A Modern Fairytale

Ignorance is bliss

Hello, there. No, I am not speaking directly to Val. What, I've got the wrong perspective? I suppose that's true—but the cursed king also narrated in the "wrong" perspective, and I doubt you had any complaints about that. Hm? No, I don't mind. I only made a point where there was a point to be made. If you did have complaints about that, though, by all means, please prove me wrong. I'd love to know. That was not sarcasm, although I'm aware it sounded very much like it.

Right, my script. Sorry, I'm not particularly fond of following rigid rules...ah? I didn't say I can't, I said I'm not fond of it.

My life has not really been a strict set of rules; I am not a princess. As you probably know by now, I'm the second-born tinker of a tinker. My brother Einar likes to write and rewrite the very properties of objects rather than build them. He was always doing that sort of thing since we were little, before I even understood what he was doing with all those dots and lines. For the most part, though, he was simply gone—gone, you know, from sight. He is a strange one. He likes his privacy, and I can't bring myself to respect it all that much.

So...no. If you must ask, we are not competitors in any way; we never were. Einar is a potato, but he's a kind soul—probably one of the reasons Val sent him away just before the regicide. Thankfully, the locks she cast on her own memories were permanent, so her slightly more violent self never knew about the ring and he never thought to seek out Einar. The trouble she put me through? I think your wording here is a little biased. I am not a lifeless string puppet. Perhaps you'll recall that it was I who approached her first when we were kids...wait, has that not been disclosed? Well, now it has. Now you know.

You could say that the friendship of children is ever so pure and that it doesn't really count as an act of free will in terms of being involved in the chaos that followed—but you haven't been there. You haven't seen the horrors I've seen at that age. You weren't there to witness our princess's childhood. The other kids didn't avoid her just because she was the sole heir to the throne.

My father? That's a topic for another day. The short answer is no, it didn't affect anything between us.

...ah? That is interesting. Why would you question our friendship at this stage? Is it because I hacked her narrative? Huh...no, I don't intend to explain myself.

☆☆☆

It was a sunny day in Mecrisdale. Granted, the canopy covered most of the sunlight, and then the roof over King Reginvalt's workshop blocked out the rest. Through his window, he could see with his naked eye what the weather was like outside if he wanted to, but the fairy king cared very little about that at the moment. Numerous waterdrop-like substances were in the air, forming the shape of a rose. The rose took up the space of the entire room. Occasionally, Reginvalt looked up at its shape; most of the time, his gaze was focused on the moonstone rose in his hands—one that was still in the making, that is. The sound of tinkering was the only noise in the room until one of the waterdrops sparkled in gold. Then, the tinkering stopped.

Reginvalt stood, setting his half-finished rose aside. Then, he stretched before drawing the waterdrop out from the formation of the enlarged rose. He expanded it to a life-sized screen of Valerie's projection.

He mouthed an "ah", almost dramatically, at the sight of her golden hues. "They made it," he said.

"Yeah." The red-haired fairy held up her hand, showing the golden ring on her finger. "I didn't think you would actually do that, though."

He shrugged. "If you mess it up and intentionally but accidentally kill your king, you'd just make me clean that up somehow anyway, right? It takes less effort to prevent it."