A Modern Fairytale

The princess that was

King Alasdair closed the door to his study softly. He stood there for a moment, quietly contemplating the events of the night. Two centuries, to a human being, was a long time. To a fairy, maybe it wasn't that long. Valerie's offer to share with him half of whatever was left of her life was the simplest way with which she showed the vast difference between them—she was offering what was insignificant to her but what could be three lifetimes for him. There were many reasons he rejected her offer.

Whatever she claimed, however close they were, two centuries without him was certainly something she was more than capable of handling.

Man should never hope to transcend the boundaries set for them. Too many legends have told the potentially disastrous consequences.

Alasdair locked the door. He took a few more steps, stopping now in front of a bookshelf. As his gaze skimmed over the titles absentmindedly, he caught a glint of something unnatural to his study out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over. When his eyes found the bluish speck of light, the light expanded until a full, opaque form of the fairy king appeared—a projection, from what Alasdair had heard.

Even though it was eerily persuasive.

"Good evening, King Alasdair," greeted King Reginvalt, a polite yet aloof smile on his lips. "I'm Reginvalt Boneflare, reigning monarch of Mecrisdale whence your warrior came."

Alasdair nodded. "Good evening. You...are in my private study, King Reginvalt."

"My apologies." The fairy king very nearly chuckled but didn't. "That's only because this is where you stand right now, alone, and I needed to find you alone as quickly as I could. Surely you understand."

"I might. Please elaborate."

"Thank you. To put it bluntly, you would most likely have died tonight had you accepted Valerie's offer."

"...pardon?"

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"A 'request'," young Valerie had explained to Reginvalt, many years ago, "A ring of simple to no design. On the face of it, make it capable of making whoever's wearing it many times more powerful. More importantly, though, make it capable of housing a soul."

"You want to do what with this?" he asked, more so out of curiosity than shock—shock though his question conveyed.

"It's a precaution."

"A precaution for what?"

"In case I have to kill myself."

"You don't strike me as the suicide type."

"Not that kind of 'kill myself'."

At this point, Reginvalt simply shook his head lightly, almost dismissively.

"I'll make it the color of your eyes."

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"Her eyes..." Alasdair mumbled, thinking of his "warrior princess" and her brilliant blues.

To answer the question that the King had not yet asked, Reginvalt opened his palm to reveal a slightly glimmering, golden ring.

"...were pure gold," he said, "Until Valen Ginemoux was made. From then on, they both had blue eyes."

"The prince who made himself king, correct?" Alasdair asked.

With a nod, the king of fairies continued, "Half of Valerie's soul. They've been terrorizing the world with half a soul each."

"You almost sound proud," Alasdair noted.

"Aren't you?"

Alasdair smiled but made no reply.

"Anyway..." Reginvalt said.

"I would have died tonight, you were saying," Alasdair pointed out.

"Yes. The last thing Valerie—the one you know—said to you was 'I'm going to look for my prince there'."

☆☆☆

Seeing, or even talking, with Valen was never as complicated as one might imagine. Indeed, he was borne of my soul, but we were two different people; and at the end of the day, dare I say, I don't hate looking into a mirror at all. Nevertheless, there is a part of me that could never be appreciated, and a part of me that could. All I did was separate the part that didn't into a separate body and kept the rest for myself. Did I do it because I hated myself? Not necessarily. I did it to see if I could.

And the answer, as always, was a conclusive "yes".

The last time we met in our own separate bodies was the night one of us killed the other. Which was which? That would depend on how one looked at the situation. That day, I arrived at Mecrisdale and took the ring from Reginvalt. I found Valen waiting for me in the dungeon where he had himself stayed for quite a few years before rebelling against the former rulers. In some ways, we were one and the same. Because of that, he had known already that I would be coming straight for him. He released all the prisoners for nothing but chaos—some made a run for the exit, some attacked me, and some attacked him. We both slaughtered anyone who came at us and ignored the rest.

The ones who ran, I imagine, Reginvalt probably had an easy time capturing again later on.

With the ring, Valen could not overpower me even with all his rage and natural might. I almost had him, too. But then...he focused all his energy at a single point—the center of my forehead. That was when our souls switched vessels.

With the ring, I could not overpower him, lacking in the first place of his might in addition to being quite beaten in his body. I spent only a minute in his body. I struggled for only a minute longer. In that minute, I was given the memories that body had lived.

There were few among fairies that could take my life. Valen had always been at the very top of that list.