grunt as she takes her usual seat by my waters. “You could go wherever you please though.” I raise my eyebrows, a stick falls down and bumps my cheek before making a silent ploop into the water. I trace patterns in the algae in front of me, “And where would I go?” Tuck makes a soft sound, “I dunno, another swamp? Triste? The coasts? You must have hobbies.” I fix her with an even look, “Between you and the fisherman I’m afraid I have no time for hobbies.” I say lightly and she lets out her little snorting laugh.

“I’m serious.” I shake my head, “I’m as bound to this swamp as you are bound to the land instead of sky.” I say slowly, “it’s how it is.” She just nods a little sardonically, “finally, straight answers.” I sigh loudly, “have you come to quiz me again about dwarven bathing habits?” She just smiles with a little shrug, “that and, unfortunately, it seems Jace will have me do all the work for him.” “The Hessia’s usually do,” I peer down at my long nails, “what is it?” Her large green eyes hold me for a second, “Are you free next friday?” I have the decency to grin widely, “let me check my calendar.”

Tuck returns the wicked smile, “I was told it was best to invite the local powerful mythics,” she winks, “wouldn’t want to snub anyone.” “After all the other visits?” I grumble, “I wouldn’t mind being snubbed at this point.” “Come now,” she says lightly, “Scare a few nobles, get a free meal, remind the world that’s it’s mortal and weak and easily eaten by strange green ladies. You must like being invited to these things for a reason.”

“It’s a matter of honor,” I say with pointed enunciation, “respect.”

She examines you again, “I see.” “No you don’t.” I snap back and she laughs once more.

“Always so prickly!” She tuts, “you’re lucky I like you or I wouldn’t invite you to my wedding.” “You just like oddities,” I say in a nasally voice, “bored nobles like yourself so easily lose their common sense,” I eye her, “but I’ll come.” I smile widely, “I do like to see the children’s faces when I arrive.” “That’s the spirit,” she beams. “Now,” she settles down, “do you think the God’s of night are better lovers than those of the sun? I’ve heard rumors going both ways.” “Of course the moon ones are better,” I say as I settle down deep into the silt of the pond bed, my head exposed, “the sun God’s are more self-centered than a Nymph discovering her complexion…” I wished so desperately for Tuck to leave, but I never was good at giving into myself either.

-----------------------

The day came, a sunny Friday in spring when all the flowers were in bloom, there were very few flowers by my bridge but I felt them. On the air, rejoicing in the soil, pecked by the distant din of birds that feared the dark woods.

I dragged myself up and ate, spending two days gorging and fuelling myself for the journey, casting protective circles around my limbs and throat. I even cake more mud into my hair and fashion branches into crooked wings off my hunched shoulders.

A bog hag had to play her part after all, show them what eternity looks like.

The actual exit is long and unnerving, the familiar suck of my life force, the shuddering of every nerve in my body. I heft myself slowly out of the water, groaning slightly like an oak tree against a typhoon.

The last push is always the hardest.

Solid ground is a cold kick to the teeth and I am very glad no one wanders the edges of my bog for any particular reason. I take several deep wincing breaths and straighten myself out.

“Alright,” I say calmly, “yes.” I summon my strength back to me with several dark heaving breaths and the color returns to my cheeks, it would be easy after that. I do not walk the streets, that would in many ways ruin the effect.

I arrive at the palace gates as a shadow and summon the northern winds to blow open the doors. The first set of people jerk toward me at the banging of the wood and whoosh of the breeze.

I spread my arms out wide and raise myself up high, “good morning.”

I take in the children’s face first, oh yes, their little bewildered stares, that is the cream to the cat’s tongue. Their mouths agape and eyes as wide as moons, I can only grin at the hisses and hushed whispers of the adults as I am witnessed.

I stride forward and watch their breathes seize up and noses turn toward the ceiling. I walk.

The halls are blood red, sheathed in gold trim and marble steps, I don’t bother to soften my steps or hold my dirt clumps to me. I let them fall to the castle floors and the earthworms to wiggle in my wake.

I make a beeline for the throne room, finding a tall graying man with steel grey eyes outside of it, waiting, I lift my chin up.

“Kind as ever to invite me King Gregory,” I says huskily as I reach near the throne room, I don’t have to look up to feel the king noticing me.

I feel every muscle in his body tighten, “it is an honor to host you Miss Lam.” Lam is the name of the bog I inhabit, they don’t know my real name, but that is how it’s supposed to be.

I turn my sharp chin up further, “a witch always remembers loyalties sire.” I remind him that witches both give and take, the diplomacy of the sword and bread as they call it.

They were offering me the bread so I won’t brandish my sword, I nod at their wisdom and exchange a tablet of blood with the king. I would never harm his bloodline as long as he honors me.

“If you’ll excuse me miss Lam.” He leaves as soon as the process is over, I turn back to the great hall. The crowds parts for me with enough room for a parade of horses between us. I grin, oh yes, this part I liked.

I show a nearby girl all five of my bare busted teeth, she makes a small simpering sound before hiding in her mother’s skirts. I cackle and turn back to the main room, the king is whispering to an advisor but makes no move to approach me again.

A smart man.

The Queen of the fairies arrives shortly after and is greeted in a similar fashion, Hessia is a large kingdom and I know quite a few powerful mythics could attend if they wanted to- but only a few will. I will admit that normally I might have foregone the trip, but I was still a little perplexed by the future queen.

I had been meeting her weekly after all.

I am unsurprised to read a different name on the parchment hung at the entrance of the church. The locals watch me carefully as I pass easily through the church doors with not so much as a twitch.

Like the devil works like that so easily little fools.

I shake my head and glance back at the welcoming sign. “To the Wedding of Prince Jace to his betrothed Princess Nadina.” I didn’t know what to make of ‘Nadina’ but perhaps we all come up with names for ourselves that are wildly different than ones we are given.

I sit on the closed off balcony and wait.

It reminds me of every other human wedding I’ve attended: stiff, formal, uncomfortable shoes and frivolous hats. There is a small boy who keeps unlacing his smock and throwing it off only to have mother tie it up all over again.

I almost want to give him a smile, a real one that wouldn’t haunt his dreams to come. But it was a fleeting thought.

The music begins and I almost regret attending, Queen Jinn of the fairies looks similarly bored but she holds her mouth in a taut line, dark skin glowing softly. Prince Jace arrives with his back straight and mouth an even straighter line.

He looks like every other young man this family had in line and I don’t bother to memorize his face, framed by licorice black locks and cool blue eyes. I don’t see any Tuck in him at all, but I’m not sure what I expected.

The music starts again with a silver jingle and I pause, stilling myself for the next familiar clumsy, uneven footsteps. She was wearing heels this time, white and pristine and high as the heavens.

Her gown trailed several people behind her and she had flowers braided into her shimmering blonde hair. Her dress was white and the jewels around her throat are blood red, it seemed to wear her more than she wore it.

“They caught her at the edges of the 13 Kingdoms,” Jinn was murmuring and they both glance at each other, “the Kingdom of Kiliok is not known for strength,” Jinn smiles with all of her teeth, “the Prince would bargain for beauty over the brawn of a nation it seems.” I frown slightly, of course, Jace’s family would choose someone from Kiliok. The country couldn’t leverage for her back or request much from them.

Tuck walks steadily down the aisle and I examine the pearls embroidered into the bodice of her dress and the curve of a fitted waist. She sets a steady pace up the steps and I forget to count the minutes.

She reaches the altar just as the minister begins his monologue outlying duty and country, heirs and gold.

“Are you going to curse them?” Jinn asks mildly as we watch on.

I shake my head, “they’ve paid their dues.” I say without blinking, “I have nothing to gain from it.” I look at her, “you?”

She shrugs, dark wings fluttering, “I considered a blessing even.” I glance at her, “oh?” Her eyes dart down, “Or a curse. I still haven’t decided, I’ll have to see my mood.” I give a rumbling chuckle and turn away, “do as you will.” “... and do you Nadina Josephine Tulip…” I wonder which name is actually hers as they wind down to the actual kiss. It doesn’t really matter of course, their lips meet in the end and the crowd erupts in applause.

A new Queen has just been welcomed into the family, however foreign she might be.

Tuck only pauses to give me a very curious look as she passes, arm and arm with Prince Jace, I give her a short nod and she smiles. I let it all pass and consider leaving then.

“Oh,” I look up as Jinn speaks.

I blink, “yes?” I prompt her and watch her crafted delicate features shift, her lips pull down and pale eyes expand. “Did you make up your mind?” I finally ask as she blinks.

Jinn flashes a look at me, she shrugs, “Humans make their own curses.” My mouth twitches, “ruins our business, doesn’t it?” She doesn’t laugh and I don’t like the feel of this. The wedding of Nadina of Kiliok and Jace of Hessia passes without note for that night.

I watch the first dance and eat my fill of chicken and all the little lambs in the kingdom, I only stop to tell one tale to the locals of blood eating giants and the ghosts of lost maidens in my bog. The maidens in white are banshees at the end of course, but the locals eyes always get so wide when I get to that part. It was worth it.

Tuck doesn’t spare me another glance.

-----------------------------

I return, exhausted, to my bog and wait for the next week. It comes, she does not. I wait for the next one, but not horse hooves or little clumsy feet approach my bridge.

I try to let go of the strange Tuck girl and her brief fascination with oddities.

She was just another bored noble afterall.

The sun sets and raises and the days pass on.

-----------------------------

I was older by then, still around 400, young for the ages, old for myself.

Her footsteps come on the night of the rains, heavy this time, mixed with rain fall  and a steady pace. The vibrations on the bridge are lumbering, the lightness of her step forgone for a thumping sturdy gait.

I raise my eyebrows, but it’s still her.

The water washes against the top of my bridge and I curiously stick my head out, feeling the pelting of the raindrops as someone stands directly above me. She hadn’t bothered to stay carefully in the neutral zone this time.

I observe a stout figure drooping slightly on the railing, like her limbs might fall apart at the seams at any moment, heavy, fit together with bolts and screws instead of feathers. I look up and feel the thunder crash in the distance.

I frown, “This isn’t really the time or place little bird.” I try to make her out, I notice the shape of her dress has changed, no, her body has changed. I try to remember how many years it had been, but out of the dark night I make out a distinct slope of her dress, outward, a belly extending down.

I draw myself up, “there is a storm. You should know-” “Help me.” My eyes finally drag up to her face and I see it, the swollen cheeks and hollow eyes, complexion pale as the blurry moon behind her. Some life was drained out of her.

I should turn her away, threaten her back into the castle.

I jut my chin to the nearest bog tree instead. “Curl up there,” I murmur, “close your eyes.” I cast the protection spell before I even know what I’m doing, I shouldn’t, I don’t want to. But the spot is soon dry and glossy as the water veers away from it and a young girl curls up underneath the branches.

The hours slip by as I watch Tuck fall into a troubled deep sleep in my wake.

I don’t let the rain touch her.

----------------------

When she awakes the next morning I am peering down at her mid-drift.

“You’re with child,” I say dryly as lick my lips, “the heir.” I point easily downward and try to put together my next question. Tuck eyes go flickery and panicked, “it wasn’t a dream.” She looks in both directions and clutches her loose shawl around herself.

“Sshhh,” I hover closer, “you’ve simply had a bad night little bird.” She glances over at me and her eyes are as wide as sunken valleys and craters on the moon. “You,” she says breathlessly, “Lam.” I nod slowly, “among other names.” I watch carefully as Tuck’s eyes filled with a wet moisture and start to overflow, she curls up on herself and cradles her swollen belly, “I thought I dreamt you too.” I shake my head, “Tuck,” I say calmly and she looks up immediately, responding to what must be an old name. “You carry the heir. Someone must be looking for you by now.” And I don’t fancy being swamped by an angry mob right now.

She shivers from head to toe and I observe her thin wrists and inflamed joints. Something was wrong.

She looks up at me with a wobbly chin, “it doesn’t matter,” she says in a hiccuping voice, “let them look.” I frown deeply, “what is it?” I ask sharply, dragging my eyes over her sickly pale skin. “What is all this?”

She looks down at her lap, eyes burning, “Lam, this child feels as if it might kill me.” She says it faintly, with a bow to her head. I wait for a moment, accessing the waters, the vibrations, the steel in her eyes. I take a deep unhappy breath, “it is never easy.” She shakes her head and the tears keep overflowing, “he keeps moving. He’s… it’s not going right, it’s all wrong.” I just nod and hum deeply, “I can see the sickness on you.” She lets out a little sob, “did you do this?” Her eyes crinkle, “I don’t think you cursed me, but…” I just shake my head, “I am not the person you think I am.”

She looks down at her lap again and blinks a couple times, “I know.” She says in a small voice, “I told Jace it was me and not you.”

She sighs deeply and I hover ever closer, I only pause when her puffy red eyes drag themselves up. “Please,” she says in a voice I never heard her use, “can you help me?” I just nod, I don’t want to. I know I shouldn’t. Don’t let them in.

“Reed root,” I say simply, “Mandrake placed in warm milk,” I continue, “honey mixed with temple rot, not the mold kind, the roots.” Her brow was rumpled upward, “the doctors have been working around the clock, do you think, do you know,” she grasps at something and searches my face.

I slowly raise my thin gnarled hands from the water, “And one last thing.” She blinks a couple times, “yes?” “My blessing,” I whisper and suck the light dry from the air around me, “don’t tell anyone.” The light hovers, brave and new, twinkling in the air around us like stars, I hadn’t given one out in ages, not since I was fresh, young. The light scatters in all directions, sucked into her skin and pores, I say the words under my breath, welding them to her.

“Light, protection, breath,” I murmur, “light, protection, breath.” I weld her life line together so thick and golden that I think she might live forever after this.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes I hadn’t realized I closed, “that child is not going to kill you your majesty.” Tuck was still weeping, she was older somehow, so much older. “Thank you,” she says breathlessly, “Gods, thank you.” I take her hand and repeat, “mandrake soaked in warm milk, honey mixed with temple rot, reed root.” We share a look that I can’t describe and I want to shatter that too, gnash it up between my teeth and forget.

Her shoulders are thick and heavy looking, sloping down, she lets them relax. “They wouldn’t let me see you after we started trying for him.” She holds her belly again, I just nod.

“It’s for the best.” I respond tartly. She just shakes her head, “I don’t suppose bog hags have to give their lives for Duty and Country?” I give a sad smile, “go back little bird.” I say and close my eyes, “the grass is not greener in pastures you know not of.” She raises her eyebrows, “I always read bog witches were full of riddles, you’ve been holding out on me.” I give a soft chuckle, the old Tuck I remember shines through this new mature woman.

I reach, I know I shouldn’t either, but it’s too late now. I take her soft milky hands and I squeeze them, hard, not hard enough to hurt. But she needed to know.

“This child will not kill you your majesty,” I whisper with a hiss, “you have my blessing. Use it.” She cradles her belly protectively, “will he have it too?” I glance down and frown slightly, “you shouldn’t tell anyone.” She looks down and coos softly, “you hear that little one?” She gives a smile that glows at the edges, “you will be imbued with bog witch.” I shake my head, “you always were more daring than a box of feral cats.” She looks up, sadly this time, “thank you.” She says, face still swollen and eyes sunken, “I won’t forget this.” I start to shoo her, “go,” I say quickly, something stirring within me, “before I change my mind.” She rolls her eyes but manages to lumber to her feet, “this won’t be the last of me Lam.” She says softly, “not this time.” My eyes crease and watch her back, “it’s Clemency,” I say after her, “Lam is the name of the bog.” She was gone already and I have nothing but a sudden pain left in my gut. I close my eyes and extend the blessing once more.

----------------------

Tuck returns twice, once to tell me that the mandrake screamed at her and to curse me for it, another time to laugh so hard she almost fell into the waters with me. Jace almost passed out when he saw her eating temple rot apparently.

She got better.

I heard from afar that the next prince was born, just as the old king Gregory died. Tuck really was a queen now.

It was a closed birth, a hard pregnancy and a hard birth. No one was invited to it.

I feel her footsteps far and distant from me, sometimes they come to the edge of the bog once more, but they don’t enter this time. I wait, I don’t dwell, I sleep as two winters pass.

I left once, into the city streets, disguised as a beggar woman, I hear that the new prince is strong, rambunctious, he has his father’s charcoal black hair and mother’s smile. I try not to catch his name, I do anyway.

Clement.

I don’t dwell on it.

-------------------

I am steeped in the roots of a tree when I hear it again, something I thought I wouldn’t hear again.

“I can’t,” she speaks rapidly, quickly, “I tried to. But I can’t, not again.” I turn around slowly, easily, I straighten up and ooze down the roots and back toward my bridge, I raise my eyebrows, “And here I thought you were a smart girl and were done with me.” Tuck just shakes her head, dressed in an olive green gown and looking bright and full of life this time. “Never.” She says softly and I don’t know what to do with that.

“Huh,” I turn away again.

She takes a deep breath, “I tried to take him to meet you.” She says steadily, “again and again. But they watch him more carefully than a hawk on a field mouse.” I glance up and sink into the muddy waters, “as they should.” She frowns deeply, “they don’t trust me.” I nod again, “A foreign queen stays foreign for a land like Hessia,” I say grimly, “I know well of these people’s superstitions.” She gives a tight smile down at the ground, “I started reading all those books you told me about.” She says in a small voice, “they keep me sane.” “Did you ever figure out if fairies are actually clever or not?” Tuck looks up, “I did,” she says slowly, “they are. But not as clever as they think.” I give out a hearty laugh, a real one, “smart girl.” Tuck tightens her hands, “No,” she looks away, “I was foolish.” I shrug, “You were young.” I tilt my head, “Different, strange, and not sorry about it.” She grins, “still am.” She sighs, “but I made so many mistakes.” She rubs her knuckles together, “I never earned their trust.” I tilt my head to the side, “why are you telling me this?” My jaw tightens.

“I don’t know,” she sighs heavily, “I wanted one last confession, or maybe perhaps I thought it might change something. To go where it all began.” “What began?” She shrugs, “it doesn’t matter.” She says bitterly, “they want me to do it again.” I raise my eyebrows, “do what?” My lips quirk up, “wander into bogs again and bother ancient powerful beings?” She laughs, “I wish!” She takes a deep heaving breath, “they need more than just Clement. Hessia demands multiple heirs just in case the first one dies.” “Oh,” I should nod at that, I should affirm the truth I already knew, “don’t they know?” Don’t they know the first one was a hair away from killing Tuck.

She just frowns at her feet, “they don’t listen.” I nod again, “I can…” I take a deep breath, “I can do it again.” I should add ‘for a price,’ but I don’t.

She just shakes her head, “I don’t I have it in me. Not a second time.” She looks weary, eyes tired and hands still and open at her sides, “even with a powerful witches blessing.” I put my hand out, “you don’t know what I’m capable of.” I give an almost-smile, “you never did.” She hesitates, looking at my hand for a long second, my fingers tingle and I should pull back, but I don’t.

She takes it. Our skin touches and tingles like a wildfire, it wasn’t like the first time, like when I was trying to convey everything to her.

She holds the dust and the grime and my long gnarled fingertips, she brings them up to her lips. “Tell me,” she whispers, “how does a river nymph descend into a bog?”

I don’t meet her eye but I tighten my grip firmly, “with a bit of luck.” I say loosely and she chuckles.

“Of course.” She searches my face with her prickly green eyes, “what kind of luck?” I tilt my head to the side, “it goes like all stories go. Life gives and takes. Power and hunger mixed with men who want with a want that carves out your flesh and digs out spirit and soul. Then I was given a blessing.” I curl back my lips. “You already knew that secret though.” She nods and fingers reach up and ghost across my cracked skin, “I wanted it so badly.” Her eyes shimmer and meet mine, holding my gaze and passing something unnamable between us, I lean forward but don’t press anywhere closer.

We hold our breaths and wait for something that isn’t coming, wrapped in something we don’t understand.

I clutch her hand so tightly I know it hurts.

Tuck turns before I do and we say a soundless goodbye. I throw my blessing at her one last time.

--------------------

Men, men are cruel. They fight and ruin each other, arguing and crying out and falling in love only to do it all over again. Men are cruel. So are the waves and the snow and biting wind and unforgiving earth, the earth is also cruel.

Though men can be bargained with, the earth on the other hand will eat you all without question. Perhaps that’s what I liked about it.

Her footsteps came heavy this time, fast and pounding the water bottom, feet sucking into the mud and struggling with each step. She was breathing hard and dashing forward with lurching hurried movement.

I wake with a start, dogs bray in the distance. She hadn’t been subtle, or perhaps the King had more eyes on her side then she knew of. Either way I can feel the pounding of men’s feet and the calling of distant voices.

I surge to my feet and move as fast as a roaring river.

“Tuck!” I call with the voice of a rumbling, mountain, “Tuck!”

I can feel someone else, cradled in her arms and squirming. “Mama,” I hear it now, clear as day. He is young and strong, as I knew he would be.

His eyes glow yellow in the dark as I whoosh forward, approaching quickly just as the soldiers do- also in pursuit of the mother and child.

I gnash my teeth as I turn on the soldiers, “I will grind your bones to dust and use your shin bones as my garden gate.” I roar and the men falter, but only for a moment.

“A witch!”

“I knew it! I knew the gregij Queen had allies on the Other Side.” My nostrils flare and I lift my hand, but so do the men, one young soldier raises a crossbow.

“Don’t hit the child!” The captain cries, the young soldier is jostled and it all happens in slow motion.

“Clemency!” Tuck’s voice rings out just as I reach for her, just as the arrow does too.

Her son’s eyes are huge and glowing yellow, shaking and frightened as the arrow pierces his mother’s back like a sapling pierces the soft earth as it grows. I see a silent gasp spread across her face and a shock of pain.

Red blossoms across the dark waters.

I give out an earthly scream as she falls, every inch of me tingling as I know these soldiers are dead. And eaten and discarded into the scraps of time and earth.

I scream and scream, but I’m not the only one listening, before the bog cats come bristling out of the waters, before the roaches come crawling out of the trees, before I summon hell. The earth is listening, the earth does not bargain, but it gives and it takes.

Much like a witch.

I feel it encompassing her before I see it, the vines and leaves and waters swishing around her, covering her, my eyes go wide. I needed to rip out the throats of these men, but I pick up her son instead.

He is weeping and wiping at his brilliant eyes, tearing at his dark hair, whimpering softly in an emotion I couldn’t fathom from one so young.

“Shhh,” I gather him to me, “it’s beginning.” The leaves twist and the waters ripples and the forest becomes so deathly quiet I’m afraid it might break. They call it the devil, but I don’t think I’ve seen the devil breath life back into someone as quickly as he takes it.

I see her skin fasten into a steady bark, her hair twist into streams of golden light, her face mix into something otherwordly and unknowable, rough and hard in all directions. Tuck raises once more and I am left breathless. She stands, bark and light and forest now, all forest.

She raises her head and smiles, smiles something brilliant and wicked, “I knew it,” she says softly and looks down at her hands. The soldiers had scattered by then, run for their lives to tell the King of the betrayal, terror would follow after horror. But that could wait, it all could wait, I shift young prince Clement in my arms and reach out on last time.

She takes my hand, “tell me,” she says lightly, “can a bog witch fall in love? I read they can’t.” I smile widely, “let’s find out.” We turn towards the deepest parts of the forest and start walking, creeping deep into unknown depths of a soft and distant world. The first kiss shifts everything inside me, and then the second one breaks it.

Very few new footsteps arrive after that, for who would face the two most powerful bog witches in their home? Two witches and the next and future King.

FIN

[christinaroseandrews]

Looking for a Romance this Valentine’s Day?

So, every publication and blogger is putting out a Valentine’s Day romance list, and we are nothing if not followers. We’ve assembled a large list (33 Books) of a mix of traditionally and indie published books. All of the books on this list are ones we’ve read and feel comfortable recommending. And they all fit the definition of romance - a story where the relationship is central to the overall plot and features a happy for now or happily every after ending.

We’re going to break this down into several categories because not everyone reads Regency romances (but we are going to start there).

Regency Romance

These are books set between 1795-1837. While the Regency itself was only from 1811-1820 most people use these dates including Wikipedia. This was honestly one of the hardest for us to narrow down, mostly because it’s the dominant genre in traditionally published romance -- even Contemporary doesn’t hold a candle to Regency right now.

Sweet Disorder - Rose Lerner - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Election hijinks ensue when the local election hinges on who the widowed wife of a newspaper printer marries. Other Notes: Plus-Sized Heroine, Family Drama, Disabled Characters, Everyday People Falling in Love, Marginalized Author (Jewish).

The Baroness Affair - Jean Wilde - M/M/F Romance (Steamy) - A desperate noblewoman enlists the help of a male courtesan to help her get pregnant... no it’s not what you think. Other Notes: Equal Triad Polyamory, Period Appropriate Homophobia, LBGT Romance, Family Drama.

How To Start a Scandal - Madeline Martin - M/F Romance (Steamy) - A wallflower and secret society reporter reconnects with the Earl Next Door who’s recently returned from the war. Other Notes: Plus-Sized Heroine, Family Drama, Positive Mental Illness Portrayal, Cute Plot Animals.

Project Duchess - Sabrina Jeffries - M/F Romance (Steamy) - A duke returns to his family after the mysterious death of his stepfather, yet another duke, only to be enchanted by a woman who has a connection to the last person to see his stepfather alive. Other Notes: Older Heroine (the whole series features these), Romantic Suspense Series, family drama. I’m really enjoying the whole series and it’s worth a read.

The Rakess - Scarlett Peckham - M/F Romance (Steamy) - This is a love it or hate it kind of book that flips so many of the conventional romance tropes on its ear. It features a hard-drinking, hard-smoking, highly sexual woman who authors progressive literature and causes a scandal just by living her life meeting up with a mild-mannered reputation conscious Scottish Architect with two small children. Even the cover flips the script on the classic clinch cover. I loved it. A lot people didn’t. Other notes: Period appropriate sexism/hypocrisy/etc., CW: alcoholism, neighbors to lovers, adorable plot moppets.

Paranormal Romance

These are romances that feature a fantastical element. This can be anything from vampires to shifters to time travel. These also will often be series which may or may not continue with the same relationship throughout several books.

Hot Ghost - Annika Martin - M/F Romance (Steamy) - A waitress finds love with the ghost who haunts the pier near her family’s restaurant. Other Notes: Major Character Death (It’s a Ghost Romance...), Everyday People Falling in Love, Novella.

Accepting Fate - Deanna Chase - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Fresh from a bad break up, a woman meets her soulmate at an art gallery opening. Together they have to work through their trauma and find out if they can be happy together. Other Notes: Childhood trauma, Fire Fighter Romance, Soulmates, Artists.

Gretel - Niamh Murphy - F/F Romance (Steamy) - A retelling of the fairy tale Hansel and Gretel with a very interesting twist. Other Notes: Age-Gap Romance, Novella.

One Shade of Grey - Monica Corwin - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Dorian Grey, yes that one, has a bit of a problem. He keeps seeing a woman who he thinks is the reincarnation of his lost love. But is she really? Or is he going insane? Other Notes: Positive Portrayal of Mental Illness, Classical Story Retelling, Billionaire Romance, Immortality

Tangled in Time - Barbara Longley - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Cursed to see spirits, Regan is approached by the spirit of a cursed Irish warrior. Now they must work together to lift his curse and fall in love along the way. Other Notes: Fae Romance, Time Travel Romance, Ghost Romance.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites - Joy Demorra - M/M/F Romance (Steamy or Fluffy) - A vampire, a werewolf, and a magic user walk into a plot to end the world. Of course they have to fall in love along the way. Other Notes: Vampire Romance, Werewolf Romance, Magic User Romance, LBGT Fantasy Romance, Bisexual Romance, Postive Mental Illness representation, Marginalized Author (Disabled, Queer, Neurodivergent).

Erotic Romance

These are books where the sex is as much a part of the romance as the rest of the story. The plots here tend to be thinner, but they’re still present and important. This is not smut for smut’s sake. The relationship is important too. All of these are going to rate high on the steam.

After Hours - Lynda Aicher - M/F Romance - An executive assistant accidentally observes an after hours orgy in one of the boardrooms. Rather than be repulsed, she’s aroused. And up for more. Other Notes: Workplace Romance, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Mild BDSM, Boss/Subordinate Relationship.

Loving Maddie from A to Z - Kelly Jamison - M/M/F Romance - An outwardly happy couple looks to add something to their relationship by inviting their friend into their home and bed. Other Notes: Polyamory, BDSM, Big City Romance.

Ever After - Eden French - M/M/F Romance - An erotic modern retelling of the Cinderella fairy tale featuring billionaires, celebrities, and lots of hot sex. Other Notes: Interracial Romance, Polyamory, Billionaire Romance, CW: Child Abuse.

Test Drive - N.S. Johnson - M/F Romance - A so-called good girl finds that she’s really not when she falls for the leader of a street racing crew. Other Notes: Polyamory, CW: Infidelity, Interracial Romance, Reverse Harem, Recreational Drug Use, Author of Color.

Other Historical Romance

These are romances set outside of the Regency but not during contemporary periods. A lot of old school romances tend to be this because medieval was big then. But it also includes everything up to 1990 too... Yeah... I know... I feel old.

Let It Shine - Alyssa Cole - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Set during the civil rights movement, this story follows two young people struggling to find their voice and love amidst the turmoil of the 1960s. Other Notes: Interracial Romance, Period Appropriate Racism, Period Appropriate Anti-Semitism, Author of Color, Sports Romance, Novella.

In Pursuit Of... - Courtney Milan - M/M Romance (Steamy) - Set immediately after the American War for Independence it features a British soldier falling in love with a Black man who fought for the American side. Other Notes: Interracial Romance, Romantic Comedy, period appropriate racism, author of color, Novella.

Bringing Down the Duke - Evie Dunmore - M/F Romance (Steamy) - A rare female scholar tries to keep her scholarship going while also crusading for the rights of women in Victorian England. Other Notes: Alpha Hero, Clueless Heroine.

Contemporary Romance

These romances are set in the last 25 years and run the gamut of tropes.

Get a Life, Chloe Brown - Talia Hibbert - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Sick of living her life wrapped in tissue paper, Chloe Brown sets off to live a little. And to do that, she needs the help of her building’s manager. Other Notes: Plus-Sized Heroine, Interracial Romance, Disabled Characters, Positive Portrayal of Mental Illness, Marginalized Author (Black). As a note the sequel Take a Hint, Dani Brown is just as good and features a Bisexual Woman of Color.

Beg, Borrow, or Steal - Susie Tate - M/F Romance (Fluffy) - A medical student has to juggle the needs of being a single mother, a student, and paying the bills. And if that means she’s got to take off her clothes to do that, that’s what she’s going to do. Too bad she keeps falling asleep in class. Other Notes: No Sex (No really), But also Super sex positive, Student/Teacher Relationship, Adorable Plot Moppet.

Soft Hands - Ariel Bishop - M/M Romance (Steamy) - A professional Hockey Player ends up falling for the team trainer and massage therapist. Other Notes: Bisexual Rep, Sports Romance, Interracial Romance.

The Year We Fell Down - Sarina Bowen - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Two people who’ve suffered from accidents which have left them disabled find each other at a Harvard Expy. While one of the characters only has a temporary disability (broken leg) it still fucking counts. Other Notes: New Adult Romance, Disabled characters, Sports Romance, College Romance.

Small Town Romance

A subgenre of Contemporary Romance, these are books set in a small town and often the stakes tend to be pretty low. They can run the range of no-sex to lots of steam. They are also often VERY WHITE. While many are set in America, they can also be set elsewhere with Australia and the British Isles being the most common other settings.

Falling for Her Brother’s Best Friend - Noelle Adams - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Who doesn’t love a small town romance featuring characters that used to be childhood friends becoming more? Other Notes: New Adult Romance.

The Last One - Tawdra Kandle - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Meghan, an art student, and Sam, a farmer, and how they meet in small-town Georgia when Meghan comes to teach art over the summer to the kids in town…and ends up staying with Sam and his family. Other Notes: Alpha Male Hero.

If Wishes Were Horses - Caitlyn Lynch - M/F Romance (Steamy) - When an Aussie woman inherits partial ownership in a horse ranch in Ireland, sparks fly. Other Notes: Novella, Irish Romance.

Old School Romance

These are romances that were written before the rise of indie publishing where white men had the power and it shows. These are what people point to when they reduce romance novels to just “bodice rippers” but even then they weren’t just that.  BTW none of these books feature Fabio so suck it!

Skye O’Malley - Bertrice Small - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Daughter of a small Irish lord, this book follows Skye through her life and romances across England, Ireland, and even Algeria. It’s wild and all over the place and is not your typical romance novel. It ends on a HEA but there is a JOURNEY. But gods it’s one of my old-school faves. Other Notes: Major Character Death. Non-Con, Pirates, Interracial Romance, Historical Domain Characters, This is not your typical romance. I like the whole series... but that’s a me thing.

The Traveling Matchmaker Series - Marion Chesney/M.C Beaton - M/F Romance (Fluffy) - A housekeeper inherits a large sum of money and decides to use it to travel about England. Along the way, she makes matches for the other passengers of the stagecoach she’s traveling on while getting into all sorts of adventures. This series is pure fluff and I love it. Other Notes: Period appropriate xenophobia, Age Gap Romance.

Remembrance - Jude Deveraux - M/F Romance (Steamy) - A romance novelist discovers that the reason she hasn’t found love is because of an issue with her past life. So she decides to do something about it... only to find it’s just the very tip of the story. Other Notes: Time Travel Romance, Past Lives, Meta... so very meta.

Desire in Disguise - Rebecca Brandewyne - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Look this is set during the French Revolution and features duelling (quite literally) pirates. This is a wild ride and it’s so old school it hurts. Other Notes: Alpha hero, mistaken identity, enemies to lovers, spies, pirates, But oh so many problematic tropes. This looks to be out of print... so check your local library.

Gentle Warrior - Julie Garwood - M/F Romance (Steamy) - Set right after the Norman Invasion of England, this features a Norman Lord who was granted an Anglo-Saxon wife and all of the drama that comes with. Note... this is the first Romance Novel I ever read.. My mother bought it for me when it was newish -- in 1987. Other Notes: CW: Rape, Arranged Marriage, Non-conventionally Attractive Hero.

Books that check all of the boxes of Romance but aren’t Labeled as Romance because Sexism.

Romance isn’t about sex. There’s lots of books with explicit sex in them that aren’t Romance and several with a strong romantic relationship that drives the plot which ends happily and satisfying. But sexism is a thing and so here we are.

The Princess Bride - William Goldman - M/F Romance (Fluffy) - You’ve probably seen the movie. The book is also fun. And since the romance is central to the plot AND the ending is a happy one (especially in the movie) it qualifies.

The Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins - M/F Romance (Fluffy) - Look who would have thought that in a book about kids killing each other and the violence of war that Romance would play that big of a role? But it does. And it is. And it’s important.

Katherine - Anya Seton - M/F Romance (Fluffy) - This could feasibly go into Old School Romance, but apparently the publishers have decided to downplay the actual romance and try to sell this as literature. It follows the real-life Romance between Katherine Swineford and the Duke of Lancaster. 

Did we leave off any of your favorites? It’s probably because we haven’t read them! We always like recs, especially featuring marginalized authors or main characters with marginalized identities.

If you like this kind of thing, consider leaving us a tip in our Ko-Fi!

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Peacock Prince

genre: fantasy, fairytale, mlm

words: 2.2k

Summary: A young man who is banished to a vast garden to spend the rest of his days, cursed to grow peacock feathers from his skin and walk the grounds.

A wandering soldier is charged by the neighboring town to fetch three feathers: one for health, two for luck, and three for wealth. Unfortunately, plucking the feathers off a reluctant peacock-boy is not as easy as it sounds.

A love story of avian dimensions in 4 parts

PART 1 ~ PART 2 ~ PART 3 ~ PART 4

One for Health

This place could be beautiful.

That’s his first thought when he steps out onto the white marble stones of the path, it could be beautiful. Beautiful like a quick whiff of winter air or a glistening slick sidewalk after it rains, shiny, brilliant, almost shocking.

He slashes through the nearest vine creeping by his left foot and stomps on it, it would be beautiful. If everything here didn’t want to poison and/or eat him.

The garden Parthenius was said to stretch from the lakes of Tev to the gleaming shores of the Lindom ocean beyond. But that was just a rumor and he doubted something could be so large. Daven tells himself anyway that a garden was just a garden, and an assignment is just an assignment.

The air smells of fragrant honey and hydrangea bushes, Daven covers his nose and keeps his eyes focused forward. A vine stirs beneath his foot but he ignores it as he takes another turn in the endless corridors of the open-air garden.

Vibrant green bushes flank either side of him with pure white crumbling marble walls beneath, streaked with age and inlined with silver. Cupids and angels and chipped and broken statues styled after ‘the masters’ stood at every entrance.

Daven doesn’t follow the overwhelming scents of fresh rain and cut grass, he knows no one is cutting grass here. He could hear birds up ahead, the twinkling sound of songbirds mixing with the honks of swans and brays of ravens farther in.

Daven turns his head slightly when he spots the large unblinking eyes of a crow, it’s feathers were milk white and eyes a splitting red. It’s white feathers ruffle and it watches him with a bloody intensity.

He shivers, it was said King Cephissus bread every albino animal he could get his hands on.

Pure, fresh he called them, untouched by darkness. Daven takes another step around a pool of unnaturally blue water and keeps his head down. His footsteps sound like the barks of hound dogs in a hen house but he doesn’t sense anything following him yet.

Getting past the white panther was one feat, but he was told that was the easy part. Daven quickly surveys each new garden archway he passes, studying the faces of the clean-shaven cupids.

“Seven,” he mutters to himself, “seven and a deer.” That’s what the hunter told him, ten turns in and fifteen paces forward. The calling of the birds increases as he eases toward the shadow of the sun in the west, the hairs on his arms were still standing on end.

“Seven,” he ducks down beneath a long hanging branch, “seven and a deer.”

He cuts down another green vine that twitches as he approaches and jumps over a pool of bright blue acid that was dissolving a small white hare in it. Daven purses his lips and doesn’t look back as he sees the pathway start to open up.

“Seven,” he makes sure the sun is still high in the sky, “seven. And a deer.” The path opens up into a vast archway that rivaled some of the trees in height. His eyebrows raise and he starts to count. “One,” he whispers, “two, three, four…”

Seven cherub faces. And a deer in the very center that’s antlers had fallen off long ago, Daven draws his sword from his waist and crouches lower to the ground. His eyes shift back and forth as he scans the ground and the rustling of the nearby bushes, taking neat slow steps.

He takes a deep breath and creeps quietly over the hard marble path.

Grass sprouts up in patches around the area and bushes grow wild with clean white roses covering them nearby, he sees the marble fountain at the center of the garden square. It must be central location since the fountain is enormous, with a scantily clad chipped woman pouring water down as it’s centerpiece.

Daven wants to whistle at it and the ornate benches surrounding the fountain, but he wasn’t dumb enough to draw attention to himself that easily. He rounds the square, eyeing each new plant and small bird overhead.

The sparrows are stark white dots up above and Daven starts to tense again, his muscles bunching up and nerves coiling, the adrenaline builds in his veins. He sees on giant oak tree at the corner of the square, enormous and untamed.

The branches are heavy with leaves and he can see some of the roots forcing their way up in the cracking marble around it.

He crouches lower to the ground and starts to inch forward, the Hunter said this is where he first found the creature. Daven’s eyes trail up and down the trunk, scanning the leaves and tangled arms of the tree. It takes him a minute, but he pauses mid-stride when he sees it, an eye, a bright green eye with a plume surrounding it.

He breathes through his nose, the eye of a peacock feather.

“Hark,” He raises his sword toward the branches, “creature of the Poison Garden, of the Fair Ones, of King Cephissus’s curse, listen to my words and yield.” Daven felt silly even saying this outloud, but the townspeople were certain this was the only way, even the children’s play included this bit.

“Bend to the will of man with these words, be tamed and bequeath your riches to the outside world. Tetamitus-” “Bequeath?” He hears a clear, rasping voice. “Did they send me a royal clown this time?” Daven hears a gentle thump and sees something drop down to the ground next to the tree, landing tipsily and dusting itself off before standing up straight. Daven takes a long moment to pause, his body going stiff and thoughts bursting. It wasn’t pure white, but it wasn’t what Daven was expecting either. It had a face for one thing.

“Uh,” he blinks a couple times, “dimatia, sviva, kuji-” “Okay, so now you’ve turned to gibberish.” The strange boy waves his hand in the air, “Excellent, please escort yourself out when you’re finished.” Daven’s brow furrows, “exodus, felicitus, kestrener.” The figure was still standing there, he had on a fine blue vest and pair of brown pants that seemed tailored and fitted. He had a white pressed shirt tied all the way up past his throat and a line of brass buttons down his front.

He was noticeably barefoot with sun-kissed skin and fair hair that curled gently on top of his head. It was also noticeably well-maintained.

But that wasn’t the main aspect Daven was focusing on. Mostly it was the arch of feathers bursting from his skin and hanging over his head like a halo.

Green, long, feathers that stuck directly out of his skin and made an arch over him, tiny ones framed his hairline and brought out the poison green of his eyes.

Daven shifts from foot to foot, “oi,” he changes tactics, “are you the peacock fellow?” The boy raises both eyebrows and tilts his head to the side, his eyes glance pointedly up at his own feathers and then back at him. He sniffs, “No.” He responds dryly and Daven makes a face. “Okay,” Daven shakes his head, “Scratch that. Are you the one with the magic feathers at least?” The boy wrinkles his brow and looks ready to turn away, Daven notes the long trail of feathers behind him that dragged against the ground. “No. I’m a regular peacock, squawk, squawk, please exit the garden to your left.”

Daven looks off the side and takes a step toward him, the boy watches him carefully, eyes following him with a quick hardness to them.

“Let’s try this again,” he tries for a smile, “My name is Daven, I’m a soldier.” He sheathed his sword and approaches with his hands up, “I’m not here to fight…”

“Fascinating,” the boy picks at a scab on his hand. “The sword is for making friends I take it.” He could have rolled his eyes, “a precaution,” he says simply, “I have my sword…” He gives him a pointed look, “and you have an awful lot of feathers.”

“Well Daven,” he says slowly, “you are very observant. And less dead then most people that come in this way.” He cocks his head to the side, “Yes?” “You should keep it that way,” he says with a wicked grace coming over his placid features. “What do you want?” He hums loudly, “the question is…” He looks him up and down, “what do you want?”

The boys gaze focuses on him, “What do you have?”

He reaches for his belt, “I have money.” He snorts, loudly, “And pray tell,” The boy places his hands on his hips, “what use do I have for money?” Daven open and closes his mouth, “shoes?” He offers weakly as he looks down.

The tuts and shakes his head, “Well Daven, I’m Ellis. I don’t need your money, and unless you’re a shoemaker I’m not getting any shoes.” He waves his hand in the air as if to shoo him, “so kindly fuck off.”

Daven grips his sword a little tighter, “happily,” he puts a hand out, “for one feather.” The boy rolls his eyes with great dramatics, “absolutely not.” “You can’t be using all of them,” he takes another step forward and the boy, Ellis, takes another step back.

“Look, while I’m impressed you made it this far in,” he examines him with a sniff, “I’m not in the habit of rewarding trespassers. Or giving my things away really.” Maybe that’s why you’re a bird now. He doesn’t say that.

“Do you own this place?” The boy gives a short harsh laugh, “ask me more dumb questions.” “If no one owns it, then I’m not trespassing, in fact,” he puts a finger in the air, “I’m a guest.” The boy cracks a smile, but it’s not a happy one, “absolutely sound logic, I’ll be on my way now. Make yourself at home, the guest room is the second door on the left.” Daven rolls his eyes this time, “haha.” “See? I’ve even entertained you, I always was a great host.” “You’re not even using all of them!” He throws his hands in the air and Ellis just regards him flatly.

“I’m done with this,” he turns around and Daven tenses before lunging for him, Ellis jumps away and jerks his head up. “Oi!”

Daven lunges for his tail, “Just one.” Ellis starts running, looking over his shoulder with a sharp glare, “I will have this place eat you.” Daven pauses for a moment before running after him, “it already tried.”

He dodges back and forth, “I’ll make it try harder,” he bears his teeth, but Daven was already in pursuit.

“Just one! I bet it won’t even hurt,” he jumps over a blue acid puddle and watches the peacock boy jump onto one of the benches to avoid him.

“For you maybe,” he scowls down at him, “all you noble sorts are the same.” He spit the words and Daven makes a face.

“Noble?” He cocks his head to the side, “well that’s the first time I’ve been called that.” Ellis’s eyebrow twitches, “excuse me, not noble, ‘knight-wannabe’.” Daven gaze becomes hard, “I’m getting that feather.” “Not on your life,” the boy hops away again and they begin a somewhat absurd cat-and-mouse game as Ellis runs down a path and Daven sprints after him.

“You can’t run!” He cries as he runs and his lungs start to burn a little bit.

“Then what am I doing?” The boy flashes a smarmy smile over his shoulder and takes a hard left.

“Don’t think you can’t g,” he skids to a stop to follow him, nearly avoiding a snapping vine thrusting out to snag him. He jumps over it and his eyes go wide. “Aha!” He cries out and points toward the vine.

“Yes!” He crows in triumph as he sees the boy’s long tail had gotten snagged in the bush as well. A single long feather had dropped. “Hahahaha!” He says again somewhat manically and feels like dancing.

He sees the boy peek out from around the next corner, “this doesn’t mean an-” “You thought you were so smart,” he takes his sword out and slashes at the vines to get at the feather, “look at that!”

The boy narrows his eyes at him, “don’t cream your pants over it. It’s rude to show stranger’s your bedroom face.”

Daven frowns decidedly at him, “I’m going to enjoy taking this feather from you I hope you know.” “Oh bet you will,” he bounces his eyebrows up and down, “I bet you’ll enjoy yourself a lot with it.” Daven wrinkled his nose, tearing at the vines and making it drop the feather into his outstretched hand, “On that note, I’m definitely leaving now.”

He waves, “don’t come back.” “And it isn’t for me,” Daven defends, “this is for the whole village. So… yeah.” He turns around, his face screwing up as he worked himself up.

“Yes, yes, a very good wannabe knight.” He sings and waves after him, “have fun.” He drags the word out and Daven shakes his head. He growls but doesn’t look back as he makes his way back toward the front of the garden. A white hyena tries to spring on him on the way and two pit traps are tripped on his way back. Daven just sidesteps them and secretly hopes he’ll never have to come back here, sure, it was pretty.

A pretty mess, but not quite beautiful enough to be worth dying over.

PART 2 =====>

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Mad Dreams

Genre: fairy tale, wlw, original story

Words: 8k

Summary: a young woman is cursed to eternal sleep, however, that doesn’t mean she can’t accidentally wake up sometimes and talk to the local witch

A fairy tale of bad coffee, beasts, and staying awake

Support the author:

Patreon ⭐Ko-Fi ⭐  WordPress

Cassandra woke up once, she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to, but perhaps her ‘Eternal Sleep’ spell had been taken from the discount bin originally.

She was dreaming of running, wild furious sprinting that filled her lungs with windswept chilled air and the taste of blood in her mouth. It was an endless jog that streamed in and out of her like a frantic river.

Bamp bamp

Cassandra’s brow furrows and she shifts in place.

Bamp bamp

Her frantic feet slip, there was something above her, hovering, shimmering, pulling her up and up and up. Cassandra opens her eyes and gasps so deeply she thinks she might inhale her own tongue.

Cassandra jolts awake and hits her head hits something solid above her.

“Ow.” She rubs her forehead and winces. Cassandra tries to sit up, she hits a smooth glassy surface instead and lies back down, she blinks, there was a solid glass case above her. It was polished and transparent to a fault.

She puts her hand on the cool glass and her eyes go wide.

“What…?” Bamp bamp

Cassandra shifts in place and she pauses as she comes face to face with someone knocking on her enclosure.

“Excuse me?” She asks cautiously at a figure with exceptionally messy wind-tossed black hair, a snub nose and round cheeks, she was slightly mousy and had a curious look on her face.

Cassandra furrows her brow, “What are you doing?” The girl mouths something, Cassandra just shakes her head, the girl tries again: ‘I can’t hear you.’

“Oh, oh,” She blinks and tries to push at her stuffy case above, trying to dislodge the glass covering. She heaves and feels the heavy weight under her hands, “Come on.” She says through clenched teeth and her muscles whine at her from use.

She frowns and puts her head back down, “Ugh.”

She turns to the girl to ask for a hand, but the girl was holding up a staff with a little owl, a detailed gnarled thing with glowing green eyes. She points it at the case.

“Wait!” Cassandra puts her hands up, but it’s too late, a surge of magic pushes the lid up and over.

Cassandra feels the whoosh of fresh air and burst of light and sound that washes over her, a dizziness spirals through her head at the sudden cool touch of breeze and sharp sun.

She gasps like it is her first breaths in this world and she tries to roll off the elevated stone bed, “Oh stars.” She edges toward the soft grass below.

“Woah there,” someone catches her elbow, “I’m not sure you want to faceplant right there.” Cassandra raises her eyebrows and turns her chin sharply up, “Who are you?” The girl puts her hands on her hips, “Your saviour, come now.” Cassandra forces her legs to work as she heaves herself up, trying to get her balance so she can stand upright in front of her. She fails under weak knees and crumples to the ground.

“Give it a moment love.” The girl adjusts the staff in her hand, “it’s not going to all snap back in place in an instant.” Cassandra furrows her brow, “Yes. Okay. And who are you?” She asks as she crouches on the ground and tries to get her bearings.

“My name is Min,” she puts her hand out, “And yours is Cassandra.” “I know that,” she snaps back, she takes the girls outstretched hand reluctantly. Min pulls her gracelessly to her feet.

Cassandra dusts herself off, “What are you doing here?” She blinks and looks around the meadow, “What am I doing here?” Min chuckles, “let’s take a walk Cas.” “It’s just Cassandra,” Cassandra takes one wibbly uncertain step and her leg muscles tighten and falter, “and perhaps we could take a sit first?” She says hesitantly.

Min chuckles again, “fine, fine, but I suggest away from the coffin.” Cassandra glances over her shoulder and her breath catches in her throat, “that’s a coffin?” It was a pretty glass casket it seemed, with flowers growing on the sides and soft green grass swaying up against its white stone walls. It had a glass covering with golden clasps around the edge and an almost unreal white marble. A pleasant forest surrounded them on either side.

Cassandra stumbles away from it all, “right, right.” She fumbles to follow Min toward a tree stump off to the side. Cassandra looks her over as they go, “your hair is a mess.”

Min looks over her shoulder, “that’s a very strange way to say ‘thank you.’”

Cassandra shakes her head, “thank you.” She clears her throat, “And also, when’s the last time you brushed it?” Min’s eyebrow twitched, “probably the last time you did.” That makes Cassandra cock her head to the side, she tries to remember the last time she brushed her hair. But that had to have been only yesterday.

She sways as they sit back down a couple paces away and descend upon a sturdy pushes surrounded by pretty red mushrooms.

Min adjusts her cloak and arranges her long dark skirt around her knees.

Cassandra clears her throat, smoothing down her own pale blue skirt, “did I die?” Min raises her eyebrows, “I don’t know, were there flames or a bright light where you were? Did anyone make you stand in queue or ask you personal questions while in the market?” Cassandra makes a face, “I don’t think I was in hell and also,” she raises a finger in the air and then pauses, “nevermind.” Min shakes her head, “your chest was moving, so I don’t think so either.” Cassandra groans, “you couldn’t have opened with that?” She crosses her arms.

“Yes, good morning fine lady, you aren’t dead.” Cassandra shrugs, she frowns at her, “your hair is really a mess.” Min touches her long locks self-consciously, “a one-track mind, huh?” Cassandra pushes her thick honey-brown hair back, “wait, wait,” she holds her head, “I need to get somewhere.” Min purses her lips, “heaven this time?” “I wasn’t dead,” she snaps and stares fixedly at her hands, “where’s the nearest village?” Min hums deeply and then points west, “It’s the village of Ele, but I don’t think you want to go there.” Cassandra bites her bottom lip, “I need to get somewhere. Be somewhere.” She shifts in place, “and why is that? Is Ele… very far?” “Nah,” Min winks, “they think this forest is very cursed. Probably wouldn’t be too friendly to someone strolling out of it.” Cassandra heaves a deep sigh, “this isn’t getting me anywhere.” Min leans back, “take your time. I was simply curious to see if this would work.” Cassandra stiffens slightly, “how long?” Min cocks her head to the side, “Well, it took a few tries to get you to even twitch. Had to put some juice in it.” She points at her staff.

Cassandra shakes her head, “do you know how long I’ve been in there?” Min shrugs, “I’m not from around here but…” She looks off into the distance, “it was at least a few days before I cleared those vines off and decided to give it a go.” Cassandra’s eyes go wide, “Vines…” “Like I said,” Min pauses for a long moment, “take your time.” Cassandra curls up on herself and holds her head, waiting for… something. Min watches her carefully and Cassandra lets the minutes slip by, she searches for an image or a name to come floating to the surface of her memory. Nothing comes, just a notion of urgency she can’t name.

Cassandra glances back up at Min, “Are you just going to keep watching me like that?” Min scratches her nose thoughtfully, “I didn’t have anything else going on today.” Cassandra shifts in place, “Perhaps a hairbrush?” “You’re really stuck on that,” Min cracks a half-smile, it made her face stretch into something warm and open- like a crackling fire in November. “Anything coming back to you my lady?” Cassandra shakes her head.

“Well, if it turns out you’re a lost princess with a very nice reward for your return then…” She gives her a thumbs up, “let me know.” Cassandra blows hot air out of her nose, “I’ll keep you updated.” “Thank you!” She chirps back and Cassandra closes her eyes to try and get at some receding thought. Where did she need to go? And then she sighs and leans forward, she looks back to Min.

“Come over here.” She finally commands with a grumble.

Min blinks, “no?” “I won’t hurt you,” she gestures quickly, “just… sit in front of me.” Min makes a face at her, “you know, we just met today. How do I know you’re not a snake monster dressed as a pretty lady?” She sniffs, “you might just have to risk it.” She bares her teeth, “I am feeling a little peckish after all.” She hisses gently and Min laughs.

“Fine, fine,” she scoots toward her, “you should eat something though.” Min passes her a water canteen and an apple, Cassandra realizes she is hungry.

And tired.

She yawns but pushes the notion aside, she had things to do.

She takes several huge bites of the apple and finishes the entire canteen of water in one go. Vines had been growing over her ‘casket.’ She pushes that thought aside and puts the apple down.

“Sit here,” she pats the ground in front of her and Mins eyes her warily.

“Don’t strangle me or anything,” she grumbles but complys slowly.

Cassandra’s muscles are still complaining at her, but she lifts her arms and starts sorting through Min’s mass of unkempt hair. It wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t smooth either.

She starts undoing the tangles one by one.

“Really?” Min says hotly, “Really?” Cassandra hums, “I’m helping.” She gives a half-grin, “you are my savior afterall.” Min just eyes her, glancing over head shoulder, “don’t you have places to remember?” “This was bothering me too much,” she sniffs, “first things first.” Cassandra starts smoothing and tugging and running her fingers through her hair, she has a strange feeling that she had done this sort of thing before.

“Okay,” Min leans back into her touch, “so you remember your name.” “Yes,” she says suredly, “Cassandra.” She says loudly, almost proud.

“You’re wearing a fancy blue dress and may have died.” “Wasn’t my chest moving?” Min shrugs, “it was quite odd.” Cassandra hums, “I was… from somewhere. It had cobblestone roads and a smell of salt. East perhaps?” Min snorts, “fascinating. That will narrow it down.” Cassandra tugs on her hair roughly, “ow!”

“Well, where you are from?” She asks as she slowly works her fingers through the snarls and impossibly long length.

“I’m a witch,” Min points at her Owl Staff, “so nowhere anymore.” Cassandra raises her eyebrows, “right.” Witches and wizards were expelled from their villages when they were discovered, too dangerous at home.

Min clears her throat, “Will that be a problem for you?” Cassandra shakes her head, “I don’t think so.” She slows her busy hands, “unless you are the one that put me in there of course.” Min shakes her head, “Not a chance. I think I would have remembered a face like yours.” “Oh?” “Very petulant.”

She yanks on her hair again, “I’m hoping my reward is very small.” Min laughs, “I’m starting think you might have just been a very unlucky village girl.” Cassandra hunches over tightly, “I don’t remember,” she mutters and something hits her like a train, “it’s just… not there.” Min snaps her fingers in the air, “hey, hey, which land are we in?” “Yolin?” “Correct,” Min nods, “what is the nearest ocean?” “Jasper,” Cassandra says certainly and then starts smoothing and working her hands through the last of the tangles.

“See? You do remember things, we just have to rustle the important stuff loose,” Min grins and it almost makes her want to smile back. “What’s your favorite… food?” Cassandra frowns, “lamb stew… I think.” “What’s your mom’s name?” Cassandra winces, “it started with an ‘S.’” Min leans into Cassandra’s touch, letting her run her hands across her scalp. Cassandra reaches for some wildflowers beside her. “Did you have siblings you think?” Cassandra nods enthusiastically, “three sisters.” She sits up straight, “I do remember that!” “Good,” Min smiles, a real, warm one this time, “Also, what are you doing back there?” Min glances over her shoulder as Cassandra picked another purple wildflower. “Fixing,” Cassandra murmurs, “Fixing, fixing, fixing.” “Right…” Min trails off, “do you remember what your house looked like.” “Brown. Maybe?” They start talking, trying to kindle some sort of spark that might consume her memories like wildfire. She softly, carefully, works her way through the choppy mess, starts weaving and crossing and picking wildflowers.

Min kept asking what those were for, but Cassandra comes up with different answers each time. ‘To poison you,’ she says cheekily, ‘to stuff into my blouse,’ ‘to eat of course.’

She braided the flowers into her hair as the sun finally got low on the horizon.

“There,” she pats the long braid down, “now it won’t get tangled with every branch and small animal in the vicinity.” She could feel Min rolling her eyes at her, but the other girl just turns around and gives her a strange look. Cassandra yawns, it was getting to be a long day of not walking around and her body feeling heavy.

She assumes it will wear off.

Min was still giving her a strange look.

“What?” She finally relents and asks.

Min shakes her head, “you’re not what I expected.” Cassandra arches an eyebrow, “you expected something?” Min just sighs back and pets her long new braid, admiring it. She looks back up, “let’s take that walk princess.” “Am I a princess?” Cassandra started to get excited, “that might explain some things.” Cassandra tries to teeter to her feet, but her head was getting light, she feels a weariness tug at her eyelids and a heaviness snatch at her limbs. “Oh flaking sun,” she curses and tries to keep herself upright.

Min’s eyes go wide, “maybe you should pinch yourself. Stub your toe or something.” “What?” She blinks and rubs at her eyes, “I just,” she takes a first few steps and almost collapses. “I just need,” she tears at her own hair, “a little rest.” Min puts a grip on her shoulder, nails digging in, “I have to tell you something.” Cassandra covers her mouth as if she might be sick, “Min…” “Hey, hey,” she shakes her, “if you go back to sleep now, you might not wake up again.” Cassandra’s eyes go wide, “no.” She pushes herself to her feet by force of will alone, starts digging her heels in to start running, going, keeping her eyes open.

It’s useless, the darkness claws just beneath and her eyes start falling closed in exhaustion. “Wait,” she gasps, as if drowning, “wait.” Her head falls down, cradled in someone’s lap, “I don’t want to go back to sleep,” she could have wept, “I’m… afraid.” She remembers the running and the blood, someone holds her hand. “It’s alright Cassandra, it will be alright.” The voice fades out and the darkness leaks in. A nothingness overcomes her world.

-------------------

Cassandra isn’t sure how long it is, it felt like hours, but it could have been days, weeks, months.

She dreams of a round, glowing spark in the night sky and her own voice going raw with screaming, a long desperate wail. The sky sparkles overhead and her own thoughts go churning and capsizing.

Confused clouds of twisting darkness, dust, and fire burns in her minds eye, her consciousness slips in and out of a jumble of images that never cease.

Maybe this was it.

And then she gasps and something tugs her up, up, up, this time she doesn’t wait, she claws and pushes her way to the surface. Cassandra gulps down air as she punches her way into wakefulness.

“Ow,” Cassandra bangs her head on the top of the glass case again. “Burning sun.”

She stretches and kicks her feet to get the feeling back into them, it was dim outside this time, the sliver of a half-moon just rising in the distance.

Cassandra looks in both directions to check if there is a figure besides her again. She frowns when she finds herself alone in all directions.

She grumbles and wonders what prompted her second awakening. She pushes and kicks at the glass over her this time, it’s heavy.

The care barely budges as she heaves at the top, she tries to remember what Min had done, but she wasn’t sure ‘magic blast’ was an option.

Finally, it grinds sideways, it’s heavy golden clasps creaking as she leveraged her weight against them. They are flimsy clasps that seemed to keep the whole thing locked down, Cassandra isn’t sure how long it takes her.

The lid grinds sideways an inch by inch, the sun sinks completely into the treetops and Cassandra grits her teeth together. It takes her at least an hour before she drops heavily to the ground from a small opening she manages to make.

“Thank stars,” she wipes at her mouth and feels the soft grass under her hands, she takes a deep fresh breath. She was awake again.

Cassandra starts to crawl, her weary limbs complaining at the pressure and weight, she continues to yank herself forward anyway. She could already feel the tiredness latching onto her again, quicker this time, more viciously.

She screams in her own head: you can’t have me!

She hauls herself to her feet and pinches her left arm sharply, “Come on Cas.” She barely manages to get to her feet, panting and sweating the whole way up.

Her eyes go wide as she sees a set of light footsteps in the dirt near her, streaked in the mud and fresh. “Hello?” She stumbles to follow after them, her own isolation weighing heavy on her shoulder tops. How long had it been?

Cassandra only gets a couple feet before it feels like she’s moving through molasses, the exhaustion trying to crash her back down to the earth. Who knew if she would be transported back to the magic glass case this time.

At least vines weren’t growing over it, at least it seemed to keep her alive somehow.

Cassandra groans as her head swims in deep dark waves, she peaks through her eyelashes as she sees a flickering light off to her side.

“It worked.”

Cassandra turns quickly, the other voice breaking her momentarily out of her struggle with the curse within.

Her mouth falls open, “Min.” Min looks taller now, more broad and filled out, Cassandra doesn’t remember either of their ages. But her face was edged with something now, something certain of itself.

Her hair was slightly shorter, but still woven into a tight braid- just like the one Cassandra had made all that time before. No flowers though.

Min looks her up and down, “you look like a hot mess.”

Cassandra glances down at the grass stains on her the knees of her dress and the twigs that had fallen into her hair as she pushed through the underbrush. She scowls, “you could have waited for me like last time.” Min cocks her head to the side, “I did wait.” She shrugs, “I didn’t think this one would work.” Cassandra blinks a couple times, “Min,” she says slowly, “how long have I been in there?” Min takes a step back, “how are you feeling?” “Like shit,” Cassandra clarifies quickly, “but I have a feeling I’m about to feel a hell of a lot worse.” Min just nods, “it’s a nasty curse you’ve got there.” Cassandra lets out a long-held breath, “do you know how to break it?” She looks down at her feet, “They vary.” “Aren’t you a witch?” Her eyes go back to the glowing owl staff. Min frowns, “if it’s your average curse you might try a guardian or powerful familiar- a grim or evil eye.” She looks away, “it’s more likely to need something stronger though. A potion, true love’s kiss, a dragon’s purifying fire, you know.” Cassandra wrinkles her nose, “you got any of those on you now?” She holds her head as her vision begins to blur, it was happening again.

Min just shakes her head, “I’m only an apprentice. I can tr-” “Min,” she says quickly, swallowing her own pride as she says it, desperately, achingly, “Please.” She gulps, “help me. It’s happening again.” Min takes her hand and starts dragging her away, “Okay. I don’t have a fix, but I might have something temporary.” “Anything!”

Nausea was mixing with a frightful tipsy slant to the world, she couldn’t walk in a straight line if you paid her to. Cassandra has trouble keeping track of the next few minutes, just a blur of green trees and starry night sky, Min shakes her roughly every few steps.

She manages not to fall down, but cuts litter her arms and cheeks as she bumbles into tree branches and sharp rocks. The pain helped though, which was never a good sign.

She is able to blink back her own unraveling just as a beige stone building comes into view, it was thick and long with a single green roof at the top. She raises her eyebrows, “A tower,” she says in a hush and turns back to Min, “little typical, don’t you think?” “Sorry,” Min leads her over a fallen tree trunk, “they were all out of secluded huts and cottages with chicken legs. So we had to settle.” “We?” Cassandra doesn’t reply to that and instead picks up her glowing staff, “watch this.” Min starts tapping on different blocks of stone, methodically bumping a pattern in the flat surface.

“Witches can’t have practical things I suppose,” she grumbles, “like doors.” Min rolls her eyes and a blaze of green flames rolls out of her staff, a sturdy iron door appears in its wake.

She grins, “practical isn’t the same thing as cool, is it?” Cassandra snickers and just nods, it helped to keep moving. “Cool enough I guess.”

“It’s cool, trust me,” Min says and waves her in, “Follow me.” Blurry cordoors pass, faceless and nameless, with flickering lanterns and large staircases. Cassandra is ready to pass out from just how dizzy it all makes her, around and around as she climbed.

“Sit, sit,” Min commands as they reach another empty hallway. Cassandra wipes at her brow, her muscles numb from all the walking, but still barely hanging in there for her.

“Right,” Min nods jerkily, “I’ll be back in a jiff.” “You better,” she pinches herself again and waits.

She isn’t sure how much time passes, her own bones creaking and thoughts leaking out of her ears like slow honey, none of this could be good for. She remembers names and faces distantly, perhaps those her family. Her mom, her dad, her 3 sisters.

But why would they leave her here? How could they?

She swallows that thought whole, pushing it back and down, she hears a whistle screech through the air and Cassandra takes a deep breath. In a moment her head is nodding down to her chest, she feels something shoved into her hands.

“Eep,” she jumps and almost drops the hot cup as it burns against her skin.

“Drink, drink,” Min was standing across from her again.

Cassandra does as she is told and forces the dark sludge into her mouth, she almost spits it out again immedietly, her eyes go wide, “you dragged me across half the forest so you could feed me coffee?” Min laughs and her eyes crinkle around the edges, “it’s enchanted.” Cassandra groans, “enchanted coffee, witches.” She laughs again, “this keeps grown men awake for weeks, it should at least keep you up for a few hours.” Cassandra lets out a long-held breath and takes another deep burning gulp, it’s acrid and bitter against her tongue, she forces herself to swallow. She closes her eyes and feel the warmth fill her chest, “thank you.” She croaks and Min puts a hand on her shoulder.

“No worries love,” she says happily, “I made sandwiches too.” Cassandra’s eyes go wide, “well… thanks. Again.” She stutters a little bit, still taken back by… something.

Min just nods, “yes, yes, your savior, I’ll be right back.” Cassandra leans against the wall, “Can I come in?” “No,” Min calls over her shoulder, “it is, unfortunately, far too messy and might melt your mortal skin off to look at.” “Oh whatever,” Cassandra grumbles into her drink, “skin is only 10% of me anyway, I don’t need all of it.” She hears another short laugh and a clattering of silverware, Cassandra finishes her cup of caffeine that may or may not save her life. She can’t tell if she’s making it up or not, but there is slight buzz in the back of her mind.

That would have to be enough.

Min comes back out with two plates, “I hope you don’t mind cucumbers.” Cassandra allows herself to slide down the cold stone wall and finally sit, “I don’t mind anything. I haven’t eaten since the last time I saw you.” She lifts her chin up, “not a particularly vogue diet.” Min gingerly takes the seat next to her and pushes a second bitter coffee her way.

Cassandra wrinkles her nose, “can I have it with cream?” “No.” She sticks her tongue out, “it’ll spoil the enchantment, fine.” “No, my cream just went bad is all.” Cassandra looks back at her, her senses coming back to her. Min did look older. “Bad cream, dirty house, am I supposed to swoon at my hero?” Min lets out a rough laugh and takes a bite out of her sandwich, “You know I was joking right? I’m really not a hero. Yours especially.” Cassandra hums loudly, “you���re the only one,” she swallows that and looks away, “you’re the only one that’s come for me.” Min’s eyes go soft, “not on purpose.” Cassandra almost growls at her, “no, no, I mean, even if anyone else did want to come, no one is let into the forest.” Cassandra lifts her eyebrows, “oh right. They think it’s cursed.” Min looks up at the ceiling, “well. Sort of. They heard that a beast lives there.” She takes another huge bite, “And it’ll rip all their heads clean off!” Cassandra breaks into a slow smile, “are you that beast then?” Min snorts, “I wish.” Cassandra takes the first nibble of her sandwich and admits to herself she feels a little sick, her body was still doing everything it could to drag her back into the depths.

“Hey Min,” she says after a long moment, “any guesses on how I got cursed, or,” she blinks, “Why?” Min turns to her slowly, “well,” she swallows, “there’s a lot of options,” she looks thoughtfully at the ceiling, “do you remember crossing any land barrens, petty princes, or particularly cranky sea monsters recently?” Cassandra brushes her long honey brown hair back, “I can’t say I do Min my dear.” She leans on her, “well, I’m out of ideas.” Cassandra furrows her brow, “What else? Is there anything else close by?” She holds her breath, “the beast maybe…?” Min frowns, obviously a little off-put by the conversation. “No ones really seen the beast, so I’m not sure, though,” she trails off and Cassandra pokes her.

“Yes?” Min’s eyes dart up, “there is another witch around here.” Cassandra leans forward, “where? Witches are the ones who mostly make curses, right?” She didn’t remember learning that, but it felt true.

Min turns away from her, “perhaps…” She seems to chew on something, “but she’s not as nice as me. Or like,” Min picks at a scab on her hand, “weak.” Cassandra pokes her again, “you seem plenty strong to me.” Min gives a shallow smile, “my dear, ants might seem strong to you at this point.” “Is that a joke about my walking?” She huffs, “because, I am out of practice, but that’s no reason to tease.” Min puts her hand out, reaching for something, “no teasing.” She gives a sly grin, “I like ants too.” Cassandra rolls her eyes, “can I go visit this witch?” She gets back on topic. “No,” Min says sharply, quickly, “She’s a Northern Witch, she’s gone right now.” Min curls her lips back, “and I can’t say you should face her.” Cassandra curls up into herself, “what choice do I have?” Min’s face falls blank and uncertain, she turns to Cassandra, slowly, carefully, “You’re awake now.” She puts her hands out. “We can try and keep it that way.” “What are you doing?” Cassandra considers her open palms as Min faces her.

Min sits up straight, “it’s called ‘The Slapping Game.’” “No,” she edges away from any game with the word ‘slap’ in it. “Come on,” she wiggles her fingers, “it’ll be fun, it’ll keep you wide awake, promise.” Cassandra bickers with her for a second, before easily giving into the other young woman. “Ow!” She immediately gets her hand slapped and decides there and then she would perfect this game or die trying.

Min distracts her for several hours after that.

-------------------------

It happened, right on the morning of the fifth day. Cassandra had been thinking she could put it off, that it didn’t matter how strong or long-lasting this spell was. She had coffee and a new friend, there was hope.

But a person can only stay awake for so long.

On the fifth day, she goes to fetch water, her thoughts floating around and eyes heavy with lost sleep, deep bags forming there. But was smiling, there was a way, she could beat this.

The water jug fell out of her hands and the whole world toppled sideways anyway.

She didn’t get to say goodbye to Min.

------------------

Cassandra dreams of the blood and rising tides, her own curdling lungs and sharp white bones, the feel of a distant scream in her throat.

Her whole body shakes and she dreams of nothing but fire and drowning tides coming in.

-----

It’s a warmth this time, something playing against her skin, touching, licking it and glowing there. Cassandra is pulled up and up this time, toward the simmering heat instead of having to claw her way there through force.

She gasps and jerks upright, thoughts coming back online, whole world focusing before her.

“Woah,” someone stumbles away from her casket and Cassandra rubs at her vision roughly.

She was in her meadow again, but there were other people here, she sits up completely straight.

“Did you kiss her my liege?” A grey haired man comes strolling over and reaches for the person on the ground.

“Well I was very close,” a young man was speaking, he had chin-length brown hair, a soft face and a sharp chin that jutted out, “Does close count?” “I suppose it does,” the grey hair man pointed, “since here is the evidence.” Cassandra gathers her skirts toward her and huddles far away from the edge of her stone bed, “Who are you?” She takes sharp, rapid breaths as she sees four more pairs of eyes on her, there was a whole entourage.

“No need to fear my fair creature,” the man stood back up and dusted himself off, “We have come to revive you from your eternal slumber.” Cassandra’s eyes go wide, “true loves kiss.” She murmurs to herself.

The man nods diligently, “or near kiss, close enough.” He laughs, “I knew I had a feeling about these woods!”

He puts his hand out, “we can take you away from this nightmare now.” Cassandra looks at his hand apprehensively, “who are you?” The man stands up straight, “I am Prince Gregory, heir to the Jade throne. Many leagues from here and across the strait of Jecuz.” His companions nod, “we a visiting embassy to your land.”

Cassandra squints her eyes, “you came through the woods…” “A short cut,” the man booms, “and look! A fair distressed maiden, just like out of a fairy book.” Another companion nods and turns toward the others, “everyone here owns me 5 quid.”

Cassandra looks between all of them and hums, she can feel an old tiredness barking at the back of her mind but maybe that was just a post-spell fatigue.

She glances down at the ground, “are you really,” she pauses, “here to take me away?” He nods astutely and offers his hand once more, “if you’ll have me.” Cassandra takes it and delicately descends. There was a carriage and set of horses waiting for her, though she didn’t know how to ride.

There was a bag of coffee grounds lying on the grass floor next to her casket. She picks those up too.

-------------------

Cassandra didn’t remember being kissed, but she didn’t remember falling asleep in the first place either. She reckoned she might as well have been in there for years now.

She kicks stones as she walked along the ambling road, she liked to walk now.

She had five companions: Prince Gregory, his man-servant Williams, and friends Thomas, Hue Smiths, and his wife Abigail.

It was an odd band and Cassandra couldn’t help but feel… out of sorts. As if she was a goldfish in a lake full of trout.

But it’s just as Min said: a kiss can break the spell. If only Cassandra still didn’t feel so tired all the time, if only she felt like it wasn’t over yet, she drinks her coffee.

“So!” Thomas is always the most friendly one, “you remember your name and most things about the land, but no family?” He blinks, “you could be royal you know, you look royal.”

Cassandra shrugs, “I could be a lot of things.” She yawns, “I could be a banshee in disguise.”

Thomas pauses, “please don’t be a banshee in disguise,” he makes a face, “We’ve had enough of those.” Cassandra gives a small laugh, “quite a journey you’ve been on.” Thomas nods quickly, “rivers, swamp monsters, ogres, giants, we’re lucky we need this alliance so bad or it really wouldn’t be worth it.” “But we found her too!” Gregory sings from the back, “the future queen!”

Cassandra still wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

It was pretty early to be giving herself over to a man that spooked her awake, but there was no doubt she wanted to stay that way.

Cassandra loses track of time as the road winds in and out and forces more bitter coffee down her throat as the wooziness comes and goes. Was this going to be her life forever? She prayed to every deity above that it wouldn’t.

The sun sinks low and Cassandra resists lying down as she tries to help set up camp, Thomas goes to the nearby trading post to buy some rations for dinner.

Cassandra slouches over to help start the fire, she only pauses when she sees Abigail already there, bent over and frowning slightly. Abigail had kept her distance so far, she was pregnant and stayed in the carriage up until that point.

“Hey,” Cassandra takes a step forward, pleased to perhaps bond with another new person. “Can I help you?”

Abigail’s eyes glint up like knife points and her mouth becomes a tight thin line, she takes a step backward. Cassandra’s eyes go wide, “is there something on my face?” Abigail squares her shoulders and her lips curl back into something like a snarl, “you need to leave.” Cassandra stood completely upright, “what’s that?” Abigail bares her teeth completely, “I wasn’t going to say anything in front of the others, but I won’t tolerate this by nightfall.”

Cassandra starts to scowl at her, “I don’t know what your problem is-” “You’ll get us all killed.” Cassandra pauses at that, the steel in the other woman’s voice and complete terror written in her stance. Cassandra opens and closes her mouth, she notices for the first time the pointed ears sticking out of Cassandra’s hair, “you’re not human.” She states the obvious.

The elf lady just shakes her head, “I’m talking to Hue now.” Her eyes become slits, “Leave now if you care about the life of the prince.”

Cassandra backs away from her and shiver goes down her spine. Something else was happening here.

It’s only when she hears the horses galloping back that she dares approach the others again, surely Thomas or Gregory would want her close. Abigail might just be affected my pregnancy hormones.

“Oi, oi!” Thomas is the first one to call out to her, “Cas, Cassie,” he jumps off his horse, “I may have some news!”

Cassandra turns her face up and something alights inside of her, “you heard something?” “I asked around about you.” “Oh!” Cassandra nods quickly, “and?” Thomas beams, “they heard of you! Hell, there’s a story in the pub about it.”

Cassandra takes a step toward him, her eyes wide. “What did you say?” Thomas clears his throat, “A young girl given a terrible curse, behest by an evil witch who descends from her tower. Kept in a Bulwark Slumber for all time by the cruel Melinda and her apprentice-” “A witch?” Cassandra says quickly, “a witch did this?” This felt familiar.

“Yes, yes, listen to the next part!” Thomas grins, “only to awoken once and be given a second life by good fortune- that’s us! We are the heroes in this one, pretty cool, right? Then there’s a song.” Cassandra takes a step back, “the witch and her apprentice.” Something was clicking inside her head, “and she had a tower?”

Thomas wrinkles his nose, “I feel like your missing the big details here.” Cassandra takes a step backward, “Abigail is right,” she takes a deep breath, “I have to leave.” “What?!” Thomas reaches for her, Greggory was still discussing ration lines with Williams.

Cassandra raises her chin, “the spell isn’t gone.” She says clearly, “I can still… feel it. I know why your friend wants me gone, I’ll only bring misfortune until the spell is completely broken.”

“Wait, which friend?” Cassandra turns away, “I’ll be back.” She starts running. Thomas grabs for her, but Cassandra had finished the rest of her bag of coffee, she felt more awake now more than ever, certain, strong. She had vengeance to seek, a witch to destroy.

A friend to confront.

-----------------------

It was easier to find the tower than she expected, perhaps she figured it would be hidden or given some sort of magical glamour. Instead, it stuck up from the landscape like a sore thumb with no one but the birds to observe it.

It takes her much longer than she would like to reach the building, but it seemed the carriage and horses had been wandering around the general area for the most part.

Cassandra was holding her breath, “fucking liar,” she snarls under her breath, “traitor. Thief!” She could feel her eyes prickling and she pushes every emotions she’s ever had back down. She goes up to the sturdy faceless wall of the tower and knocks, two solid full blows on the side of the stones. It felt like it had been yesterday when she was just here, but it could have been forever.

She’s not sure what she expected, but she knocks and the tower wall gradually open for her, it’s stones curving in and opening for her. No green door this time.

She steps in and starts jogging for the stairs, “Min!” She yells at the top of her lungs, “Min, you liar!”

She is furious and she has only one thing in mind: an explanation for a lifetime spent in slumber. A lifetime lost.

She knew she’d be falling back into it any time now.

She hears nothing but the sound of her own stomping footsteps, she streaks her toward the top, toward the highest point in the tower. She’s breathing heavily by the time she’s almost at the top, a new door in view just in front of her,

She takes a deep breath to call out the ugly broad for tricking her.

“Stop!” Her heart pounds, someone called from the hallway behind her. “You don’t want to go in there.”

Cassandra turns, slowly, decidedly, she eyes narrowed, “you.” She fumes.

Min stood in the hallway, wearing a green riding outfit and her hair tied back in that familiar braid, “I can explain.” “Fuck you,” Cassandra growls, “you locked me away in there. You and your master were the ones that started this.” Min shook her head, “that was Melinda, that was all Melinda, I wasn’t even old enough to help yet.” She pauses and clenches her teeth, “I swear I would have fixed you if I could.” “Why?” Cassandra seethes, “so you can lie to me some more? Toy with me?” Betrayal batters her feelings back and forth, Cassandra had only made one friend in all these years.

And here she was.

“No no,” Min waves her hands back and forth, “I didn’t intend to lie. I was just… curious. I wanted to talk to you.” Cassandra wrinkles her nose, “Well, I’m here.” Her eyes prickle, a hot sting forming there, “No thanks to you.” Min stands up straight, “did the prince work?” Cassandra takes a step back, “you knew?” “Yeah,” she shrugs, “I set it up.” Cassandra tears at her hair in frustration, “you can’t just set up someone’s love life for them!”

Min scowls, “I was trying to help!” Cassandra clenches her hands into fists, “you really are the weakest witch.” Min opens her mouth to bite something back but pauses, a door creaks at the very top of the tower, a light flooding the hallway.

“Min?” A voice croaks from up above, “is that your pet you’ve been muddling with?”

Min goes several shades paler and her eyes go wide, “no.” She gasps.

Cassandra feels a sudden tug, like a string was attached to her solar plexus and wrenching her forward, she is swept up, up, up the stairs in a into the room on the highest floor. She can hear Min jogging after her.

A middle-aged crooked woman stood in front of her, covered in a black cloak and with two bright yellow eyes and a weathered aging face. She has full lips and high cheekbones- beautiful in the way the edge of a knife is beautiful. She smiles and her eyes crinkle, she has a Cat Staff by her side.

“Well hello,” she grins widely, “and here I thought I took care of little Cassandra so long ago.” Min comes panting into the room, visibly sweating, “don’t hurt her!” Melinda tuts drearily, clicking her tongue and holding Cassandra in place above the ground. “You really don’t know anything, do you?” She sniffs loudly, “you always were my dumbest apprentice.” Min stumbles at the entrance way and door swings shut behind her, “don’t hurt her.” She says again, this time shaking a little bit.

Cassandra shifts in place but her feet can’t touch the ground.

“I was always curious why you went to the fields to go look at my handiwork, I was hoping you were trying to learn from it,” she clicks her tongue again, “not fall in love with it.” She shakes Cassandra in midair, Cassandra growls. “You ruined my life!” She can feel hot tears rolling down her cheeks, “you put me in that horrible glass box.” “Me?” Melinda gives a cruel, full-bodied laugh, “oh my dear, I suppose you don’t know anything either.”

Cassandra tries to fight it, she kicks and punches, trying to push through the magic, Melinda just rolls her eyes. “Where is my family?” Cassandra wails, “where are the years you took?” “Well, for one thing,” Melinda says as if she’s in a library teaching an everyday lecture, “Your family paid me to put you in there.” Cassandra stops struggling.

“And I didn’t take your years, I showed you a mercy,” she sniffs loudly, “I suppose it was more of a backup plan, but nonetheless,” she shrugs, “it is what it is.” Cassandra’s eyes go wide, “why,” she trembles from head to toe, “why would they do that?” She remembers her mom’s name. It was Samantha.

Melinda’s sleek eyes edge towards her, and then she glances back at her apprentice, Min was still clutching her Owl Staff and giving her mentor an evil eye.

“You always did have a fascination with the worst of them,” Melinda turns toward the window, “I suppose it is best to just show you now and get it over with.” Melinda swings Cassandra around toward the window, “who knows,” Melinda places Cassandra down in the light of the moon, “perhaps my little idiot will even survive this.” Cassandra feels a sudden and horrible sting through her system, like a waterfall of hot sprinkling fire under her skin. She suddenly wasn’t tired anymore.

She takes a deep heaving breath, “what’s happening.” She starts to tear at her sleeves as her skin begins to tingle.

“Oh dear,” Melinda blinks a couple times, “Didn’t you know? You were always the beast of the woods.” she croons, “once your done with my silly little apprentice perhaps I’ll find a better use for you after all.” Cassandra takes a deep choking breath and keels over, hugging her stomach and letting the moonlight sizzle her skin. Blood, tides, the dark dark pull of her own insides.

She lets out a horrible sob and something bursts from her skin, she closes her eyes and tries not to watch. She has no choice, the world spins around her and it is remade in reds and blacks and terrible furious hunger.

Melinda is gone the next time she opens her eyes, just a single vulnerable figure stands off to the side.

“I don’t want to hurt you Cassandra.” The girl’s bottom lip trembles, good.

Cassandra opens her newly formed muzzle and lets out a single throttling howl. Of course this is how it would end, who would have thought girls in cages ever got happy endings. A hunger pangs through her gut and a fury she had never known.

Min takes a step back, Cassandra squares her shoulders and plants her feet.

“Please-” Min starts.

Cassandra charges, mouth open, teeth gleaming as she aims for the throat of her enemy. Min doges at the last minute and rolls out of her range, she isn’t using her staff yet.

Cassandra is faster than her, she pivots, dodges a blast of pure green magic and then uses her claws to tear a long gash across her collar bone and shredding her riding shirt.

Min winces, but doesn’t back down, “It’ll be okay Cas, I promise.”

Cassandra leaps, bowling her over and thrusting Min’s wrists down and above her head. She pins her to the floor and lets her breath of heat and blood bathe the other girl’s face.

She growls lowly and edges toward the young woman’s throat.

“I know I shouldn't have,” Min was gasping, tears leaking out of her eyes, “I was watching too much. It was creepy. But you were so… beautiful. And I was so lonely. I wanted you to be terrible, mean, and cruel. Then I could let it go.” She was rasping and rambling now, “but you weren’t. I needed to see you again, I needed to keep seeing you.”

She cries, “I tried everything and then I found that prince… and I just needed you to be happy.” Min leans forward and kisses the end of her long, dark snout. A single, soft press on her nose.

Cassandra pauses, her whole body trembling, the deep hunger freezes within her. Something else breaks, something she couldn’t name.

Her family had given her away, the world put her in a forest to live out her days alone, her mind betrayed her time and time again to sleep.

Cassandra screws her eyes shut and takes a deep shuddering breath, the fire etches out of her like a long slow sigh. Something falls delicately away from her skin, her claws recede and muzzle pressed back into her face.

She sits, naked and shivering in the light of the cruel moon.

Someone wraps a blanket around her thin shoulder tops.

“You did it,” Min sounded like she was still crying, “you fought it off! Oh Cassandra, oh fucking suns.” Cassandra takes a long, silent moment to come back to herself. No edge of tiredness haunted her for once, nothing but her own drowning thoughts.

All colliding into one, perfect hope.

“Min,” she croaks, throat feeling raw and unfamiliar, “Min, it was you.” Min’s dress was still torn where Cassandra had managed to scratch her, her eyes still watery, “What?” Cassandra tentatively reaches forward with weak fingers and trembling limbs, “It was always you.” She grabs the end of her braid and drags her forward, “You broke the spell.”

She pulls her down into one, fine, gentle kiss.

It tastes like wildflowers soaked in light and sweet sweet cream that floats to the top, it tastes like the whole years drained away from her returning. The fear leaks from her system and leaves only relief behind.

New tears spring to her eyes and she kisses her ever so lightly, “thank you.” She sniffs, “my savior.” Min gives a hiccupy, broken laugh, she wipes at Cassandra's wet eyes, “am I that bad at kissing?”

“Don’t worry,” she takes her hand, “I’ll give you time to improve.” She laughs and Cassandra pulls her into another fair, glowing embrace, sweet and unreal. Cassandra never thought this would get to be real.

They lean to each other, Min squeezes her hand, “I hear there’s a whole world at there.” “Well,” she grins, “It seems I’ve slept through enough of it.”

And they disappear into a haze of sleepless nights and better kisses. One for luck, two for curses, and three for madness- the crazy thought of better endings for beasts and witches.

FIN