I’ve seen that look before. King Frey’s eyes widened a fraction before going up and down my body twice. Noticing his pause, the king cleared his throat before continuing whatever he was saying, but I wasn’t paying attention. My focus was purely on the overly long, almost predatory, gaze that had lingered on me. Eyes from men like him didn’t linger like that for curiosity’s sake. No, they lingered for an entirely different purpose. Yes, I most certainly wish I’d taken an uglier form.
King Frey’s next words snapped my attention back to him. “It is time for our kingdom to have a new queen!” Dirt moved as feet shuffled. A new queen. In theory, a good thing. In practice, not so much. I’ve seen several kingdom’s go into chaos all due to a new member of the ruling party. The king’s next words did nothing to dispel the unease.
“And, I’ve decided that to better unite the people I will take a commoner as a wife!” He smiled and waited, clearly waiting for something. I wondered who came up with this ridiculous idea. Off to the side, one of the king’s advisors, a plump, bald man, was practically vibrating. Somewhere in the back of the crowd, a lone person gave a few hesitant claps. It was picked up by a few, and then some more people, all the way until everyone in the small village was clapping. The king, seemingly pleased with himself, lifted his hand in a signal for silence, which fell quickly.
“Thank you! Keeping with the whole uniting the kingdom theme,” he said this as if he was talking about a classroom project that the teacher had assigned, “The wedding will take place a week from today, in this very town! As for the lucky bride,” I snorted, if she can even be called that, “You will all get to meet her at the wedding, because you are all invited!” People clapped almost immediately at this, no doubt the pickpockets thinking they could make a few pretty pennies. Honestly, what kind of idiot thought having a wedding with a bunch of rich guests in a town full of desperate thieves was a good idea? I do mean besides the obviously oblivious king.
King Frey made a few more comments about the arrangements and other such nonsense but I was no longer paying attention. As soon as the king’s eyes, and the eyes of his guards, were elsewhere, I moved back into the crowd and quickly made my way back to my bakery. How ridiculous! This whole affair. The king already had an heir, though it was a girl so that may cause some problems, and the fact that this was the first time he came down to the village in years showed how much he cared about his citizens. Which meant that having a wife, and queen, was completely pointless. Well, unless the true goal was simply to have someone to have sex with, which was entirely possible.
Giving another snort, sounding even less lady like then the previous one, I retied my apron and continued baking, pitying whatever poor girl the king decided to force to marry him. A bell jingled over the door and I looked up to see a man, perhaps in his third decade with hair already graying, step in to peruse the pastries set on the window frame.
"Hello," I said, brushing my hands together, white powder floating in the air, "How may I help you?"
The gentleman looked up from where he was, giving me a quick once over that lacked the usual heat I received. "Do you have a basket? I'd like to get my wife some of your pastries as a gift." A silver ring sitting on his middle finger- such odd marriage traditions in this realm- glittered in the dull light.
"But of course!" I made my way over to the little wooden cabinet resting in the corner, insuring that my back was never fully to the stranger. Pulling out a bamboo basket, I asked "Is it your anniversary? I could add a few decorations if it is."
"Hm." He paused looking at something out the window before turning to fully face where I was standing on a counter that I kept clean for dealing with customers. "Oh, it's not our anniversary but go ahead and add the decorations. Use pink if you have it, that's her favorite color." I nodded, humming a little tune as I pulled out a pink ribbon. Pausing, I tilted my head at the customer before continuing to wrap the pink bow over the handle.
"I haven't seen you around here much." I attempted to make small talk- ugh, how I detest social interactions- while he pointed out what he wanted to buy.
"Oh, uh," he coughed into his hand, looking away from my face quickly. My eyes narrowed a bit and my lips thinned. "I, uh, don't go out much." I nodded as if I understood, eyes sliding to the silver- could he be more suspicious? - ring on his finger.
"Well," I handed him the basket, completed with a pink bow and a pink and white checkered cloth covering the food. He handed me a silver piece, nearly unseen in this kingdom, before grabbing the basket. The man stood at the counter, shifting from foot to foot with his eyes sliding to and from the door quickly. "Is there anything else I could help you with?"
He opened and closed his mouth once or twice before blurting "Are you attached?"
I blinked, wondering if my hearing had gone bad. I felt my lips turning up in what could pass for a smile- if my cold, dead eyes didn't give away the danger, that is. "Would you care to tell me why you ask such a thing?"
Before the man replied, the door opened and a short, fat man, one I recognized as the herald from earlier, entered. He cleared his throat before announcing the presence of the royal family. King Frey and his daughter entered.
I dipped into a curtsy, not nearly as low as I should’ve gone but what do I care? The king mumbled something that I took as permission to rise while his gaze scanned the room before returning to rest on me.
“King Frey,” I began, forcing my face into a soft smile, “What brings one such as yourself to my poor bakery?”
“Ah my lovely,” the king took a few steps forward into my personal space, grabbing my slender hands in his meaty ones. “Before we proceed with speaking of the wedding arrangements, tell me, what name someone as beautiful as yourself possesses?”
Shocked into silence for a few moments, I simply stared at the king. From this distance, I could see the flecks of brown in his dull grey eyes. His face was pudgy, but I could see his arms muscles through his tight shirt.
Noticing the awkward silence, I blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I am not going to marry you.” Frey’s eyes darkened, his hands tightening around mine. Okay, so maybe I should think before I open my stupid mouth but, come on! One doesn’t simply announce one is going to marry another. Well, I suppose a king does.
“Of course you are!” Despite the rage filled eyes, the king’s voice was still in the same jovial manner it had been. “I need a queen. And she must be beautiful. And, my advisors,” he grumbled those two words like a snarky child, “They tell me it must be a commoner so as to unity the people!”
“Unite, Sire.” The man that had come in to buy my pastries for his wife said.
“What?”
“We advised you to marry a pea- urm I mean a commoner so as to unite the people. Not unity the people.”
“Oh, uh, yes.” With a gesture at the man the king said, “What Marcane said.” Marcane gave a grumble that could have been words. I, however, was far too distracted by the who was, what I soon came to realize, an overgrown child. Had he really said the sentence “unity the people”? I knew the king was incompetent at his duties as a monarch, but I had yet to realize how truly incompetent he was at, well, life.
“The point is you shall marry me, and you shall do it a week from today. Now, tell me your name.” Who knew an insolent child could have such a commanding voice. Mind whirling for a way out of this- I enjoy power but how I detest being given commands- I came to a quick conclusion to buy time.
“I am known as Grimhilde.” Not technically a lie. I simply hoped he didn’t notice the lack of a formal title.
“Ah, what a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman!” Frey moved even closer, the scent of wine and cheap perfume- how does that even make sense? - invading the space. One of his hands slipped around to do a pass over my large butt before returning to my hand. He turned to Marcane, but before he could open his mouth to give what I assume to be orders on my care, I interjected.
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“King Frey,” he returned his attention to me, smiling at the sound of my voice. “While this is-,” a curse? Idiotic? “-a surprise, I am unsure if I am willing to-,” oh wow did he look mad. To deny a king? Big no no. I certainly did not want to marry the imbecile, however angering him seemed unwise. There was always the option of killing him- magic has perks- but if I did that then I’d have to flee the world and start over again. Which was something I wished to avoid at the moment. Fuck, but how best to get what I wanted? Well, when in doubt, follow the Sacred Rules of Evil. In this case, rule number three: the truth is more painful, but lies are better to get what you want.
“I am unsure if I am deserving of such a large responsibility. To be queen, means to have the entirety of this great-,” admittedly, I nearly chocked on this word, but it seems that the king didn’t notice, “-kingdom be dependent on me. I am unsure if I am good enough to rule.” Well, that part was a blatant lie, I make a great ruler. Though, it seems that the king accepted my words.
“I understand your reservations my lovely, but when I look at you, I see a beautiful queen who would inspire loyalty and love from the people. Not to mention, someone worthy of being my daughter’s mother.” He gestured at the little girl that, so far, had been standing quietly by Marcane. Snow White, the princess, had black hair so dark it seemed to absorb the light, pale skin that made me wonder if she had ever left the castle before, and lips so red it seemed to me that she had just drank a glass of blood. Some may say she was beautiful, but to me it seemed as if she was just a very small vampire.
“Why would you choose me as your wife?” I asked instead of commenting on his daughter’s vampirism.
Frey’s eyes roamed over my body for a few moments before answering, “You are beautiful.” As if that’s a good enough reason. Clearly, he was stupider then I thought. Though, that made it easier to use a compulsion spell on him without him fighting against it.
“Your Grace,” I purred, “You honor me, but I ask to be given some time to consider whether I am truly up to the task of being your queen, and more importantly, raising your daughter.”
King Frey’s eyes glazed over for a few moments, during which he agreed, “I will come for your answer on the morrow.” Gathering his train as he went, the king left my bakery before I could respond. Streams of light still filtered in my windows brightly, so I resolved myself to continue baking for a few more hours before calling it a night.
Not even an hour later, a thud had me turning from dusting sugar across some bread. Legs going over her head as she rolled from the window to the floor, a small child made herself known with a loud grown and an even louder, “Ow!”
“How many time do I have to tell you, Scar? Just use the front door like a normal child.” Scarlett scrambled to her feet, pulling the sleeves of her brown, baggy shirt until they covered well past her fingers.
“That boring!” She declared, thought I could tell she was trying really hard to speak properly without the lisp most of the inhabitants of the town used.
“That is boring.” At the child’s blank expression, I clarified, “When you are stating that something is something else, then you must use the word is as a transition.”
“That iz boring,” she repeated.
With an inward sigh, I just gestured for her to take a seat on the little stool in the corner. After she complied, I handed her a piece of bread, one with the sugar dusting and fresh from the oven. Scarlett munched happily, a few moments in realizing she’d been getting crumbs everywhere before trying to eat more carefully. I took the time to study her.
At thirteen, she was barely four inches under five feet and the baggy shirt and pants she always wore concealed what I knew was a quickly developing body. Red hair she was named after shorn short, she looked like a decade old boy. Though, upon closer inspection of her face she was clearly a girl. After taking a second, I noticed her heart shaped face was put into a frown, dark circles under her eyes marring otherwise creamy skin. And on the side of her cheek, a pale-yellow ring was slowly fading.
Narrowing my eyes, I began in what most would consider a casual voice, “You haven’t visited me in nearly a week. I was starting to get worried.”
Rosy pink spread across her face and neck, her eyes going to some invisible speck on the floor. “Um, well. I’ve been busy is all.”
I waited, the silence filling the small space as she began to fidget under my gaze. I am unsure how much time passed before she looked up again at my face. I tried to form myself into some semblance of understanding and motherly concern, though based on past experiences, I doubt I achieved it.
“’m not hurt right now, promise.” She went back to nibbling at the piece of bread that was little more than my thumb by this point.
“But you were.” Shoving the remaining bread into her mouth, Scar didn’t answer. I slid up to her, my movements soft and smooth as I guided onto her feet and pushed up the sleeves of her long shirt. Black, purple, and yellow overpowered the milky skin, little cuts intertwined with the bruises. Lifting the shirt, it showed her belly in the same state.
“Who did this to you?” I tried to control my voice, but my temper was hard to check at the image of this sweet little girl being attacked and having far worse things than punching done to her.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done.” I dropped her shirt, letting her pull down her sleeves as I went and locked the door and shutters, placing the sign that announced that I was closed at the same time.
I took Scarlett into the back room that served as storage, lighting the oil lamp and sitting her down on the cot I kept in the back for when I didn’t feel like sleeping at the inn I lived in. Keeping my movements slow and giving me time to read her reactions, I removed her shirt and pants, leaving her naked on the bed for a moment while I grabbed some cloths and a bowl of clean water. Chanting a few words over the bowl, I dipped the cloth in and slowly began whipping down Scar’s to still body. As the magic in the water lessened the swelling slowly, I let my mind wandered while keeping completely silent. It flashed to the red hair that was dull from the lack of a good washing.
It had been a week after opening my bakery, a little over a month since coming into this town in total. I had gone into the back room to sort through my inventory while some bread baked, and something had triggered the protection ward I had put around the building. Coming back into the shop had shown a little girl thin enough to be blown over climbing in through the window and trying to steal some food. I had of course yelled at her, though I did it while giving her some milk and bread which may have diminished the effect. I still don’t understand what brought me to the conclusion that I should help her, usually I left the weak to fend for themselves, especially in this town. But something about the small girl had moved me to help.
When I had asked the girl’s name, she had just shaken her head and said that she didn’t have one. Startled at the fact someone could even lack a name, I’d given one look at her hair and deemed her Scarlett. After giving her a bath, I saw that the nickname, Scar, fit her even better. Her otherwise perfect skin marred at everyone spot.
Feeling pity for the girl- I know, emotion is so rare from me, especially pity- I’d let her stay in my room with me for a week, insuring she ate and slept protected. After that, she kept coming back to me. At first, it was once a fortnight, but then as we spoke more, and she explained to me what her life had been like, we grew closer and she came to visit more. She didn’t like sleeping inside for whatever reason, so I usually only saw her during the day to give her food and speak to her, quite like a lost kitten on the street.
However, two months in, Scarlett stumbled into the bakery, forgoing entering through the window as usual due to her injuries. The girl had still been bleeding and when I’d cleaned her off, she’d been covered with fluids from more than just herself. Crying hysterically, she’d told me of how she’d been on her way to her usual spot when two boys jumped and forced her. When she’d fought back, all she’d earn was a beating for her troubles. That had been her first time.
Fear had consumed me, rearing its all too familiar head. I’d taken the risk of using magic to heal her wounds enough that I knew she wouldn’t die from them, though I made sure to leave some mark that made it seem as if they healed naturally. Scar had been in awed silence, to young to be afraid of someone with my powers. I’d explained that I was a witch and that she must never tell anyone of me, which she never bothered to question-why would she? I am just the sweet-tempered witch.
After she was clean, I asked the young woman who had done it to her. I was given their descriptions as she didn’t know their names. I left her in the bakery, a spell insuring no one would bother her in place. A few stops and questions around town later and I had learned the identity of the attackers. There wasn’t anything left of them to be found after I was done, and as far as the villagers are concerned, they went missing. Not that anyone cared.
Though, I believe Scarlett always had her suspicions. Word spread around town quickly and she heard of it. No one knew why they had disappeared, but the child wasn’t completely stupid. Coincidences aren’t usually coincidences. As she grew more in the following months, she was targeted more and more and came to me about it less and less as the attackers she told me about were either outright killed, or simply sported some broken limbs. I am honestly surprised all the men in the town didn’t end up dead.
When the injuries were to great or too obvious to hide, she simply stayed away. It caused us to grow apart, but I refused to let her pain go unavenged. The distance hurt me, but it didn’t stop me from adoring the child and I always insured she was fed.
In the present, I cleared the water and cloths away before pulling out another set of clothes for the girl. I sat as she dressed and she soon joined me. I handed her a glass of water, my hand smooth and unshaken in the air. Her own arms trembled when she took it. I asked if she wished to tell me what happened and, after a long gulp and a wide-eyed look at me, she consented. I cleared my mind and listened while she talked.