Gwynn walked through a swirling vortex of silver stars. Her bare feet tapped what felt like still waters upon marble. The surface rippled with each footstep, scattering billions of brilliant stars. Yet her toes were not wet.
She did not know where she was going or why, but she continued steadily on with a purpose unbeknownst to even herself.
The water and the sky stretched on endlessly above and below her. In the very distant horizon, she could see blurry, shadowy figures with little stars where their hearts should have been. If she squinted, she could see red glowing lines, faintly connecting them all in a spider’s web.
Over a long distance stretched a threads from her little finger. She knew who it belonged to—who it had always belonged to. This string had been connected at their shared birth—no, before then. It tugged at her.
I should go to her. I should find her, help her.
Before she could continue her journey, this time with the known destination of wherever her sister was, there was a tug on a different finger. Much more subtle, like the lapping of waves in comparison to the swift current that was her sister’s pull to her. But enough for her to look down and see it.
On that same hand, where a wedding band could be, someday, was a red thread of its own. One that led to a silhouette far closer to her.
She began to walk toward the silhouette. As she approached, the shape grew larger, more defined. Her steps quickened—she knew him from shadow alone.
“Versailles?”
He turned his head toward her. The shadows ebbed from his face, giving way to color, brighter and truer than in the waking. He opened his mouth to speak, the confusion obvious in his indigo eyes.
The stars rumbled. The water beneath Gwynn’s feet rippled, the wetness of it suddenly splashing her.
She turned her eyes to the sky and recoiled in horror. Through the stars, she could see a face that had haunted her dreams before, gaunt and pale with glowing ruby eyes.
And those ruby eyes were locked onto Versailles.
Gwynn’s heart skipped a beat.
For the pale woman reached a claw-like hand out, ladened with obsidian and ruby jewelry. It pushed through galaxies and pulsars toward the celestial prince.
Versailles dropped to his knees, head bowed. But it was not a kneeling of reverence. He had already accepted defeat.
No.
Gwynn could not let this happen. She didn’t know what, exactly. But nothing good would follow this. She that as well as her own name.
She ran to him, closing the distance between stars in seconds. She outstretched her hand, she was so close that she could almost touch him—
Only for the pale woman’s clawed hand to cut through the red thread that bound them. Her hand raked through the water and shattered the glass beneath Gwynn’s feet.
But she still managed to clasp on to his hand
They fell through, into the cold and starless sea—
Only to catapult up in her bed.
She did not hesitate, she could feel the presence of the pale woman nearby. She had tried to deny the terrible reality of dreams for all too long and knew the danger that Versailles was in.
For all that he had been her enemy and reluctant ally, he did not deserve whatever fate lay with the pale woman.
Her heart beat faster as her toes touched the cold marble of the chateau flor. She forced herself to let go of her cloak of sheets and ran out into the corridor. Sconces lit up at the detection of her presence. She looked left, then right—she had not asked for a tour of any kind, and had even refused a dinner with Versailles, citing space travel had made her not hungry.
Never mind that it had been the grief and the fear that had done that.
Still, where was he?
She had to hurry. All she could do was trust her instinct, to follow the feeling of ice-cold dread. She took off running down the corridor, three doors down—and she knew that had to be it. She hesitated a moment at the door, hand poised to knock.
Stolen novel; please report.
No, there was no time for formalities.
She tore open the door to see Versailles on his knees In front of the ghostly shape of the pale woman in all her beautiful and terrible glory. The shadows of the room gathered around her inky black dress and hair. Her clawlike hand was under Versailles’s cin.
“Get away from him!” Gwynn’s eyes darted around for a weapon—only to lock on to a fire poker. She grabbed it and aimed the tip for the pale woman’s heart.
The pale woman laughed. “You think you can stop me with such means, Little Witch?”
Her voice rang out, distant as if coming from underwater, melodious and distorted like a chorus of women speaking at once. Beneath it all was something jagged and wrong.
“I told you to get away.” Gwynn’s knuckles went white as she tightened her grip on the poker.
Versailles’s indigo eyes were wide with terror, but something else—an awe of sorts.
“You think you can protect him from me?” The pale woman’s ruby eyes turned back to meet Versailles’s. He gasped—whether from pain or fear, Gwynn wasn’t sure. “He sold his soul to me a long time ago, before you were even born. A scared little witchling like you won’t change that.”
She then locked eyes with Gwynn. Never had Gwynn felt so bitterly cold, like snow was running through her veins and her bones were made of ice. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest, so fast that it left her breathless. And yet, somehow, she stood her ground.
Something glittered in the pale woman’s eyes. Something that looked a lot like fear.
Gwynn knew that all too well.
“You will not keep me away forever, Gwynn Marchand.”
With that, she let go of Versailles and vanished entirely, taking the cold with her.
Gwynn dropped the poker and ran to the prince, dropping to her knees silently beside him.
He was shaking, she realized as she watched him for a moment. There were tears forming in his eyes. He swiped at them, however, before they could fall and stain his cheeks.
“Are you okay?” Gwynn placed a hand on his arm.
“I—“ Versailles stopped, looking rather confused. “I don’t understand.”
Gwynn tilted her head inquisitively.
“I know—“ he paused and closed his eyes. “I know that you aren’t here because you want to be. You had no reason to interfere.”
He opened his eyes again, and Gwynn felt that it was as if they were seeing each other for the first time, really.
No longer could she see the fearsome warrior in the winter wood, or the prince who had taken her from her home.
No, now he was the one who had saved them in Castle Arcadia, who danced with her at the Governor’s Masquerade.
Now he was a scared boy, who was part of something bigger than the two of them.
And somehow even more.
This had changed everything.
“How did you know to find me?” Versailles finally asked.
“I saw. . . “ Gwynn trailed off. She had not ever voiced such a thing before. She’d learned long ago to keep her mouth shut when it came to her dreams. Yet that hardly seemed like the strangest or most astonishing thing in Ondrina anymore.
“In my dreams,” Gwynn finished, somewhat lamely. “I saw you were in trouble there.”
Versailles slowly nodded. He looked to the ground, touched his fingers to the marble. His expression grew grounded and more present. He looked back up at her with a reverence.“Thank you.”
“Of course.” Gwynn considered her words carefully. “That was her, wasn’t it? The Spider Queen.”
The sconces flickered and a cold draft came through the room.
“We shouldn’t even use her epithet.” Versailles looked around. “Even that gives her power.”
Gwynn shuddered at the thought.
“I’m sorry.” His words carried through the quiet, through Mei’s blood and bones. “I’m sorry that I didn’t stand up to her, that I brought you here, that I brought you into this. I thought that in being so far away from the palace, it would satisfy her and protect you. But I can see now that it hasn’t.”
Gwynn tilted her head. “I was already a part of this.”
She straightened her posture and removed her hand from his shoulder, instead brushing against his curled-up fist. Without words, he let her hand snake into his.
“Are you going to be alright, on your own then?” She didn’t want to leave.
His eyed widened in a panic, a pleading underlying it all. “No—I mean, could you stay with me?”
It almost made Gwynn laugh, if it weren't for the solemnity of it all. A fearsome warrior prince was asking her, the girl who was afraid of everything, to stay with him in the dark of the night, to repel bad dreams.
“I will.”
He nodded, his grip tightening around her hand. He stood, and she followed.
----------------------------------------
Gwynn and Versailles sat at the edge of his rather large bed. Gwynn couldn’t help but look around her now, observing the room now that they were no longer in danger from the Spider Queen.
Like her room, above the baseboards, there was an azure ceiling and walls with golden stars scattered all about. The large bed frame resembled four trees with spindly branches stretching out to make the frame and the headboard. Several dark wooden cabinets were stretched across the room, filled with brightly-colored trinkets and faded toys that a child might have, all locked out of reach.
It made Gwynn think of her childhood dolls in her room, the childish comforts taken into emerging adulthood.
She had not let herself think of them in the destruction of her home.
Still, it was strange to think that the one who had fought her in the forest might be just like her in that respect. Then again, she was beginning to realize that there was far more to him than she’d thought.
She drew her pink and white robe around herself more tightly.
“Are you cold?” Versailles looked to her.
“No.” She wasn’t sure what it was that she was feeling. “Are you?”
“Not anymore.” They stared at the fire, restarted thanks to the courtesy of a spell by Versailles.
She knew he wasn’t talking about the fireplace. She found herself leaning against his shoulder. It was a strange situation for both of them, so the silence filled the room. It could have been awkward—but it wasn’t.
No, they did not need to fill the space with words.
Gwynn was sinking, sinking into the softness of him, the bed, the warmth of the room, and eventually, a dreamless darkness, more quickly than she ever could have anticipated.
“Who am I to you?” She asked, emboldened in those last moments before sleep could claim her.
His answer came quickly, although he sounded half-asleep himself. He drew her closer, as they both sank into the bed. “The first person I’ve cared about in a very long time.”