It was almost 5PM, and Tiffany was readier than ever.

Less than a minute left, one last sweep of everything she’d prepared. Boiling tea in the kitchen, a plate of very special treats she’d spent many days preparing on the table. The nicest set of tablecloth and napkins she could find. Two sets of tea cups and everything that went alongside them.

And, at the opposite end of the table, her guest.

*ding-ding-ding-ding-dong*

Let’s do this.

“Ah, ‘tis five already! Propriety demands a tea, and a little treat. Doesn’t the cherished guest think so?”

Rattling of chains was her only answer.

“Let me get that done, then.”

Tiffany’s arms shook as she went through all the memorized steps. Move the napkin from lap to chair, pinch her tea-gown when walking, maintain a straight posture. She’d been through all this over a dozen times, and it never got any easier.

Few moments later, she brought the antique teapot over with a diligent pose. She made sure to pour sugar—and for her guest, arsenic as well—beforehand, topping them off with a thin slice of lemon, as etiquette warranted. Such a silly concept much of the time, but here...

It was everything.

With the tea poured and the teapot placed on the table facing her seat, Tiffany sat down once more, smiling at her guest as she stirred her tea.

“Delightful occasion, is it not, cherished guest?”

The iron bolts holding its chair to the ground groaned, but held.

“I remark it’s unkind of a cherished guest to leave the host without an answer. Please, do enjoy these treats that I prepared specifically for my cherished guest. I insist.”

A smirk crept onto Tiffany’s expression as she took a modest sip of her tea, staring into her cup, as propriety demanded. Muffled grunts told her everything, providing plenty of unspoken reassurance.

Formality did not account for any obstructions, and neither would she.

“Cherished guest, such rudeness is unacceptable. Propriety expects one to inform their host should they require assistance. I shall be graceful, and provide it regardless.”

Once more, the getting-up routine. Tea cup down and correctly oriented, napkin on her seat, dainty steps towards the other end of the table. A few moments of stirring for her guest, unable to do so itself.

A careful tweak of the heavy-set knob loosened the cold iron bridle just enough to let her guest eat and shriek. Before it could do any of the latter, the elegantly held cup was already on its way, its contents steaming.

“I’ve worked hard to make this blend just for my cherished guest. Please, enjoy it all. I insist.”

Without waiting for a response, Tiffany brought the cup over to its maw, and poured its entire contents in. The steaming drink splashed between its cypress teeth, and against its silver tongue, only making it shake harder. And yet, it had to drink and swallow, for propriety demanded such.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Cherished guest’s grace is much appreciated. Now, let me help my cherished guest with the treats, too.”

Her teaspoon went to work, carefully picking up all the individual pieces of fudge one by one, before dropping them into its maw. Tiffany watched carefully what happened to them afterwards, shaking her head with overly pronounced tsk’s at her guest’s reluctance.

“Cherished guest, ‘tis not the time for childishness! These were all made just for the cherished guest. Please, consume them. I insist.”

Once more, the magic words forced her subdued guest into compliance. The cacophony of the impossible geometries inside its maw tore the fudge apart; the chemical mixture inside singed its fungus-like flesh. Poisons, sedatives, tiny flakes of rust.

The latter made it thrash particularly hard.

Once Tiffany was done helping her guest with her last treat—a single spherical hard candy with a hand-forged, cold iron pellet at its core—she returned to her seat.

Preparations took her days, but it was all worth it for this exact moment.

She paid no attention to the thrashing in the opposite seat as she took another dignified sip of her tea. After making sure she’d swallowed it all as courtesy demanded, she spoke up again, her voice chiding.

“The actions of the cherished guest have unspeakably violated many rules of courtesy. I, as a graceful host, am appalled, and as such demand compensation.”

Its dozens of bulging, gemlike eyes focused on her.

“I shall ask a question, and I insist that the cherished guest answer it.”

Cacophony of scraping noises from within its bindings, making her worry for just a second that its spider legs would overpower the cold iron.

“Where are my children?”

Silence filled the dining room as Tiffany took another sip of her tea, breathing deeply. She didn’t have much time before the final candy was done dissolving, and hoped her guest wouldn’t stall for time—

"IN THE BLISSFUL MEADOW UNDERNEATH THE BOTTOM OF THE LAKE. STREWN ACROSS LANDS OF MOLES. STEWARD TO LADY DUSK."

At last, her last gift had run its course. Its flesh seized, froze, and began to dissolve into dust in front of her eyes, from edges in.

It glared at her with hatred, and Tiffany returned the gesture.

“What a wonderful tea it has been. Let me finish it so.”

With the last of the magic words uttered, Tiffany’s eyes narrowed as she pulled out her notepad and pen, scribbling frantically. No revelations this time either, merely a confirmation of what she already knew. Her little ones were somewhere in these things’ subterranean lands, held captive by a monarch of sorts.

The ‘lake’ bit was new, at least.

Tiffany sighed in exhaustion, barely keeping her tears in as she planned ahead. She would have to keep trying, keep picking away at the truth of what had happened to her children; uttered a handful of vague words at a time. It could take months, it could take years.

Still, she was sure she’d get there, eventually.

She had more sugar and iron than these things had numbers.