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shewhowantsmouseears · 6 years

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yandere magicstone/badstone AU

Well, the people demanded, so here it is. Went for a first person POV, as I felt it suited the piece best. Takes place in a fantasy AU like medieval england and such. It’s pretty dark, but I hope someone likes it.

All eyes turned toward me as I walked inside, and I resisted the urge to slam the door behind me to draw further attention. Of course everyone was looking at me, that was part of the luck. Their interest would spark, eager gossip would begin, and soon the favors would pile up. Usually I'd soak at all, but after what I'd just seen, after what I just witnessed, I wanted to be left alone.

But this was the only place in the village with decent ale.

I took a seat in the corner, hoping that the space I'd chosen would signal others to back off. I only had to wait three seconds before I heard a startled employee declare “We have to use how much by the end of the month?! That's insane! Just... start handing out free drinks, we'll figure it out later.” After that, I silently waved a man down, and only said, “Your strongest.”

It was difficult to ignore the talk all around me and all about me, and eventually I couldn't.

“My my, who's the handsome fellow all by himself?”

“You don't know? You must be new around these parts. Fellow's Gladstone Gander, luckiest man to have ever lived!”

“I'll say – I once saw him fetch a whole diamond out of the river when he was just looking for a pebble to skip!”

“They say he was born lucky. His entire village was destroyed by witches – and he was the sole survivor!”

“No! You're serious?”

“Wiped off the entire map, for sure. I hear he's part fae – explains all his good fortune.”

The fae part was new, and I snorted hard, considering the irony of what I knew. My drink came fast, and I downed the entire glass in one gulp before demanding another. Tasted like swill, compared to the stuff I've tasted in the liar of the witches. But I couldn't go back there. Not now. Not like this. I needed time to think.

“Oooh, Gladstone!” A melodic voice strolled up beside me, some woman whose name I've long since forgotten, they all blend together after a while. “I was just thinking about you. My husband is out of town, y'know, and I was thinking-”

“Leave me alone.” I was in no mood.

Girl was as dumb as she was pretty. “Awww, honey, what's the matter? Let me-”

As she tried to touch my shoulder, I grabbed her by the wrist, fingers digging in deep. “I said... leave me alone.” She looked like she saw death itself replace my features, and when I let go, she scrambled away as fast as she could. The chatter around me slammed to a halt, as none of them had ever seen me lose my temper before. After all, why should the world's luckiest man be angry about anything?

I looked down into my empty glass, seeing my blurry reflection look back at me. I wonder... if I knew back then what I would have endured, would I still have gone through with the deal that took my soul?

To start with, I was not born lucky. If anything, I was lucky to be born at all. The man who is by all technical means my father hit the road the second he realized he wasn't going to get a dime out of my great-uncle's fortune. What did he care that he'd leave an unwed mother to be ostracized by her peers? My mother, proud idiot of a woman, refused to take charity. Because of that, I was raised in a dingy little cabin with rags for clothing and nights without supper.

It's true, Scrooge McDuck was so rich beyond imagination that he even owned a castle atop a hill, with some of his closest relatives living with him. If my mother had simply taken me and moved, maybe the old man would've taken us in. But, no, this was our home, she'd say, with a smile on her face as she chopped firewood with tired, aching hands. “If you keep taking from people, you'll never learn how to give.” She'd tell me, tenderly running her fingers through my golden hair. “Chin up, my love, good luck is just around the corner.”

If it was around the corner, it never felt like coming over. The elders would glare at us as we passed, whispering words of shame and humiliation. Housewives would give us sympathy and offer their aide, but the moment our backs were turned, laughed at our poverty and were thankful they weren't in our shoes. One memory sticks out to me now – mother managing to save what little coin we had to buy me a small teddy bear. It was a hideous thing, but it was all I have, so I loved it to death, carrying it everywhere. It was my only friend.

I was playing near the lake, imagining a grand quest with knights and dragons, when I was shoved from behind into the water. When I got up, there stood a rabble of boys, the leader was the son of our village head. “Look, everyone, Gladdy's a mermaid!” They laughed.

I kept my mouth shut, knowing by now anything I said could be twisted into further embarrassment. I tried to stand up, clutching my bear to my chest, and that's when one boy said, “Look at that ugly teddy! It's Gladdy's twin brother!”

The leader squinted, then nodded in approval. “I want it. Give it here, Gladdy.”

Startled, I finally spoke. “What? No! This is mine! Mama bought it for me.”

“I said give it,” the boy demanded again. “I want it, so give it to me.”

“No!” I tried to make a run for it, but I slipped on the mud and fell face-first, making the small crowd howl with laughter. The leader wretched the toy from my fingers, despite my begging and pleading. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

He tilted his head, puzzled at such an inquiry. “Because I want it, stupid Gladdy.” It was a child's logic, but thinking on it now, it's one that many adults also carry. “It's your own fault for not giving it to me. You should just shut up and die.” He kicked me in the ribs, and with his prize, walked off with his friends. I laid there for a while, crying and hating him and myself and the whole world. When I finally got up and told my mother, she promised she'd get it back, and went to talk to the boy's mother.

It went about as well as can be expected.

“Are you calling my boy a thief?”

“I – I didn't say that, exactly, it's just, my son-”

“I don't know what kind of brat you're raising but my child knows better than to steal!”

“Please, if we could just have the teddy...”

“Get off my property! You ever say another thing about my baby, I'll have them toss you behind bars!”

One promise broken, one of many, and my mother held me close to her chest, saying once more, “Chin up, my love, good luck is just around the corner.”

Well, when was it getting here?! Many similar thefts occurred, every time I acquired something decent, such as a pair of nice shoes or an apple I plucked from the orchard. It was if the village believed we didn't deserve anything at all. The only time I knew peace were two occasions.

One was the visit from distant relatives – my cousins Donald and Della, and their parents. One look at them and you knew they were better off, with proper clothes and no bags under their eyes or thin ribs poking out. Once every few months, they'd come to say hello, drop off a few treats, tell us of Scrooge's latest acquisition. The twins and I would play in the meadow, with Della warning us to stay away from fairy rings and Donald using twigs as knightly swords. The entire village would put on fake smiles and treat us like royalty – no doubt terrified that if Scrooge knew the truth, he'd make them suffer for it. But mother wouldn't tell our family the truth, insisting things would work out, one way or another. But the moment they were gone, we were scorned once again, a fresh heap of mud thrown at my face.

The other place that gave me respite was the church. Not too many people believed in the gods those days, but even so, they were hesitant to give me trouble behind the stone walls. The father wasn't exactly kind, but he didn't give me any lip or condemn my existence, so he was better than most. It was said that within the church laid a sacred treasure, and one day, it was my birthday, one I shared with my mother, merely out of curiosity's sake, I asked the father what it was..

“It is our protection,” he said, closing the holy book after another sermon to no one. “Centuries ago, this land was a host for witches.” He paused here, seeing my look of disbelief. I was an older boy by then, eighteen, and the idea of fairies and witches was ludicrous, especially an adult believing in them. “Aye, it's true. For millennia, they have been at war with the mystic fae, and we mortals paid the price. But one of our ancestors managed to find one of the witches relics, and sealed it up locking away its power. Then we had the entire land blessed in water from the fae, and kept them out. To this day, that is why no witch can come to our land to take their revenge.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. But the day he told me that story was really when everything started to fall apart – or, come together, if you look at it another way. I opted to leave sooner than usual, not wanting to catch the father's insanity. As a result, I came home earlier than my mother expected. As I approached the front door, I hear the sound of something breaking, and paused. Mother was usually extremely careful with our possessions, given that we had so few of them to begin with.

“Who does he think he is?” My mother's voice no longer had that glint of hope and honey. Instead, it was slurred with drink. “Saddling me with this useless child! Gods above, I get no peace! Not even on my own day of birth, I have to be reminded of him! Whatever did I do to deserve this? I'd have been better off selling the babe! Wretched thing with his father's eyes. That boy is nothing but bad luck!”

I stood there for a long time, listening to my mother's true feelings, and for some reason I felt no surprise. Perhaps for some time I had sensed she was wearing a mask, using it to conceal her utter hatred at me and herself. Well then... what was the point of staying here any longer? If an entire village wanted me gone, then, so be it. I waited until the “usual” time I should've been home, and my mother greeted me with a false smile, asking how the church was. I said nothing, and she didn't press further.

That night I stole what was left our money and headed out. It was her own fault for having me. I headed to the very outskirts of the village, unsure where to go and what to do. Anywhere had to be better than here. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, but I suppose it wouldn't have mattered if I saw them coming – the next thing I knew I was being slammed against a tree, a hand to my throat. “Lovely night for a walk, eh?”

Just my luck to be accosted by three beagle-faced bandits. One kept his hold on me, a second picked my pockets, and the third was picking his teeth with a knife. “I don't believe this,” the second one, the shortest, grumbled. “This'll barely get us a drink at the pub!”

“Maybe we can chop off his hair and sell it.” The third, the tallest, offered.

“Maybe we can chop off his head and sell it.” The first one suggested, and it was difficult to tell if he was joking or not.

“Please,” I begged, legs kicking out, unsure to who I was pleading to. “Take my money, just let me go! I won't tell a soul, just let me go!”

“Sorry, you've already seen us,” The third one handed the knife to his brother. “Maybe in the next life, you won't have such rotten luck.”

The first beagle raised his knife, ready to end things, and for a brief moment, I almost welcomed it. But, at last, at long last, I had a spot of good fortune, in the most unusual of places.

“What in all blazes is that?” The short one suddenly said, pointing off into the distance.

All heads turned, mine included. It was difficult to see at first, but then the clouds parted, and bright moonlight shone down on the dark carriage making its way along the dirt road. Carriages weren't rare, but this one was black and red, curtains hung low to make sure no one could see inside, and even the horses were darkly colored, their eyes gleaming demonic colors. Alongside the carriage were two riders atop their steeds, covered in robes that hid their bodies, save for a featureless white mask on their faces. It was an odd sight, to be sure. The carriage didn't even have a driver! How were the horses to know where to go?

“Forget this lump,” the shortest one declared, “Whoever's in there has to be stinking rich! Hurry up!” I was dropped like a hot potato, and the three eagerly raced to the carriage, dropping my coins and scattering them on the ground.

I sat up dizzily, but instead of picking up my money, I watched in stupefied awe. The riders were thrown off their horses, but they didn't offer any resistance, nor make any sound. All the horses came to a silent stop, standing so rigidly they didn't even appear to be breathing. The short one was the leader, and he threw open the door. “All right, hand over everything you've got, and-”

That was all he got out before there was a crackle of lightning – but not from the sky. It came from within the carriage itself, stabbing the man in the chest, and sent him flying. When he landed, his chest was still smoking. The eldest brother cried out in horror, running to fetch the fallen. The cloaked riders now began to stand up, and held out their arms, murmuring in an tongue I couldn't understand. The earth shook, and the roots of the trees sprang up from the ground, entangling the beagles and muffling their screams.

I didn't know if they were dying. Can't say that I cared. All I knew was what I witnessed wasn't mortal, and whatever these people were, they were more powerful than anyone could fathom. They could only be one thing.

“Witches!” I breathed, before getting to my feet. “You're witches, aren't you?”

The masked ones glanced in my direction, but then ignored me, going back to their horses. The carriage door began to close, but I ran ahead, flailing my lanky arms and shouting as loudly as I could. “Wait, wait! I can help you! I can – I can – I can get you back your relic! The one inside the village, I'll give it to you!”

Looking back on it now, it's a little amazing how fast the idea how came to me. How little hesitance I had. But if I didn't act then, I'd lose the chance forever. The masked ones stayed silent, but then I heard movement within the carriage. The door swung open quietly, and the woman inside, the one who had cast the lightning, stepped out.

She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. Even now, I don't think the right words have been invented to accurately describe her. Not that flowing raven hair with streaks of violet, the alluring yellow cat-like eyes, a body so sleek and slim it was almost hypnotic. At the time, she was a good head taller than I was, and only when I felt the wind on my tongue did I realize my jaw had dropped. I quickly shut my mouth, feeling my entire face redden. In one of her hands was a staff with a round orb atop, and she lightly strummed her fingers on it, studying me, analyzing me.

“And here I thought this was going to be a dull night,” she mused, a sensuous voice that felt like a snake slithering all around me. “What is your wish, boy?”

“My wish?” I repeated foolishly, still starstruck by the goddess in front of me, and having completely forgotten what I said in the first place.

“I sincerely doubt you're going to hand over your village's priceless treasure for nothing.” She raised an eyebrow. “So, tell me. What wish shall I grant in exchange for the relic? If it is within my power, I give you my word I will grant it... so long as I get what I desire.”

What I wanted? I tried to think. Money would be nice, but all money could be spent eventually. My bed to be warmed with beautiful women? A nice thought, but not something I could do all day. My mind raced, trying to think of a wish that wouldn't run out, a wish I could enjoy, a wish that would make life worth living – and then I remembered dear mother's words.

Chin up, my love, good luck is just around the corner.

“Luck.” I said, my heart racing. “If I give you relic, I want you to make me lucky for the rest of my life. Ever since I was born, I've known nothing but misfortune and misery... so make it that I never know them again! Make it so I never have to work, never have to plead to anyone ever again!” With each word I said, my voice became angrier, my fists clenched, and I knew this was a wish I was entitled to.

The witch's eyes widened, and she rubbed her lips with her thumb, mulling. “What you ask is most bizarre... I've never heard of magic capable of such things.”

I swallowed. “Does that mean you can't do it?”

She chuckled, and then I felt her fingers under my chin, cold as ice and yet I didn't want it to stop. “Oh, I never said that. It will merely require some time, and a lot of creativity on my part. Give me your name, boy.”

“Gladstone.” And I kept it at that. If I didn't have a father, and I didn't want my mother, what good was a last name?

She accepted this. “Very well, servant. When the full moon once again touches the skies, I will return. You have until then to get the relic. If you free it, I will grant your wish.” Her fingers moved down, and a shock went through my nerves, before I found her thumb pressed to my throat. “However... if you dare try to trick or lie to me, I will find a way to make your every waking second sheer torture.”

I didn't think my life could get much worse than it already was, but at the same time I didn't doubt her ability. “I give you my word, my lady.”

She laughed at that, pulling her hand away. “Lady! That's a new one.” She then waved to the masks, who climbed atop their horses. She stepped back in the carriage – it was so dark inside I could only make out her captivating eyes. A part of me wanted to jump inside the carriage. “Don't disappoint me, servant.”

The door closed, and they were off. Once I could no longer see the carriage in the horizon, I slowly picked up the coins that had been dropped, and walked back into the village. As tempting as it was to think the whole thing was a dream, I'd been given an opportunity and I wasn't going to waste it. The full moon was one month away, and I needed to get to work.

I put my mother's money back where it belonged and she never suspected a thing. I then went to the church, and begged the father to work there, telling myself this would be the last time I ever begged to anyone. He conceded, and I started by sweeping the floors and cleaning the windows. I stayed in the church for as long as I was allowed, even eating my meals and sometimes sleeping there. I played the part of a loyal follower, and the father's wrinkled face became less pensive around me. My devotion to the gods touched some part of him, and there were days he came to me with a fresh loaf of bread, an appreciative pat on the back, even a rare smile.

“I'm glad you could find your serenity here,” he once said, when he bought me a new pair of shoes, noted how scuffed mine were. “The gods will reward your work... and if they're busy, I will.” He weaved me tales of battles between fae and witch, of their ruling queens and the differences of their magics. He offered to let me read a sermon to the suffering townsfolk, and slipped an extra coin in my pocket when I wasn't looking.

The night of the full moon, I asked to see the relic.

He hesitated initially, but relented easily enough, taking me down into the cellar past three locked doors. There it stood on an altar – a large white marble with black cracks formed around it. “This is our village's protection,” he said, allowing me to step forward to see it better. “I am getting old, Gladstone. Someday, it will need a new man to protect it. I believe you are that man.”

I looked at him, then I looked at the marble, and thought about my wish, and what it really meant, and what it would cost.

I grabbed it and bashed the old man's skull with it.

I then ran outside of the church, it had started raining. I didn't get very far before I slipped in the mud, and for a split second I was back in my childhood with the mocking children who stole my teddy, my most precious thing in the world, and here I was, doing the same. And I didn't care. I sat up, and saw that my landing space was next to some well-timed sharp rocks. I lifted the marble – apparently I didn't hit the old man as hard as I thought, as in the distance I could hear him calling my name – and I began to smash it over and over and over again.

It took five times before it finally split apart in two perfect halves. Inside was a tiny piece of silver, no bigger than a fingernail. The white marble began to dissolve, and the rain stopped. I looked up, and saw that the black clouds were suddenly swirling around together, faster than they should've been able to do, and then the darkness made its way toward the ground, turning into a flurry of bats and spiders, and with one loud, awful, cracking sound, the blackness exploded, and there stood the witch.

She wasn't alone – the masked ones were there as well, but so were old hags, gorgeous young women, deranged men, cackling children, witches and warlocks of all shapes and sizes. Villagers opened their doors and windows to see what all the noise was, and their gasps of surprise turned into screams of panic. The witch - my witch, my savior – calmly walked towards me, and picked up the piece of silver. “Good to have you back.” she said to it, then nodded once to her followers.

They suddenly began attacking the villagers, shoving them down into the dirt, restraining them, and injuring those who put up a fight. Houses were being burned, and stolen goods were being tossed together. I remembered who I was and what I was doing, and tried to get to my feet. “My wish!” I demanded, “I gave you what you wanted, now give me my wish!”

One of the elder witches smacked me upside the head with her wooden staff. “Show some respect, mortal! One your knees! You dare speak to the queen herself?”

I blinked once, blinked twice, blinked three times before I understood, and the queen chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. “Come now, how do you expect them to know?” She enjoyed my surprise, and made an overly-theatrical bow. “I am Magica De Spell, Queen of the Covenant. And worry not, I shall grant you your wish, a luck that will last your eternal life. However...” She held up a finger, delaying my joy. “This is a magic that will require much more than the relic. A lucky life lasts longer than an unlucky one... to ensure this lasts you all of your life, I must be able to keep watch over you always. You will give me your heart, your soul, your name, all of it in service to me. You will be my servant until your last breath is drawn. As for where this luck will come from...”

She then gestured all around her, to the fire and destruction and death she had brought forth. “You will take the luck that every single villager here has, and every bit of luck they would have had in the future. You will trade their lives for yours.” She then held out her hand, waiting for me. “Do we have a deal?”

I stared at her hand, and in what had to be the timing of bad luck, I heard the cries of my mother. There she was, captured by a pair of identical twins who were having fun with her hair. “Gladstone! Help me!” She screamed, trying to reach for me. “Please! I'm your mother, help me! HELP ME, DAMN YOU!”

I watched her, and smiled.

“Tough luck, mother.” I took Magica's hand. It was still cold, so unnaturally cold, and if it was up to me, I never would have let her go.

Her fingernails pierced my skin, and she closed her eyes, colors beginning to swirl all around us.

“I take thy name, I take thy soul,

By my hand you live, by my hand you grow old,

From lady's luck you shall always drink,

I case thee now – THE SIGN OF THE TRIPLE DISTELFINK!”

I thought I saw three birds of beautiful plumage arise from the smog around us, but they were snakes, and the plunged their sharp fangs into my skin, and I felt poison in my veins, so blazing hot I thought I would melt, but despite all the pain I felt, I kept my eyes open as long as I could so I could see Magica, Magica, my Magica.

But I blacked out.

When I woke up, the sun was out, and the village was gone. There wasn't even a single blade of grass to be found. It was as if nothing had ever existed here. I laid there for a moment or two, and then got up. Where was I supposed to start my new life? I still wore only rags, still had no money to my name. I frowned, and then walked, back to the outskirts where everything had started. When would my luck begin?

Turns out, it didn't take very long. I found myself back at the place where I had been robbed – and found two of the same robbers again, this time threatening an older man and a pretty red-head. The third wasn't there – perhaps dead, for all I knew. The girl was weeping, the father trying to protect her, and I felt an urge to sneeze.

The beagles looked up, and saw me – they recognized me, and apparently I was synonymous with that horrifying night, as one look was all it took for them to flee in fright. The victims were as surprised as I were, and the girl broke into relieved tears. “Oh, you saved us!”

“I did?” I asked, because it sure didn't seem that way to me.

“You have my gratitude, dear boy!” The man said, taking my had and shaking it vigorously.

“He must be rewarded, Papa!” The girl insisted.

“I couldn't agree more, Lulubelle. What do you want, grand hero of ours?”

Unused to such praise, I scratched my head. “Ah... well, I just wanted to get to the next village.”

The old man was surprised. “Why, we were just on our way there ourselves! What a fine coincidence. Come, you'll ride with us.” Their carriage wasn't too far away, plush and overly decorative. Once I was inside, they overwhelmed me with thanks again, Lulubelle snuggling up to my arm. I was so stunned I just let them keep talking, not saying much myself.

The next village over was a farming community, and as it turned out, the old man was wealthy, his daughter single, and the town generous. I was rewarded with a new wardrobe, and a place to stay in his lofty mansion. Rumors spread about my heroism, and is the way of passing words, became exaggerated into full-blown lies. I saw no reason to correct them. For the next few days, I enjoyed life more than the years I ever had at home. Wherever I went, fortune followed. Finding money on the ground, shopkeepers finding themselves with extra wares, the weather perfect wherever I napped. I never lifted a finger, never broke a sweat. Lulubelle's father offered me a job sorting out his paperwork, and Lulubelle herself offered sweet kisses and tender embraces. Any ordinary man would have stayed here and lived comfortably for the rest of their natural existence.

But I wasn't ordinary, and I was soon reminded of that.

One week after I arrived, I was changing into my nightrobes and ready to settle into sleep, and I took a last glance at the mirror – only to see Magica's reflection instead. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “What the-?!”

“I have need of you, servant.” She said, ignoring my startled outburst.

“But... I gave you the relic,” I replied, looking around to make sure the door was closed. “Wasn't that our deal?”

“Did you already forget the fine print?” She asked, crossing her arms in annoyance. “The relic was for giving you good luck. Keeping it means you work for me.”

I slowly sat on the bed, recalling what it was she told me. “How do I do that, exactly?” I was torn – afraid of what she would ask of me, pleased that I was a part of her. I felt that if she asked me to carve out my own heart for her, I'd do it right away. “Is there another ancient witch tool you need to find?”

“Hardly anything so complicated. I just need you to kill the man of the house.”

I felt the very earth sink underneath me. I tried to parrot the question back to her, but found no voice. After a few attempts, I made a guess. “And... if I don't... my luck is gone.”

She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.” Her hand slid out of the mirror, and dropped a violet knife on the night table. I felt fear within my bones. The old man had never done me harm, and Lulubelle was pure as fresh silk. And now I was expected to ruin them both. “Once the deed is done, fetch me proof of his dead. Then go to the forest, and mark a tree with this knife.” Is this how the rest of my life would be? Betraying anyone who showed me a drop of kindness? I almost denied her. “It will allow you to come to me whenever you wish.”

All my doubts and hesitation vanished with one sentence. “Whenever... I wish?” I felt a delirious grin come across my mouth. I could see her whenever I wanted? I could gaze upon her beauty when I needed it? Now that I was gifted to have whatever I wanted, it became an insatiable lust. All my wants had been granted – and I wanted her, wanted her, wanted her so badly I could scream. Every night I spent with Lulubelle I saw Magica instead, felt her cold skin mesh with me, and every dream had those cat-eyes gaze into me.

“It would do me no good if my servant couldn't reach me.” She replied. “You have your orders.” And she was gone.

I stood up, and picked up the knife, twisting it in my hand. It seemed ordinary, save for the odd color. I had never taken a life before, never even killed an animal. I had hit the priest, but it was to get him out of the way. Then again, I hadn't much cared whether he died or lived. Would it be the same to the man who was practically grooming me to be his future son-in-law?

In short, yes. Yes it was. How unlucky for him that he tripped down the stairs. How lucky for me that no one saw me push him.

Lulubelle was devastated, and took solace in my arms. She never saw the knife in my pocket, or the hair I had cut from the man's head. The next night as the town mourned, I headed into the woods, and stabbed the first tree I saw with the knife. The tree shook, and a black door appeared. I went inside without thinking, and found myself within the depths of an ancient castle teeming with witches and warlocks. They all glared at me, much like the villagers of my home did, but they did nothing to me. My feet found themselves walking forward to the throne room, and there sat Magica.

This time, I remembered to show reverence. I went down on one knee, took a fistful of her dress to kiss, and offered the hair. She chuckled, pleased. “Excellent work, servant. I think this deal will work out very nicely for the both of us.”

I moved onto the next village, and the next, and for years this was my life. Not every town had something Magica desired, but even so I never stayed for very long. Why chain myself down when there was an entire world to see? But I soon enough noticed a pattern whenever I left – the towns I left behind would fall to ruin, by plague, by weather, by thieves, by any stroke of bad fortune. Eventually I surmised that my luck was draining all the luck from everyone I met. In order for me to be happy, others would suffer. Fair enough.

I enjoyed testing my abilities. Not everyone liked my company, after all. One quaint fishing village had a surly chap who was envious of the ladies swooning around me, so he challenged me to a fight. I declined, and he continued to pester me. As I watched him rave and rant, I pondered what would happen if I wanted something bad to happen to him.

When he stepped outside, he slid on the icy street and broke his neck. I couldn't stop laughing.

I sold out loyal friends, I abandoned lovestruck maidens, I stole from poor old grandparents, all for the sake of my happiness and my Magica. Yet no matter what I gave her, she still called me servant. Only once did she ever say my name, and only then did I realize the hell I had trapped myself in.

On a brisk winter's day I came her castle to give her an update on a curse she'd given, and found her sitting with council, shouting at them before dismissing them. Several gave me the evil eye, and I gave them the good wink. Once she was alone, I strutted inside. “Tough day?”

“May all the fae have their wings fall off and rot for eternity.” She grumbled, flopping into a seat.

“So, yes.” I headed to her cabinet, pulling out drink and glasses. The wine of witches is powerful stuff, let me tell you.

“I was so close,” she rubbed her face, groaning. “So close to wiping out a good tenth of their generals... but they've allied themselves with mortals! And strong ones too. It'll take ages to take back the land they stole.”

“Which you stole first,” I playfully pointed out, handing her a full glass.

“Bah, details.” She drank. “It's been nothing but losses for days, I can barely think straight.” She rubbed her temples, and to me it seemed she hadn't slept in a while.

“You sound stressed.” He came up behind her, offering a kiss to the shoulder. “You ought to relax.”

“Easier said than done.” She moved the glass in her hand, watching the liquid slosh about. “Hmph... I suppose you might be right. If I don't find some way to ease myself, I'll go mad. I need a distraction.”

“Well, if I can help, say the word.” I shrugged one shoulder, taking a sip. I began to go into my report, noting that she didn't appear to be listening.

“Servant,” she cut in, “Come here.”

“Hm?” I leaned in, and then she kissed me. I was so stunned, I let my arm drop and the wine spilled onto the floor. I forgot how to breathe, how to think, unable to tell if this was reality or one of my many passionate dreams.

As the seconds ticked by and I understood this was real, I tossed the glass aside and pounced. If she wanted to relax, by the gods, I was more than happy to help her this way! How we eventually managed to get to her bed, I have no idea, as I was solely focused on showing her exactly how much I loved her. I worshiped every inch of her body, spoke of how she was in my every waking thought, and in my foolishness I thought she'd understand. As I heard her cry out my name, I believed she knew the depth of my devotion. She had to know that I'd do anything for her, she who gave me a reason to live. After this night, she had to know we were meant to be together. I refused to let her go, even when every last ounce of my strength was gone.

In the morning, I was so exhausted I could barely lift my head – witch stamina is rather amazing – but when I opened my eyes, she was already up and dressed. It took some effort, but I managed to sit up, smiling at her. “You never fail to impress, darling.”

She wasn't looking at me, instead having rolled out a map on her desk drawer. “I need to go this kingdom next, servant. They've got ores that could greatly improve my magical prowess.”

I stared so hard my eyes fell out of my sockets. I was back to servant. How? What about that night? I fumbled, trying to get on my legs. “M-Magica, you...” I grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at me. “What we have, you're just going to pretend it didn't happen?”

She looked at my hand as if it was a mere insect crawling along her dress, and flicked it off. “What of it? You did your duty, as you were supposed to.” As if things couldn't get worse, when she saw my eyes full of agony and heartbreak, she actually laughed. “Oh, my. What are you thinking, dear little fool?”

“I...” How could she not understand, when I held her so close and kissed her so deeply? “I love you, Magica, I've always loved you! Since the first day I met you, I've wanted to be with you!”

“Don't be ridiculous.” She tapped my lips with her finger, condescending and superior. “Creatures like you and I? We don't know what love is. Now, I've given you an assignment, so get to it.” With that, she was done, and walked out, leaving me alone.

That night was merely a servant obeying his mistress. It meant nothing to her, just a way to ease her stress. All I had done, all I had sacrificed, it was merely expected of me. And with growing horror I knew it wouldn't change. No matter how many towns I ruined or lives I took, I would only be her servant and nothing more. My luck would give me everything except the one who gave it to me.

I cleaned up, and left, my mind reeling in insanity. There had to be a way to make her understand. A lucky life was a long one, so she said, so surely there had to be some way to make her mine. I had to make her need me. I'd gotten everything else I wanted – so why couldn't I have her?! It wasn't fair! I was entitled to her! She belonged to me, and me alone!

I would make her love me, make her see that I was the only one worthy of her. I continued my work for her, erasing any last remains of my humanity. I'd prove myself, I'd show her I was more devoted than any witch and warlock under her reign. I began to seek out more witch artifacts on my own, delving into ancient scrolls and stories from elders. My luck would provide the exact text I needed, the right woman to fool to get past security, the exact moment a hurricane would crash down on the family of a witch hunter. All of it for her, all of it for me. I'd make her win the war against the fae, and enslave all of humanity, all so she could say my name.

And I could've lived with this. I believe I could've. If not for that. One. Last. Straw.

I was at the castle once more, ready to receive my next assignment, but when I entered the throne room, my heart stopped at who I saw. There stood cousin Donald, no longer a small boy with a happy face, but an adult man with faded blue eyes. Though it had been years since I'd seen him, I recognized him at once. “Donald?!” I shouted, running up to him, having buried all the memories of my family deep underground. “What in the world are you doing here?!” He didn't answer me – didn't seem to see me. I waved my hand in front of his face and got no reaction.

“Amazing spell, is it not?” Magica crooned on her throne, praising her own handiwork. “He sleeps now, an endless perfect dream, while I use his body for what I wish. Nothing can wake him now.”

I let out a small whistle, impressed. “That is something, all right.” I pinched his cheek, no reaction. Poke his face, no reaction. I was about to slap him when Magica gave me a look. “Sorry. Couldn't resist.” I teased. It didn't answer the question of why my cousin was here, but there was no love lost here. Let him and the entire family tree be a stepping stone for the witches, it didn't matter. “He'd make a great footstool.”

“I have much bigger things planned for all of us.” Magica smiled wickedly, and I heard the sounds of footsteps, as witches began to enter the throne room. “In these years past, your cousin became entangled with the fae, and even found himself a bride among them.”

I raised an eyebrow, glancing once at Donald before returning my attentions back. “You're saying he's married to a fairy?”

“Was,” She corrected, one finger up. “But, we played a most fanciful trick. I managed to seal off the fairy rings temporarily, and disguised myself as his woman.” Already I found my stomach starting to twist, but told myself it was nothing, merely her plan. “In the world of fae, giving your name holds power. Wearing the face of his beloved one, I had him give me his name – breaking the wedded vow. And breaking a fairy's promise is a dangerous thing. Once the fairy rings were unsealed, they launched war against the 'lying' mortals.” She cackled, and a few of her followers followed suit.

“Oh, the poor bride tried to plead, it wasn't his fault,” she continued to giggle, “But not a word was listened. The fae have lost themselves an ally, and for that, we grow stronger.”

“We mustn't waste time,” one elder witch warned, rising up. “We must launch our next attack soon. I say we strike to the north, while their Queen recovers.”

“A woman's work is never done,” Magica clicked her tongue, standing up. “Let us be off.” And then – and then – AND THEN – she kissed Donald.

It was a second long, a quick peck, but to me, this was a moment of eternity seared into my eyes. She took his hand, but before they could leave, I screamed, “What is this?!” She who would never call me by name would taste the lips of my cousin so freely?!

She scoffed at my anger, pulling Donald toward her, and he showed no resistance. “Well, while I played the part of his blushing bride, I got used to the taste.” She then chuckled, poking Donald's lips. “A man who can never argue with me, never raise a word... makes for a suitable husband, does he not?”

“Hus...” I couldn't even finish the word. I stood there, trembling in rage, as she walked hand-in-hand with him, the witches following soon after. When the door clicked shut, I lost the last bits of my sanity. I shoved the throne over, ripped the curtains, smashed the furniture, to hell with the consequences. She preferred a dreaming, dead Donald over me?! Over me?! OVER GLADSTONE GANDER?!

What had I done to deserve this final stroke of madness? Denying me her love was one thing, but to gladly go into the arms of my cousin?! How was I supposed to stand for this?! I'd given her more than he ever could, but he was the one she chose?! How was this lucky? This was a curse! Oh, he would pay, they would all pay, in blood and fire and the worst of luck I could summon! I would make Donald's world hell on earth, if that's what I took! I am Gladstone Gander, and I get whatever I want.

But first. I needed time to plan. And think. So here I am. In this old bar, drinking this pathetic swill, trying to steel my nerves. Trying to figure out where to direct my luck. Trying not to hear the gossip that hovers around me again. Yet...

I hear he's part fae – explains all his good fortune.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, so it's been said. Perhaps – perhaps here is an answer. They're winning against the fae now, but things can change, especially if I will it so. One could say they only reason they were winning at all was because it was lucky for me. But what if I turned it around? If they lost, they would need to pick themselves back up again. If Donald could be returned to the fae, maybe they'd forgive the mortal realm and join forces again.

Oh, yes, this could work out very nicely, couldn't it? What if, the witches lost so many and so much that their numbers dwindled? Their powers decreased? They would need their servant to rise again. She would need me. If I wanted to, I could take it all away. Her followers, her castle, maybe even her powers, as long as it played in my favor. I could make her need me. I could make it so she couldn't live without me.

I could make her beg.

My drink was refilled, and the young lady who'd done so hummed a bit. And in that moment I saw how much power I really had – this was a complete stranger, and I could either make her live like a princess without care in the world, or have her rotting in an alleyway with the rats, depending on my mood. And she'd never know she was in the presence of such a god. “Free ale all night”, she mused, “You must be one lucky man, my friend!”

I smiled. “You have no idea.”

#magicstone #gladstone gander #magica de spell #fanfic

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