A Modern Fairytale

The magic ring

Barely ten minutes had passed since King Reginvalt showed—and told—me the part of your story I didn't know. Maybe a being like you would never truly understand or empathize, but I would still tell you about all that I felt in those short minutes even as your fellow fairy told this tale. Without a mirror, I knew that my facial expression did not change much; years of kingship had ensured it. By now, it was no longer something I had to remind myself of. But then, just like you, King Reginvalt kept his ominously curious gaze on me the whole time. Maybe his gaze, too, could penetrate my soul, and as the king of these united lands, I should be more concerned about that; however, in truth, I could not care less. If this was a trap jointly devised by you and him, and even if I had leaped into it, I had done so with my eyes wide open, and it is much too late to climb back out now.

Was it betrayal? A little, but mostly, no. There was the initial shock of finding out it was the wrong "you" I'd been interacting with this whole time, of discovering that the prince you'd mentioned was actually yourself in a sense, that you'd tried to rid yourself of parts perhaps you didn't quite like. That, too, was a feeling that passed quite quickly. Next came some sort of confusion, an intellectual one, regarding the identity of the soul in the body that was previously yours. Was Valen a more aggressive version of you? Was he less? Was he the same? I am unsure of how the units of time are measured in these mere seconds, but this confusion didn't stay, either. I might be right, or I could be wrong, but looking back at the time stamps...

You are you, Valerie.

I don't recall if I have ever said it to you directly—that no amount of violence or cruelty on your part would have made you any less loved, that all of what you are constitutes a part of your charm, be it your affectionate brutality or cruel endearment. I don't recall, but I don't suppose it would have mattered to you if I did say so, since I knew nothing before this day and to you, an uninformed opinion is devoid of value.

But I would say it now, if...right. Grief. The grief of knowing you weren't around, of being left behind, of loss—sophisticated though that feeling may be, since "you" technically never left my side. What prompted King Reginvalt to choose this time of all times to tell me this, to begin with? I had my presumptions, and he confirmed them.

☆☆☆

"Just before he killed her, she housed her soul into the ring that her body was wearing," said King Reginvalt, "When Valerie first made him, she didn't transfer to him everything she knows—this particular function of the ring was excluded as well. She's been here ever since."

Reginvalt handed the ring to Alasdair, who could not feel any magical properties within it—only that it was quite the weighty ring, but the reason for that could be anything.

"If Valen gave this back to you, he probably didn't know," Alasdair guessed.

"...don't remind me."

King Alasdair looked up from the golden ring. "Anyway..."

"...anyway, it would not have been necessary to tell you this if Val didn't act up," Reginvalt said, "The offer tonight was made to you as 'Valerie Ginemoux'. The last vessel her soul lived in was that of the male—which died. Then, should you have accepted the offer and exchanged vows, you would be sharing half a life with the dead."

"Then, what now?" Alasdair asked, closing his fist around the ring.

"If you believe that Valerie wouldn't have done this, my suggestion is to get someone capable of taking her on to put the ring back onto Valen's finger. She'll do the rest. Surely you have someone like that in Rectitia?"

☆☆☆

If Valerie and Valen had swapped during their battle in Mecrisdale and they could only read their bodies' past memories but not share a memory while occupying them, then Valerie never did meet Ulric. It was Valen who took down his predecessors and it was Valen who removed the crown from him. It was Valen, too, who later warmed up to him—if that was to be believed.