#nothing too deep i got inspired by fish tail on the horse.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

havenoffandoms · 4 years

Note

Hi! A little idea for your requests, if you don’t mind. A Jaskier x Geralt : Jaskier feels finally brave enough to confess his undying love to Geralt but each time he tries, something gets in the way. Yennefer and Ciri support him and even try to help (successfully or not). Fun and fluff please !!! I hope you find the idea interesting~ 🌟

Okay, sooooo I may have got slightly carried away with this idea and I won’t apologise for it. Your idea really inspired me and I think it’s the cutest thing. Jaskier and Geralt are just two idiots in love in this one. There is the slighest bit of angst at the end, but the rest is fun and fluff as you wanted it. I hope I did your request justice.

Thanks for your ask! Hope you enjoy the read xx

Warning: teeny tiny bit of angst, fluff, mild swearing, smutty references, and mild canon typical violence

Jaskier was known for many things across the Continent – his ballads, his poetry, his many, many conquests that often got him into trouble (and inspired many, many ballads) – but his bravery was certainly not one of them. The bard was painfully aware of this fact, and he thought that joining Geralt on his adventures would somehow remedy this, but he had been wrong. Nonetheless, after nearly twenty years of pining and admiring the Witcher from a distance, Jaskier had decided to tell Geralt how he truly felt about him. No matter the outcome, Jaskier would tell Geralt and finally get this secret off his chest. He needed to know if Geralt felt the same way and he was ready to face the possibility that Geralt only liked him as a friend. Geralt may live for several centuries, but Jaskier did not have nearly as much time left in this life and had to make the most of the time that he had left. Even if it meant spending that time getting over Geralt…

Jaskier had a plan. He would tell Geralt over dinner, the nicest dinner they could afford, which at present consisted of stale bread, meagre pieces of cheese and some fruit that had seen better days but would do just fine. The location would be wherever Geralt decided to stop for the night on their way to Kaer Morhen. They would likely set camp at the edge of the woods (moonlit dinner, anyone?) and probably start a fire for warmth – that classed as romantic, right? Jaskier knew he could not overthink this too much. He did not have the luxury of waiting until they reached a town with a half-decent inn that offered nice (and most importantly cheap) food. He would have to work with what he had, and at the minute all that mattered was that Geralt knew how Jaskier truly felt about him.

They stopped at the edge of the woods, as Jaskier had anticipated, with the added bonus of the mountain range in the distance backdropping their campsite. The bard noticed the white peaks as the sun set just behind the mountains, casting large shadows over the plains that stretched from their current location all the way to the foot of the mountain range. The surroundings looked nothing short of picturesque – not that Geralt, the big oaf, would notice it! He was too busy unsaddling Roach, gathering sticks for the campfire and gathering his dirty clothes from his back before tossing them on the muddy ground for Jaskier to deal with in the morning, as was usually the case. When the bard’s stomach began rumbling loudly, Geralt finally looked up and his amber eyes rested on his travel companion. He looked irritated, as per usual, but there was something else reflected in his cat-like eyes. Concern, perhaps?

“Here,” Geralt said, his voice gruff and raspy and sending shivers down Jaskier’s spine, “eat this.”

Jaskier barely managed to catch the piece of hard bread with his hands. He watched in a panic as Geralt strapped his swords onto his back and readied himself to leave.

“Wha- where are you going, Geralt?”

“Hunt. We need meat to last us the next couple of days on the road,” the witcher answered without looking at him.

“But… when will you be back?” Jaskier asked, trying not to sound as needy as he felt.

“When I’ve caught something, bard,” Geralt huffed before taking off into the woods without as much as a glance over his shoulder. Jaskier was speechless for a while even after Geralt had disappeared into the dark woods.

Son of a bitch!

***

“I think the best way to Geralt’s heart is through Roach,” Ciri told Jaskier over dinner one night. The young heir to Cintra and the bard had both hit it right off when they had met. Ciri enjoyed his ballads and his poetry, and Jaskier loved teaching her about the history of the Continent, algebra and even taught her one or two songs on his lute. The girl was a natural and he felt it would be a shame to let this talent go to waste. Of course the sword training with Geralt and magic lessons with Yennefer were a lot more glamorous, and Jaskier could not hope to compete with that. Yet, Ciri enjoyed the distraction nonetheless and often used her free time to visit Jaskier. She was like the little sister Jaskier had always wanted but never had.

“I don’t see how that’s helpful…,” Jaskier admitted after a minute of considering Ciri’s words.

“Geralt loves Roach. He has a special bond with her, and I think he trusts her instincts about people more than his own. I think if he were to see you bonding with Roach, he would considerably soften around you.”

Jaskier had to admit he had never thought of that before, but it did not sound like the worst idea. The following day, he decided to follow Ciri’s advice and headed to the stables early in the morning to be sure to beat Geralt to the chase. When he arrived near Roach’s stall he noticed that the mare’s ears perked up when she saw him coming. Jaskier made soft clicking noises as he brought his hand to pet her long head. The mare let out a happy snort as she nudged against his hand demanding more pets.

“Hey girl, how are you doing? I know it’s usually Geralt who takes care of you, but today I thought I’d come and say hi myself. You’re awfully more friendly than what Geralt makes you out to be, you know. I always thought the reason I couldn’t ride you was because you’re a temperamental little thing.”

Jaskier chuckled as Roach shook her head and huffed indignantly. The bard looked around the stables and spotted a bucket with brushes, hoof picks and mane combs. Blankets and leading rope hung inside the stall Roach was residing in, right next to her saddle. Jaskier went to grab the bucket and returned to the stall, opening the door gently as to not spook the mare. He entered Roach’s personal space and fished a body brush out of the bucket. He began brushing Roach’s coat, making sure to scrub the sand and dust out of her coarse hair as best as he could. His ministrations seemed to relax the horse judging by her steady heartbeats that Jaskier could feel through her ribcage as he slid his hand along her strong body.

“You know, I never realised how big you actually are, girl. You’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you? And so sweet, too. Your coat is so silky. Geralt takes really good care of you,” Jaskier mused as he worked one side of Roach’s body.

“Of course I do,” a deep voice interrupted Jaskier’s actions and made him jump out of his skin, “Roach works hard when we’re on the road hunting monsters. The very least I can do is make sure she’s as comfortable as possible.” Geralt stared at Jaskier with a half-smile on his lips, his eyes soft as he watched the bard pamper Roach. Jaskier was not used to that kind of expression on the witcher’s face. The last time he had seen such kindness in Geralt’s eyes had been at princess Pavetta’s engagement festivities right after the witcher had saved him from yet another cuckold husband’s ire.

“I… I didn’t hear you come in,” Jaskier said, returning his attention to Roach and willing his racing heart to calm down. Geralt grabbed a second body brush from the bucket and got working on Roach’s coat as well. The mare let out a pleased snort at having both men take care of her.

“You were so lost in your own world that a troll choir could have burst into the stables and would’ve escaped your notice,” Geralt jested, making Jaskier stop in his tracks.

“My, my, Geralt, was this a joke? Who knew witchers have a sense of humour?”

“She likes you, you know?” Geralt commented, ignoring Jaskier’s sarcastic comment. The bard blushed at those words, and he was unsure how to respond.

“I like her, too. Despite her grumpy owner, she’s a surprisingly tame horse.”

“Hm… maybe it’s a blessing that she can’t hear your incessant singing,” Geralt teased, but his tone was light which told Jaskier that he was looking for a reaction. The bard was certainly not going to rise to the bait.

“My incessant singing is probably a nice change from the monosyllabic grunts she hears on a daily basis.”

Well, he tried not to rise at least. Jaskier dropped the brush in the bucket and retrieved the hoof pick. He kept a hand on Roach’s flank and allowed it to travel to her rump and down her leg to make her aware of where he was going. He pulled her leg up between his thighs and began picking out the dirt from between her hooves. Now was the time or never to tell Geralt how he felt about him, while they were both alone in the deserted stables and where no one could witness his humiliation if Geralt rejected him. Pull yourself together, Jask.

Deep breath in – 1, 2, 3 – and deep breath out. Go.

Just as Jaskier opened his mouth, he noticed Roach’s tail rise slightly out of the corner of his eyes. The movement distracted him long enough to momentarily forget about his intentions and before he had time to react, he felt a heavy weight land on the back of his head. Next thing he knew the stall was filled by loud and rich laughter and the stench of horse shit which had just landed on Jaskier. The bard stood frozen in place, unable to move and not wanting to believe what had just happened to him.

On the other hand, Geralt’s laughter was a sound that Jaskier wished he could bottle up and keep forever.

“Hardy-har-har… really funny, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled under his breath as he stepped away from the mare and glared at the witcher, who was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, it’s just…,” Geralt could not even finish his sentence before he was assaulted by another fit of giggles that brought fresh tears to his amber eyes. Well, Jaskier could definitely not tell him now… that would just look plain stupid.

“Yeah, I get it. Well, don’t just stand there! Help me!” Jaskier urged the witcher, who could barely contain his hilarity.

“Oh Jaskier… I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.”

Somehow, those words brought Jaskier joy despite the overwhelming humiliation he felt.

***

“Yennefer, pleaaaaase,” Jaskier pleaded the sorceress, dragging out the vowels as much as he could and ignoring the irritated eye-roll.

“Oh fine, whatever it takes to get you to finally shut up about Geralt and let me get back to my work!” Yennefer snapped at him, slamming her book shut with enough force to make the entire desk rattle in protest. Jaskier smiled brightly at her.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, Yen. My other attempts have failed dramatically.”

“So I have heard,” Yennefer said, a nasty smile appearing on her lips, “the smell of horseshit will follow you for the next months I can sense it.”

“Geralt told you, huh?” Jaskier guessed, feeling embarrassed at his expense all over again. Yennefer nodded, biting back the laughter that threatened to push past her lips.

“He told me and Ciri, and Ciri then told me what you had planned that day. I must admit that I felt slightly bad for you. So I’ll help you just because I’m sick of you and Geralt beating around the bush like blushing maidens who are too shy to tell her crush how she feels.”

“Wait, what do you mean Geralt and me... do you think that... he likes me back?”

Jaskier was concerned that if Yennefer rolled her eyes any harder they would stay stuck like this forever.

“Yes, dummy. Geralt is head over heels with you, how have you never noticed this before?”

“But... I...,” Jaskier was not too sure where he was going with this sentence, but as it seemed Yennefer was in no mood to wait any longer than necessary.

"If we’re going to do this, you need to do this my way, understood?”

Jaskier had a funny feeling that he would come to regret trusting Yennefer, but what other choice did he have?

“What have you got in mind?” he asked her, insecurity lacing his tone.

“Let’s just say we’ll have to hit where it hurts…,” she told him mysteriously, her smile growing more wicked and not exactly filling Jaskier with confidence.

***

Geralt grinded his teeth at the sight of Jaskier and Lambert in such close proximity. Vesemir had insisted that everyone stay several nights longer at Kaer Morhen and enjoy a feast together to celebrate the witchers returning to their former keep. There was plenty of food and ale to please everyone, and while Geralt thought he would take the opportunity to get drunk and finally admit his feelings to Jaskier, he had certainly not anticipated this turn of events. Ciri was sitting next to him but seemed blissfully unaware of his current emotional state. Why would Jaskier cosy up to Lambert of all people? His jokes were not funny, he had bad breath, not to mention a bad habit of drinking himself into an aggressive mood and physically Lambert had not much going for him either in Geralt’s humble and perfectly objective opinion. So why, oh gods why, was Jaskier looking at him like Lambert had plucked the moon from the sky?

“Aren’t they sweet together?” Yennefer cooed in his ear, only infuriating him further. Geralt barely managed a grunt as he brought his tankard of ale to his lips, took a large swig and all but slammed it back on the table, causing every dish in the vicinity to rattle. Ciri shot Geralt a quizzical side glance, which the witcher ignored.

“Why do I have a feeling that you did something shifty, Yen?” Geralt asked her, his voice barely above a growl as he watched Lambert pull Jaskier onto his lap. The sorceress merely shook her head.

“I don’t know Geralt, but I have to say it’s not your best quality.”

“Is Jaskier snogging Lambert?” Ciri asked, incredulity lacing her tone. Geralt felt every fibre in his body vibrate with anger and his blood boiled in his veins as he watched Lambert’s hand wander over Jaskier’s body like he somehow owned the bard.

Lambert had no fucking right to touch his bard.

Lambert would soon regret his decision to paw Jaskier like he was nothing but a common whore.

“Hey Vesemir,” Geralt was not acknowledging Vesemir but he knew that he had his mentor’s attention nonetheless, “have you ever heard of a witcher developing abilities to fly after undergoing the trials?”

Geralt noticed Yennefer, Ciri and Vesemir eye each other questioningly out of the corner of his eyes. The older witcher looked as puzzled as the rest of them.

“I have never come across such a case, Geralt. Why the interest?”

“Just making sure Lambert won’t survive a fall from my bedroom window,” Geralt announced as he rose from his chair and headed towards where Lambert and Jaskier were sitting. He ignored Vesemir and Yennefer’s protests, his eyes locked on Lambert who seemed to pale when he saw Geralt approach.

“Geralt, to what do I owe the…”

“Knock if off Lambert,” Geralt snapped at him, his anger only amplified by the fact that Lambert still had his arm wrapped around Jaskier, “Jaskier, how about you join me and the others over there…”

Although he had phrased it as a question, Geralt had definitely meant this as an order… something Jaskier picked up on and did not appreciate judging by the indignant expression on his face.

“I like it here, thank you very much.”

Those, as it turned out, had been the wrong words to use. Geralt had to actively calm down his nerves so he would not pummel Lambert to the ground and wipe off that cocky smile off his face.

“You heard the bard, Geralt. So piss off and go huff somewhere else.”

“There’s something I would much rather do,” Geralt said before landing a punch to Lambert’s face.

***

“What was that all about, you big brute?” Jaskier yelled at Geralt as soon as he found the witcher standing on the balcony of his room, brooding by himself as per usual. Geralt did not reply; in fact, he did not even seem to acknowledge Jaskier’s presence, which infuriated the bard to no end. Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm and pulled on it with enough force that it attracted Geralt’s attention. The witcher groaned in warning, but at this point Jaskier did not care if he was punched in the stomach. He needed answers.

“I could ask you the same question, bard,” Geralt snapped, his voice low and menacing. His amber eyes narrowed as Jaskier stood toe to toe with him, not showing any willingness to back down.

“I’m allowed to snog whomever I please. You aren’t my father and don’t get to tell me what to do, Geralt!”

This had all gone terribly wrong. Yennefer had suggested making Geralt jealous by flirting with Lamber, and at the time Jaskier thought it was a brilliant idea. He never thought that Geralt would act out like this. Much less give him orders like he had a say in Jaskier’s life and actions.

“I will tell you what to do when it means keeping you safe!” Geralt hissed back at Jaskier, and despite their barely noticeable height difference it felt like the witcher was towering over Jaskier.

“Keep me safe from what? Lambert is your friend, not a vampire or werewolf that you’re hunting. You know what, this was all a terrible idea, I should never have listened to Yennefer and her stupid ideas.” Jaskier did not wait for Geralt’s reply and meant to storm out of the room, but a large hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back.

“What do you mean by that?” Geralt demanded to know, but Jaskier was done talking.

“Let go of me, Geralt!”

“Lambert may be my friend, but I know what he’s like. I’ve seen it before. There’s been times where I partnered with him on hunts when we were younger. I saw the way he sweet-talked to women, promised them the world and took them to bed. You… you deserve better than this, Jaskier.”

Geralt’s words caused Jaskier to pause. It did not make sense. Since when did Geralt care who Jaskier went to bed with? And more importantly, since when did he care how these encounters left him feeling?

“This was all Yennefer’s idea. I was never interested in Lambert. I just… wanted to make you jealous,” Jaskier finally admitted, his voice small. He felt like a child who was being scolded. He braced himself for Geralt’s rejection.

“Why did you and Yen want to make me jealous?”

“Because I was sick and tired of seeing you two pining for each other and both being too cowardly to do anything about it,” Yennefer’s voice interrupted their little conversation. Jaskier and Geralt both looked up and saw Yennefer and Ciri standing at the door, wearing the same unimpressed expressions on their faces.

“Yen, stay out of this,” Geralt growled under his breath, but the sorceress merely smiled patronisingly at the witcher.

“Oh Geralt, I am in way too deep at this point. Either you two admit that you have feelings for each other, or I swear to the gods I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

Jaskier gulped audibly at Yennefer’s words, and as soon as Geralt felt his anxiety he pulled the bard closer to him. Geralt positioned himself before Jaskier so he was shielding the bard from Yennefer’s attacks. Yennefer and Ciri cast each other knowing looks at the witcher’s actions.

“I believe my work here is done. Geralt, don’t mess this up.”

With these final words Yennefer and Ciri disappeared leaving Geralt and Jaskier alone. The witcher kept his back turned to the bard, almost as if unwilling to face him now that his dirty little secret was out. Jaskier, on the other hand, could not have felt happier if he tried. Yennefer had been right. Geralt liked him back and that was why he had reacted the way he had upon seeing Lambert and Jaskier together.

“Oh Geralt…,” Jaskier whispered, running his hands along the broad shoulders and down the thick arms, pulling a shudder from the witcher, “and here I was worried that you would reject me.”

Geralt finally turned around at those words and hesitantly placed his hands on Jaskier’s hips, his eyes scanning Jaskier’s face nervously. Without any words being spoken, the witcher leaned closer and placed the softest kiss on the bard’s lips.

That was all the reassurance Jaskier needed as he returned the kiss. Safe to say they would not be leaving Geralt’s room any time soon.

#geralt x jaskier #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher #geraskier

103 notes · View notes

goosefightrobinmayor · 6 years

Text

Tatterhood

Tatterhood is my fav ever fairytale in it’s original form, so ofc I tackled it first when doing this Glen project. As such, you can see how like, messy it is, compared to later stuff. But I still love this girl.

They grew up in the kingdom of Nysgerrig, under the ocean. It’s not true that Tatterhood left the womb riding a goat- otherwise her mother would have given birth to triplets! In fact when she was young, she didn’t even have a spoon, or her namesake hood. All she had was her unusual height and physique, which she used to protect her sister.

For a moment, her parents worried that young Tatterhood would be teased and isolated because of her looks, but that turned out never to be the case- other than some people wondering out loud if Tatterhood had one human and one merperson parent. It was never a cruel kind of wonder, though. The people of Nysgerrig were curious; not judgemental.

Anyway, humans and merfolk did marry, and their children never looked like Tatterhood. They were always born human, though half of them metamorphosed into merfolk in their teen years.

On a map drawn by a land-dweller, Nysgerrig looked like a sliver of coastline and a smattering of islands. But in truth, most of Nysgerrig was under the waves. The country had lost it’s capability for magic when the slain princess Seafoam was returned to Nysgerrig to rule. The princess, however, inspired curiosity in all her subjects. Curiosity lead to learning, which lead to more curiosity, which lead to invention.

The humans and merfolk used their learning to get closer to one another. They used magnets to manipulate water to make it stand and roll around, so that merfolk could move on dry land. They discovered that they could use the volcanic vents to generate electricity, and that they could harness more electricity from the sun. Over many generations, the they built dry neighborhood to the underwater city, and slowly moved the humans there.

But that was many years before the twins were born. By the twins’ time, humans and merfolk were quite used to their semi-aquatic lifestyles with one another.

By now, the islands had gone wild. The creatures on the land- once failing in numbers, now flourished with little sentient intervention. The air was clean, and the only structures on the islands were solar panels interspersed with the trees. The strip of mainland had a few farms that provided most of the fruits and vegetables for Nysgerrig. All the same, the cities had been built well away from important choral wreaths and fish breeding grounds. Curiosity had also taught them a lot about the creatures around them, and what they needed to flourish.

Tatterhood was- good. She wanted good things for others. Her parents used to give her fancy bonnets and dresses, but Tatterhood would give those to charity, and trade them in for tattered old cloaks. Her mother, annoyed with this, started calling her Tatterhood, and forgot the name she had chosen for her. Her sister, on the other hand, loved her nice bonnets. She started calling herself Silkbonnet, or Bonnie, because she loved to be like her sister, even if they shared nothing about aesthetics.

Tatterhood got her wooden spoon to work at a soup kitchen. She was so eager to work, she bought her own. However, a kitchen was not her place, and she soon got bored. Not to mention that the taste of her food left much to be desired. It’s here where she found her calling, though, when she had to break up a fight between guests. She was such a natural brawler that she was asked for work as a bodyguard.

The goat was actually a gift from Seafoam herself. She’d asked the family to come up to the capitol because they’d heard of two girls who were born from a flower. As soon as Tatterhood saw Seafoam, she was amazed. Seafoam, too, saw that there was something interesting about the girl, and asked to speak to her alone.

“Are you a hybrid?” Tatterhood asked once they were alone.

“I’m sorry- a what?”

“A- half-human half-merperson? I’ve just, never seen someone like you before.”

Seafoam gave a sad smile. It was true- most merfolk were covered in green or blue scales, deep black eyes and transparent eyelids. They had gills instead of noses, and fins instead of hair. They were blubbery, with short, stubby arms, and powerful tails. Seafoam looked like a merperson from the tail to the waist, but from the waist up looked like a human woman, her hair forming a halo in the gravitized water around her.

“Why do you ask that?” The question was sarcastic, but Tatterhood missed the sarcasm.

“Because that’s what people think I am,” Tatterhood said.

Seafoam looked surprised, “What?”

“It’s true. They don’t know for sure. But I don’t look human, despite having legs a human family. It’s like I’m a land-dwelling merperson. And you look like a water-dwelling human. Are we alike?”

Seafoam laughed, making bubbled in her water wall that escaped into Tatterhood’s air space. She caught her breath, “Oh darling, of course you’re not half-merperson! You don’t look like a merperson.”

“Well, that is true,” Tatterhood said, and jutted out her chin. Yes, she looked totally unique. More rugged. Intimidating. And she had the muscles to back up her looks.

“And I’m not half human,” Seafoam said, “I’m not human at all. But I did have legs, once.”

“You did?”

She winced, as if in pain, and hugged her tail, “I did.”

“Is that how you came to look human?” Tatterhood asked.

Seafoam cocked her head, as if trying to figure out the answer to that question. Then, she said, “Listen, Tatterhood. I’m going to give you some advice. Be boring.”

“Boring? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she nodded, and lowered her voice as if being listened to, “the Narrative Forces made me this way.”

The Narrative Forces. Yes. Tatterhood knew about those. They could make people never die. She did know for sure that Seafoam was many hundreds of years old- much older than most merfolk. But why would Seafoam be telling Tatterhood not to live forever?

“With human skin and hair?”

Seafoam nodded, “Do you know how much I hate this hair? It gets tangled in everything, and I can’t even cut it because it grows back in a few minutes. Somewhere along the line, the Narrative Forces thought I looked better with the torso of a beautiful human maiden. And so I’ve been this way for centuries,” she groaned, “I’m not even logical. I don’t have gills.”

“What? No gills? Then how do you breathe?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem!”

Tatterhood shuddered all over. She loved her sister, but she wouldn’t want to turn pretty, not ever. She liked being strong, and messy, and impulsive and- well, ugly. She liked being tall and green and having tusks and warts and and pig nose and tail and muscles. Without those, she wouldn’t feel like herself.

But. She would like to be a princess. She admired Seafoam for what she had created in Nysgerrig. Tatterhood wanted to do good like that, and on that scale. She even admired that Seafoam did all this while looking kind of funny. She was mermaid who didn’t look like a mermaid, and Tatterhood was a human who didn’t look like a human. They really were the same.

Seafoam called the family back, and they answered some questions about the twin’s birth. At some point, Seafoam got stiff and worried looking. It was only for a moment, and Tatterhood was the only one who seemed to notice. Seafoam sent them home, but gave them gifts. For Bonnie, a lovely bonnet knitted out of the softest kelp. And for Tatterhood, a wild baby goat the size of a colt.

Her parents feared at first that they wouldn’t be able to handle the goat, until Tatterhood climbed on top of him. Immediately he calmed down, and Tatterhood rode him out of the throne room. Her family followed.

Tatterhood adored her goat, who she named Vincent. He grew even larger, and in a few years was the size of a horse. Tatterhood took to riding the city on her goat, helping people in trouble either with her diplomacy or her fists and trusty wooden spoon.

On the twins’ eighteenth birthday, Seafoam called the family to the capitol again, and spoke to Tatterhood.

“Tatterhood, I’ve made a mistake,” she told her.

And then she told her about a deal she made with a delegation of trolls several years ago. Trolls were creatures who lived far away from Nysgerrig, in the mountains on the land. Seafoam, who couldn’t leave the ocean much less Nysgerrig, longed to study the wildlife in the trolls’ native land. The trolls brought her a collection of their livestock, in exchange for something that they lost. They could come for it in a while. Seafoam wouldn’t have to find it for them, just not get in their way when they came to claim it.

The deal was worded vaguely, and Seafoam sensed a trap, but her curiosity and her eagerness to learn overpowered for caution. She agreed. She now knew that that was a mistake, because she knew what the trolls wanted.

“It’s you, Tatterhood. You’re not a merperson. But you’re not really human, either. You’re half troll. That’s why I gave Vincent to you instead of the bonnet I created for you. I suppose it was a weak sort of apology. But when I saw you tame him, I knew that it was your because of your troll blood.”

Anyone else might have been devastated by this news, but Tatterhood was overjoyed. Finally, the reason for her being different had a name. The thought there being other trolls out there she could meet also inspired her. But not so much what Seafoam said next- about the trolls wanting to take her away from everything- her city, her goat, her sister, to live with them.

“They don’t get to decide that!”

“Of course they don’t. Which is why I’m going to protect you in the strongest fort in the country. Trolls are like fae, in that they must keep their promises. But merfolk and princesses are held to no such standards. I will break my promise with the trolls, and go to war with them to protect you.”

“And put the people of Nysgerrig in danger?”

“Don’t be foolish- trolls rely on magic, and there is no magic here. Our armies will crush them.”

“Well I don’t want them to die. I will go meet them, and tell them I’m not going.”

“That’s foolish. Tatterhood, remember what I told you about being boring.”

“It’s true,” Tatterhood said, “but I’ve been thinking about it a lot for the past eight years. And the truth is, I don’t want to be boring. I want to live forever. In fact, I want to be a princess!”

“Tatterhood! But don’t you want to look the way you look?”

“Yes! Yes I do, definitely,” she nodded vigorously, “you see, I have a plan,” she grinned, “and this fits right into it! I’m going to become a princess,” she jutted out her chin, “but it’s going to be on my terms. And, it’ll probably take a while to get just right, so I’ll need some immortality to give me some time.”

Seafoam didn’t like this answer, but Tatterhood had made up her mind. She found her family, and explained her plan. Her parents tried to talk her out of it, but Bonnie could see that she was unbudging, so she instead offered to go with her. Tatterhood was thrilled, and pulled Bonney on top of Vincent with her, and ran away.

Tatterhood met the troll army on the mainland, where some magic was still usable. Her plan to simply tell them how she felt went down like a lead balloon and they immediately tried to capture her. Tatterhood escaped, but at a price. Bonnie had been transformed- given the body of a cow, though she still kept her human head.

Luckily for the girls, they had gained the attention of the Narrative Forces. They were in a story now, though, it didn’t have the ending either of them wanted. They started to wandering the earth, avoiding the trolls, and looking for a way for Tatterhood to become and princess, and for Bonnie to get her body back.

Tatterhood set her sights on helping her sister out. Though Bonnie didn’t complain out loud, Tatterhood could tell the life of a cow was not for her. There was so much time that had to be spent eating and then digesting that Bonnie felt like she didn’t have any time for herself by the time she had to sleep again. When she did sleep, only the ground and piles of hay were big enough for her, as she had a tendency to crush any bed she found. And her hooves got cracked from so much walking, but Tatterhood and Bonnie could find no one who would make shoes for cows.

But the worst of it were the suitors. The first time a slightly attractive man came to Bonnie stating that he wanted to help her break her curse, Tatterhood thought Bonnie was lucky. But after spending an afternoon with him, Bonnie was charging out of town so fast Tatterhood had to ride Vincent to keep up with her. Tatterhood tried again and again to play matchmaker with a gentleman cursebreaker, but Bonnie rejected them all. Finally Bonnie explained her reasoning.

“They don’t want to marry me because they love me,” she said, “they want to marry me because they want to break my curse.”

“Well don’t you want your curse broken?” Tatterhood asked.

“Of course! But this is marriage, Tatters. I don’t want to marry to a man I don’t love, and who doesn’t love me. Think how miserable that would be.”

Tatterhood had never thought of it that way. She of course had always known that she would have to marry some prince or princess in order to become a Storybook Princess. But she had thought it would a business arrangement- mutually beneficial for both parties, but not necessarily for the sake of love.

To tell the truth, Tatterhood didn’t really understand love. Oh, she understood the love she had for her sister, and her goat, and her family. But that other kind of love- the love that was supposed to be magical between a person and the one they marry- that thing that was supposed to be all encompassing and surpass all the other loves in her life- she just understand that type of love. Nor did she want it. She didn’t want anything to be more important than her sister.

Bonnie shook her head at this, though, “That’s not the kind of love I want, either. I don’t think that kind of love exists, Tatters. I know in my heart nothing can take away the love I have for you. But I am holding my breath that I will meet someone one day- someone I love as much, but differently. Someone who I can can share a love with because we trust each other so much. A friend. Someone who sees me as a friend too, and not just a ticket to immortality.”

This cleared up, Tatterhood stopped playing matchmaker, and vigilantly protected her sister from unwanted advances. She and Bonnie traveled to all the great cities, looking for some book or some scholer to tell them the way to reverse Bonnie’s curse- one that didn’t involve a sham marriage. But no one had any help for them.

While passing through Ausdauer, Tatterhood and Bonnie were scaling a mountain when they came upon an old woman enjoying her tea in her kettle. They were invited to join her, and gladly did to rest their feet and hooves. Tatterhood had no provisions to trade for the tea, so she told her their story instead. A twinkle shone in the woman’s eye but nothing more.

“Why, well not ask me? I’m a woman of magic, myself.”

“Alright, then,” Tatterhood thought it was at least worth saying the words, “do you know how to Bonnie can get her human form back, without having to marry?”

“Of course. And you’re going about it all wrong, girl. Silkbonnet is not cursed.”

“How do you mean that? She has the body of a cow!”

“Yes, but listen to me. A curse is a spell cast with ill intent, the intent being to harm another person. And none of this is true of your ensorcellment.”

Tatterhood stood up, “Explain yourself, crone, or we take the kettle and throw it off the mountainside.”

“You have a temper befitting a troll,” the woman nodded sagely, “you are a troll in almost every way. Every way but one.”

Tatterhood knew what she was talking about. What she didn’t know what how the old woman knew. “Yes,” she said, “it’s true: I’m a troll who can’t do magic. But how do you know?”

“Girl,” the old woman said, “I know more about you than you can believe, so you must believe what I am telling you now. You’re not the only half troll here. Your sister, too has troll ancestry.”

Tatterhood and Bonnie exchanged glances. “Well,” Bonnie said, “it would make sense. We are twins, after all.”

“Only in name, though,” Tatterhood said, “we were born of unusual circumstances.”

“Yes, your mother ate two flowers, when she was advised to only eat one.”

They turned back to the crone, “What are you talking about, old woman?” Tatterhood asked, “And again, how do you know these things? My mother ate the two flowers, yes, but she said nothing about being advised to eat one.”

“She didn’t tell you about it, but none-the-less, she was advised.”

By now, the twins were rather spooked. The woman sighed, “The point I’m trying to make is-” she pointed to Bonnie, “you are as much troll as she. But whereas she has inherited every troll trait but for magic, you have inherited troll magic only.”

“I don’t have magic!” Bonnie protested, “I never practiced magic in my life!”

“Because you lived in Nysgerrig, where common-magic doesn’t work,” and she gave an exasperated sigh, “why do I have to explain everything to you humans?”

“I thought we were trolls,” Tatterhood said dryly.

“Well you’re certainly thinking like humans. Use your brains!”

Tatterhood wanted to walk away right then- leave the woman to her rantings. But Bonnie set her hooves into the earth and said she wanted to hear the woman out. The woman introduced herself as Bunica, and promised to teach Bonnie how to use her powers.

“It’s no surprise you don’t know you have magic,” the woman said, “you never got a chance to use them.”

“But if I really did enchant myself-”

“What were you feeling just then?”

Bonnie cocked her head to remember, “Scared,” she said, “so much was happening so fast. I was never so scared in my life. I thought I was going to lose Tatters.”

Bunica nodded again, “When put in stressful situations, our magic can do extraordinary things.”

“Like turn me into a cow?! How did that help us, at the time?”

“I dunno,” Tatterhood said, off to the side, “when you got transformed, I knew I had to stop trying to fight fights I couldn’t win and just get out of there. So in a way, you knocked the hubris outta me.”

“But if I changed myself into this, why didn’t I just turn back when we escaped?” Bonnie asked, “Me being a cow hasn’t helped us ever since then.”

“Because the magic to change you back is well beyond your knowledge,” Bunica said, “you were full of fear and passion at the time, which created magic that should have been impossible for you. But now it is very impossible to change back.”

Bonnie rocked on all four of her hooves, “Impossible? So why are we even talking?”

“Impossible now,” Bunica said, annoyed, “listen, will you? Of course you’ll be able to change back eventually. But you must learn how to use your magic, first.”

For a year and a day the twins stayed on the mountain. Tatterhood couldn’t complain. She didn’t age, and probably never would again, so there was no point in being impatient. Bunica started Bonnie on transforming pebbles into gems- small things.

“Don’t I need ingredients?” Bonnie asked, “Tongue of newt and eye of toad and stuff. What about a magic wand? When do I get my wand?”

“Those baubles are crutches,” Bunica said, “you’re a troll. You don’t need those things. Just will this pebble to be a sapphire.”

“How can I will it? The pebble’s will isn’t mine to command.”

“It’s not as long as you have that attitude.”

Bonnie spat out the cud she’d been chewing absently, then made a face when she saw it on the ground. “Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, and made a gesture. The earth swallowed up the cud and spat out a strange and unique plant that gave off an enticing smell. When Bonnie snuck up to it, however, Bunica yelled, “Don’t you dare!”

“Your problem is believing,” Bunica said, “you need to believe that you’re a troll. Trolls are nature, and therefore, they can alter nature. You have to ability to tell this pebble how to be, but you must make an honest effort and stop doubting that it’s possible.”

“Can I, though, when I grew up in place with so much metal? Nysgerrig seemed to separate from nature.”

“You’ll have to, if you ever want to stop chewing cud.”

And Bonnie did try. But it was difficult, and the difficulty made her doubt herself more, which made it more difficult. But while on the mountain, she was not bothered by well-meaning suitors. And though she pained to stand upright and have hands, she would not marry out of desperation to escape this curse.

On the third day, she transformed the pebble. Not a full transformation, but there was a stripe of blue crystal through the center of the rock. Bonnie was so pleased she ran down to the base of the mountain to show Tatterhood, holding the pebble between her teeth. A small victory, but the encouragement she needed.

When Tatterhood saw the pebble, she knew the witch had been telling the truth, and decided to settle in on the mountain’s side. She had set up camp- a fireplace and a tent. But now she set to work creating a cabin where she and her sister could escape the elements. Bunica had a cave, but she didn’t offer to share it, and Tatterhood didn’t want to push her generosity.

While Bonnie was transforming stones and leaves, Tatterhood used her non-magical gifts to transform trees into logs, and logs into a home. She built a house that was sturdy, with wide doors a human-headed cow could enter easily, and even made an exceptionally sturdy bed for Bonnie’s bovine dimensions.

She finished the cabin, and Bonnie was still learning how to transform leaves into cloth. Tatterhood made herself busy exploring the mountain. There were huge eagles, which Bunica has asked Tatterhood not to harm, for they were her children. There was also a monsterous serpent, a lindworm, who Bunica had also asked Tatterhood not to harm. She was free, though, to hunt boars and wolves and elk, though Tatterhood did so only when threatened by the beasts. Bonnie couldn’t digest meat, and Tatterhood was but one troll, so she kept to smaller meals for herself, like foxes and bobcats.

Tatterhood also patrolled the mountain. Sometimes a young bachelor would come riding up to hunt, and Tatterhood would scare them away with a ruse. She’d ride Vincent where they could see her, singing at the top of her lungs about hunting and killing humans for a stew with her pack of bloodthirsty trolls. The bachelors would turn around with haste.

Then there were the women, the couples, and the elderly, who came up the mountain path to Bunica’s cave. Somehow, Tatterhood knew not to deter them. Bunica did business with them. Tatterhood watched at least once, as she sent a couple off with instructions of what to grow and eat and what not to. Without looking, Bunica asked, “This interests, you?”

“My origins interest me, Ma’am.”

“Why do you assume your origins are with me?”

“Call it a hunch, I guess.”

“Why do you have this interest?”

“Because I grew up as the only troll in a city of humans and merfolk. I’m interesting to myself.”

“Your sister is as much troll as you.”

“Yes,” Tatterhood faltered, “yes, she is, isn’t she? It’s hard for me to get used to knowing that.”

“You must learn not to categorize things by the way they look. There are many creatures who look like something else.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Mostly, she was left to her own devices. Bunica didn’t have patience for her- or Bonnie, for that matter. There were days when Bunica simply refused to give Bonnie a lesson because “It’s in you. Just do it. I can’t do it for you.”

Ironic, because they were under Princess Elisa’s domain. Tatterhood must have seeped up Bunica’s patience, because she found herself not too concerned with whether the witch would talk to her next, or how long it would take for Bonnie to regain her proper form.

She tried to speak to the eagles, but they stayed in the air, snubbing her. She made friends with the shepherds who lead their sheep to the foothills of the mountain. They saw her strength, and asked her to kill the lindworm, who was terrorizing their homes. She refused, but didn’t say why. However, it gave Tatterhood the idea to try to befriend him.

She found him to be not so monsterous, not in truth, but was shy, and angry, and his anger was a wall. Still though, when she had a big kill, she would bring her lunch out to the picnic table, and put a piece of meat on the other side. Then she would go to the edge of the woods and call to him.

“Lindworm, Lindworm, would you join me for lunch?”

Most of time no answer would come. Tatterhood would leave the meat anyway, and come out of her cabin the next morning to find the bones picked clean. Sometimes, she would hear only swears and insults from the wood, but still come out of her cabin in the morning to find the bones picked clean.

When Bunica finally told her about the creature- Ruby- Tatterhood wanted even more to befriend him. She had found on this hill someone was was the same as her- the other flower- the ugly twin but- worse. Even being seperated from Bonnie for more than a few days put an ache in Tatterhood’s heart. How could parents be so cruel as to force two twins to grow up separately? She wanted to ease his heartache in one way or another.

But now that she was armed with this knowledge, the lindworm kept himself even further away.

“I am no other flower. I am no ugly twin. I am not Ruby. I am the Lindworm. I am a killer, and you had best stay away or you’ll be devoured.”

“You are dear to me, but my story will not end with my death, so I will not allow you to eat me. It will be your death before mine.”

“Then you will incur the wrath of the mountain mother, and suffer a fate worse than death.”

“Possibly,” Tatterhood said, unconcerned. The truth was, she was certain he would never harm her. He wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought he was.

Winter set in. Bonnie had reversed her transformation and there had been much celebration. But she had chosen to wait until spring to set out, and stay with Bunica to pick up what magical knowledge she could. She practiced on anyone who was willing, even Tatterhood, giving her the form of a human man.

As a man, Tatterhood slayed a large boar that was terrorizing the village below almost as much as Ruby. He had a scar from an encounter with the lindworm- a gash from his mouth to his ear. They celebrated the hero, declaring that he must be some kind of prince. Tatterhood was a bit amused by this, but did not stick around. She salted the meat and brought an offering to the edge of the woods Ruby resided in, and settled in for the winter.

On the first day of spring, the sisters said their goodbyes to Bunica, and set out on Vincent. Tatterhood hoped to see Ruby one more time before she left, but the lindworm did not emerge to say goodbye.

Years passed. The new editions of the Grimmoir came out but with no mention of Bonnie’s disenchantment. Tatterhood wasn’t sure if this was because the Narrative Forces had forgotten them or because Bonnie had been disenchanted in such an uninteresting way. Uninteresting, that is, to the Narrative Forces. They seemed to be very interested in marriage, and revenge, and groups of three.

Tatterhood studied them in her long life. Met those who had been made into protagonists, like her. Wrote down their stories, circled certain words, put the tales up on a crime board and connected the themes with strings. She copied the stories of the princesses out of the common Grimmoirs and wrote them on blue paper. She was now 100% determined to achieve her dream.

They went all over- saw amazing things. They even spent time in the land of the trolls. It was a wild place, without the influence of a Storybook Princess. In all of time, the Narrative Forces had never granted a princess to the trolls. But it was chock full of magic. Everything seemed to be alive there- or part of something that was. People lived in giant trees and traveled around on dandelion spores and the wind.

The trolls were family oriented, only their idea of a family was much broader than what Tatterhood and Bonnie were used to. To a troll, ‘family’ were people you were fond of, regardless of blood. The twins became the daughters of 42 trolls, the sisters of 31 others, and the cousins of 18 more. The twins also met many merfolk and felle and even giants who were trolls- as far as they and their (adopted?)families were concerned.

Meeting the trolls, and reading the entries to how the Grimmoir treated them, Tatterhood realized that her dream was going to be difficult. There was a reason that most protagonists in the stories were human, and that most villains weren’t, and that those who changed into humans always got their happy endings. There were exceptions, of course. Tatterhood befriended Puss, a felle who remained a cat throughout his tale and up to this day, and a giant-killer who refused to marry after fulfilling his task, and a witch named Baba Yaga who was celebrated as much as she was feared.

In the meantime, she assured her immortality by finding her roles in other stories. She was aware that her mother or Bunica might die, making her story disappear, so she entangled herself. Not always giving her name, though. Often she was an ogre to be tricked by a protagonist, or(with the help of Bonnie’s magic), an animal who gave some sage advice when needed. Bonnie took up the role of story starter- anonymously transforming people who greatly wanted to have a place in the Grimmoir. She always left a way for them to break the curse that was different from the cure all- marriage- for she herself didn’t believe in marriage for that cause.

They also helped in ways that never got into the Grimmoir. Tatterhood hunted down non-magical bounties when she hit the cities, or joined armies to take on corrupt kings while in the country. Bonnie gave herself a cow’s head when in places that were interesting to the Forces. Eventually their tale changed in the common Grimmoirs to state that the girl had been cursed with a cow’s head, not a cow’s body.

“It’s more convenient,” she told Tatterhood with a shrug, “at least I only have one stomach, this way.”

Bonnie had a few love affairs over the years, with people like her who had started their own tales, but didn’t want to finish them by marrying. And they befriended many. Tatterhood was happy with the friends, though. The more she went on, the more she became resolute that that certain kind of love was not for her. And she was happy.

Half a century into their journey, they were called back to Nysgerrig because their father was sickly. They stayed in the city for last years of his life, at his insistence. Tatterhood was rather distraught at the idea of losing him. She insisted he come with her on an adventure, so that he could stop his fatal aging. But the man turned her down. He didn’t want to be old and withered for the rest of forever- especially when next to their mother, who was still young and vibrant as the day Tatterhood had fought the trolls.

They stayed a few months after the death, but the adventuring spirit had entered Bonnie, and the twins set out again. But by now, Tatterhood had started to give up on her dream. Once, she would have offered unaging to any prince who would accept her hand without trying to sooth out the warts on it. But everyone she met who wasn’t in a tale felt so young to her now. It would be like marrying a child.

I’m happy, she said to herself, this, what I do, it makes me happy. I can do this forever.

The twins was on the edge of troll country when she heard that the capitol city had been overtaken by a human army. The twins of course knew a lot about humans and their tricks, so they decided to go. The humans had discovered that they could use iron to poison the city and give the trolls sun sickness. Those with sun sickness turned to stone when under the sun. The warriors were too scared to leave their houses and defend the streets during the day, and in the night, the humans disappeared.

They continued this tactic until the city was cowed into submission, and now the humans were treating trolls like servants or toys. Tatterhood was less than enthusiastic when she and Bonnie arrived. Bonnie was riding an old canterous mare and wearing a cow’s head, so the humans saw them both as enemies. They dumped iron-heavy water on top of them. The half-human girls, though, were immune to sun sickness and fought the army with might and magic.

Tatterhood killed, and was glad to. She sent the slavers away with a message that the trolls could not be defeated so easily. The trolls celebrated their heroes, and the twins stayed in the city for several weeks. They met the royal princes- a troll and a human changeling- though the twins quickly learned not to say that word out loud around him.

Roar and Reidar’s family were in themselves storied- the villains who had been tricked by a couple of clever felle. Honestly, the incident was so unremarkable to them that they didn’t realize they were in a tale until they couldn’t shave their beards and someone brought them a copy of the Grimmoir. They were bemused by the whole business, and used their unwanted long lives to help the more mortally inclined people of Ugress.

Tatterhood and Bonnie stayed to help as much as they could. The troll population of Ugress, which was still the majority, still had sun sickness. Tatterhood called on the healers she’d met. She even fetched Bunica the mountain mother, but not even she could offer up a cure for the poor trolls. Best she could offer were enchanted hats that kept the sun from freezing them, so long as they didn’t get knocked off. The trolls who had already been turned to stone were dead. They were placed in the graveyard- their own tombstones.

It was a while, and Bonnie and Prince Roar spent more and more time together. Tatterhood thought it at first one of her flings. The twins still went on adventures, but returned often to the town of Ugress at Bonnie’s insistence.

Tatterhood spent time with Reidar, and greatly enjoyed his company. Like Tatterhood, Reidar was the unmagical sibling- being just a human among trolls. Also like Tatterhood, he enjoyed brawls and hunting. Nor did he have any interest in romance. The only thing they disagreed about was fashion, honestly. Reidar liked to dress up in the finest robes, and Tatterhood still liked her tattered cloaks.

When Bonnie announced she would marry Roar, Tatterhood was surprised. Ten years had passed but, then again, it had only been ten. Bonnie was sure though, and so was Roar. They had plans to move to one of the princes’ vacation homes- a great house carved into a sequoia tree in Slekta. The surrounding forest trees were so tall and so dense and so leafy that he would never have to worry about his sun sickness.

Preparations were made for the marriage, which would take place in Ugress. Tatterhood and Reidar had so much fun getting everything ready. It occured to Tatterhood, though, that once Bonnie married Prince Roar, she would be a princess. Once Tatterhood’s dream and- honestly, for a moment, it felt bitter in her mouth to know of Bonnie achieving it. But Tatterhood wouldn’t stand for that. She chose instead to be happy that her twin and lifelong friend was marrying someone she was deeply in love with.

Still though- Tatterhood started to see an opportunity. She and Reidar were friends. They spend hours together in the same house, and comfortably. When she asked him, “Would you like to get married?” She asked it sort of as a joke.

But to her horror and thrill, he considered it.

“If I did marry you, I’d have more excuses to visit Roar. It makes me sad that he’s leaving, but I don’t want to make Bonnie jealous by visiting a lot.”

“Reidar! You disappoint me. You know Bonnie isn’t the possessive type. Her love only multiplies, never divides.”

“Know, this is true, this is true. Ah, well, I guess I have no excuse, then,” he shrugged, “I like you, Tatters. I don’t know if this the proper kind of love to do so but- who cares? I enjoy your company. You’re one of my best friends. Yes, I would like to marry.”

“So then- that’s a yes?”

“A yes- yes, it’s a yes! Tatterhood, I can’t wait to see you as princess.”

“Not just a princess,” Tatterhood’s tusks vibrated from her joy, “a Storybook Princess!”

It was a race to the altar.

No, really, it was. Everyone rode their chosen steed. Bonnie had a black stallion. Roar rode his rhinoceros. Reidar had a trollian albatross, and Tatterhood, of course, was riding Vincent. Bonnie and Roar’s mounts and Tatterhood and Reidar’s mounts were tied together by lengths of rope that gave them each six feet to maneuver around one another.

It wasn’t a tradition or anything. They just thought it would be fun.

The first leg of the race was through a wooded evergreen forest under the moonlight. Team Blomst, Bonnie and Roar, were in front, so Team Ugress put on a burst of speed to overtake them. Suddenly Reidar cried out.

“Tatterhood! Your hood!”

“What about it?”

“It’s not a hood, it’s a lovely flowing gown!”

Tatterhood looked down to see that, indeed, he was telling the truth. She was wearing a lovely gown made of all color silks, with rose petals sewn into it. The gown spilled over into Vincent’s horns and made him lose his cadence, which slowed them all down. Team Blomst pulled ahead.

“Damnit Bonnie,” Tatterhood muttered, but pushed her silk to the side and kept going. The next leg of the race was over two swinging rope bridges over a thundering waterfall. Team Ugress saw Team Blomst ahead and pushed again, getting a lead on them.

“Tatterhood! Your goat!” Reider cried.

“What about him?”

��He’s not a goat, he’s a fine stallion!”

Tatterhood looked down, but didn’t need to tell something was wrong. Vincent was in a tizzy- rearing and trying to bray, but only whinnying instead. He was a lovely racing horse with a freshly shampooed mane. Each of his cloven hooves had fused into a single hard toe, and he kept throwing all this hooves to try to get them free of the new enamel. He caused such a fuss the bridge they were on turned over, and Tatterhood had to comfort him while they were hanging upside down.

She did get him under control, and spurred him into motion. She was furious, now. She was going to win this race no matter what. Vincent, with Tatterhood on him, leaped onto the albatross’s back. It flew in the sky, over the track, catching up with Team Blomst. Vincent leaped down just in front of the other horse, and the albatross resumed flying just behind him.

“Hey! Flying is cheating!” Bonnie said, “We established that!”

“So is magic!” Tatterhood pointed out, and swung her spoon into the horse’s face. She was going to knock it out. If Bonnie wanted to play dirty, Tatterhood could, too. It brushed off harmlessly, however, because it had been transformed.

“Tatterhood! Your wooden spoon!” Reidar cried.

“Yes, Reidar, I know,” Tatterhood was holding the paper fan in her hand presently.

“It’s not a wooden spoon, it’s a paper fan!”

“I know.”

“Oh, you know.”

“Yeah,” she pocketed the fan. Again, Team Blomst had edged in front of them.

There was one final stretch- through a field of wasp nests. The nests were of the ground variety, and the grass was tall, and no one could no for sure where the nests were. Tatterhood, with her paper fan, her gown, and her lovely horse, turned to her human fiance. “Shall we?”

Reidar burst out with laughter. Long, hard peels. Tatterhood, annoyed, fanned herself.

“I’m sorry, Tatters, but you just look so ridiculous in all that stuff.”

“I know,” Tatterhood said, ripping the bottom part off her dress, “let’s get some good old revenge.”

So they made for one last go to catch with Team Blomst. This time, Tatterhood got neck and neck with Bonnie, who said, “Tatterhood! Your face!”

“What about it?”

“It’s not your face, it’s the face of some lovely human maiden.”

Tatterhood didn’t have to look. She wiggled her nose to find it was small, and felt her teeth in her mouth- all the same side. Her hands were small, and uncalloused. Tatterhood laughed.

“Nice one, Bonnie. Now turn me back. I will not marry while looking like this.”

“Fair enough- but do something for me first. Cut your fiance loose, and tie your animal to mine.”

It was a deal. Tatterhood was ruthless, cutting the rope with her wooden spoon which had once again been transformed. The sudden loss of tension made the albatross lose its balance in the air, and like a kite it went tumbling back with Reidar still on him. At the same time, Bonnie cut her line between herself and Roar. His mount saw the loose rope and tried to catch it in it’s mouth, only it was connected to it, so it couldn’t quite reach and the rhinoceros ran circles.

Tatterhood and Vincent’s enchantments melted off them like sugar under water. The twins mounts thundered through the field, waking several wasps nests.

Tatterhood and Bonnie tagged the minister at the same instance. “I guess you have to marry us both at once!” Bonnie said, breathing heavily. Seconds later, the brother princes came running out of the field, laughing, covered in mud, and chased by wasps.

The tower just, appeared, at the edge of fort Ugress- a tower of packed mud and briars and pine supports, like the rest of the fort. It looked like it belonged, certainly- but it was also the highest point of the structure.

The king, the queen, the two princes and the two new Storybook Princesses made their way up the tower. The construction inside was wood grown into steps instead of cut, as if made by troll hands and magic. A spiral staircase traveled all the way up to a door, and behind the door- plain room, with windows facing due north, due east, due south and due west.

And of course, the door.

Roar put his large hands on Bonnie’s shoulders, then let them go with a double pat, “Well, darling, there it is. Your door.”

Reidar cleared his throat, “Actually, brother, this is Tatterhood’s door. Ugress is to be her home, after all.”

“Goodness, you’re right,” Roar said.

Bonnie took Tatterhood’s hand, “Are you excited?”

“Excited? I’ve been waiting for this forever,” she put her hand on the door. There was a sort of warmth as touched the handle- not unlike the warmth of being newly Princessed. It was different from the warmth of unaging- a little hotter and more intense.

Suddenly, Tatterhood wasn’t sure she wanted to open the door.

“I’m scared,” she said in a small voice.

Two troll brothers were on either side of her.

“I’ll go in before you,” Reidar said, and put his hand on the knob. For his trouble, he was zapped and knocked across the room.

Roar got him up, saying, “Maybe you should open it for us, Tatters.”

Tatterhood nodded, put her hand on the knob again, but shook her head. “No, this isn’t right.”

The brothers looked at one another.

“I know I can invite someone else through. But this place- this is a place for princesses. So, only princesses should come through, this time.” She took Bonnie’s hand, “Will you? You’ve been with me for almost a century. Will you step over the threshold with me?”

“Oh Tatters, of course,” she turned to the troll family, “hold the fort while we’re gone,” and then she giggled.

#around the queueniverse #mairzy posts #tatterhood #glen

0 notes