Mildred hadn’t planned to actually do anything so soon after her arrival. Her first concern had been the warding away of any real curses or curse bestowers that might have heard Briallen’s request; the girl was fearless, but only because Mildred feared Briallen didn’t know the first thing about curses. She was a princess after all; that was part of why she needed a fairy godmother in the first place.
And even after all that, Mildred certainly hadn’t planned on agreeing to perform any herself.
The princess had been right about one thing, though, inadvertently; the coven couldn’t possibly approve of Mildred becoming a crone if she’d accidentally cursed the crown princess. That was how you got rumors of hags. And that’s what she would tell them if she needed to tell them anything. It had been an accident. A bit of a tedious one, but still, magic wasn’t an exact science after all; they weren’t wizards.
It had been good that Mildred thought to bring some of her own supplies. They were a decent start, though had she known she would be performing a curse, she might have pulled some different things from her shelves. The rest had to be sourced from the castle grounds, and quietly. Briallen didn’t want anyone to know that Mildred was there anymore than Mildred did. It wasn’t anyone else’s business anyway. Briallen had been right about that too.
Thankfully, between the girl’s odd interests and mischievous streak, Briallen made a surprisingly good temporary maiden; she was even able to secret away a half-way decent cauldron.
“Nobody expects to see me at dinner.” Briallen explained on her return. She balanced the small cauldron on her hip and seemed to have managed to fill it with some of the things Mildred had listed. In her free hand, she held a stack of tea sandwiches. “They all know it didn’t go well, and I’m upset. My mother probably won’t even think to worry about me until tomorrow.”
Mildred nodded and took the cauldron off Briallen’s hands. She had a nagging feeling she should have been pressing this failed date—and the others before it—if not for more information and a better understanding of why Mildred was being asked to brew a curse, then perhaps for Briallen’s own emotional well-being.
“We can probably find some more good stuff in the wizard’s workshop.” Briallen munched on her sandwich a moment before another thought struck her, “Unless you don’t actually use the same things?”
Mildred sighed as she unpacked the herbs from the cauldron. Now probably wasn’t the time to explain the differences between witches and the king’s pet wizard. She might like to see that workshop herself, though, for personal reasons.
“It depends a bit on how you want all this to be broken. I should warn you, it also depends on what the magic thinks you ought to learn.” Mildred felt a pang of guilt. This wasn’t as controlled as Briallen might believe it was. And Mildred hadn’t been there to instill this kind of caution in her, but now here she was willing to let the both of them shove it all aside to try and prove their own petty points.
Mildred wasn’t a good fairy godmother at all, but she had warned the coven about that.
Briallen’s face scrunched up as she thought about it. “Well, I know I don’t want it to have anything to do with true love.”
“That’s usually the point, though, isn’t it?” Mildred wasn’t sure she could even brew it to completely exclude the idea of love in some form. And it would, in the end, be up to the magic itself.
Briallen shook her head. “It’ll take too long.”
Mildred considered her possible answers. It had always struck her as a little odd—the way most witches remained without a partner for their whole lives but were still accused of and expected to meddle in matters like this. Mildred never thought she would have anything to offer Briallen in this scenario. She still wasn’t sure that she did.
“You aren’t difficult to love, Briallen.” That felt like it might be applicable here. “I’ve only spent an hour with you, and I think you’re a wonderful girl.”
“I know that.” But Briallen said it quickly and on the verge of sulking. It reminded her of the way Taffeta had used to react when being caught on something she felt she ought to have already known but didn’t want Mildred to know that she didn’t. “I just need everyone else to realize it too.”
✨
Mildred rarely had cause to brew curses before; as a city witch who ran an apothecary, her clientele were typically after smaller, more positive fixes for their lives. Luck and protection were the big ones, although she couldn’t say she’d never helped a jealous lover or a woman scorned.
This, though, a real bona fide curse, done under the nose of her own coven, was an entirely different animal.
Mildred dipped the mug into the cauldron at long last and admired the odd way the liquid shimmered for a moment before handing the mug over to Briallen. The princess took it in both hands as if she’d been offered any old, warm beverage. Although when Briallen looked down at it, she didn’t appear half so taken with the potion’s shimmer.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“This is it?” Briallen spoke down to the mug skeptically. Mildred couldn’t blame her; this was the girl’s first potion, dubiously ethical curse or not. “I mean, I drink this, and then what? Like, immediately? How long until it works?”
“You drink it, and then you go to bed. Trust me, there’s a reason we put valerian root in there.” And Briallen was lucky that Mildred knew to do as much too. A real curse—especially one that rewrote the accursed’s appearance—wasn’t supposed to be a pleasant experience. Especially for a princess who was supposed to be learning some kind of lesson.
Briallen gave the potion one last ‘hmm’, then tipped her head back to down it in one go. She scraped her tongue over the back of her teeth, but still all she had to say was, “That wasn’t so bad, right?”
“I’m sure the strawberry jam helped.” Mildred chuckled. And then she just felt bad again. The girl was too trusting of the wrong things. No matter what happened now, Mildred had gotten what she needed out of this, but she found herself still worried about what happened if this didn’t go as Briallen had imagined.
Briallen hurried to turn down her bed, as if the sleeping part of their potion might catch her off guard. “Maybe I should just be your apprentice. Witches have apprentices, right? And then nobody would care what I do.”
Mildred smiled. She really had grown to like Briallen through the curse-brewing process. It had made her truly sorry that she hadn’t been more present in the girl’s life.
“You missed that by about five years, and you wouldn’t want to stop being a princess, would you?“ She came to sit beside Briallen on the bed.
“No.” Briallen sighed as she settled in under her covers, though Mildred didn’t need the answer. When the girl had settled down, she did seem to have a properly level head about her; it would have made a difference in the type of curse she used if Briallen had been some kind of ditz with no care for her future responsibilities.
“And besides all of that, I have one already. Her name is Taffeta. You’d like her. Everyone does.”
“Why didn’t she come with you?” It was an innocent enough question. Something to distract herself while she waited for the sleeping parts of the potion to catch up with her; Mildred noted the way Briallen’s feet couldn’t quite keep still under her covers and the way she fidgeted with the hem of her quilt. The poor thing was nervous. And maybe she should be.
“She’s happy for the break from me.” Mildred supposed it didn’t matter what she said about Taffeta—not that she planned to say anything truly awful—there was only a slim chance of the two meeting if things went as Mildred expected. “She’s trying to get rid of me.”
“Like murder?”
“No!” Though it did serve as a nice reminder that things could get worse between Mildred and Taffeta. It didn’t happen too often any more, but there had been a time when maidens were just as likely to poison or arrange accidents for their matrons as they were to shove them off to be some nowhere village’s crone. “She’s a good girl. And a good witch. It’s just difficult, I know.”
“Do you have to go away before she can be a real witch?” Briallen asked. “That’s what some people think I’ll do after I get married. Murder my parents. I’m only humoring all this suitor stuff for their sake, though.”
“You’re a good girl, Briallen.”
Briallen hummed, doubtful. “I still think I’ll make a better goblin.”
✨
Once the princess had fallen asleep, Mildred fished the compact from her carpet bag in order to call Taffeta, like she had promised. Even if Briallen hadn’t reminded her, she still would have done it. And a good thing too, judging by the way the mirror barely got the chance to chime before Taffeta answered.
“It’s late.” Taffetta said immediately after the projection of herself overtook Mildred’s reflection.
“I’m sorry, dear.” Mildred spoke softly; still sat on Briallen’s bed. The girl was going to sleep like a sack of stones and be glad for it. “Did I wake you?”
“No! I thought you’d call sooner. Is everything alright? You’re there?” Taffeta squinted past Mildred’s shoulder, trying to see her surroundings.
“Of course I’m here. Everything is… Interesting.” Mildred hadn’t yet thought about how best to break this to Taffeta. She should. Taffeta was her maiden after all, and if word did eventually get back to the coven, it was better she heard it directly from Mildred than them.
“What’s wrong? Is she spoiled-rotten? Because you know, Rowenna said that she heard-”
“Stop it!” Mildred hissed. She couldn’t say that she raised Taffeta better than that; gossiping was a witch's national pastime, but that was about other witches. Briallen had suffered through enough of that as of late. “She’s a perfectly lovely girl. She’s just overwhelmed.”
"Well, that’s not too bad.” Though Taffeta still had that pouting air about her from being scolded, “What are you going to do for her?”
Mildred weighed her options one last time. She didn’t want to lie to Taffeta or get her in any trouble with the coven. It wasn’t her fault that her matron had gone rogue. It felt best just to say it now, “I’ve already done it.”
“Really?”
“She’s a goblin now.” Mildred glanced over to Briallen when she said it; the girl twitched now in her sleep, but as of yet no real changes had taken place.
Taffeta gaped as she searched for a response. “I’m- I’m confused. I thought you just called her perfectly lovely.”
“It’s what she asked for.”
“But you can’t just do that.”
“But I did.”
Taffeta shook her head as if this didn’t make sense. “You couldn’t have gotten clearance from the coven so quickly, though.”
“Because I didn’t.”
“Mildred…” Taffeta hissed. Of course, she would. She might even side with the coven in the end. Mildred hadn’t thought about that until this moment.
“Matron.” Mildred corrected. If Taffeta did side with them—of course she would; most of her friends now were matrons themselves—that would be her saving grace. Taffeta was still just a maiden.
Taffeta blinked. Stunned. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing. I’m her fairy godmother, I did as she requested.”
“So you’ll be coming home then?”
Mildred shook her head. “She still needs me here.”
“Then… Then I’m coming to you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Mil- Matron, I’m worried about you. When the coven finds out...”
“It’s none of their business, Taffeta. The princess made a request, and I answered it, that’s how this fairy godmothering thing is supposed to work.”
“They’re going to know. Do her parents even know?”
“Not yet.”
“And you don’t think they’re going to be upset to find that you’ve turned their daughter into a goblin? What are the conditions? Who is she even after?”
“She isn’t after anyone. She just got tired. Of people telling her what things are or aren’t, as if she doesn’t already know.”
“I will see you in the morning, matron.” Taffeta’s words were forceful.
“If you feel you must.” Mildred said quickly, then shut her compact.