A Modern Fairytale

The queen that should have been

I've watched you from the shadows long before we even started speaking. Maybe you noticed me looking even then, but if you did, you didn't acknowledge it.

And...oh, the things I've seen.

I spent the majority of my younger years simply trying to stay alive—in that kingdom so filled with bloodshed. Of all the people he could have chosen to be friends with, he chose you. From that day on, I could only prepare for the worst.

☆☆☆

Long, long ago, in a kingdom of fairies, it rained blood more often than water. The more power one held, the more bloodthirsty they were—there was no causation, only an undeniable correlation. By that logic, of course, the royalty was the most savage of them all. The ruling monarch had but one daughter, Valerie, and the princess was the sole heir to the throne.

The princess, a warmonger though she was, did not want to be the queen of Mecrisdale. She hovered between trees, over flowers, through windows and doorways—wherever she passed, her peers shunned her as politely as they could, knowing what she was destined to become someday. She took note of their reactions, pinched her lips in a thin line, and moved on.

From a tender age, Valerie had but one friend—one unreasonably, seemingly fearless fairy by the name of Reginvalt Boneflare. When he wasn't with her, the boy got along just fine with everybody else; when he was, he was shunned just as much. When together, he often wore a slightly playful grin, while she almost always glared daggers at that grin. Many wondered why they were even friends at all, given both the potential consequences of coming close to the heir and her attitude in general.

Valerie threw a pebble into the lake, causing a whole pillar of water to rise rather than ricocheting ripples.

"That's...okay," Reginvalt remarked, "That's one way to do it."

She snarled. "Got a problem?"

"I never said so." The young man tossed the pebble in his hand skyward and caught it as it fell. He sat cross-legged by the lake, showing no intention to join the princess's game. "Did your parents piss you off again or something?" he asked instead, taking care not to meet her gaze—she might just burn him alive.

"Same old," came her answer.

Valerie walked over to him, snatching his pebble from the air mid-toss. At that, he could only look into her eyes after all, if only out of sheer instinct. The princess parted her lips to speak again, but she paused. Her rare hesitation prompted Reginvalt to raise a single skeptical brow, more intrigued than anything else.

"I...I have a request," she said at last, after what seemed like an eternity had passed.

"A 'request', is it?"

She nodded—way too many times.

"A 'request'."

☆☆☆

They were no longer children but not yet adults. In a small workshop, two brothers faced away from one another, each working on something on his own. The elder one had in front of him an intricate web of silverish sparks, panned out across the table like the map of a maze. He was probably the only one who understood the dots and lines he formed. Behind him, his younger brother was just finishing his task. He held up to the light a simple, golden ring.

When he finished, Reginvalt rose and peered over Einar's shoulder.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Precaution," Einar answer.

"Precaution?"

The web of sparks reformed into a clay doll in the same of a person, after which all sparks dissipated. Einar held the doll in one hand, standing up. He met his brother's gaze but did not answer the question.