Fairer-than-a-Fairy by Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force

Plus Belle que Fée, qui commençoit à s'accoûtumer aux prodiges prenant Désirs par la main repassa dans sa chambre, & trouvant le quarré où étoit la serrure dont on lui avoit parlé, elle l'ouvrit avec la clé d'or, & entra dans une chambre, dont la magnificence la surprit & la toucha, parce qu'elle y vit partout des soins de son amant. Elle étoit jonchée des plus belles fleurs, elle exhaloit un parfum divin. Il y avoit à un des bouts de cette charmante chambre, une table couverte de tout ce qui pouvoit contenter la délicatesse du goût, & deux fontaines de liqueurs qui couloient dans des bassins de Porphire. Les jeunes princesses s'assirent dans deux chaises d'ivoire enrichies d'Emeraudes, elles mangèrent avec appétit, & quand elles eurent soupé, la table disparut, & il s'éleva à la place où elle étoit un bain délicieux, où elles se mirent toutes deux. A six pas de là on voyoit une superbe toilette & de grandes mannes d'or trait, toutes pleines de linge d'une propreté à donner envie de s'en servir. Un lit d'une forme singulière & d'une richesse extraordinaire, terminoit cette malheureuse chambre, qui étoit bordée d'orangers dans des caisses d'or garnies de rubis, & des colonnes de cornaline soutenoient tout autour la voûte somptueuse de cette chambre,

 Fairer, who was beginning to grow accustomed to the miraculous, took Desire by the hand and passed through again to her own chamber. Finding the square panel with the lock about which she had been told, she unlocked it with the golden key and entered a chamber whose magnificence both surprised and touched her, for everywhere she saw the care of her suitor. She was undone by the sight of the loveliest flowers and breathed their divine perfume. At one end of this enchanting room, there was a table covered with everything that could gratify the most refined tastes and two fountains of liqueurs that flowed into basins of porphyry. The young Princesses seated themselves on two ivory chairs enriched with emeralds. They ate with appetite, and when they had finished, the table disappeared, and in its place appeared a delightful bath where they admired their reflections. Six steps away, they saw a superb toilette and several large golden wicker baskets filled with linens so clean they could not help but ache to make use of them. A bed of singular style displaying extraordinary wealth completed this prison chamber. The room was bordered by orange trees in gold planter boxes garnished with rubies. Columns of carnelian supported its sumptuous vaulted ceiling, {LC}

 Fairer than a Fairy, who began to be accustomed to wonders, leading Désirs by the hand, returned into her own chamber, and finding the panel obtaining the lock of which the stranger had spoken, she opened it with her golden key, and entered an apartment, the magnificence of which both surprised and affected her, as she saw in everything it contained the attention of her lover. It was strewn with the most beautiful flowers, and exhaled a divine perfume. At one end of this charming room there was a table covered with all that could gratify the most refined taste, and two fountains of liqueurs which flowed into basins of porphyry. The young Princesses seated themselves in two ivory chairs, enriched with emeralds; they eat with a good appetite, and when they had supped, the table disappeared, and in its place arose a delicious bath, into which they stepped together. At a few places from them they observed a superb toilet-table, and large baskets of gold wire full of linen of such exquisite purity that it made them long to make use of it. A bed of singular form and extraordinary richness, occupied the further end of this marvelous chamber, which was lined with orange-trees in golden boxes studded with rubies, while rows of cornelian columns sustained the sumptuous roof, {JP}

 Plus belle que Fée, who was beginning to become accustomed to marvels, taking Désirs by the hand, returned to her room; and finding the panel with the lock that had been described to her, she opened it with the golden key, & entered a room the magnificence be of which surprised and touched her because, everywhere, she saw the cares of her lover. It was strewn with the most beautiful flowers; it emitted a divine aroma. At one end of this charming room, there was a table covered with all that could satisfy a delicate taste, and two fountains of liqueur, flowing in basins of porphyry. The young princesses sat in two ivory chairs enriched with emeralds; they ate with appetite, and when they had eaten, the table disappeared, and in its place, a tantalizing bath arose in which they both entered. Six pace away, a superb dressing-table could be seen, and large baskets of gold weave, entirely filled with fabric of such freshness that it made one want to use them. A singularly-shaped bed of extraordinary richness completed this unfortunate room, which was bordered with orange-trees, in golden boxes encrusted with rubies, columns of carnelian around the room held its sumptuous vault. {ML}

   Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force is best known today as the author of Persinette, a forerunner to Rapunzel. One storyteller of a cluster of aristocratic French women in the salons near the end of the 17th century engaging with tales of Faeries. In 1697 she also conceived of Plus Belle que Fée, translated in English as Fairer-than-a-Fairy or simply Fairer. A tale with beautiful people particularly a princess so known, and as so boldly named as to incur the anger of a Faerie Queen. Alongside another abducted Princess Désirs, the previously sheltered Fairer is tasked with seemingly hopeless trials. Yet aided by Phraates, who up and announces to Fairer his devotion, the defiant son of the Queen of the Faeries Nabote. Ultimately Fairer better comes into her own, experiencing companionship, pleasure, and love in the process.

British dramatist James Robinson Planché translated and included the story in the English collection Four-and-twenty Fairy Tales in 1858. And so, it has since been republished in different collections for over a century. Too showing up in academic sources. Additionally, fully translated anew (though only in eBook) in 2019 by Laura Christensen who has an abiding love for French folklore and the period. Christensen through the introduction and translator notes goes into several details of the process itself, perspectives, choices, offering many details and parallels as well as areas of divergence with Planché. Whose translation is further included for the reader to compare. Both translations and the original do lend themselves to questions.

I had not read the tale in translation before, only the French. Further intrigued because of scholarship by Associate Professor Marianne Legault with a Sapphic reading to the tale. Which I admit I favour. (See Legaults’s Female Intimacies in Seventeenth-Century French Literature translated in collaboration with Ramine Adl.) So, in the spirit of the more the merrier, I copied the English translation from the discussion there of the scene I choose to quote up above. One moment among others where intimacy between women is reflected. An appeal at the heart of Fairer is the centering of the female characters, how they behave towards each other and contain different aspects.

There’s a playfulness to the work of Mlle de Le Force I’ve read which bids layers and subtext. She could deliver a good bit historical fiction and satire too. For several of the women associated with the salons there was gossip and scandal of one kind or another. Mlle de La Force not untouched by it either, but writing attributed to her in her 40s is apparently what eventually resulted in King Louis XIV expelling her from court for a decent number of years, spent in a convent. Her intimate fantasy world also has a fire, seems tinged with suggestion, and eroticism. For Fairer Mlle de Le Force refashions previous Greek and Roman classical mythos including those of Eros & Psyche and Artemis.

Countless tales can mirror an implicit bias and conflation of goodness as youth and beauty vs evil as age or infirmity and unattractiveness. Mlle de La Force too lingers on the beautiful nobility, divine and gives her antagonist a pejorative name also borne of a belief about some Faeries in folklore. Yet, as the heroines who are confined but daring conform or not to certain patterns, so there is more to Nabote than being a slightly silly timeworn little Faerie Queen who tricks and abducts pretty princesses. Like Aphrodite in Eros & Psyche an offense has been committed, as herself and other Faeries are relegated, neglected, or forgotten. It’s too a problem of status and influence. The tasks Nabote dole out to the young women, set to be unachievable or better deadly, also at a closer look appear to hold other points. Mlle de Le Force particularly raises questions of authority and injustice in that the protagonists also suffer for having no need of the blessings of the powerful Faeries. Or about the judgement of the powers that be over Faeries too. The figure of the Goddess Artemis greatly comes in nearer the end. Where others have failed, Fairer is tasked in liberating an exceedingly virtuous Queen of the Faeries who some time ago was turned by Supreme Intelligences into a silver footed doe after things went awry with an admirer. I won’t spoil more but the ending makes one think on variations amid the usual HEA and how it settles things with Nabote.

During a trend in a still enduring folklore genre Mlle de Le Force was able to convey a number of ideas when it comes to education, friendship, sexuality, courting, marriage, love, agency, justice and power. The intertextuality, symbolism, and language all present fun with dual meaning. Overall, too being a bit difficult to clue in a very different audience today or, emulate in another language. But that’s also one of the neat elements about folklore. It’s cultural and social not static. It fades and rises with us. In both large and personal ways. Every moment and form it appears, another bit passed over, taken, added, transformed in the art of language and storytelling old as time. 

Would Fairer than a Fairy exist in your Disneyverse?

Which one? The one with the Rapunzely situation and the Rainbow Prince or the Princess Team Up one?

Either could be fun to use at some point though!

Usually when I click on one of those "dark fairytale" videos I DO NOT expect to hear about one of the literary fairytales of France - and yet here we are! What a surprise it was to discover one right in this video.

Mind you, it makes sense why this story would be known by English speakers, as it is present in Andrew Lang's Yellow Fairy Book under the title "Fairer-than-a-Fairy". However do not make any mistake, this fairytale is part of the "century of fairytales" of France - it is a literary fairytale called "Le Prince Arc-en-Ciel", The Rainbow Prince. Now when you check the English Wikipedia you'll see the fairytale is attributed to the Chevalier de Mailly, which would make it one of the "first generation French literary fairytales". But... this is a mistake?

Actually The Rainbow Prince/Fairer-than-a-Fairy is an anonymous fairytale, whose author hasn't been clearly identified yet. It appears in several compilations and collections of literary fairytales in the 18th century - and was preserved in Le Cabinet des Fées - but no author was recorded. Its first apparition was in 1718, which would place it into the "second generation" literary fairytales of France, and by 1718 to my knowledge Mailly wasn't writing fairytales anymore... But at the same time it makes sense he would be assumed to be the author of this fairytale as - like the video points out - there are strong parallels to the Vestals of Ancient Rome AND de Mailly actually wrote a treaty about the life, cult and customs of the Vestals in 1701.

Something not talked about in the video is also the tie of the wicked fairy, "Lagrée", to the Graeae of Ancient Greece, the one-eyed one-toothed hags Perseus has to deal with. It isn't just a tie through the "one eye one tooth and old hag" visual, but also with the fairy's very name. "Lagrée" is actually "La Grée", "The Graeae", because in French the Graeae are called Les Grées. So she is a HUGE reference to the Greek myth.

Meta Knight loves to fight.

If there is one thing that he cannot go without, could never go without, then it is the rush of combat. The adrenaline that pours through him like a tidal wave, the fervour with which he swings his blade, it is everything; his crew, his Halberd, his duty and his homeland, in truth they all pale in importance next to the thrill of a relentless battle frenzy.

This is something that, even through shining glass, through beams of refracted light, through the crystal clear reflection of a gold-trimmed and glittering mirror, is left unfiltered. Dark Meta Knight loves to fight, because Meta Knight loves to fight. He knows this and he can accept this. It is sensible. A reflection must be accurate to the original visage, no? And if not in appearance, scarred and battered instead of immaculate and glowing, then at least in spirit there should be a perfect core that remains.

Dark Meta Knight likes to draw.

He sits in the sunlight, bathing in the warmth of his armour, surrounded by tentative allies sent for by the stars, and clutches a crayon in one fist. His dexterity is not quite as incredible with an implement of the arts as it is with an implement of violence. This does not matter, because when he scrawls across the paper, with too-tight grip and too-harsh force, the wonky lines he manages do not garner him any jeering. Instead, the fairy oohs and aahs over how passionately he's recreated his sword, and politely, the little artist advises him on how to put less strain on both himself and the crayon the next time he tries. Dark Meta Knight does not mind imperfections, really.

Meta Knight does not like to draw. He avoids picking up a pen or pencil whenever possible, and when he is forced to, he makes the experience quick. If Dark Meta Knight is so bold as to assume why, and he is, this is because Meta Knight is not good at drawing. Of course, neither is he. Not by a professional metric. Flawless swordsmen, but terrible illustrators. The reflection is accurate once again. However, Meta Knight cannot bear imperfections. He is always on a quest of improvement, and avoids that which he is not undefeated in. If his armour breaks, is marked, if he loses a chip off his pauldron or mask, he repairs it with the utmost haste.

Perhaps a reflection is similar, but not exact. Sometimes the mirror is smudged, or cracked. Sometimes it reflects backwards or sideways. Sometimes water will ripple across the clear lake. Dark Meta Knight can and has defeated Meta Knight. If he were truly a complete, perfect reflection, they would be too evenly matched for a victor. There are a million little other flaws. Meta Knight likes the idea of fairness, Dark Meta Knight doesn't bother with it. Meta Knight is perhaps slightly more upstanding than he, less inclined to villainy; though only slightly, Dark Meta Knight thinks, remembering through a cloudy lens how the Halberd once sank into the orange sea. In the end, the dark knight couldn't care much less. He is glad when the next time he sketches out the image of his weapon, the edges are a little more clean.

Meta Knight probably wishes for a true, unfiltered reflection, with no idiosyncrasies of its own. Dark Meta Knight doesn't see why he should seethe over minor details that get lost where the light misses crevices in the glass. Then again, he might just be spiteful because Dark Meta Knight trapped him in the shards of that very same mirror to see what it would be like on the other side of it. That would be a bit fairer, and Meta Knight likes to be fair.

But Meta Knight really, really loves to fight, more than anything else.

Dark Meta Knight puts the crayon down for now, nods when his fellows wave him goodbye, and turns to meet the yellow gaze burning holes into his back, brandishing his silver sword. Dark Meta Knight also really, really loves to fight, more than he likes to draw.

For the record, even if he won't go mad over it, Dark Meta Knight also still very much likes to win.

How is Jon Snow ‘idealistic’?

He’s one of the most pragmatic Starks in the books, which is something considering he is only 14/15 when the story starts. There’s a reason Maester Luwin tells Jon that ‘bastards grow up faster than other children’.

It’s Jon Snow who stays up at night worrying over his future and not any of the responsible adults, because he knows the realities of being a bastard. It’s Jon who makes the hard decision to go to the Wall because he has no place at Winterfell, not Ned or Benjen. Ned refuses to deal with this until Catelyn forces his hand.

 It’s Jon who explains the unfair rules to Arya about the difference between Robb and Bran practicing in the courtyard with the prince while Jon sits it out. It’s Jon who reassures Arya when she goes to him afraid that she too is a bastard. It’s Jon who leaves his name out so that the other Stark kids can get a direwolf.

Yes, Jon does not know how much the Night’s Watch has fallen as an institution in terms of it’s members now being outlaws, rapists and murderers. That’s because no one tells him the truth and not because he believes in songs and fairy tales. Benjen only tells him that it’s a hard, tough life with life long celibacy and not about it’s current status as a penal colony.

That’s why Jon ends up appreciating Tyrion Lannister as a friend, because Tyrion is the only person who does tell Jon the truth. That’s why Jon is hurt, that his own father send him to the Wall without telling him what the Wall has now become and then giving him a choice.

[Note: In fairness to Ned and Benjen, they both probably still think it a great honor to be a brother of the Night’s Watch. Like all the Starks before them they hold the Night’s Watch up as this important historical institution that has to be honored and then fail to actually support it in terms of funding and manpower]

Jon not recognizing that his fellow peers don’t have his education at the start of AGoT? That’s not idealism. That’s him not recognizing his privilege. At Winterfell he’s the bastard compared to his Stark siblings, always judged as less than them by nature of his birth. It’s only once he gets to the Wall that he realizes, with Donal Noye’s help, he has had it better than the other new recruits.

Jon wanting to be a ranger? That’s ambition, that’s self-confidence. Notice how after Sam Tarly explains that being a steward intern meant being groomed for leadership, Jon is immediately accepting of the decision.

Jon being angry and bitter at the unfairness of his world is not idealistic. Being angry about inequality and only being able to imagine a fairer world in dreams is the opposite of idealistic.

Jon’s not trying to end world hunger or trying to legitimize all bastards or set about righting all the wrongs of Westeros. He’s trying to do the best he can at world’s end on a little patch of land called the Night’s Watch for his fellow crows and freefolk there.

When Jon sends out the paper shields to the Crown in KL, he is angry and cynical and knows they will not send him any help. He is cynical about goodness and integrity which is clear from his interactions with his deputies at the Wall.

If anything, Jon Snow is ruthlessly pragmatic. Whether it’s taking child hostages, or telling the Freefolk that they will only get more food if they work for it or hiring spearwives to defend an entire castle or taking on Satin as his steward because he is good at it or using Wun Wun to rebuild or doing actual science experiments, all his decisions are immensely practical - which is why 99% of his policies keeps clashing with the outdated dogma of the likes of Bowen Marsh and Septon Cellador. 

‘You Know Nothing’ is a play on Socrates ‘I know that I know nothing’, an acknowledgement that he has yet to learn a lot despite being Lord Commander. The people he holds in high esteem are the likes of Donal Noye, Maester Aemon, Qhorin Halfhand and Samwell Tarly. 

It is true that all the Stark children growing up in the relative safety and comfort of home and family have lofty ideals as children. That’s the innocence of children. And then they grow up. This quote encapsulates that:

When Jon had been a boy at Winterfell, his hero had been the Young Dragon, the boy king who had conquered Dorne at the age of fourteen. Despite his bastard birth, or perhaps because of it, Jon Snow had dreamed of leading men to glory just as King Daeron had, of growing up to be a conqueror. Now he was a man grown and the Wall was his, yet all he had were doubts. He could not even seem to conquer those. - Jon, ADwD

Jon Snow is keenly aware of how hard his job is in terms of actually being able to help people. Idealistic is not a word I would use to describe him.

MY SILLIES ɞ˚‧｡⋆𓍢ִ໋🎀

Take A Look At My Carrd For More Info About Me!! Find It In My Pinned ♡

(A ton OC info under the cut)

HERE'S INFO ABOUT EVERYONE!!! Going In Order From Left To Right 😋 Also Pricilla Isnt Mine Shes My Girlfriend's!!! @puppistars

Elsie Swanson

☆Daughter of the girl (unnamed sister) in 'The Six Swans'

☆Pansexual + Trans (She/her) // Royal w/ Rebel ideals (ex. Briar)

☆Pet muntjac deer, named Mirabella

☆Cursed to be mute until her story is complete, she uses an AAC tablet to communicate

☆Ever is her ex, but they still get along

☆She's Student Crowncil treasurer

☆Her BFFAs are Cedar, Fiore, Pricilla, and Ever

☆She's friends with Rosabella, Darling, Lizzie, and Cerise

☆She loves history and art!! In her free time she weaves her own lace, crochets, and sews

She often makes lace for Lizzies designs, so she can get exactly what she's looking for

☆She was my first OC!! Her main references were from Ashlynn so they look pretty similar- She's still in the redesign process to move more away from that but for now shes cute :D

Ever Charming

☆A Charming destined to be the prince in 'Fairer than a Fairy'

☆Bisexual (He/him) // Rebel

☆Pet otter, named Storm

☆His magic touch is looking through relective surfaces to see the other side, whoever is on the other end cannot see or hear him

☆Elsie is his ex, but they still get along

Has never been with Fiore and has no interest in her outside of friendship

☆He doesn't like extracurriculars, but he'll occasionally be found helping Student Crowncil for Elsie

☆His BFFAs are Elsie, Sparrow, and Melody

☆He's friends with Pricilla, Fiore, Raven, and Cerise

☆He's like. Kind of insufferable

"Thats not even REAL music" "Can you even name 5 songs????"

Do NOT engage with him in a record shop

☆My most recent OC!!! I Hate Him!!!!! /pos Hes a gross little emo boy and I wanna shake him around violently (lovingly) I referenced Dexter as well as a lotttt of Pinterest photos of random emo and hipster boys

Pricilla Paonne

☆Daughter of Princess Rosette from 'Princess Rosette'

☆Sapphic (She/her) // Rebel

☆Pet toy poodle, named Princeton

She dresses him up with little bows

☆Allergic to Peacocks, she only likes them for the aesthetics

☆Her younger sister will be taking over her destiny in her place

☆Dating Fiore

☆She's a cheerleader on Feybelle's team

☆Lana Del Fey's #1 fan on Spotify (Spotifairy?)

☆She has a secret Lana Del Fey tumblr

☆Will get into heated arguments with Ever about "real music"

☆My girlfriend's OC :) I dragged her in,,, (Hi Keiran :D)

Fiore Fairest

☆Daughter of Fairer than a Fairy (the princess) from 'Fairer than a Fairy'

☆Lesbian (She/her) // Royal w/ Rebel ideals (ex. Maddie or Cedar)

☆Pet dog named Barcus, and pet cat named Keanu (pets given for her story)

☆Her magic touch is sending messages through reflective surfaces, although she can't see what's on the other side

☆Dating Pricilla

☆She's one of the Dragon Games players

☆Her BFFAs are Elsie, Darling, and Rosabella

☆She's friends with Ever, Raven, and Cerise

☆She loves her hero classes, training is one of her favorite activities and she spends a lot of free time working out

☆She's a good leader and very confident, but she can also be bossy and judgemental

☆My 2nd OC!! She's based mostly on the Dragon Games line, as well as tiny references to Darling and Holly

DEJAH THORIS: FAIRY TALES no.1 • cover art • John Vasquez [Aug 2022]

Dejah as you've never seen her…in a fairy tale!

Once Upon A Time, a queen most jealous sought to destroy any woman fairer than she. And so, a beautiful woman struck out into the wilderness, desperate to evade the queen's envious wrath. The beauty would find allies in the wild, unlike any she'd ever seen before. And she made plans to return to the queen, to lay claim to the planet of Barsoom…

Comic • 40 pages • $4.99 US

ALSO a bit on that topic and partially inspired by lise’s essay from yesterday -- jl.

the quote:

The smile had been so kind, so genuine that Jin Ling couldn’t believe Jin Guangyao had faked it. All of a sudden, fresh tears fell from his eyes.

Jin Ling had always thought that crying was a sign of weakness, and had treated it with contempt. Yet, other than this flood of tears, there was no way to release all the pain and anger in his heart.

He didn’t know why, but he felt like he couldn’t hate or blame anyone. Wei Wuxian, Jin Guangyao, Wen Ning — Each of them was responsible in some way for the deaths of his parents, and each of them had given him a reason to loathe them. But it also seemed like each of them had left him unable to do so. But if he didn’t hate them, who could he hate? Had he deserved to lose his parents? Was he not only unable to seek revenge, but also unable to simply hate anyone?

He somehow didn’t want to let go. He felt wronged. He felt like he’d rather die together with them and end everything.

Watching him cry soundlessly as he stared at the coffin, Sect Leader Yao asked,

“Jin-gongzi, why are you crying? For Jin Guangyao?”

When Jin Ling said nothing, Sect Leader Yao spoke as a senior scolding a junior.

“What are you crying for? Hold back your tears. Someone like your uncle doesn’t deserve anyone’s tears. Jin-gongzi, I mean no offense, but you can’t be so weak! This sentimentality is more suitable to the fairer sex. You should know what’s right and what’s wrong, and straighten up your…”

(...)

Jin Ling had thousands of thoughts and feelings whirling inside him already. Hearing Sect Leader Yao’s remarks, a fire surged in his heart.

He shouted, “So what if I want to cry?! Who are you? What are you? You won’t leave me alone even when I’m crying?!”

(chapter 110, EXR)

what does this scene mean, and why is it here?

i, personally, love it. jl says (well, thinks) it himself -- he has all the reasons to hate wwx, wn and jgy and blame them for the deaths of his parents. note that this is after he finds out about jgy’s involvement! he could easily go “i used to hate wn and wwx as the villains who killed my parents and love jgy as the uncle who gave me fairy, but now i see i had it all wrong and i should love them and hate him instead”. he doesn’t do that though. he still groups them all together, still grapples with anger, pain and hatred, and still finds that he can’t hate any of them.

and he struggles with it! he really does, to the point of bursting into tears. this is not just jc’s fault, before anyone tries anything -- the entire world jianghu seems to be into the idea that every bad thing that happens has a Bad Person who caused it and needs to be punished and reviled. first it was wrh, then wwx, now jgy. and later probably someone else. but here, jl learns a (very painful) lesson -- sometimes things aren’t so easy as “X is 100% bad”, or even “X is 75% bad, but even that is enough to condemn them”, OR even “X is 67% bad, but being 1/3rd Good they should have known better and GROW BETTER”.

sometimes people are people.

so what does this scene tell us about jgy? well, sect leader yao hurries with an explanation: jl shouldn’t cry, jgy isn’t worth it, and in fact, crying is for pussies; real men know what’s right and what’s wrong, and-- wait, no? is that not what we’re supposed to think? why is jin ling shouting at this kind senior who kindly offers advice?

well, perhaps because sect leader yao isn’t the best source there is.

but really -- that’s the question: is jl wrong, and sly right? is jl wrong to see Nuance in people, to realize that life is not as easy as finding a villain to blame, avenging your family and basking in the glow of satisfaction? or is he a manipulated victim who can’t see how horrible their abuser was, even when faced with proof of it all?

this is perhaps the last scene “featuring” jgy, not counting the one with people talking in the inn in the last chapter. in the previous chapter, wwx lays it all out in front of lwj, lxc and nhs: the explanation of what jgy wanted to do in the temple, the possible reason why he organized the burial mounds party. that’s it, that’s the end, we don’t really need anything more. if anything, it could be jc to lead the narration pov, looking at jl with fairy and thinking about this man who gave his nephew a puppy and turned out to have been a monster all this time. this, again, doesn’t happen.

8 and 9 for the fairy tale ask game?

8. Fairy tale that you've yet to read a satisfying retelling of.

Okay, so I'm going to say that to qualify for this one, I need to have read at least two retellings that I was not satisfied by. (Because otherwise, I don't have a large enough sample size.) BUT, thing is, I've read a lot of retellings of most fairy tales, and I have a pretty low bar for what I consider a satisfying tale, (It needs to do something interesting with the tale, honor the original, and not leave me frustrated at the conclusion, whether it be because it twisted the fairy tale too far and created a plot hole, it drug too much in the middle, or if the romance was problematic), so ... most fairy tales I have read, there's at least one retelling I consider satisifying.

I think I'm going to go with The Light Princess, which is a longer fairy tale by George MacDonald, that's a lighthearted tale that comes out of left field with an incredibly profound allegory at its conclusion. And while I have read two retellings of it (Fly by H.D. Knightley and The Light Princess by Jenni James), and I enjoyed both, I don't think either captured the heart of that story. It's a very Christian tale, and neither retelling had that deeper meaning.

9. Fairy tale you love but have never found a retelling for.

Fairer-than-a-Fairy. Now, I have snuck bits of the story into three retellings of my own, but I have as yet to see anyone else do anything with it. AND I DON'T KNOW WHY. It's like East of the Sun, West of the Moon, but with the heroine falling in love with a fellow prisoner, rather than her captor, and it has SO much plot to play with, with so much weird iconography, it really deserves more attention. Like, it deserves to be the next break-out fairy tale. Too many people are sleeping on this story.

Myth

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus always loved stories. Adventures, wild myths, great legends.

But even as a young boy, he learned that it was very different to read about them then to live them.

Who didn't love fairy tales about dangerous men, who turned into wolves when the moon called them, haunting the lands?

At the age of four, Remus learned that being a werewolf wasn't as romantic as he envisioned it.

What young boy doesn't wish for magic powers, to conquer the world with?

Remus learns at the age of 11 that the magic inherent in him is hard to focus, and sometimes even harder to use. That he needs to work for that daily.

What young boy doesn't dream of fighting a war, to prove his worth to the world?

At age 17, Remus learns that the war is not as romantic. Not when your own life and those of everyone he loves are on the line.

And what young boy doesn't dream of love? Of giving his heart and getting one in return? To fight all odds and be rewarded with a lover?

At age 18, Remus learns that that's a myth as well. His heart belongs to no maiden, but a boy fairer than any girl could be. Belonged to him for longer than Remus can think. To sirius, who is brave, a warrior in his own right. Fierce and loyal to all those he loves.

But at the age of 18, Remus learns that while his love is romantic, Sirius loves him as a brother, and that myths are just too good to be true.

Disney's Wish prediction: it's a secret Snow White story.

A self-absorbed ruler becomes threatened by a girl friend to animals and fairer than they. (But this time, as in fair ruling). They drive the girl out, maybe after being hunted and let go by the ruler's forces, where they meet 7 distinct people sympathetic to the girl's plight.

If that's the case, that's clever. Actually twisting a classic fairy tale to explore new contexts and new aspects.

The Wearing of the Green - Chapter 4

This is the fourth and final part of my belated St. Patrick’s Day Event Story Special. I’m glad I was able to get it all out by the end of the month. XD Again, this four-parter has been heavily inspired by “Darby O’Gill and the Little People.” (My major OC in this story, Bannor O’Brien, is based on King Brian from the film.) However, it also contains a lot of refrences and homages to other leprechaun-related things sort of sprinkled throughout. I’m curious about how many of them you guys recognize or have recognized. XD Up until now, I’ve had a lot of kinky teasing and implications, so to speak, but this final chapter is where the actual kinks come into play. Specifically, this chapter contains soft, non-fatal vore, macro/micro elements, belching, and very mild stuffing-type content. If none of that sounds up your alley, then it is probably best you avoid reading this. Also, I actually used a couple of violin covers of popular songs I like as the reference for the music that Bannor (my leprechaun OC) and Malleus use for their fiddle contest. Just for the heck of it, you can find the music I imagine Bannor playing here, and the tune for Malleus’ part here. Feel free to listen to them if you want. ;) Now, let’s finish this sucker off! Hope you all have enjoyed!

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“A fiddle-playing contest?” Prince Bannor O’Brien - the leader of the leprechauns on Sage’s Island - nodded enthusiastically, even as Malleus Draconia inspected the exquisite violin that had been dropped into his hands. Yourself and Grim sat upon the chest of diamonds inside the throne room of the fairy mound, eyes darting between the two soon-to-be combatants. “Aye!” confirmed Prince Bannor. “There be few things we Little People cherish more than the sound o’ merry fiddles, playin’ a wild tune! An’ I’ve played the fiddle plenty in me time!” “What a coincidence,” chuckled Malleus, smirking slightly. “I’m quite the fair hand with a violin, myself.” “Well, then perhaps I’ve found a worthy opponent!” laughed Bannor. “This musical battle will be legendary!” “Why are so many people in this world so over-dramatic?” you muttered to yourself. “Hm?” Malleus spoke up, his pointed ears pricking upward under the brim of the fine silk top hat he wore for the occasion of his visitation. “Did you say something, Child of Man?” “No, nothing,” you lied. The fairy princes shrugged, then looked back at each other. “Who shall be the judge?” asked Malleus. “You’ve sent all your servants away for privacy’s sake during this duel.” “I shall judge!” declared Bannor, with a proud grin. “Sure, an’ I can play ye a tune worth goin’ a mile aground to hear! No better to judge such a contest than meself!” “That hardly seems fair,” Malleus responded, although he did not sound overly concerned. “After all, wouldn’t you be naturally inclined to vote for yourself?” Bannor opened his mouth to retort to that…then blinked…before scratching at the back of his head with the point of his bowstick. “Ye do have a point,” he murmured…then grinned anew. “Why don’t we leave it up to the human?” “Me?” you blinked. “I think that sounds a bit fairer,” Malleus nodded. “Indeed!” Bannor agreed. “After all, they be the one who this contest is all about.” “What am I, chopped liver?” snapped Grim, huffishly. “You’re not worried I’ll cheat?” you brought up. Malleus raised an eyebrow in your direction. “Would you?” was his simple response. You actually took a moment to ponder that simple question. True, you wanted to go home, not stay here in the leprechauns’ underground palace forever…but you also knew from experience that you were generally trustworthy - if you did say so yourself - with judging things like this, and remaining as objective as possible. And after all, both of the competitors were putting their necks in the noose: if Malleus lost, he would be in the same situation as yourself. And if Bannor lost, he’d have to do anything Malleus said, as well as let you go. Knowing Malleus the way you did, you had a feeling that wouldn’t end prettily. “Well?” Bannor chirped, cocking his head, his large bright eyes giving him a sort of birdlike demeanor. You hesitated only a moment longer before nodding. “I’ll do my best to be fair,” you promised. “Good! That’s settled!” said Bannor with a firm nod of his own, then looked back at Malleus with a superior sort of smirk. “Now, which of us shall be the first to go?” “By all means, you go first,” Malleus purred in a smooth and somewhat oily sort of voice. “Might I be seated somewhere?” Bannor responded by hopping down from his oversized throne, then bowed in an exaggerated manner, holding his fiddle close to his chest as he swept out his cape and pointed to the throne with the bowstick. “Feel free to rest yerself upon me own seat, sir,” he said, and smiled smugly. “After all, ye may never get a chance to use a throne again.” “Not very bashful, are you?” Malleus observed, blandly. “When it comes to the fiddle, I have no reason to be. Sit, man!” Malleus bowed his head respectfully, then strode across the throne room, his booted feet clicking on the stone floor. With a swirl of the green frock coat he’d picked out for the occasion, he sat down, letting the Stradivarius he’d been offered rest gently in his lap. You glanced up at him, and he gave you a reassuring smile. You smiled back, but you sensed you were much more nervous. “Nya…you’re gonna make sure to vote for Malleus, right?” Grim whispered. “No matter what?” “I have to be fair,” you replied, half-sighing and shaking your head. “Let’s just hope he knows what he’s doing, agreeing to all this…” “It’s Tsunotaro,” reasoned Grim. “Doesn’t he always know what he’s doing?” “Debatable,” you chuckled, then added more seriously, “There’s a first time for everything. Now sit still and let’s listen.” Grim nodded, and watched alongside you as Bannor skipped to the center of the throne room and rosened up his bow. He plucked at the strings of his tiny, leprechaun-sized fiddle a few times, as if to test them; the test must have been successful, for he nodded in approval before tucking the fiddle under his chin and smirking at Malleus as he placed the bowstrings just behind the bridge. “Away we go!” he sang out merrily, and tapped his foot four times as he counted down: “Aon…dhà…trì…ceithir!”

And so began Bannor’s tune. The first few bars carried a wistful yet pleasant sound; a tune that spoke of good and magical memories, fading into the mind of the one who thought of them. Then, abruptly, the tune kicked into a higher gear: Bannor sawed away at the fiddle strings, bobbing and swaying to his own music as he picked up the pace. The tune retained its nostalgic sentiment, but the memory was growing clearer…and the memory was not simply a nice one, but a FUN one. There was a slightly boastful energy to the piece; as if the player knew he was great, and was happy to brag about that accomplishment…yet it did not spoil the sense of real emotion under the singing strings. It was the sound of a party that was never truly forgotten; the sound of first kisses, of dancing with a beautiful stranger for the first time. A song that spoke of the vibrancy of youth and times past, and the sense of joy that always filled one’s heart when remembering those long-forgotten experiences. The song of a single perfect night, with a perfect lover, and all one’s friends around them. The music was cheery, bright, and filled with quick flourishes; a melody that matched the merry nature of its player as Bannor. The leprechaun danced to his own music, prancing to and fro as he twirled his bowstick between bars, just to show off. His whole demeanor was one of frivolous joy, matching the partying tone of the tune he played. His cape swirled about him as he spun about at one point, before scratching out another chorus; the tune he played was peppy, almost poppy, and easy to dance to and recall. You suddenly realized you were moving to the beat in your seat as you listened; Bannor must have noticed, for he looked you dead in the eye as he pulled the bow across the strings with a long, sensuous sort of sound, and winked. The two-foot tall fiddler hopped up onto the crock of gold itself, as the music picked up again, and his heels tapped out a quick jig. Even this did not stop him from his playing as the music kept to its pattern, the song it played as easy to grasp as it was to understand, yet filled with unexpected complexities. The music was somehow both superficial and deep at the same time; a difficult combination to pull off, yet Bannor somehow managed. Hopping off of the cauldron full of coins, Bannor lighted once more upon his feet as he steadied his playing, as if his violin needed to catch a break as much as he did…then, with shocking swiftness, the music “flipped” back into its jovial, jaunty state, and remained as chipper as it started right up until - with a long, slow, meaningful slice of the bow - it swooped into its closure. Twirling both his fiddle and his fiddlestick, Bannor bowed most low, till his nose nearly touched the floor. Almost without thinking, both yourself and Grim applauded. “Nya! That was really good!” Grim cried out. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anyone play like that!” you laughed. Malleus clapped more politely, a small smile upon his dark lips. “Well played, Prince Bannor,” he complimented. “Very well played, indeed. I must commend your performance, I do confess.” “Thank ye!” twittered Bannor. His green eyes were aflame with impending triumph as he stood and smirked at Malleus Draconia. “An’ now,” he announced. “Ye can have yer own turn, I think.” The moment those words were uttered, the smiles on your face and Grim’s own fuzzy mug vanished. A worried look passed between you both as you seemingly only just then remembered what was on the line. It was a testament to Bannor’s playing that you had gotten so wrapped up in the performance, you completely forgot the stakes. It was going to be difficult for anyone to beat that, you felt… …But then, Malleus Draconia had never been one to settle for second best. Indeed, as Malleus rose from the throne - holding the fiddlestick and fiddle in one hand, and adjusting the hat upon his horned head with the other - he seemed thoroughly unfazed. Not overly confident, but not evidently very nervous either; a perfect poker face. Bannor swaggered around the dragon, the pair flashing a challenging glare at each other as the leprechaun prince hopped back into his throne, smirking with one hand drumming its fingers on the seat cushion, the other planting a fist into his chin. Malleus, like Bannor before him, calmly rosened up his bow and checked the strings. Evidently, he was displeased with one of them, for he frowned and adjusted the tightness of the A string. Nodding with satisfaction after plucking it again, he cleared his throat and gave a mild sort of smile. “I must admit, it’s been a little while longer than I’d like since I held an instrument,” he said. “However, we’ll see if my personal training still holds strong. Now, sit down in that chair, my friend…” He tucked the violin under his chin, and draped the bow across the strings. Now, at first, you were worried: much like with Bannor’s tune of choice, the piece Malleus began to play started off slow. In fact, it was even slower than Bannor’s song: the first few bars were low and tremulous, filled with a sense of strange ambiguity and mystery, very different from the nostalgic pleasantness of Bannor’s tune, and leaving you uncertain in more ways than one. The way the music abruptly changed - the tempo sharply jolting into a racing, pounding melody, like that of a runaway heartbeat - also caught you off guard, and left you unsure. However, any concerns you had soon dissipated, as the music went on, and the marvelous melody poured its way into your ears. It started off steady and simple; a contemplative, deeply emotional ballad, which carried emotions similar to Bannor’s song, but also somehow distinctly different. Where Bannor’s song had been gay and merry, filled with the simple happiness of youth, this tune was dark and lush, filled with all the melodrama of a Gothic romance. It spoke of love that would never die, and of sins that could never be forgiven nor forgotten. It was tender, yet vengeful; bitter, yet sweet. Its tone carried something that was ageless, something that was unable to stand within a specific period; as if this was a song that had been passed down through generations, whistling through the wind from some far off shore. As the music went on, it only grew stronger. Malleus began to play with the melody more, throwing in slick little flourishes that slid into the main beat with what had to be well-practiced ease. The sweeping sounds were mingled with striking, almost stinging masterstrokes, a sense of adventure and grand scope in every bar. This was not a song of humble parties and temporary pleasure, but the anthem of immortality itself: long strains of sanity, broken up by wild touches of hammering, maddening enthusiasm. A desperate and yet brooding tune. As the song went on, Malleus showed off more and more of his range, and the power the fiddle held in its silver-strung framework of sculpted wood. His fiddling arm pumped and the fingers upon the strings whirled themselves into a blur as he scraped away at the strings with intense, almost ferocious speed, only to then swing around into a calming, lullaby-like mood. The notes, themselves, ran the full gamut: while Bannor’s song had been exquisitely played, it had all remained the same basic key and range. Malleus Draconia seemed to put the fiddle to the test of its own merit, the bowstrings summoning screaming, wailing shrieks of haunting exultation, before dropping down to the lowest notes possible, creaking like the hallowed walls of an aged crypt. Then he would let them fall even lower, till they became the mere whispers of a phantom, before flying up to their highest capacity. In all, where Bannor’s had been peppy and poppy, Malleus Draconia’s song was a rocky yet timeless tune of both melancholy and passion combined. The intensity of the music seemed to flood through Malleus himself, for - like Bannor had - he began to dance to his own tune…yet even then, his eyes remained closed, his expression tranquil and almost dreamlike, as if he were lost in another world, where only the music could reach him. Finally, after summoning several long scores of high, fast notes from the fiddle’s beautifully crafted construction, Malleus Draconia pulled from its plates, posts, and ribs a few final long, dulcet, eternal chords, and - dragging the bow across the strings with something like a hiss - his part of the competition came to a close. Malleus let out a sigh through his nostrils as the music echoed its last notes through the chamber…then he opened his glowing green eyes as a serpentine smile fell across his face. “Was that sufficient?” he asked, softly. So softly, in fact, it almost hurt to hear. Your jaw was on the ground. Grim’s eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates. Even Prince Bannor O’Brien was utterly gobsmacked. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Malleus chuckled softly, a victorious glint in his emerald eyes. “Speechless, are we?” he crooned. “Well, then am I to trust that my concerto was the superior piece?” “Oh, yeah,” you said, without hesitation or any show of even trying to give Bannor credit. “That was…WOW. Just…just WOW.” “Thank you, Child of Man,” Malleus replied, obeisantly. All Grim could do was clap slowly, completely flabbergasted. Bannor glanced between yourself and the cat-like imp, then back at Malleus, who was staring at him expectantly. The little prince looked back at him, clearly shaken to the core. “I’ve played fer many centuries, but by the stars above…!” He shook his head and sighed, then gave a half-hearted smile as he repositioned himself, his own fiddle and stick disappearing in a wisp of golden mist as he knelt down upon the throne’s seat, bowing his head and swirling his cape dramatically before him in a show of old-fashioned submission and respect. “I yield,” he said. “Good,” was all Malleus said, then looked over at you and Grim. He smiled gently. “The power of the leprechaun’s Come Hither should now be removed. Ashengrotto and Bucchi are waiting just outside.” “Azul?” Grim asked, ears pricking up. “Ruggie?” you wondered aloud. “Yes,” nodded Malleus, and pointed with his own bow towards the stone door. “Meet with them, then collect Spade and Trappola. After that, please head back to campus.” Malleus looked back at Prince Bannor. Something truly devilish glittered in his eye. “We fellow fairy princes,” he said, sibilantly, “Have an arrangement to discuss.” Bannor gulped nervously. You looked between Malleus and Bannor, sensing the tension…but you nodded in easy agreement. “Alright,” you said, then nudged Grim as you sat up from the treasure chest. “Come on, let’s get moving.” “Nya! You don’t hafta tell me twice!” laughed Grim, hopping up from his own seat before smiling and waving to Bannor. “Thanks for all the tasty tuna, Bannor! It really was a lot of fun…but we’ve gotta go back to Night Raven! The Great Grim’s gotta keep training to be the most awesome mage ever!” Bannor gave a weak smile back and nodded, saying nothing. You smiled apologetically to him as he looked at you, then beckoned for Grim to follow as you both headed towards the exit. Bannor lifted a hand, and the stone slab parted just enough to allow both yourself and your feline-esque friend room to leave. You cast one last look back over your shoulder, just in time to watch Bannor stand and sweep one hand limply through the air…shutting the door once again. Now, the leprechaun prince was alone in his throne room with the dark prince of the fae. “I never thought I’d hear fiddlin’ like that from anyone other than…well…meself, I suppose,” said Bannor, with a mild chuckle. He gave a sad sort of smile to Malleus. “I suppose I should point out I never meant to hurt either o’ them. And as fer our own bargain…I probably woulda just asked ya fer a favor or two if ye’d lost.” “You played well, Prince Bannor,” Malleus replied, and placed the Stradivarius inside the box from which it had come, before striding back towards the throne. “I concede you did far better than even I anticipated. But there were few contests of choice you could have picked that I would have lost.” The words were not spoken out of arrogance, but simply as a matter of fact. Bannor looked up, still standing upon his throne, as Malleus glided over, looming over him. Two pairs of green eyes peered into each other; two were anxious and soulful, the other two cold and hard as lime glass. “Unlike you, I have every intention of reaping the rewards of our agreement to the fullest,” Malleus said, darkly. Bannor sighed and crossed his arms. “Faith, yer a hard man, ye know that?” he grumbled, and raised an eyebrow with a pouting sort of look on his freckled little face. “Alright. Our agreement stated I’d give ye the two humans an’ a wish if ye won. So name yer wish!” Malleus smiled. It was a slow, dead sort smile; the smile of a reptile before it strikes for the kill. Bannor immediately felt unsettled. “A wish?” Malleus cooed, coyly. “Why on Earth would I demand a wish from you, little man?” Bannor blinked in confusion. “Yer sayin’...ye don’t want the wish?” Malleus nodded in confirmation. His green eyes were owlish and unblinking, only further unnerving the leprechaun prince, who fidgeted where he stood upon his gilded chair. “But…didn’t ye say-?” “I said that you would be forced to do something for me. One simple thing. That doesn’t mean I wanted to make a wish; I told you if you wanted to think of it like that, you could, but it’s not the same thing.” “Ah. Well, um…then, pray tell, wh-what is it ye want me to do?” Malleus Draconia’s fangs gleamed like an assortment of pearl daggers, as his lips curled into a rare and truly frightening grin. He answered with a single word. “Die.” Bannor cried out as, without any further warning, one of Malleus Draconia’s fingerless-gloved hands swooped down and snatched up the little prince by the waist. The doll-sized little man tried to pry Malleus’ hands free with his own tiny mitts, as his small feet kicked frantically and uselessly at the empty air. He was hoisted up as easily as if he were made of stuffing. “ACK! WH-WHAT IN CHERNABOG’S NAME ARE YE DOIN’?!” yelled Bannor, then let out a strained sound as Malleus squeezed tighter, the superhuman strength of the half-drake threatening to bend his bones. “I am taking what I am owed,” replied Malleus calmly. Then, before Bannor could retort, he leaned in, and let his forked tongue slither free from his jaws, slathering it across the face of the eighteen-inch-tall royal. A rumble of pleasure echoed out from the dragon fairy’s diaphragm. “Mmmmm…Bucchi was not lying about your flavor,” he breathed out, shakily, grinning evilly into Bannor’s stupefied face as the leprechaun spluttered in shock. “No…no, NO! Y-Ye can’t be SERIOUS!” Bannor screeched. “I am deathly serious, Prince of the Shoemakers,” Malleus glared menacingly, his expression stormy and filled with simmering rage. “You kidnapped one of the few mortals I actually care about. Someone I would stop at nothing to protect. Worse yet, you took them when they were under MY guardianship: this is an offense to my title and lineage.” “Kidnapped?! Wait…y-YOUR guardianship?!” Bannor exclaimed, and shook his head, wide-eyed and beyond terrified. “L-Listen…w-wait now, ye don’t understand! W-We can talk this over…!” “I am in no mood for talking,” growled Malleus, and squeezed again, making Bannor squeal. “Y-Ye can’t…can’t just EAT me!” Bannor managed to protest through gritted teeth. “Yer in MY kingdom, ye fire-breathin’ fool! What…wh-what do ye think will happen if ye-?!” “We made an arrangement, as peers of our races,” Malleus responded with a supercilious smile. “In this instance, I am beyond reproach, by the very rules we had our contest under. I would have expected a leprechaun, of all creatures, to have known how a loophole functions.” “Ye…ye tricksy, deceitful, connivin’, double-dealin’, high-handed…!” “Oh, by all means, continue to insult me,” chortled Malleus, then leaned close and whispered into Bannor’s ear. “It will make your digestion far more entertaining to hear those cries change inside my stomach.” GRRRRLLLLG… Bannor shuddered as he heard Malleus Draconia’s belly rumble. Malleus licked his lips as he rubbed his belly with one hand, pawing at his middle through the fabric of his costume. “Mmmmm…isn’t it fitting, in a perverse sort of way?” he cooed. “This whole mess began because a student of Night Raven College was going to eat you up, little prince. And now, I do believe it’s going to end with that very notion becoming a reality. Really, though, you ought to thank me: if you think it’s bad inside of my belly, I doubt you even want to try and IMAGINE the hyena’s.” “My people…!” “Ah, yes. Them. Fear not, I will not cause any further problems for them. Really, perhaps you shouldn’t have dismissed them all…perhaps then I could have had a bigger meal, if any of them tried to stop me.” “I’ll make ye choke, ye cheatin’…!” “I highly doubt that. Thank you for the amusement, Prince Bannor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, seeing as I’m here on a feast day…” Malleus opened his jaws wide. Beyond the curl of his forked tongue and the slippery muscles of his cheeks, Bannor could see the glowing green of his innermost chambers, the gullet pulsing and flexing as it prepared to enjoy its next meal. The tongue ran across the tips of Draconia’s ivory fangs before he spoke again… “...I think I’ll help myself to the hors d'oeuvres.” And before Bannor O’Brien could so much as threaten to leave a changeling in every bed - NOMPH! - Malleus Draconia shoved the Prince of the Leprechauns into his jaws. His mouth clamped down around his prey’s chest as he crammed the little person into his maw. Bannor continued to cry out, cursing in violent Gaelic as Malleus hurriedly began to gobble him up, shoveling more and more of the little caped figure into his gullet as rapidly as he could. He took no time savoring even a single bite; typically, the dragon would not wolf down his food so rapaciously… GULP…GUUULLLP…GUUUUULLLLLP…! …But sometimes, expediency took prominence over tidy table manners. The dragon’s throat bulged grotesquely, the pale flesh straining against the ascot he wore as he guzzled down his victim. Bannor’s form could be seen writhing in the neck-tube, as he squirmed for dear life all the way down the esophagus. Each time Malleus swallowed, the muscles would tighten with almost hydraulic power, forcing a wheezing cry from the leprechaun, whose heart beat against the gullet walls with a staccato rhythm faster than any jig he danced. He could feel more and more of himself sleeping into the ghastly, glowing digestive tract of the half-dragon prince. His waist, his hips, his thighs…inch by inch, the red-haired little elf was forced downwards with inexorable power. The more he wriggled, the further he seemed to descend. As he slid deeper and deeper into Malleus Draconia’s internal furnace, the leprechaun could feel the foul atmosphere grow increasingly worse; Malleus’ breath had actually been fairly decent, but now that he was nearing the stomach, the odor became increasingly acrid and sour. This was combined with the slime and mucus smearing his fine suit, and the oppressive, steaming heat that made his face turn almost as red as his hair, as sweat speckled his little brow. Soon, only the leprechaun’s buckle-shoed feet remained beyond the larger prince’s lips. Malleus pushed the twitching toes past his lips with a SCHLUPP sound. He grimaced at the dull taste of bland, black leather…then threw his head back, tugging at his ascot to loosen it slightly as he swallowed the last of his meal… GUUULLL-LLLUUUP! …And sent Prince Bannor O’Brien into his belly, whole and alive. The lump in the tall, pale, horned fae’s throat vanished behind his sternum…then Malleus sneered slightly, as his stomach sloshed, and his midsection became noticeably bloated. After all, even for Draconia, swallowing something the size of a whole catfish was no easy feat when in humanoid form. His stomach strained against the buttons of his shirt, vest, and trousers. Carefully, Malleus eased himself to sit upon the throne, his dark-clawed fingers quickly darting across his abdomen as they began to fiddle with and undo the buttons… GLORSH! “Ahhhhh,” Malleus sighed with relief, as his pale belly was allowed to spill outward, resting in his lap. The sense of released pressure was so great, the dragon boy felt all thought cease in his head, relaxing into the welcoming sensations of a full, swollen belly. He belched thickly and chuckled softly, placing a hand to his mouth in mock embarrassment as the other petted his stomach lovingly. “UUUURRRRRLLLLLPK! Oof…oh, DO excuse me…I believe something I ate isn’t agreeing with me,” he chuckled to no one in particular, smirking as he saw lumps and bumps form on the surface of his muscular belly. Muffled curses and cries in a foreign tongue came from the gut of the dragon as Bannor was forced to curl up inside the green-tinted gastric chamber. The walls - illuminated as if by the dragon’s inner fire - were a faintly-glowing green, just as his gullet had been. There was light, but it was scant and eerie in nature, allowing Bannor only the barest illumination of his gurgling surroundings. He kicked his feet through the mucky murk that was made up of a blend of stomach fluids and residue from whatever Malleus had eaten last. (Was that a whiff of ketchup Bannor caught in his smarting nostrils?) He banged his fists into the pulsing, veiny stomach walls, jabbing at them and smacking them as they rippled around him, pressing down and then pulling back in rhythmic motions as they worked to churn him up…just like anything else the dragon had ever eaten… “Let…LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT, YE WRETCHED BUFFOON!” Bannor boomed at the top of his lungs. “Y-YE WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS! I SWEAR IT!” Malleus, outside, grunted and stifled another belch in his cheeks. He puffed it out of the corner of his mouth and fanned the stinking air before his face with one hand. The other traced this fingertips across his bare belly in random shapes as he smiled with a sense of sly satisfaction. “HHHRRRLLLMMMPH…phoosh. Hm-hm-hmm…oh, come now, Prince Bannor. Why so…ooooh, aggressive, eh?” Malleus shivered, kneading into his stomach with his hand as it let out an almost possessive burbling noise. He could feel his guts clenching around his prey, then loosening again as they tested the meat packed within. “A wondrous future lies before you! Or rather…inside of me. After all, I should think going from Prince of the Shoemakers to some more weight on my hips would be considered a promotion. Or do you not agree?” The way Bannor kicked indicated that no, he did NOT agree AT ALL. Malleus grunted and chuckled from the motions, belching once more and smirking as he drew circles around his own navel with one claw. His stomach was swollen, but not gruesomely or grotesquely so. It felt taut and tight; whenever he tapped it, ripples went through it, and it shifted slightly. “UUUURRRRP…heh heh heh…still unhappy? What a shame. Perhaps next time you will think twice about taking from a dragon’s hoard. I would have imagined a leprechaun to know better than to take another fairy’s treasure from them.” “I…I didn’t mean to!” Bannor screamed out. “Look, j-just let me out! I…I’m tellin’ ye, we can discuss this! Ye don’t-!” Malleus growled and flexed his abs, his stomach muscles tightening around Bannor threateningly, silencing the leprechaun, who squealed in discomfort as he was crunched in from all sides. After a moment, the stomach loosened its hold, but it was still rather cramped in the swampy prison of draconic gluttony. “Tell your lies to my stomach, little man,” snarled Malleus. “I’m sure my bowels will be quite interested in hearing them.” Bannor whimpered; he still continued to fight, but his anger was starting to give way to panic. He could feel the juices tingling against his skin as they soaked into his regal costume. He pushed upwards, frantically trying to find some way to make the enraged, ravenous fae sick. “I’ll…I’ll give ye a gut-ache like ye wouldn’t believe!” he shouted. “Yer g-gonna regret this! I promise you that!” Outside, Malleus Draconia smiled lazily, reclining in the throne of the leprechaun king as he poked at the bulges his squirming meal made on the surface of his stomach. “Will I?” he drawled, airily. “What a shame…do let me know when I start to. That is, if there’s anything left of you that’s solid by that point.” With a dark chuckle, the head of Diasomnia massaged his wriggling, whining new meal. It had been a while since he’d enjoyed something that could squirm this way… …He wanted to savor this sensation. Just a little longer. “Keep kicking, my dear little friend,” he cooed, poking his stomach teasingly. “I’ll be belching your lifeline of oxygen away soon enough. If it’s any consolation, in the meantime…” Malleus licked his chops as he heard Bannor let out a keening noise within him. “...You truly were magically delicious.” The dragon’s menacing laughter echoed through the hall, mingling with the muffled calls for help from within his belly. However, as his laughter came to a halt, Malleus’ pointed ears pricked up, as he heard a new sound. It was the sound of tiny feet. A lot of tiny feet. A slippery smirk came over his face. “How predictable,” he whispered to himself, drumming his fingers over his stomach.

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“PREFECT!” You grunted as, without warning, Ace and Deuce nearly tackled you to the ground. You chuckled and hugged them both back as Grim trotted up and nuzzled their legs with a pleased purr. Ruggie and Azul were following close behind you, each dusting themselves off and looking mildly miffed. After leaving the hall of the leprechaun prince, Patrick had led the four of you through the corridor, back to the bottom of the great well that led into the fairy mound’s palatial depths. Once you had reached the spot - the entryway looming above you like a full moon - he suddenly disappeared, seemingly into thin air. This oddity was quickly followed by another, as a swirl of what seemed to be mighty wind whipped around the three of you, and carried you back up through the well’s long tunnel to the surface once again. “Good to see you both,” you said to your friends from Heartslabyul. “Nya! How come you didn’t give me that reaction?” pouted Grim, pausing in his affectionate nuzzles. “Oh? Does the Great Grim WANT to be cuddled like a stuffed animal?” smirked Ace, teasingly. Grim immediately took a couple steps back and hissed. “That’s a no,” snickered Ace. “It seems like you two managed pretty well,” Azul observed, adjusting his spectacles; his usual tic. “Not a scratch on either of you.” “Not only that, but where have all the Little People gone?” frowned Ruggie, ears twitching as he scooped up his long-discarded hat. He brushed it off and looked around, a little perplexed. “Weren’t there a bunch of those morsels fighting you both?” “More like trying to fight,” Ace snorted cockily. “There were, but I guess they must have chickened out or something,” Deuce responded. “Chickened out?” you repeated, confused. “What do you mean?” “Well, we were bouncing around, flinging magic and deflecting attacks, and all of a sudden that little guy who was leading them-” Azul recalled the name: “O’Reilly?” “Yeah,” nodded Deuce, and went on: “Out of nowhere, he called something out I couldn’t understand…and then - POOF! - they all just disappeared outta nowhere. Real shame, too, the fight was getting pretty good…” Ace, Azul, and Grim each rolled their eyes at Deuce’s words. Ruggie let out his trademark snicker. You, however, felt a bit worried. Your expression must have shown it, because Deuce gave you a look of concern. “What’s the matter, Prefect?” he wondered. “How long ago was this?” you asked. “Just a few minutes ago, basically right before you arrived,” Deuce answered. Ace nodded to confirm and agree with this statement. “Huh. Sounds like it might have been at the same time that Patrick guy disappeared on us,” Ruggie Bucchi observed. That was too much of a coincidence to BE a coincidence. You shared a glance with Azul; his expression matched your own. “Malleus said he had business to deal with,” you said, ominously. “Fairies can have some interesting forms of intuition,” Azul replied. “Perhaps they sensed something was amiss in the throne room, and hurried to see what was going on.” “Psh. A bunch of tiny people versus Malleus Draconia?” scoffed Ruggie. “Come on, I think that’s ASKING to be dragon food.” “That’s exactly what worries me,” you said, and spun on your heel, hurrying back towards the well. “MINION!” shouted Grim. “Where are you going?!” You paused at the well to give a weak sort of smile over your shoulder. “To save the leprechaun prince. Again.” And before any of your friends could stop you, you hurled yourself over the edge and found yourself tumbling back down the well once more.

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“Let him out.” Malleus’ smile now showed off his teeth. Patrick and O’Reilly stood at the front of the proverbial pack, as the rest of the leprechaun guards - who all looked a bit tuckered out after their skirmish on the surface level - stood behind them. More than a few of them were trembling. Malleus Draconia supposed he could not blame them. The Little People were low on the fairy totem pole…and the sight of one such as himself, with their own prince trapped and squirming inside his belly, would have likely been more than enough to instill fear in even the hardiest of creatures. Still, his green eyes danced with a mixture of respect and amusement. Patrick and O’Reilly showed no such signs of terror. Only simmering outrage. “Your bravery is admirable, little ones,” he commented, stroking the underside of his belly as he spoke. “Unfortunately, I believe I am well within my rights in taking this course of action.” “Don’t hand me that!” spat O’Reilly. “Ye led a team o’ interlopin’ mortals here, on the night o’ the most important holiday our people celebrate! Ye challenged our ruler to a duel, which ye knew he had nearly no hope o’ winnin’! An’ to top it off, ye tricked him an’ ye ATE HIM after winnin’!” “And I think there’s nothing you can do about any of it,” chuckled Malleus. Patrick snarled something in Gaelic. Malleus’ expression softened slightly. “You have my sympathies, Leftenants,” he intoned, and then rose from the throne, still cupping his bloated gut with one hand as Bannor’s fists pounded at his belly walls, forming tiny dents and bulges on the surface. “If my own bodyguards were present, they would, I hope, have the same reaction in such a situation. Unfortunately, as it stands, I have claimed my prize…” He patted his stomach. It made a “blortle” sound and wobbled. “...In a manner that does not defy any of the fairy laws at all. Perhaps I am bending some of the rules slightly, but I have broken none. Considering your monarch stole what was rightfully mine from me-” “SHUT UP! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANY OF IT!” yelled Patrick. “JUST LET HIM OUT!” Malleus’ sympathetic expression shifted. He lifted one hand - the one that wasn’t tracing circles around his own navel - and the cane he had dropped earlier flew through the air and into his grasp. “Do not come between a dragon and his prey,” he said, warningly. “I have tried to be as fair as possible to you all, under the circumstances, but my patience is not infinite.” Sparks of electricity began to surround the scepter-like topper of the staff. The leprechauns all took a step back. “Do not force my hand,” Malleus said coldly, and scratched at his stomach. It sloshed, a muffled whimpering sound coming from the curled up royal packed inside. “This feud is between your prince and myself, but I can easily take this further. I would advise you not to cause me to become angry. Let me leave with my meal, and manage as you will from there…or stand in my way, and at least two of you will join him.” Patrick and O’Reilly’s faces finally did show fear, but nevertheless, they took up fighting positions. Their soldiers seemed equally scared, but they still followed suit. Malleus seemed disappointed, but only for a moment. A wicked smirk painted his lips, which he licked subtly. “Very well, if you insist. I suppose I could go for some dessert…” “STOP!” The sparks disappeared from Malleus’ weapon, and his eyes widened in surprise - in fact, his expression almost bordered on shock - as he looked past the leprechauns to the source of the voice. The little green guards all looked to see who had spoken, and soon showed matching looks of amazement. “Prefect?” murmured Malleus. “You!” exclaimed Patrick, as you ran across the room from the entrance, pausing about halfway to the throne. “How did ye get in here?!” “You left the door open,” you drawled in response. “I know you guys were in a hurry, but next time double-check.” Patrick flushed and said nothing as O’Reilly gave him an almost scolding sort of glance. You paid little mind to the lieutenants. You fixed the dragon prince with the firmest expression you could, as Malleus continued to stare at you, as if stunned by your appearance. “Let him go, Malleus,” you all but commanded. “This really isn’t worth it.” Malleus blinked twice…then his expression cooled and he smiled. “I’m surprised you’re making such a demand, Child of Man,” he purred, and rubbed his belly up and down in a smooth, almost seductive sort of way. “I honestly would have expected you to be the most supportive of my methods in punishing this thieving little creature.” You blushed and squirmed slightly. “If my…INTERESTS had anything to do with it, I wouldn’t have saved him from Ruggie to begin with,” you muttered, then spoke aloud. “Malleus, you really don’t understand what’s going on. These…extremes really are not necessary!” “I say they are,” scowled Malleus, gripping his belly possessively. “How can I be sure he won’t put the Come Hither on you or Grim once more? How can I keep you safe when the threat of being stolen away is always present?” “He wasn’t trying to STEAL me. At least, not exactly,” you sighed. “He was…trying to help me.” Malleus just looked at you. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. “...Help you?” he repeated at last. You nodded. “And what help could he offer that I was not already able to do?” he retorted. “How did keeping you a prisoner ‘help’ you at all?” His gaze softened, there was a sadness to his eyes. “I might not have seen you again, my friend,” he whispered, in a shattered sort of voice. “I’m not saying what he did was right,” you replied. “But how is what you’re doing any better? You’re taking him away from the people who care about him most. Just like he took me away from you.” “I’d call that karmic justice.” “I’d call that two ridiculous misunderstandings!” you almost shouted, an action that made Malleus and the leprechauns alike jolt back, slightly startled. You took a breath then moved closer, approaching the throne. Once you were near enough, you placed a hand on Malleus Draconia’s swollen belly. You could feel Bannor wriggling beneath his skin. You tried your best to ignore the mixed emotions that flooded you as a result as you looked into Malleus’ glowing green irises. “Please,” you implored, softly. “Let him out. This doesn’t have to end this way for anyone.” Malleus looked back at you for a moment, as if checking to see if you would blink. When he blinked first, he sighed, then gave a small sort of smile. “Alright,” he agreed. “Since you are so adamant, and I am clearly in a…precarious position, as it is…” He glanced towards the leprechaun guards gathered ‘round before looking back into your face. “...I’ll do as you ask.” You smiled gratefully and backed up a few paces. The leprechauns at your feet all kept glancing between yourself and Malleus, with mixed expressions of apprehension, confusion, and more than a few looks of anxious hope. Malleus closed his eyes, as if focusing, one hand pressing into his stomach firmly. His nostrils flared as he began to breathe in…his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he gulped down air, sending it into his bubbling gut. Muffled noises of scared confusion came from his stomach as Bannor reacted to the influx of “fresh” (it wasn’t so fresh by the time it reached him) air in the sac-like prison of flesh that squelched and squished around him. Knowing what was coming, you turned pink in the cheeks, then looked down towards Patrick and O’Reilly. “Uh…you and your friends might wanna cover your ears,” you warned. “Just a heads-up.” Taking your advice, the leprechauns hurriedly plugged up their pointed ears with their fingertips. It wasn’t a moment too soon, for a second later, Malleus’ green eyes widened as he thumped his chest with his other hand. His cheeks swelled up almost comically…and then… “UUUUUURRRRRROOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRLLLLLLLP-HACK!” The rumbling, wet burp - a most uncouth display from the prince of the dark fae - was concluded by an unpleasant wretching noise. Something solidly visibly came up from Malleus’ stomach, the thick swell in his belly shifting upwards, back into his gullet. He grunted and burped a few more times - shorter, more strained sounds than the first blast - before, finally, a familiar form came slipping from his open maw, and flopped onto the floor of the throne room like a limp fish. Naturally, the solid object was Prince Bannor O’Brien. While Malleus summoned a handkerchief from seemingly thin air and wiped at his mouth - looking mildly disgusted by his own crude behavior - you knelt down beside the eighteen-inch royal. He was covered in a heavy film of stomach slime, his garments utterly ruined, but he otherwise seemed unharmed. With a groan, Bannor’s eyes fluttered open. A few unintelligible mumbles, almost as if he were talking in his sleep, left the leprechaun’s mouth as he blinked blearily up at you. A small smile began to form over his face…but soon, a look of alarm filled his emerald eyes, when he saw Malleus looming over him. Draconia held up a hand, in a placating, patience-seeking gesture, as if to assure Bannor he would not harm him. Bannor glared back, but his expression softened as he looked at you once more. “Did…did you…save me?” he coughed out. You nodded with a slight smirk. “Yeah…for the record, I think rescuing you from somebody’s digestive system is becoming a habit, Your Highness. Please, let’s stop it.” Bannor gave a weak smirk in return. Then his eyes lit up. “Wait…did ye…did ye come back to stay?” he asked, hopefully. “I knew it! I knew ye couldn’t stay away-!” You shook your head, stopping him in his tracks. “Listen, Bannor…your home is amazing. It really is. And I know you mean well. But a person isn’t something you can just hoard like a piece of treasure, no matter what your reasons for doing so are. And besides, I think you really need to get all your facts straight.” “All me facts straight?” Bannor repeated, with a frown. He tossed his head indicatively upwards, towards Malleus. “About him, ye mean? Because-” Bannor paused. He felt the top of his saliva-slickened scalp and frowned. “Hold on…where’s me crown?” “BRRRUUUPP!” Malleus burped again, and a familiar gold-and-emerald crown flew from his jaws. It bounced and rolled across the floor with a jangling sound. The leprechauns gathered around looked almost as green as one of Malleus’ flames; the dragon prince pardoned himself under his breath, covering his mouth, seeming genuinely embarrassed. You couldn’t help but snort with laughter at the look Bannor gave the half-dragon. You quickly composed yourself and spoke up. “Let’s get things on track,” you said, catching the sludge-coated leprechaun’s attention. “Bannor…you never needed to take me away from Night Raven. I didn’t need a new home, because my old home was never really in any danger.” “But…but yer dorm was flooded, wasn’t it?” “Hardly a cause for the greatest alarm, when there is magic around,” Malleus muttered, speaking up and joining in the explanation. “The Prefect’s house is only TEMPORARILY unusable.” “Temporarily?” repeated Bannor. “Yes,” Malleus nodded. “They came to me for help, after I’d seen it all happen.” “I was under his protection, staying in his dorm, until my home got repaired,” you said. “That’s why he was so upset and why all…” You gestured to the prince’s ruined cape. “...THIS ended up happening.” Bannor seemed stunned. “Then…then ye mean to say…I took ye away without there ever bein’ a real reason fer it?” “I’m afraid so,” you chuckled. “Your messenger only got part of the information needed. It wasn’t their fault or anyone else’s; this whole thing has just been one mountain made out of a misunderstood molehill.” You then looked up at Malleus. “That’s also why I wanted to let him out,” you said. “Malleus, he wasn’t trying to kidnap me outright, or hurt me…Bannor just wanted to help. I saved his life, and he was trying to repay the favor by helping me out of what he thought was an irreversible situation.” Malleus’ eyes widened for a moment…then narrowed again. “I see,” he whispered, then looked at Bannor and bowed deeply, one hand to his heart as he bent down on one knee. “In that Event, fellow prince - and I say those words without sarcasm - it is I who am in the wrong. My actions were greatly unwarranted, and could have proven beyond unfortunate for both our races. No apologies of mine can be enough, I’m sure, but I give them to you nonetheless.” Bannor paused for a moment, looking Malleus up and down, before finally giving his answer: “After I get the stink o’ dragon gob outta me hair an’ skin, I think I’ll be able to accept that apology.” Malleus smirked, but only for a fleeting moment. Bannor gave a nervous smile in return. It was equally fleeting. He grunted and got to his feet, his cape still dripping goop onto the floor. “Ahem…I - ugh, excuse me, the smell really is rank - AHEM! I feel I must apologize, too. Me choices were equally bad. I assure ye, all I wanted was to repay the person who helped me, an’ I suppose I was too overzealous in that endeavor. By all rights, they belong with ye, at Night Raven, not here among the Little People. I hope ye will accept me own apology…and, uh…I-I hope ye won’t…y’know…eat me again…” “I think I prefer more filling meals,” grinned Malleus, almost teasingly. Bannor’s nervous smile returned in full force. “Ahem!” coughed Patrick, and your eyes and those of the two princes turned towards him and O’Reilly. They and the leprechaun guards were still watching all this unfold. “Y’know, grand as this may be…we still have a feast to get back to,” Patrick grumbled. “Aye!” O’Reilly nodded. “The night can’t last forever, sir!” “Faith, an’ yer right!” exclaimed Bannor, then grinned up at you and Malleus. “Might I invite ye to join us fer the party, once I summon back my people?” Malleus was all but brimming with delight at the moment the word “invite” was uttered. You chuckled, and nodded. “I think we’d be happy to. After you clean up, of course,” you said, gesturing to Bannor’s clothes. “Ah! Nothin’a  bit o’ magic can’t fix!” laughed Bannor. He snapped his fingers, and with a simple spell, his clothes returned to their clean state, and the smell of Malleus’ stomach acids disappeared into the ether. You were almost sorry about that last part. A few moments later, Patrick came jogging over, offering the Prince his now-clean crown. Bannor replaced the crown on his head and swirled his cape, his freckled face beaming with its usual cheerful radiance. “Summon the Little People back to the dance!” he ordered. “O’Reilly, go fetch the other mortals upstairs! They’re all invited to join in the celebration!” “We’ll make sure they behave themselves,” you promised, as O’Reilly hurried off to the surface, and Patrick raced away to gather the rest of the leprechauns from their hideaways under the ground. “Thank you, Bannor!” “Sure, an’ this is the least I can do,” Bannor replied, then a slight smirk crossed his lips. “In fact…seein’ as this whole chaotic debacle was caused by my own foolery, would ye be against takin’ an offer from me?” “That entirely depends on what it is,” Malleus said. “The offer is for yer mortal friend here,” said the leprechaun prince, gesturing to you. “Me?” you blinked. “Yes, you! Ye’ve saved me life TWICE now, an’ ye helped clear up a nasty mess! Fer that, I insist upon givin’ ye somethin’ in return!” You were about to deny the offer…but, for multiple reasons, you second-guessed that choice. An idea thus came into your head… “Well…honestly, I kinda feel bad asking, but…I understand leprechauns give three wishes to mortals who ‘capture’ them,” you said, with a twinkle in your eye. “Would that apply to those that help them?” “It can, if I say so,” said Bannor with a grin. “I’m the Prince, y’know! Go ahead! Wish yer wishes!” “Remember,” Malleus warned. “Only three. And be careful what you wish for, Prefect.” “That’s alright,” you said with a smile. “I already know what I’m going to ask for.” Malleus smiled, as if he had suspected as much. He waved a hand elegantly in a “go ahead” gesture. Your own smile widened as you looked back into the little prince’s expectant gaze. “My first wish is…”

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“Well? WELL?! Don’t keep us in suspense! C’mon, let’s hear it!” You chuckled as Ruggie Bucchi nudged you in-between bites of a large sampling from the buffet he had gathered. His tail wagged happily as he slurped and chomped up heaping helpings of meat and potatoes from his plate. Scooping them up with a fork. You chuckled, nursing the cup of cider in your hand as you sat upon the chest of diamonds once more. “It wasn’t for the gold, Ruggie,” you said. “So don’t act so excited.” “Awww,” whined Ruggie, his ears dipping down, as he looked longingly towards the crock of gold in the corner of the hall. He pouted slightly as he saw Grim was chowing down on the contents of another crock…which was filled with fresh, full-sized tuna. “Was your first wish for that?” he asked, pointing to Grim’s gluttonous display with his fork. “Yup,” you nodded. “I figured Grim wouldn’t shut up if I didn’t give him something like that, for a start, and besides, there’s enough tuna there to feed him for a week…” On cue, Grim let out a huge burp and cheered with joy before digging right back into the tuna inside the cauldron, practically upside down as his trident tail whipped about joyously. You squirmed as Ruggie gave you a sly smirk. “Can you count on that?” he teased. “...Well…okay, maybe it’ll feed him for a day, but that’s still something.” “Shishishishi!” Ruggie snickered, and stuffed some beef into his own fanged mouth. “All the same, I’m surprised you didn’t try to get it with your second wish,” spoke up Azul Ashengrotto. He was drinking some cider himself, standing on your opposite side from Ruggie Bucchi. “Wouldn’t the gold have been useful to you?” “Honestly, in my opinion, it would have been more of a bother to me than anything else,” you shrugged, then gave him a slightly teasing smile. “Don’t tell me you weren’t planning to find some way to get it all from me, if I HAD taken it.” Azul’s chilled expression as he sipped from his cup spoke volumes. “Thought so,” you chuckled. “Honestly, Azul…all I really want is to get Grim and I back home to Ramshackle Dorm. So, my second wish was that the plumbing would be perfectly fixed by morning, and my third was that the dorm would never flood again.” “You do realize, that won’t save your home from other potential problems,” Azul noted. “And just because the plumbing is fixed, not everything will be.” You shrugged a second time. “If that happens, I’ll deal with it as it comes,” you replied. “For the moment, I’ve gotten all I need and want…” You looked out over the hall of the leprechauns. A gentle smile crossed your face as you watched the merriment around you: Ace and Deuce laughed and danced together, in the middle of a wide group of the Little People. They all tapped their feet and clicked their heels to the merry tune of a pair of fiddles. Malleus and Prince Bannor smirked at each other over each of their shoulders, as their violins sang out the tune of The Fox Chase. You found yourself tapping your own foot and bobbing your head to the jolly, jaunty music, chuckling as you sipped from your cup of cider and sighed. “...I’ve made a new acquaintance, my dorm will be safe for a while, and I’m certainly experiencing a night to remember,” you concluded, and turned to Azul. “Honestly, what more could I want?” “Your altruistic ideals are truly charming,” Azul said sincerely…then turned away as he added under his breath. “But between us, I’d rather have the gold.” “Hey, cheer up, Azul!” grinned Ruggie. “Now that we know where the fairy mound is, we can easily catch ourselves a leprechaun another day!” Azul’s expression shifted in a sly and sneaky smile. “Why, Ruggie…how could you possibly suggest such a thing? Taking advantage of our hosts that way,” he tutted, insincerely. “Perish the thought.” Ruggie snickered nastily. You smiled and shook your head wearily, taking another drink as you simply soaked in the sounds of the dance around you. You didn’t have the heart to tell either of them that all memories of the fairy mound’s location would be removed from their minds, as well as from those of everyone else…except for you and Malleus. After all, Malleus was a prince of the fae, so he would always know…and you had asked - not wished, but simply asked - if you could join in the Wearing of the Green next year. Naturally, Bannor had been happy to agree. It was nice to have friends in high places. As you were pondering the cheerful atmosphere, Ace and Deuce suddenly came bounding over to you. “Come on, Prefect!” laughed Ace. “Don’t just sit around, let’s dance!” You blushed as you put down your now-empty glass. “I, uh…I-I dunno, I’ve never danced to-” “No buts!” grinned Deuce, and each of them took hold of one of your arms. “Let’s go!” You cried out as the pair dragged you into the center of the throne room…but any protests you had soon dissolved into laughter as the three of you spun round and round, capering to the beat of the twin fiddles. Malleus and Bannor, seeing you join in the frivolity, each grinned and picked up the pace of their playing, the music becoming even faster and more exciting. Soon, Azul and Ruggie were clapping to the beat, cheering you on as you and your friends danced about. The leprechauns applauded as you kept perfect step to the tune. You weren’t sure you’d smiled so broadly in all your life. Silently, you wondered if Bannor would agree to let you bring some friends along next year. For all of the craziness that led up to this moment…a party like this, you decided, was something that shouldn’t be a once in a lifetime event. Besides…they all looked good in green.

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“So, how was your evening?” teased Lila Vanrouge, leaning against the doorframe to Malleus Draconia’s chambers. The fae prince hummed thoughtfully as he shut his wardrobe; he’d long since changed out of his top hat and frock coat, and was now redressed in his school uniform, ready to begin the day’s classes. “It was…eventful,” he chose to say. He smirked over his shoulder at his fatherly assistant. “Incidentally, it appears that their skills in cobbling are not the only place where the Little People show good taste.” Lilia grinned toothily. “I could have told you that,” he practically purred. Malleus chuckled. “Well, at any rate, it’s been quite some time since I’ve been able to attend a festival of such…entrancing energy,” Malleus said, and a soft, almost sad smile came to face. “Madness only knows when I’ll get another chance.” Lilia’s smile turned sympathetic. “I’m sure it won’t be too long,” he promised, then checked the clock. His smile fell. “Oh, dear…I’m going to be late for my first class. I’ll have to see you later, Malleus. Please make sure you’re on time to your own classes…oh! And don’t get too rough on the sports field today, okay? I know how you young ones can get after a rowdy night.” “I’m not freshly hatched anymore, you know, even when compared to you,” frowned Malleus. Lilia just giggled and waggled his fingers in a jokey sort of wave, before merrily traipsing off towards his class. He shut the door behind him. Malleus rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he went into the adjoining bathroom of his dorm room. He was in the process of checking to make sure his horns were in good condition, and did not require extra polishing…when he heard a knock on his door. “There’s no need to check on me, Silver,” he called out, with a slightly irritated sigh. “I’ll be right out.” He’d guessed it was silver on account of the fact Sebek would have been accompanied by a great deal of random shouting. However, the voice he heard that DID call through the keyhole was that of neither of his attendants. “Good to know, but wrong human.” Malleus didn’t teleport, but he reached the door so swiftly, he might as well have. He opened it quickly but carefully, and looked down at you. “Prefect! This is a pleasant surprise,” he grinned, then cocked his head to one side. “Is everything copacetic? I was under the impression that your wishes would have provided a suitable fix to your housing problem.” “Oh, they did, I just came from there,” you nodded. You smiled shyly up at the dragon prince, your hands behind your back. “I just…well…I wanted to say thank you.” “Oh?” Malleus replied. “For what?” “For everything,” you almost laughed. “For giving me a place to stay, for coming to my rescue, for listening about Bannor…I don’t know if anyone else here at Night Raven would have done everything you did, in the way you did, just for me and Grim. I’m grateful.” “Your gratitude is appreciated, but there’s really no need to worry yourself,” Malleus smiled. “You’re one of the few people I can call a true friend, Child of Man. I would gladly wrestle with demons and catapult angels if it meant I could keep you safe and happy.” “Don’t say stuff like that. At the rate I keep getting into trouble, that might actually end up becoming a thing, you know.” “You say that as if my statement would be any less true,” Malleus smirked. You chuckled, and a slightly sneaky smile crossed your lips. “Well, in that case, I’m hoping you won’t refuse me this,” you said, and revealed your hands from behind your back. Malleus stepped back slightly. He blinked at the object you had thrust toward him. It was a folded piece of card stock, with the logo of Ramshackle Dorm printed on the front. “What…is this?” Malleus asked, tapping the folded card with one long, strong finger. His eyes were wide and questioning. “It’s an invitation,” you answered. Malleus Draconia’s pointed ears pricked up. His wide eyes somehow seemed even wider. His pupils almost seemed to dilate. “An invitation?” he repeated, softly. “For…for me?” “Are there any other devilishly handsome half-dragons in the vicinity?” You smirked wider at the vague hint of green that came to the prince’s alabaster cheeks; his own form of a blush. He carefully accepted the invitation. “Might I ask what the occasion is?” he inquired. “Nothing too special,” you shrugged. “Basically, since Bannor wiped the memories of everyone but you or I about what happened last night at the fairy mound, I figured the ‘sudden and miraculous fixing of Ramshackle Dorm’ deserved some kind of gathering.” “A housewarming party,” Malleus smiled. “Something like that,” you answered, shrugging once again. “But I DO have my memory,” Malleus reminded you, tapping the side of his head in emphasis. “Well, yeah, but you’re my friend. And you were one of the ones who helped me. I couldn’t just leave you out, could I?” The look Malleus gave you so resembled a lovesick puppy that you couldn’t help but giggle. He must have caught himself, because he once again blushed faintly before clicking his heels together, straightening his posture…then, holding the invitation behind his own back and his other hand to his heart, he bowed regally. “I would be honored to attend, dearest mortal,” he intoned, grandiosely. “Good. Don’t be late!” you sang teasingly. “I shall be fashionably early,” Malleus promised. “That works, too,” you chuckled. After that, you bid the fairy prince a polite but hasty goodbye; you both had places to be. In your case, while you had no classes that day, you needed to get everything ready for the party tonight. Feeding a dragon, a hungry octopus, Ruggie, Ace, Deuce, and the resident bottomless pit of the Haunted Mansion was all going to prove QUITE the challenge. A very, very, very blush-inducing challenge. As you exited the castle of Diasomnia’s dorm, and walked along the thorny path that led back to the mirror portal, you suddenly heard a familiar voice… “Y’know, I’ve never particularly understood the appeal o’ this place…I prefer greener pastures, I suppose.” You turned your head…and smiled. Bannor O’Brien was standing under a pale thorn bush, smiling up at you with a twinkle in his green eyes. He had removed his cape and his crown, and looked much the way he had when you had first met him. “What are you doing here?” “I was sittin’ in me throne room, an’ the thought came to me. ‘Bannor,’ says I to meself, ‘tis at their side ye should be. Just one last time,’” he said, with a slightly sad smile. You smiled back, much less sadly, and knelt down to be on more level ground with the prince. “It doesn’t have to be the last time. I said I’d visit next year, didn’t I?” you said, softly. “I know,” sighed Bannor, and looked up towards the sky. “But even for an immortal like meself, next year can feel like a lifetime away.” “Everything is fixed now at Ramshackle Dorm. I’m truly thankful for that.” “Never let it be said a leprechaun didn’t give anybody exactly what they wished for,” said Bannor, puffing out his little chest with pride. “After ye saved me hide twice, I couldn’t exactly rip ye off, could I now?” “I’m thankful anyway,” you chuckled. You paused, then decided to continue: “I want you to know…I actually did almost feel tempted to stay.” Bannor’s eyes widened. “In all the stories I used to hear from my grandparents, the fairy mound sounded like a dream come true. And in a way, it was. I never saw dancing so fine, or heard piping so shockingly sweet, or listened to a pair of fiddles so grand. I definitely never imagined I’d be sitting on diamonds. But like I said to Grim, mortals need bitter to go with the sweet…I could have been happy there, but I don’t know for how long. And besides, like I said, all I needed was my home back.” Bannor nodded slowly in understanding. “I suppose Prince Malleus an’ yer fellow mortals must’ve known that,” he murmured, then smiled up at you gently. “Y’know, fer all their strange points…ye seem to have a great collection of friends.” “I know,” you said, without an ounce of humility, then smiled a bit wider. “You know…you could be part of that collection, if you wanted.” “Me?” blinked Bannor. “Why not?” you smiled. “But…mortals and leprechauns-” “I think we’ve established I have no interest in your crock of gold, and I certainly don’t plan on making any more wishes at the moment.” “But what about the rest-” “We can keep it secret, at least for a while,” you said. “The only ones who need to know are you, me, Malleus, and probably Grim and the Ghosts. I think you can take that much without worry, right?” Bannor’s eyes sparkled like the brightest emeralds of Sage’s Island. “I be forever grateful,” he breathed. “There’s no need for that,” you chuckled. “To be honest, Bannor, I think I’ve had enough of that level of gratitude for a while.” Bannor smirked. “Ye’d better get used to it…my friend,” he said, nearly choking up on the last two words before his voice steadied once more. “When would ye like to meet up?” “I have a day off today. How’d you like to come with me, maybe help me out preparing for a party I’m having tonight with my schoolmates?” “Grand!” Bannor chirruped, and gave a wink. “In that case, I’ll see ye at Ramshackle!” With a snap of his fingers, the leprechaun disappeared. You smiled and stood up, then stuffed your hands in your pockets. As you continued along the route that led back to Ramshackle Dorm, you sang softly to yourself; an old song your grandparents had taught you, what seemed another age ago. You’d never expected the song to become a reality in any way. “In a shady glade, one moonlit night, a leprechaun I spied. With scarlet cap, and coat of green, and crúiscín by his side. Tick-tack, tick-tack, his hammer went upon a tiny shoe! And I laughed to think of a purse of gold, but the fairy was laughing, too. Yes, I laughed to think of a purse of gold, but the fairy was laughing, too…”

The End

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀 : fresh out of the tower at age twenty four / future queen of far far away at age thirty six.

fiona, due to both her curse and sheltered upbringing, has always fitted an appearance deeming her much younger than actual age. having not properly felt the suns rays until she was twenty four, left her skin untouched by wrinkles and fast aging. practically living in the shadows, only source of light being the occasional horizon seen through the blinding smoke of the lava, and the flame torches in her room. she also had an extensive skin care routine (gracefully taught and provided by fairy godmother) each and every day up until leaving the tower, because after all, she'd been taught her whole life that appearance is everything. alongside this, the curse, while making her ugly in the night, enhanced her human appearance; skin turned far softer and fairer. to provoke the dread further: making fiona long even more so for her 'beautiful' side, as it's severely amplified. as an ogre she ages naturally, but since her curse was never broken, her human skin is quite youthful and unblemished.

Fairy Tales in a Dream 1

Writer: Mitsuki

Character(s): Sakuma Ritsu, Suou Tsukasa, Narukami Arashi, Sena Izumi, Tsukinaga Leo, Shino Hajime, Tenshouin Eichi

Translated by: jewwyfeesh

Proofed by: stcrfeesh (CN), ohcheckmate (ENG)

(Otherwise, I wouldn’t be like how I am now, standing on the sidelines like a bystander, unable to speak nor move a muscle, and staring unblinkingly as everyone fights each other with weapons in hand…)

Season: Summer

Location: ES Live Stage

Tsukasa: “…With that, the Performance us Knights have prepared for our princesses draws to an end.”

Leo: “Once again, thanks for coming down to see our Live today… ☆”

Arashi: “Ufufu, look at all those enchanted smiles on your adorable faces… surely it’s because you’ve been mesmerized by my light and graceful dancing?”

“Come, come~ Riddle me this~ Who’s the fairest of them all~?”

“Mhm, thank you everyone! That’s right, I am the fairest of them all… ♪”

Izumi: “Hey now Naru-kun, aren’t you just answering your own questions? Get carried away all you want, but can you not go overboard?”

“Anyways, the most beautiful person in the world is obviously me. At best, Naru-kun can have second place. Don’t you think so, Kuma-kun?”

Ritsu: “Ehhh~ I dunno~ I’m not a magic mirror.”

(…………?)

(That’s weird… usually in these situations, Secchan wouldn’t interrupt Nacchan like that without reading the atmosphere first…)

Arashi: “Oh my, how irritating, Izumi-chan! You must be going crazy. When it comes to beauty, there’s no argument about it – I’m the one who places first.”

“Izumi-chan’s the one who’s acting a little too egoistic now, no? Surely you aren’t jealous of my beauty, are you? That would truly be too petty.”

Izumi: “Haah? Me, jealous of Naru-kun? You’ve got to be joking.”

Arashi: “Anywho, no matter what Izumi-chan says, I will never admit that there’s anyone fairer than I in this world!”

Ritsu: (What’s going on? Even Nacchan’s lost her usual sense of tact. She’s getting so easily riled up by Secchan now…)

(The temperature’s practically freezing ‘cuz of the icy stares they’ve been giving each other. Even the fans are whispering amongst each other and worriedly staring up at us from below the stage…)

Tsukasa: …………

Ritsu: (Whispering) Suu-chan, you’ve also sensed that something is amiss, right? Let’s hurry up and say something to cover up whatever this is, so that the live can end quickly and smoothly.

Tsukasa: “Hm… to be honest, I’m a little confused right now. Though, are these two seniors fighting over who’s the fairest of them all? It’s almost as if they’re acting out a scene from Snow White.”

“But if we’re making a judgement based on appearance alone, I suppose that out of all of the members of Knights, Ritsu-senpai is the one who fits the image of Snow White best.”

Ritsu: (H-H-Hey, did Suu-chan misunderstand my cue? He completely missed the point?!)

Leo: “Wahaha! I’ve already washed my hands thoroughly of the heavy burden of being a ‘King’. All I want to do is be a bard that’s as free as a bird! So, I’m gonna be taking a backseat on this one!”

Ritsu: (Not the slightest intention of trying to stop the quarrel… as expected of Tsukipi. Even though it’s troublesome, it seems like it’s up to me to step in before it’s too late.)

[————]

(Eh? I– Why can’t I make a single sound?)

Izumi: “…Since you and I are unable to persuade each other, let’s bet upon our honour as knights and engage in a duel!”

Arashi: “Yes, I absolutely support that notion! The princesses who are willing to support me, please stand behind me!”

Ritsu: (Then, at Suu-chan’s command, Nacchan and Secchan pulled out their sharp swords, leading their respective fanatical fans to rush towards the opposing faction and immediately plunging the entire venue into chaos…)

(…I understand everything now. This is merely a nightmare; something that doesn’t exist in reality.)

(Otherwise, I wouldn’t be like how I am now, standing on the sidelines like a bystander, unable to speak nor move a muscle, and staring unblinkingly as everyone fights each other with weapons in hand…)

(Aaah, I can’t take this anymore… it feels like I can’t breathe.)

(Someone, anyone, please— Please save me, wake me up—)

???: ……Onii-chan, Ritsu-onii-chan!!

Location: Garden

Ritsu: —Wah! Huuu… huuuuu…!

Hajime: Ritsu-onii-chan, are you alright?

Just now, your face was twisted in a grimace, and I was wondering if you were having a nightmare, so I woke you up…

Ritsu: Ah, turns out the voice was Ha~kun’s… That’s great, I almost thought I’d never wake up.

It really was a scary nightmare. However, the details are all fuzzy now… but it had something to do with the story of Snow White.

Hajime: Snow White… Could it be because I was reciting this particular story to Ritsu-onii-chan earlier on?

A while ago, the recital Ra*bits did of Hansel and Gretel on a radio program became a hit, which led to more commissions for us to continue performing…

So in order to give myself more confidence, I wanted to hear Ritsu-onii-chan’s thoughts on the matter. I didn’t expect to accidentally cause Ritsu-onii-chan to have a nightmare, and for that I’m really sorry…!

Ritsu: No, no. Ha~kun didn’t do anything wrong at all. It was me who unknowingly fell asleep.

After all, the sound of Ha~kun’s voice reciting the story is as soft and soothing as a lullaby before bed, so I’ll give you a hundred points yet again ♪

And I should be the one thanking Ha~kun. Thanks for pulling me out of that hellish nightmare, and back into the warmth of our reality, ouji-sama[1] ♪

Hajime: Ouji-sama[1]…?

Ritsu:Though, I do feel quite thirsty now that I’ve awoken… I’m really craving for some sweet, delicious blood.

Hajime:Ri-Ritsu-onii-chan? Your hand is really cold—

Ritsu:My beloved ouji-sama[1], if you’re going to save me, then don’t leave me hanging… could you please allow me a little taste of your blood? That way, I’ll be able to fully recover my energy~ ♪

Hajime: Uwaaah, noooo! Don’t tell me that the one I woke up is actually a dangerous vampire?!

Ritsu-onii-chan, if you’re thirsty I can brew a cup of black tea for you! I can guarantee you it’ll be way more delicious than my blood, ahaha…

Right, speaking of it… Not too long ago, Eichi-onii-chan participated in a photoshoot for OJS, a men’s magazine. Surely, he would be more ‘princely’ than I?

Ritsu: You mean ‘Oji-san’[2]? Yeah, I think that does fit Ecchan quite well~ ♪

Eichi: Achoo! …Goodness, I’m sure there’s someone speaking ill of me on purpose.

Hajime: Eichi-onii-chan! You’ve worked hard today~ Have a seat and rest for a while, tea and snacks have already been prepared ♪

Ritsu: Oh? I didn’t expect Ecchan to actually show up. Here I was, thinking that today’s tea party would only be attended by Ha~kun and I, off in our happy little two-person world…

Eichi: Haha, I suppose this is one of the places where I’m able to have a moment’s peace and quiet. So no matter how busy I may be, I will always find some time to have tea with the both of you.

For example, I overheard Hajime-kun say that ‘Eichi-onii-chan is the prince in his heart’… Aah, my spirit has been healed ♪

Ritsu: Ehh~You might wanna clean out your ears a little~ In my opinion, Ecchan’s more like the big bad villain that’s trying to kidnap my children.

How about this, Ha~kun, why don’t you run away with this little ol’ vampire, and escape the clutches of the evil ‘Emperor’ ♪

Eichi: Mhm, it does sound like a particularly interesting story. How about I close my eyes and start counting to 10, then I’ll come and catch you all.

The both of you better start running for your life, hehehehe… ♪

Hajime: W-wait a minute, what’s going on?! Are we playing hide and seek?

Ritsu: Shh… Keep it down, Ha~kun.

The game’s about to start, so we need to find a safe place to hide. We can’t be caught by the ‘Emperor’… ♪

ouji-sama means prince

here, ritsu uses the term "欧吉桑", which is pronounced "ouji-sang" in cn; and is a japanese loanword (a word adopted from a foreign language with little or no modification). in cn, it means "old(er) man, a man of mature years", and it's japanese equivalent is "oji-san" (uncle). ritsu uses "ouji-sang" (cn) here because it sounds similar to "ouji-sama" (jp, prince). make what you will of this :)

bloopers with the team:

Cybele; forgotten deity

I have never found myself to be pretty.

There is a sharp steep hill from child to woman

and my incline is decorated in bits of coloured glass,

the rose-tinted mirror lies,

there is fairer than I in the land.

“you’re alright looking, nothing to brag about”

My portrait is skewed,

my frame cracked

my canvas torn.

“don’t punch above your weight there, you’ll just get told no”

Too tall but not tall enough for me,

if I could take the inches from my hips and

sew them into the length of my temple

would I then be goddess-like?

Enough to see people pray at my altar?

“nobody’s going to look at you dressed like that”

Good,

Sharp-toothed-grins and eyes like ice

betray intentions of darkened alleys I have spent my life

running from.

Look away.

There is no fairy-tale in me.

Bristles

I know a lot of you don’t come here for my original work, but I’m gonna share this anyway because I don’t have anyone to talk about this story with currently; it’s an excerpt from a longshot Arthurian story, told from Guinevere’s perspective. Even if the writing is going slowly, I’m still having quite a bit of fun puzzling everything out and seeing how far I can ramp up the tension--sexual or otherwise. Anyway, happy reading xx

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

A stir met Morgan’s arrival just before midday. We few of Arthur’s court welcomed her at the gates, while behind us other nobles poked out their heads from any opening they could find for a glimpse of the fairy-woman. In the books, they were always described as small and nimble, the better for weaving their way in the world, but Morgan was nearly as tall as myself, built more like her father the Duke Gorlois with every inch of her mother Igraine’s beauty. The court bristled at her unbound, uncovered hair, which hung in inky waves to the middle of her back, at her navy robes that were well-suited for her olive skin, at the grace with which she dismounted her dapple roan horse and approached, straight-backed and high held chin, noble heritage on blatant display.

              Arthur stepped forward, taking his kinswoman’s right hand in his and laying a kiss against her knuckles. “My lady Morgan,” he said, “you are most welcome to Camelot.”

              “The honour is mine, my lord Arthur,” she responded, and I sensed the small shock that went through some of the gathered court; they had never heard her voice, and did not expect a woman with such a feminine appearance to have an alto timbre. When released, she turned to me, taking one of my hands within both of hers. Her lips against my cheek were feathery, hardly daring to touch my skin, yet her breath puffed against it, moist and warm. “You look exceedingly well, my lady Guinevere,” she said.

              “And you also, Lady Morgan,” I said, not knowing why the words struggled to form on my tongue, “in spite of your travels.”

              “Then I do hope I am not unsuitable to appear in your halls.” She gave her horse’s reins to a nearby groom and instructed firmly, “Take utmost care of her. She is one of Lady Vivian’s treasured.”

              Next to Arthur, I once again bore witness to their resemblance. While he was of much fairer complexion than she, and bearing features inherited from King Uther, one could see the structure of their faces was similar, at least around the cheekbones, eyes, and mouth—but that was much the end of it, save for perhaps a few mannerisms; they were only partway related, after all. The knowledge had grown old for me already, but for the gathered crowd, it was entirely new; mouths moved quickly in verbal observation or stayed tight to spread word at a later hour. I suspected, as we moved inside at last, watching as Morgan took Arthur’s offered arm, I would hear much of it from my women as they dressed me down for bed.

              Naturally, there was a gander of the place, so Morgan might know her way about, and introductions to the nobles she hadn’t met when she had attended the wedding between Arthur and I one year ago, and introductions to the women who’d been chosen to care for her in the duration of her stay. She eyed each of them carefully, as if she could see into their very souls and judge their characters, and said, after they’d each given her a customary curtsey, “I shan’t have need of these women.”

              The head maid, Livia, who had chosen my own women, coloured visibly. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

              “I am of simple taste, madam; they would only get in my way.”

              Livia looked from Morgan to Arthur, bewildered; my lord husband soothed her in his gentle manner, “It’s quite all right, Lady Livia. We must allow Lady Morgan some of her own comforts, being leagues from home.”

              “As you say, my lord,” said Livia, fixing Morgan with narrowing eyes. The women, however, looked rather relieved.

                “I expected her to be ugly,” said Gyneth, slipping my nightshift onto my shoulders.

              “And small,” added Lucia, “with only a fine bosom and wide hips as worthy assets.”

              Gyneth laughed but scolded around it, “You should not talk so, Lucia!”

              “If there are no men to hear it, I can talk as crude as I like.” She glanced up at me from her position at my bed. “That is, if my lady doesn’t mind.”

              “One can hardly avoid crudeness in a castle full of men,” I said. “But you mustn’t allow it to leave this room.”

              Lucia twisted her fingers about her pretty lips, as if she were locking a chest, and flicked her wrist in the direction of the window.

              “Is she truly Arthur’s kinswoman, my lady?” said Gyneth. She was taking down my hair now, preparing to brush it out. “They could not be more opposite, in appearance as well as mannerisms.”

              “Oh, indeed,” Lucia agreed, finishing at last in turning down the bedclothes and checking them over. “It’s a wonder the same blood bred such different characteristics, and that His Majesty seems to have escaped the fairy-tendencies. I fear the man he’d be if he hadn’t.”

              “Would he not be like Lord Merlin if he hadn’t?”

              “What,” said Lucia with a scoff, “a man aged before his time and loony?”

              I said firmly, “I’ll thank you not to speak of the Lord Merlin in that way, Lucia. Let us not forget it is because of his wisdom that my lord husband has driven back the Saxons and that Camelot still stands firm atop its hill."

              Lucia’s pale cheeks pinked. “No, my lady,” she said. “I shan’t forget.”

              “See you do not. Now lay the basin and pitcher and be off to bed.”

              Gyneth finished my hair, trailing behind Lucia after bidding me good night. I was alone for a quarter of an hour before Arthur’s arrival. His golden hair was damp from a wash and tiredness was written across his features.

              “Is your fatigue Morgan’s doing?” I said.

              “Not entirely,” replied Arthur, removing his outer robe and draping it over a bedpost. “I had a letter from Lancelot that required an immediate reply.” He climbed into bed, and I beside him, keeping space between our bodies.

              “What news does he bring?”

              “Nothing concerning, I assure you; only a longing to return home.”

              “He says nothing of the battle?”

              Arthur’s tone firmed. “Where did you learn this, Gwen?”

              “It isn’t hard to guess at,” I returned. “Why else would the king send away his best knight, if not to go into battle?” I turned from him, reaching for the tallow candle burning on my night table. “I am not a simple woman,” I said quietly. “I should think you’d enjoy that, seeing as your kinswoman puts herself on a mighty high hill and you do not scold her for standing upon it.”

              I blew out the candle, feeling Arthur’s irritation, and then his guilt.

              He asked, after a good length, “Do you envy her?”

              A laugh bubbled from my lips. “If there is anything to envy about a sorceress, it’s that the world yields to her because it fears what she’d do if they didn’t.”

              And how useful it would be, I thought later, as Arthur faded into dreams, to know magic and to strike fear into people’s hearts with a single look.

              Useful, said a more logical tendril, and then dangerous.