Seventeen Preferences & Scenarios

Thirteen Cursed Princes (main part)

If the queen was being honest, she was terrified.

She ought to have known better than to anger a faerie, even if it had been an accident; now her children were bound to a curse because of her mistakes.

Thirteen times has a human queen insulted me, the faerie had hissed. So in payment, thirteen sons you shall have, all of them bound to my queen for thirteen years.

Thirteen years of bondage for nothing more than an unintentional insult to the faerie queen, for children who weren't even born yet.

The queen laid a hand to her already swelling stomach. There were triplets coming, she could sense it. How few years would it take for all thirteen to be born?

–––––––––––––––––

"Another thirteen pairs of shoes worn out," the eldest Prince sighed, lifting a ruined shoe from the heap. "How are we going to explain this to Father?"

"Seungcheol... maybe it's time we accept that we can't," Jisoo, the third-born Prince, murmured. "We've run out of excuses; the only thing left is to stop trying."

Seungcheol sat down heavily on the floor, tossing aside the shoe, and rested his head in his hands. "I hate this," he mumbled. "How many more years?"

"Eleven more after this year," Wonwoo, the sixth-born, spoke up from across the room. "I can't believe we have to do this."

"Father's on the verge of calling in a priest, he thinks we're being haunted by demons," Jeonghan, the second, pointed out. "We have to think of some excuse."

"I'll think of something, don't worry," Seungcheol muttered from his place on the floor. "Somehow..."

——

You smirked at your opponent through your locked blades.

"Thinking twice about this?" you spat, pushing your blade against his. "Maybe next time you ought to think more carefully before you insult someone's ability —" you shuffled, adjusting your stance and planting your foot on his "— just because they're a girl!"

With the final word, you shoved forward, and your opponent toppled backwards comically.

"How did you do that?"

You sheathed your blade with a satisfied smile. "Practice, dedication, and a few tricks I learned from my brother."

"You could fight in the king's army with skills like that," your opponent grunted as he stood up. "I could put in a good word for you if you wanted."

You shook your head, toying with the hilt of your sword. "No, the life of a Knight isn't for me. I'd much rather earn my living as a wanderer."

"You'll end up dead in a ditch with no coin to your name."

You smiled as you turned away, and a ribbon of gold flickered through your eyes. "No, I've got some protection."

"Hey, wait — aren't you the —?"

You were already gone.

Too much trouble came from settling in one place. They would always find you, and you still hadn't found a way to break their hold on you yet.

Until you die or break the spell, you are beholden to us. Remember that.

And as everyone knows, the best way to break a faerie's spell is through that mysterious concept of "true love" or whatnot. For now, though, you were content without finding your "true love", preferring instead to wander the country in search of adventure.