hemlock in evening wine

Something trips the carriage on their way back to Snow White’s castle, and before the driver can do anything, Lesso jumps down to see what is going on.

“What’s going on?” She drawls, bored and nonchalant to the outsider. Her eyes, though, give her away as they stare interestedly at the person who is hugging something to her chest.

“Youz!” The girl looks up, her eyes red and burning anger in her eyes. “Why don't youz look where youzer goon!”

Lesso raises an eyebrow, and steps closer so she can look down at the girl and what she is holding. The girl has brown hair, and is dressed in a plain cotton dress. Her hair is tied back with a blue ribbon, and her dress must have been white at some point, but she’s kneeling in the mud like she doesn’t care about that at all. Lesso had thought the thing the girl is clutching would be a dog or a pet of some sort, but it isn’t.

Instead, it’s a ruined book.

“You stopped my carriage,” Lesso begins, her tone low and threatening, “because of a book?”

“Why did youz trample over mah book then?” The girl demands. “Ah haven't even finished it yet!”

Dovey says something, muffled by Lesso’s coat, and Lesso keeps her eyes on the girl as she draws Dovey out. “What?”

“We’re terribly sorry,” Dovey says, ignoring Lesso. “We’ll compensate you for the book, don’t worry. What is your name?”

“Youz'd bess ignore her, miss.” One of the villagers stops and tells Lesso. “She's one of them odd ones, reading all day and not doing any work.”

Lesso nods, but Dovey just glares hard at the villager and the villager backs away, their hands raised. Dovey says, her tone softening as she turns her attention back to the girl, “What’s your name?”

“They call me Belle.” The girl replies, still sniffling. “Will youz really compensate for mah book?”

“Of course,” Lesso wants to ask when they decided on, ‘of course’, but Dovey doesn’t acknowledge her protests at all, “I’m Professor Dovey. This is Lady Lesso. How much do you think your book cost?”

“Ah don't need money. Do youz have another book?” Belle replies, wiping her eyes and standing up, though she looks suspicious of the impatient lady and her mirror.

“I’m afraid we don’t, not on us right now. Can we send you one when we get back to our home?”

“Aren't youz a professor? Why don't youz have any books owen youz?”

Lesso’s heard enough. “Look, girl,” the girl doesn’t flinch when Lesso levels a silver-tipped finger at her, which Lesso gives her credit for. “You’ll take that or you’ll get nothing. I don’t have time for this.”

“What Lady Lesso means,” Dovey tags on hurriedly, sending a nasty look Lesso’s way. “Is that we have been far away from our school for a long time. If you like, we can give you our address, and you can come by sometime?”

Belle looks suspicious. “How will Ah know it's a real address?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” Lesso says, biting back a snarl after Dovey supplies the address of their castle. “Can we get going, princess?”

“Fine,” Dovey rolls her eyes right back at Lesso. “We’re terribly sorry about your book, Belle, and we hope you’ll come by soon!”

The girl just stares at them as they step back into their carriages and says nothing.

“What was that?” Lesso demands, once the carriage starts moving again. “You don’t give your address to random strangers on the street, Dovey!”

“What was that?” Dovey repeats. “I could be asking you the same question! We ruined a poor girl’s book, the least we could do is offer her compensation. What were you doing?”

Lesso sneers. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the dean for the School for Evil. Does that suggest anything to you?”

“No, you’re the former dean for Evil, and co-dean for the entire school now.” Dovey returns, fire blazing in her eyes. “When will you understand that?”

“Whatever you want to call me, princess, I’m not changing who I am just because the title on my cheque changes. And the point is, you can’t give our fucking address to whoever you come across.” Lesso bites back. “Surely even you can see why that would be dangerous?”

“Lesso,” Dovey replies, staring at her as though Lesso has lost her mind. “Did you hear what the girl said her name was?”

“I’m not deaf. Of course I heard it.”

“Belle! Her name is Belle, Lesso! What do you think that means?”

“It means her parents were as creative as a stack of bricks.”

“No!” Dovey sounds exasperated, and Lesso is getting seriously annoyed at the way this conversation is turning out. “She’s Belle! Do you not recognize the name? Belle, from Beauty and the Beast!”

Lesso stares at her. When it becomes obvious to her that Dovey is being completely serious, Lesso can’t help it. She bursts into laughter.

“Storian, princess,” Lesso manages to gasp out between peals of laughter, “You’ve got an active imagination, I’ll give you that.”

“Lesso!” Dovey returns, looking peeved at the way Lesso is bending over now from laughter. “I’m not kidding!”

“You should be,” Lesso returns, chortling. “The Storian sent us out to change Snow White’s story, remember?”

“You’re the one who ran into Ariel,” Dovey retorts. “Did you seriously think that was it? Did you seriously not, for a second, think that maybe the Storian didn’t send us here just for Snow White?”

It makes sense, but, “Do you realize what you’re implying? We could be here for fucking centuries if that’s true!” Lesso snorts. “No way in hell the Storian is committing us here for that long. Rafal should’ve given it commitment issues.”

No sooner has she said it does she realize what she’s said, and immediately all the humor drains from her. She hopes Dovey doesn’t catch it, but from the way Dovey shifts her eyes away, she thinks Dovey does.

“Most fairy tales last for the entire lifetime of the protagonists.” Dovey says, looking at the ground. “So who knows what the Storian has planned.”

“But-” Lesso cuts herself off. Something dawns on her, the realization terrible. “Oh,” she breathes. “You’ve thought about this for a long time, haven’t you?” She accuses, watching Dovey carefully. Dovey takes a breath, so light it might be imperceptible if Lesso hadn’t memorized the way Dovey looks.

“I have.”

“Storian, Dovey…” Lesso’s words die in her throat. She can’t begin to imagine what battles Dovey must have fought to be able to speak so calmly about this to Lesso, the desperation and anxiety that she must have dealt with on her own. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this?”

Dovey looks back at her for a split second, and then averts her eyes again as quickly. “I- I didn’t know how to talk about this.”

“Bullshit. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Dovey, but you’re a terrible liar.”

“I just-” Dovey sighs.

“Tell me.”

Dovey’s eyes meet hers and then dart away quickly, and she says in an exhale. “I know how much you love to run,” her voice becoming smaller with each word. “But you never ran back at school. I just, I didn’t think–”

“Yes. Clearly, you didn’t think.” Lesso’s hands have gone cold and clammy, and the ice in her voice sharpens just a little at the thought that Dovey noticed. Not only did Dovey notice, but she knew, maybe more than Lesso thought she did. Hysterically, Lesso wonders if she could throw herself out of the carriage to escape, run away, where no one knew and no one looked at her the way Dovey is looking at her now, so softly it hurts.

“Don’t be mean.” There isn’t much bite in Dovey’s voice, despite what she says.

“You kept me in the dark about something that could impact both of us, princess.” And as much as she wants to be mean and cruel, say something that would push Dovey away from her as far as possible, she can’t, because she’s looking at Dovey, and for the first time in a long time, she tries to imagine what being Dovey would be like.

The expression Dovey wears is strong, her mask in place, but something about the way her eyes glisten in the sunlight tell Lesso that this isn’t a conclusion Dovey has reached easily. Lesso realizes, suddenly, that Dovey isn’t just committing to changing the fairy tales on their quest. Dovey is also committing to never having a body again, resigning herself to never being able to walk, run, or do anything of the things that Lesso treats herself to again. Lesso’s struck dumb by the sacrifice Dovey is prepared to make.

Ah, fuck. What happens in the quest, stays in the quest. Right?

“Tell me, next time, okay?” Lesso’s words sound too much like a plea, but she can’t bring herself to harden them. “Tell me. Don’t keep it to yourself.”

Dovey looks back down at the floor. “It’s okay, Lesso.”

“Promise me.”

“Okay.”

“Let me help you next time,” Lesso pushes for more, not knowing why, just knowing that she can’t bear to see the way Dovey has resigned herself to martyrdom without even a peep at Lesso.

Dovey’s voice is unbearably soft when she replies, “You have helped me.” At Lesso’s skeptical look, she adds, “Don’t look at me like that. You have. You- You make me feel safe.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but Lesso thinks she might understand the feeling of almost hot chocolate-like warmth someone else brings you, when being with them is as easy as breathing. She doubts anyone has ever made Dovey feel safe in a long time, remembering the way Dovey had told her story with hitched breaths and glassy eyes.

“Feeling safe in Evil’s pocket, princess?” She quips, but it sounds too watery to be sardonic.

Dovey laughs though, and the moment feels less delicate, less breakable, even if her laugh is soft and sad.

“Something like that.”

“Good.” Lesso says firmly. Then, clearing her throat, she continues. “So, what did you mean by Belle?”

“I think, if I’m right about what the Storian wants us to do, we need to somehow influence Belle’s story as well.” Dovey says, the watery notes in her own voice slackening before falling away to give way for a more serious tone.

“Wasn’t the beast’s name originally Adam, or something?” Lesso asks, leaning against the seat and looking out the window. “I think he was in school a few years after me. He failed, so I never really noticed him.”

“Yes,” Dovey says, her tone somber. “Prince Adam de Villeneuve. And actually, if what Snow White’s told me about the king a few days ago is true, Adam is about to become king very soon.”

“de Villeneuve?” Lesso scans her memory for the name. “Is that the king Snow White had to meet when we first got to the beach?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Lesso smirks. “So we have a prince with daddy issues, then?”

Dovey nods.

“How refreshing. Mommy issues can get so repetitive after a while.”

“I don’t suppose your school had a class for dealing with daddy issues?” Dovey asks, her tone almost dry but too sincere to really be sarcastic.

“Oh no. We had a class for creating it, though.” Lesso replies, rewarded with a scandalized gasp from Dovey. Lesso shrugs. “In case you haven’t noticed, Dovey, Evil doesn’t really have a therapist and self-help books.”

“We’ll need to address that, then,” Dovey says, in a firm voice, “When we get back.”

“If we get back.” Lesso corrects.

“If.” Dovey repeats, and sinks back down into her thoughts.

Snow White has gotten even more toned in the five months since she left them at the beach, and she greets them with a serene smile. “Stepmother,” Snow White steps forward with a curtsey, before dropping a light kiss on Lesso’s cheek.

Lesso flinches before she can stop herself, but Snow White seems to decidedly ignore her reaction, before she takes Dovey from Lesso to speak with her. “Lady Mirror. Oh, how I have missed thee! How was thy trip? Did thee enjoy the sun?”

“I met Princess Ariel,” Lesso says bluntly in the midst of Snow White’s response.

“Oh?” Snow White leads them to a parlor, the one where the old king’s magic mirror still hangs. “And how is the seventh daughter of Triton?”

“She’s,” Lesso pauses for a moment, searching for the right description. Snow White waits patiently. “Fiery?”

“Ah yes.” Snow White nods. “From what I hear, that is an apt description of Ariel. I also hear she has found a consort. I suppose not that thee had anything to do with that, stepmother?” From the gleam in her eyes, Lesso already knows Snow White knows the answer, and Lesso just cackles. She knew something was wrong with those seagulls that wouldn’t move even when Lesso glared at them.

“Don’t encourage her,” Dovey groans from where Snow White had propped her up. “She’s already far too pleased with herself.”

“And how was the beach for thee, Lady Mirror? Did thee get to see the waves often?”

“Oh please. Your stepmother was too busy playing hero for the mermaid to remember me,” Dovey says, a touch of real annoyance in her voice, and it makes Lesso smile.

“Ah, well.” Snow White says, too knowingly. “Thee knows how she is.”

“And what’ve you done since you got back?” Dovey asks, her eyes gleaming with interest. Lesso knows the two of them are about to get into politics, so she reaches for a biscuit and lets her eyes glaze over.

She’s only brought back to the conversation when she hears Snow White say, “–And of course, that means that we shall have to be more careful in our sea trade, what with Prince Consort Charming and Princess Ariel now.”

“Hm?” Lesso interrupts. “What about Charming?”

“We were only saying, stepmother, that with the marriage between Charming and Ariel,” Snow White explains patiently, “Their kingdoms will be much more tightly connected than before. ‘Tis not the best news for our sea trade negotiations, as the Kingdom of Hayna resides between us and the port. Considering our,” Snow White clears her throat delicately, “past, with the sea’s new prince consort, I am uncertain as to how we shall proceed, and was asking for Lady Mirror’s advice.”

“Oh.” Lesso replies. She doesn’t remember any of this politics stuff in the original fairy tales, but she supposes it makes sense. These are, after all, real kingdoms and real power dynamics. “Okay. Carry on.”

She sort of tunes them out, until Snow White lays a soft hand on her and she jumps, not obvious enough to the untrained eye. From the way Snow White’s eyes flicker away from her, though, Lesso knows Snow White catches it again. She wants to groan in frustration.

“We art done, stepmother. Shall we go for a walk? The grounds outside were planted with new flowers this year, and the gardener promised me they would be beautiful this time of year.” Snow White suggests, not withdrawing her hand.

Lesso narrows her eyes at it.

“Snowflake,” Lesso says slowly.

“Yes?” Snow White replies, entirely too innocently to be innocent, her hand still on Lesso’s. “What is it, stepmother?”

“You’re touching me.”

“I am.” Snow White replies, as though that isn’t abnormal at all.

Lesso narrows her eyes even more. “Why?”

The question itself might seem out of the blue for outsiders. But Lesso trusts that Snow White, with her uncanny sense of introspection, will know what Lesso means. Snow White is, after all, the same girl who stepped away from the safety of Lesso’s shadow when Charming, then still an ambiguous threat, stood in front of them, because she could feel the way Lesso was uncomfortable. The same girl who, at the age of nine, stepped away from Lesso when she felt Lesso stiffening during their hug. Snow White, initiating physical touch with Lesso?

Something is up. If Snow White were anyone else, Lesso would say Snow White is doing this on purpose to make her uncomfortable. But somewhere along the years, Lesso has started to trust the stoic raven-haired beauty, and she knows better than to think that the young queen would ever consciously make her uncomfortable.

“Must I have a reason to express physical affection towards mine own stepmother?” Snow White returns, still innocent. She would only need to bat her eyelashes and she would be the very picture of the word.

“Don’t play word games,” Lesso says, her tone dropping. Dovey watches this conversation without saying a word, and for a second Lesso wonders if Dovey is in on this too.

Snow White glances at Dovey, which would seem suspicious, but when Lesso spares Dovey a glance she seems confused too. “Alright. I confess, stepmother, to having an ulterior motive.”

“Uh-huh.” Lesso says, raising an eyebrow. “And what is it?”

“I have noticed, since I was a child, that thee shy away from physical affection.” Snow White starts, her tone factual. “I never thought anything of it. People are different, and I understand thy reservations.”

“That’s not explaining,” Lesso gestures wildly in space. “This.”

“However, stepmother, I noticed that it was not that thee do not like physical touch,” Snow White continues, maddeningly patient. “‘Tis in the small things thee do. Thee merely need an extra moment to get used to it.”

Lesso opens her mouth to interrupt, but Snow White continues, giving her a look.

“And I enjoy physical affection. So,” Snow White seems to sit up a little straighter, “I have decided to condition thee to it.”

Lesso blinks. “Did you just say condition? As in, treating me like a dog you need to break into?” Lesso is incredulous, and from the way Dovey is looking at Snow White, Dovey definitely didn’t know about this plan of the young queen’s either.

“If that helps thee better understand,” Snow White shrugs. “I enjoy hugs, kisses, and light touches, stepmother.”

Lesso stares.

“When I said take what you want, snowflake,” her voice is almost uncertain, so Lesso clears her throat and keeps going. “I didn’t mean this.”

“I shall not push, stepmother. I know thy boundaries well. I have, after all, survived with thee for near nineteen summers, have I not?” Snow White teases, a hint of mirth in her eyes. “But I like hugs. So,” Snow White sets her shoulders back, and meets Lesso’s eyes with a little bit of a challenge, “deal with it.”

And despite all the odds, Lesso believes Snow White when Snow White tells her that she knows her boundaries. She remembers clearly the night she succumbed to the itch and cut herself on the guards’ tower. Snow White had maintained such a careful distance, not too far to seem distant and uncaring, but not too near to suffocate.

Her mind goes back to a time when she allowed herself the simple pleasures of being touched and touching in return, a time when the feeling of skin hadn’t yet made her afraid. She remembers how as a girl, her mother would give her kisses as she brushed her crazy locks. She remembers the way her father would give her kisses before bed, no matter how badly he had beaten her.

Dovey’s looking at her now, and Lesso wonders if Dovey had ever felt this way. She doubts it. Dovey has never had a problem stepping into Lesso’s personal space when she had a body, and for all appearances, the story she told Lesso might as well have been someone else’s. What seems like similar roots for their troubles, stemming from childhood, have manifested in oddly different ways.

All the touches in Lesso’s life have been contradictory. Her mother’s touches spoke of love, but she did nothing when her father beat her. Her father’s kisses spoke of care, but he still didn’t hesitate to hurt her when he wanted to. Rafal– Rafal’s touches had a purpose, an end goal in mind.

But Snow White…

Snow White sits in front of her, her touch light and cool on Lesso’s hand, and for the first time in her life, someone is asking her. Snow White is asking Lesso to be allowed to do simple things, to simply be allowed hugs and kisses.

Lesso’s a good liar. Not so good that she could tell Snow White she abhors the feeling of Snow White’s skin on her own. Nor so good as to maintain a mask of indifference when those words would certainly hurt the young queen.

It’s been eleven years since Rafal died. Even longer since she left Gavaldon and never heard from her parents again. Lesso searches far and wide in Snow White’s brown eyes, and even after she’s peeled away layer after layer, she can’t find anything. She can’t find a goal, a purpose. She only finds something unbearably soft and caring.

She thinks, maybe, she doesn’t have to be so afraid all the time.

“Fine,” Lesso replies, her voice gruff. She slips her hand out from under Snow White’s and stands, glaring. “But if you expect me to give you a kiss before bed now, think again.”

Snow White’s smile is positively blinding.

“I expect nothing from thee.”

And shockingly, Lesso believes her.

There is a gray hair in Lesso’s locks this morning. She checks it, twice, just to make sure it’s really real, and not just a figment of Lesso’s imagination.

She separates it from the fiery red curls and holds it up in the light, careful not to wretch it from her head. In the vanity, the person who stares back at her in shock has a few more frown lines, a few more smile lines around her eyes, and a gray hair. She wasn’t exactly the epitome of youth when she arrived in this world, and the past eleven years haven’t passed without leaving marks on her.

The sun lights her up from the side, and she looks sun-kissed as she marvels at the gray hair.

“Princess,” she says, almost awestruck. “I have a gray hair.”

“Oh.” Dovey replies, absently, “Well, we all get old, and it’s no big deal, you’re still—” Dovey cuts herself off. “You don’t sound– How do you feel about that, Lesso?”

“I-” Lesso turns back to where she’s propped Dovey up on her nightstand, Dovey’s spot at night. Dovey looks like she’s concerned, but she also doesn’t look changed.

It’s almost unfair, the way that Dovey can see her age, and she doesn’t get to see gray touch Dovey’s golden locks, see the creases made from joy and sadness carved next to Dovey’s delicate features, like decoration. She says as much.

“It’s nice to know you aren’t about to have a mid-life crisis,” Dovey says, her smile wry.

“Me?” Lesso snorts, carefully letting her gray hair sit back in between the strands of red and turning back to the vanity. “Oh please. I can’t wait to be an old hag.”

“Why?”

“Old people get so much leeway that I’ll finally be able to run around naked in the Blue Forest.”

“You could do that now, you know.” Dovey points out, way too amused by this conversation.

“Yeah, but when I’m old, they’ll ask me why I did it and I’ll just say something like ‘I’m old!’” Lesso replies, wobbling her voice in her best imitation of an old woman. “What’re they going to say, you can’t be old?”

“I don’t think that absolves you from public indecency.”

“That’s you assuming they’ll be able to catch me.” Lesso leans a little closer to the vanity mirror, and applies her eyeliner with a sure hand. “I intend on being a very fast old hag.” She applies her lipstick, and appraises herself in the mirror. “Oh, and I want to go check in with the cook today. Are you going to Snow White’s advisor meeting?”

“Yes,” Dovey says, watching her. “You know, before this, I always just assumed that you would wake up with your eyeliner and lipstick applied.”

“No one wakes up looking like me, princess,” Lesso turns, and grabs Dovey off her nightstand.

“How on Earth did you pass Uglification?” Dovey’s voice sounds amused, from where Lesso has grabbed her in her hand, pointed at the ground.

Lesso shrugs. “Rafal agreed that vanity is more powerful than a warty face. Just ask Grimhilde. Although, I always was the vain one out of the two of us.”

“Hm,” Dovey hums. “Sounds about right.”

“The I’m vain part?”

“The you’re vain part.” Dovey confirms, and Lesso cackles.

At the door to Snow White’s counselor rooms, though, she stills. She steadies her hand, and then, with a ‘boom’, the doors fly back before her. She stands right in the middle of the doorway, aware of the counselors scattering in fright.

“You really had to make an entrance, didn’t you?” Dovey murmurs, and Lesso cracks a sinister grin.

“Well, well.” Lesso says, letting her eyes wander over all the sniveling counselors. She strolls leisurely to Snow White’s seat at the head of the table, “What do we have here?”

Snow White is the only one unfazed by the sudden appearance of her stepmother, and in fact is watching her with an amused glint in her eyes. The queen once told Lesso, blushing, that she found the way her advisors shied away from Lesso hilarious. Rather vindictive of the young queen, and Lesso decided to encourage it.

“How are we doing, snowflake?” Lesso purrs, setting Dovey down her designated custom-made stand next to Snow White.

“Wonderful, stepmother,” Snow White replies, setting aside the apple she was toying with to stand and press a kiss to Lesso’s cheek. Lesso grimaces, but restrains her flinch this time, and Snow White sits back down, clearly happy. “We have only just decided on one of the prisoner’s sentences. Lady Mirror will not have missed much at all.”

“Great,” Lesso replies. “Then I’ll be on my way.”

Snow White picks up the apple she was toying with before and nods. “I shall see thee later, stepmother. I bid thee good morning.”

As Lesso walks away, she hears the shuffle of the advisors heading back to their seats, probably fluffing their hair while they’re at it to soothe their poor souls, Lesso thinks, and grins wide. She hears Dovey ask about which prisoner they have decided, and what the sentence is.

“Death by fire.” Snow White says simply.

Lesso rounds the corner to the kitchen, and loses track of the conversation. She follows her nose down to the kitchens, and all the servants who see her striding by cower and scurry away. It’s a powerful feeling.

When she pushes open the kitchen doors, the cook stands, hastily, from where she sat kneading bread. “Your majesty! Thou art back!”

For all Lesso has become familiar with the cook over the years, the cook is still formal with her. Lesso understands, to some extent. The cook was raised in an environment where someone like Lesso, in Lesso’s position, taking an interest in her might have actually been something terrifying rather than welcome.

Edmund, on the other hand…

“Majesty!” The boy bounces out from behind a door, where Lesso assumes the boy was eavesdropping. “Thou art back so soon!”

Lesso rolls her eyes at his enthusiasm, but smiles. “Yeah, yeah, you little brat. I’m back.”

“I am glad.” Edmund says, beckoning her to come with him despite his mother’s fervent hisses at him to remember his place. “Will thee join me in checking the bread? Mama is making more, but I have already baked some.”

Lesso waves off the cook’s apologies and stuttering, and nods. “I have to ask you something, anyway.”

“What might thee ask of me?” Edmund replies, pushing open the door from which he had entered the kitchen.

Lesso follows. “You know the chocolate pie you woke me up to give me that one time at the beach?”

“Aye. Do thee want more?” The boy asks, leaning down to poke at the rising bread in the oven.

“No.” Lesso replies. “I want the recipe.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Edmund turns to grin at her wolfishly. “But I suppose I might make an exception for thee. Besides, ‘tis not my recipe anyway. ‘Tis mama’s.”

Lesso crosses her arms. “You know, pie boy, you’re really–”

“Majesty?” The cook knocks timidly on the door, and pokes her head inside.

“Annoying,” Lesso finishes, before turning to face his mother. “Yeah?”

“They just announced that there is a young lass at the door. She says her name is Belle, and she is looking for thee? Something about a book, they said.”

Lesso raises an eyebrow. “Took the little wrench long enough, I suppose,” she says, more to herself than to anyone. “And cook?”

“Aye?”

“Do you have the recipe for the chocolate pie you made last time we were at the beach?” Lesso directs, ignoring the boy behind hee.

“Aye, ma’am. Do thee want more?”

“Nope. I want the recipe.”

“Ah. Shall I leave it in thy rooms?”

Lesso grins wides. “That would be great. Thanks. Oh, and Edmund?” She calls, turning back towards the boy, watching the conversation with glee. “The bread is burning.”

She turns, and heads out, snickering at the sound of the boy scrambling and his mother scolding him quietly. The servant outside bows to her as she steps outside of the kitchen, and she raises an eyebrow. “Well? Where is the girl?”

“In the throne room, majesty,” the servant replies, his head down, not meeting her eyes. “She is waiting for thy summoning.”

“Go ask Snow White if she can let Lady Mirror go for a minute, and bring the mirror to the throne room.”

The servant bows again, and disappears in the opposite direction Lesso heads.

When she arrives at the throne room, it is empty save for the servant waiting for Lesso’s nod to announce Belle. Lesso steps into the room, and takes a deep breath. She’s always loved the throne room. There’s something about being seated above everyone else that Lesso adores.

She mounts the steps to the two thrones, and sits herself down. The right throne is for Snow White, and the one on the left is hers. By rights, Lesso was technically Snow White’s regent until Snow White turned eighteen this year, so she sat next to Snow White on formal occasions as both queen mother, and regent. Now, Snow White is queen regnant of her own right, and Lesso’s seat should have been moved to somewhere lower. Lesso had thought Snow White would make the altercation while they were at the beach, but she hasn’t.

“Your majesty,” the same servant who announced Belle’s arrival enters, and bows low in front of Lesso’s seat. He carries Dovey on a silk cushion. “Lady Mirror.”

“Oh good.” Lesso stands to pick Dovey up herself, and dismisses the servant. “You can announce Belle now,” She says to the other servant waiting patiently at the door.

The servant bows, and disappears as well.

“Belle?” Dovey asks, quietly, as Lesso re-mounts the steps to her throne and settles down, still holding Dovey in her hands.

Snow White had asked, when they first redecorated the throne room after the old king’s death, if they should add a place for Dovey. Dovey shook her head. “They would accuse you of witchcraft and sorcery.”

“Not as much as Queen Elsa of Arendelle over the seas,” Snow White had protested, but Dovey stood firm. Magic is significantly less common in this world than Lesso had originally believed, and oftentimes it is viewed with more suspicion than welcome. Makes sense, considering the people who used magic were generally villains.

Lesso secretly believed, and still believes, that the reason why Dovey had protested against Snow White’s plans is that Dovey was preparing for their eventual return back to the School for Good and Evil. After their discussion on the carriage, though, she can’t help but wonder if Dovey still feels the same.

“Yeah.” Lesso replies, carefully turning Dovey so that she faces the direction of the hall as well. This means Dovey won’t be able to see her, but it also means Dovey will be able to see Belle when she comes in.

“Do you actually have a book for her?”

Lesso taps her chin with her free hand. “Huh. I’d forgotten why she was even coming.”

“Lesso!”

“You worry too much, princess. Frown any more, and you’ll get wrinkles.”

“I’m a mirror, Lesso, I doubt glass has an affinity to crinkling.”

Lesso shrugs. “You never know.”

“Presenting, Miss Belle of village Villeneuve from the Kingdom of Beaumont.” The servant announces, having returned at some point. The big, double doors of the main entrance open, and in walks Belle, carrying a basket on her arms and wearing an expression of amazement.

Belle curtsies as soon as she steps in front of the thrones. “Rise,” Lesso waves a lazy hand, curbing the urge to make the girl curtsy for longer than necessary. She knows she should probably say something about the book, but, “Is your village really named after the king?”

Belle’s eyes widen at the question. She looks around, as though someone else might help her answer, but the only other person besides Lesso is the servant who announced Belle’s entrance. He maintains a perfectly bland expression, used to Lesso’s unorthodox ways, and in the end Belle just looks carefully up at Lesso and replies, “Er, yes, your majesty.”

“How humble,” Lesso says, smirking.

Belle starts, but whatever she sees in Lesso’s smirk must reassure her, because a thin coat of sarcasm touches Belle’s voice as she replies, “Our king, may he rest in peace, is not, youz might say, the most creative of kings.”

Lesso cackles. “So, bookworm. Fancy seeing you here.”

Belle’s eyebrows twitch upwards at the nickname, but she just curtsies again. “How do youz do, ma’am?”

“Fine, fine. Didn’t you say you came here for a book, or something?”

“Ah did. Ah didn't know that youz were the queen dowager of this lauind, though, and Ah apologize for mah behavior when we first met, ma’am.”

“Apologize?” Dovey interrupts whatever return Lesso was preparing. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. How about we go somewhere less… Formal for this conversation?”

“What’s wrong with the throne room?” Lesso drawls, arrogantly. “My throne is really comfortable.”

She doesn’t have to see Dovey to know that Dovey is rolling her eyes at her, hard, right now. “Lesso.”

“Fine.” Lesso stands, sweeps a lock of hair back, and gestures for Belle to follow her. “Follow me.”

She leads Belle to a smaller parlor room on the side, and sits down, setting Dovey on her stand. Belle stays standing, and Lesso doesn’t notice it until Dovey says, “Sit down, Belle.”

Belle darts a glance at Lesso, and Lesso rolls her eyes. “Didn’t peg you as a timid one. Sit down.”

Belle sits.

“So,” Lesso says, taking a sip from the cup of tea set down in front of her. “What book do you want?”

Belle takes a sip of her tea as well. The girl sits straight in her chair, the hand not holding the cup still in her lap. She looks, in other words, stiff. Somehow, though, Lesso suspects she’s definitely not timid. It might be because of the way the girl has taken a crack at her monarch before she’s even sat down, or it might be because of the way Belle is appraising Dovey with frank curiosity in her eyes, but Belle reminds Lesso a little of the beauty teacher back home.

“Ah was actually hoping,” Belle says, setting her cup down. “To make a deal with youz, ma’am.”

Lesso raises an eyebrow. “And what kind of deal do you think you could offer me?” If she adds a little intimidation into her tone, well, the girl could get used to it.

“Ah noticed, ma’am, owen mah way in, that youz have a very well-stocked leeberr.”

Lesso turns to Dovey. “Leeberr?”

“Library. Honestly, Lesso, have you never studied dialects at all?”

Lesso shrugs. “I know how to tell people to die in fifteen languages, does that count for something?”

“Excuse me, but…” Belle gestures at Dovey, “Ah don't understand. Are youz… A translator?”

“Ha! Translator. Congratulations, princess, you’ve officially been demoted from sidekick to translator.” Lesso says, smirking.

“Princess? Oh mah, Ah'm so sorry, your highness, Ah didn't mean to–” Belle’s face pales immediately, and she half-rises, as though about to beg for their forgiveness.

“No, no, don’t mind her,” Dovey says, giving Lesso a good side-eye. “She’s kidding. I’m… I guess you could say I’m a counselor of the queen’s.”

“Oh.” Belle freezes, before sitting back down, shaking her head ruefully. “Ah'm sorry, youz must think Ah'm awfully jumpy.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Dovey assures her. “We understand that we’re, well, we’re not exactly conventional. But it’s okay. You don’t have to be so anxious around us. Just be yourself.”

“You are jumpy, though,” Lesso supplies. She pinches her pointer finger and her thumb together, her silver nails gleaning in the light. “Just a little.”

“Not helpful, Lesso.”

“Ugh, fine.” Lesso sits up a bit straighter, and folds her hands in front of her in a mock-formal position. “How can I help you, Miss Belle of the village Vill-something from the Kingdom of B-something?” She bats her eyelashes and puts on her fakest smile. The one that shows all of her teeth.

“Village Villeneuve from the Kingdom of Beaumont, ma’am,” Belle supplies, a hint of deadpan in her voice. “And as Ah said before, Ah noticed your leeberr owen mah way it. It is very well-stocked, from what Ah saw, but a lit'l... Shall Ah say, unsystematic.”

“Huh,” Lesso shrugs. “That sounds like a Snow White problem. What does that have to do with me?”

“Well,” Belle takes a deep breath, as though preparing herself to take a leap. “That is the deal Ah was speaking a bat, ma’am. In return for me cleaning out the leeberr, youz allow me to read some of the books in the leeberr, and Ah won't ask for a book in replacement of the one from before.”

Lesso taps her chin. “And why would I do that, when I have servants who can do it for me? In fact, it’s their fault it’s ‘unsystematic’ in the first place. I should have their heads for it.”

Belle’s face pales immediately. “Ah didn't mean to cause any trouble, ma’am.”

“Ignore her.” Dovey tells her. “She’ll have to run beheadings through with Snow White, and Snow doesn’t like how bloody they get.”

“That- that offers me great comfort, counselor.” It clearly doesn’t, but Lesso just watches, enjoying the way the girl squirms.

“And I think you’ve made a wonderful suggestion, Belle. Our library could use a good organization, and Storian knows how difficult that is considering I don’t have arms.” Dovey gives Belle a gentle smile, and even though Belle’s coloring is still pale, it seems to help. “How about you come in every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and help me with the books? You can lend out any book you like.”

“That- that sounds perfect, counselor.” Belle darts another glance at Lesso.

Lesso waves her hand in the air. “What Dovey said. It’s not like she’ll listen if I say no, anyway.”

“Hey! I do listen!”

“Sure, princess, sure you do.”

Belle looks between them, a look of understanding passing her eyes. “So, um, youz both agree?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lesso replies, rolling her eyes when Belle’s coloring returns almost immediately and a grin breaks across her face. “If you get around to burning books, though, I expect a call.”

“Burning books! Why would we ever do that, ma’am?” Belle is absolutely scandalized.

Lesso groans. “I should’ve known.”

“Yep,” Dovey says, the playful intonation of the word mocking Lesso. “She’s a Good one, all right.”

“Oh, ha ha, good for you. I wonder how long it’ll take before Gaston comes knocking.” Lesso says, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue because she’s got gray hairs now and she’s definitely a mature, Evil, woman.

“Gaston?” Belle’s face loses all its color again as she stiffens. It’s like watching a cartoon, the way Belle’s face changes color. “How did youz find out a bat him, ma’am?”

Lesso winks. “Magic.”

“What Lesso means is,” Dovey says, in a tone that tells Lesso she’s trying very hard to resist rolling her eyes. “Gaston won’t be able to bother you here. Trust me when I say that we’re not huge fans of men who like to push themselves onto women.”

Belle looks between them again, and must have found some reassurance in Dovey’s expression, because she relaxes just a little. “Thank you, counselor.”

“Call me Professor Dovey.” Dovey says, smiling warmly. “How old are you, Belle?”

Belle doesn’t seem bewildered at all by the way the conversation turns. “Sixteen.”

“And when is your birthday?”

“In a bat two months.”

Lesso can nearly see the wheels turning inside of Dovey’s glass head. “Huh. How long does it take for you to get here from your village?”

“A bat half a day's walk, professor.” Belle says, “But Ah promise Ah won't be late.”

Dovey shares a look with Lesso. Lesso doesn’t know what she reads from her, but Dovey turns back to Belle, and asks, her tone inviting, “What if you stayed here?”

Belle stares. “Here?”

“Yes. If your father can spare you, we’d be happy to host you until you finish your organizing.”

“Ah- Thank youz, professor, but… Ah don't want to be a burden.”

“You wouldn’t be.” Dovey says, firmly. “How about this? I’ll ask Snow White about this tonight, and you head back to discuss this with your father. I’ll send a message about Snow White’s decision, and if you want to come back, just come back with them. If not, just let the messenger know. Is that okay?”

“Ah- That’s too kind of youz.” Belle says, her coloring tinged with pink now. Lesso watches with fascination. It’s like Belle is a walking mixing palette.

“Okay. So it’s a deal.” Dovey smiles at the girl, and somehow Lesso can feel how much this means to Dovey, even if the girl is still a stranger. “Go and ask him now. Wait for my message this evening.”

Belle stands, looking a little dazed, as though Dovey’s nearly moving too quickly for her. She curtsies. “Ah- Thank youz so much for your kindness, professor. And youz, ma’am. Thank youz, thank youz so much. I didn’t- I can’t believe-”

“Just hurry up.” Lesso waves her hand at her, dismissive. “Dovey’ll be talking about you nonstop. Save my ears some torture.”

Belle laughs, high and disbelieving, and curtsies again before she leaves the room.

“The door’s on the left!” Lesso shouts, and she hears the sound of Belle’s footsteps turning. “You know,” Lesso says, stirring her tea. “For a princess who is supposed to be known for her smarts, she’s not very cautious. We’re literally two strangers, offering her lodgings, and she just agrees?”

“You realize we’re royalty, right?” Dovey frowns. “I’m actually rather shocked she didn’t agree immediately. I thought she’d think she didn’t have a choice. I hope I didn’t give the wrong impression.”

Lesso points a finger. “Exactly. What if I had wanted to keep her because I wanted to groom her or something equally nasty?”

Dovey crinkles her brow. “Lesso! Do you always have to think about things like that?”

“The real world isn’t pink and bubbly, princess.”

“Well, why don’t you worry about her? What if she’s not really Belle, and she’s actually an assassin on orders from King de Villeneuve to murder us all in our sleep and we’ve just handed her the perfect opportunity?”

Lesso raises an eyebrow.

“You’re good at this, princess.”

“Thank you so much for that glowing recommendation.” Dovey replies, snarkily. “So?”

“So what?”

“So why are you so okay with Belle just coming to sleep under our roof?”

Lesso shrugs, and takes a sip of her tea. “Because you think she’s fine.”

“Oh, so now you’re trusting my judgment?”

“You asked her for her birthday and her age before you made your offer, princess. I’m not stupid. I can connect the dots. Adam is twenty, Belle is sixteen, the ages align too perfectly for her not to be who she says.”

Dovey narrows her eyes. “And you asked her about Gaston intentionally, didn’t you?”

Lesso grins. “Maybe.”

Dovey shivers. “You know, I’m suddenly very glad the Storian never sent you out in a story. Your nemesis should be scared.”

Lesso cackles.

At dinner, Dovey brings up the topic. Snow White listens carefully, and says, as she cuts delicately into her steak, “And this Belle. Is she trust-worthy?”

“She is,” Dovey replies, watching Snow White.

“I do not mean to question thy judgment, Lady Mirror, but–”

“But you do. Don’t worry, snowflake. Belle’s good. I’m sure.” Lesso interrupts. Dovey throws her an indignant look, to which Lesso shrugs. “Princess, your admirably brave but still very asinine inclination towards trust isn’t exactly a secret.”

“At least I’m not paranoid.”

“Stepmother, Lady Mirror, please.” Snow White chides, a smile coloring her words. “That is why thou art a good team, is that not? Thee complement one another.”

“Ha ha,” Lesso replies, chewing on her own steak, ignoring the feeling that this warmth can’t be for her. This is a quest-world, not the real-world. What happens in the quest, stays in the quest, she reminds herself, the mantra quickly becoming her go-to thought. If Dovey’s correct, though, and they’re going to be in this world for a long time… Lesso sets the thought aside.

“And of course, Lady Mirror. If both thee and stepmother agree this Belle is trust-worthy, I see no harm in allowing her access to the library and lodgings in the guest chambers. Thee hath said she is how old?”

“Sixteen. Almost seventeen.”

“Ah. Perhaps, then, Edmund would be a nice companion for her whilst she is here?”

“Actually,” Dovey exchanges a look with Lesso. “I was thinking of accompanying her. If you can spare me from the meetings. I like this girl.”

Snow White’s cutting slows for an almost imperceptible second, before she resumes her normal pace. “Oh?” She is frustratingly unreadable. “And what of thee, stepmother? Shall thee be spending time with the girl as well?”

Lesso chews, and speaks through her food. “Ah dong snow.”

“None of us speak Atlantean, Lesso.”

Lesso swallows, and gives Dovey a stink eye. “I said, I don’t know. Our lessons will continue as usual, snowflake, don’t worry about that. You won’t be able to escape my clutches so easily.”

“Considering thee nearly dropped thy sword during my third attack last session, I am uncertain who would be doing the escaping, stepmother.” Snow White replies, still lightly, though her shoulders relax just a little.

“Just for that, you’re running five extra laps today.”

Snow White shrugs. “All the better to become even stronger.”

Lesso’s eyes narrow. “I’ll tell the cook to start poisoning you.”

“I shall threaten her with a beheading that I do not have to have anyone’s agreement to follow through on.” Oh, Snow White definitely knows she’s pushing Lesss’s buttons, and she looks all too savagely happy while doing it.

“You little brat. You really think I can’t do anything to you anymore, huh?”

Snow White looks positively evil as she chews and swallows, before raising an eyebrow in an uncanny imitation of Lesso. “I am adequately terrified, stepmother.”

Lesso growls, and Dovey just laughs. “You’ve met your match, Lesso.”

“Shut up, princess.”

“I shall have the guest chambers cleaned and ready for an occupant, Lady Mirror,” Snow White says, interrupting Dovey’s protests and Lesso’s subsequent insult with a smile.

“Stop it.” Lesso glares.

“Stop what?” Snow White asks, innocent again.

“Smiling like you’re the mom and we’re naughty children.”

Snow White just laughs gently, the sound twinkling and carefree.

Lesso steps into the library just in time to hear Belle exclaim, “This is definitely a war novel, professor! How could youz ever call this a fairy tale?”

“Fairy tales are defined by five traits: the moral lesson, characters, magic, obstacles, and obstacles overcome. Mulan meets all of those requirements.”

“Yes, but The Ballad of Mulan does not. The Ballad is the one with historical and artistic significance.”

“Why does The Ballad deserve more recognition?”

“Weew, for starters, the main character does not overcome her troubles using magic.” Lesso steps into the clearing where they are conversing, and Belle doesn’t notice her. The girl continues, gesturing animatedly. “The main character is not unrealistically powerful. She's just brave enough to be a woman in the army, and just lucky enough that she survives her trials.”

“Does having magic make Mulan’s accomplishments in Mulan less worthy, though? She accomplished more in terms of magnitude.”

Belle shakes her head. “No, youzer right, it doesn't make what she did less powerful. But normal people don't have magic. So if anything, The Ballad would meet the requirements more than Mulan. It teaches a stronger, more accessible lesson.”

Lesso leans on one of the bookshelves, interested to see how Dovey will spin this one.

“Fairy tales are meant to be unrealistic, though. That’s why there’s always a happy ending. That’s why there’s magic. The obstacles our protagonists face might not be the most applicable in everyday life, but from the big we take away the small lessons, lessons of love and courage. That’s why Mulan belongs in the fairy tale section, Belle.”

Belle falls silent for a moment. Then she asks, quietly, seriously, “But many stories contain the fiv markers youz spoke a bat, professor. Are they all fairy tales?”

Dovey is quiet too, pondering the question.

“I don’t know.” Dovey says, finally. “Perhaps we can come up with a better definition for a fairy tale?”

“Ah would like that.” Lesso can nearly hear the grin in Belle’s face, and she decides this is a good time for her to introduce herself. She clears her throat, and raises an eyebrow when Belle nearly jumps a foot in the air.

“Your majesty!” Belle says, hurriedly standing and curtsying, “Ah didn't see youz there.”

“That’s sort of the point of sneaking up on someone,” Lesso says, sitting down. “What are you guys doing?”

“We were talking about the nature of fairy tales. Speaking of which, Lesso, how did your school define fairy tales?”

Lesso shrugs. “If it’s got magic, it’s a fairy tale.”

“But what if the story has magic, but does not have a happy ending?” Belle asks, sitting down as well. The girl’s gotten slightly more comfortable with Lesso compared to when she first arrived, but Lesso hasn’t been tripping over herself making herself accessible to the girl. She’s not interested in ‘making friends’, or whatever Dovey wants to call what she’s doing. She just needs Belle to somehow illustrate both schools’ ideals and meet the Storian’s requirements.

“When the villain wins?” Lesso clarifies. Belle nods, and Lesso lets a grin spread. “I call that good riddance.”

“Lesso!” Dovey chastises.

“What? She asked me what I called it, I told her.” Lesso defends herself. “Why does it always have to be the Good guys win, huh? Honestly, if you ask me, villains are much more interesting.”

“Ah agree,” Belle says, looking down at the book she’s holding. “Ah've always fand the villains more compelling.”

“Why is that?” Dovey asks, and when Lesso looks over at her in surprise, she doesn’t seem like she’s asking out of spite. She seems generally curious.

“Theyer more real. They want things that we all want: power, riches, beauty, even immortality. Theyer not afraid to try everything in their power to get those things. Ah'm not saying we should kill and murder,” Belle adds, hurriedly, “but the villains... Ah find them more relatable sometimes.”

Lesso points a silver tipped finger at the girl. “You, young lady, have taste.”

“Ah understand why good wins at the end, to tell stories that teach us all to strive to be kind and caring and selfless like the heroes. But from a reader's perspective, Ah like the villains. Ah think theyer more interesting.”

“And just when I was starting to like you,” Lesso grumbles, tapping her finger against the table.

“That’s interesting, Belle,” Dovey says, looking deep in thought. “I’ve never quite thought about it like that before.”

“Ah think, if Ah had to choose, Ah would want a villain's brains and a hero's luck.” Belle says, dreamily. “Although that's so greedy. Ah bet that would make me just a villain.” She giggles.

Lesso swallows down the urge to tell Dovey that, see, her students are smart and cunning and deserving to win. Instead, she just stands and stretches. “Well, great. Good to see you haven’t completely corrupted the girl yet, princess.”

“Is that really all you came here to do?” Dovey asks, incredulous. “Seriously, Lesso.”

“Oh, right.” Lesso sits herself back down. “Gaston announced himself again.”

“Oh?” Belle replies, her shoulders tensing a little. In the month she’s been living at Snow White’s castle, Gaston hasn’t stopped calling, and Lesso has enjoyed coming up with creative ways to thwart his plans. Lesso had wanted to just castrate him, but Snow White said he wasn’t a subject of hers. The memory of the oily man bowing and throwing looks in her direction makes her want to roll her eyes.

“Yep. Told him you were shitting.” Lesso shrugs. “He looked surprised. Did he not know women shit?”

“Ah-” Belle cuts herself off, and just chuckles. She’s gotten used to Lesso’s increasingly inappropriate excuses, and her shoulders relax. “Thank youz, ma’am.”

“It was fun blowing his little mind.” Lesso shrugs. “Other than that, princess, yes, I did come here just for that. I have to make sure we maintain the Balance.” She can’t very well say that she’s been wandering around the castle all day and found absolutely nothing to entertain her. That would sound sad.

“Sure.” Dovey says, giving her a look that makes her think maybe Dovey can read her just a little better than Lesso wants most people to be able to read her. “Well, then, since you’re so free, how about you help us put the books on the top shelf? Belle can’t reach.”

Lesso makes a big show of sighing, and looking at a nonexistent watch. “How much time is this going to take? I’m very busy, you know.”

“Just give her the books, Belle.”

Lesso pins Dovey down with a glare that doesn’t seem to have any effect on the mirror anymore. “Oi. I’m still the dowager queen, you know.”

Dovey ignores her. “Just give her the books, Belle. If she’s snarky to you, let me know.”

Belle looks between them, and seems to decide that Dovey’s stone cold determination is more scary than Lesso smarting, which is, frankly, insulting. “Would youz follow me, ma’am?”

“OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!” Lesso yells, throwing her head back dramatically, and Dovey just rolls her eyes and goes back to reading the book she was reading before Lesso came in. Even Belle seems generally unfazed after her initial jump.

“Can we do that after we do the top shelves, majesty? Ah still have a bat half of this leeberr to go.”

Lesso just growls at her, but seeing Belle unfazed, just sighs. Oh well, it’s not like she has much else better to do, with Snow White away at delegations for something about some trading thing. She follows Belle.

“And make sure you get the books in the correct order, Lesso! Belle, you’re in charge of her!” Dovey calls after them.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lesso bites out, sarcastic, and Belle looks like she’s suppressing a giggle.

Someone pounds on her door, and Lesso groans. She swears on all the poison in the world if that is Edmund– “What!” She barks.

“There is an urgent message for thee from Miss Belle, your majesty,” one of the newer servants squeaks through the door. “Shall I leave it here?”

“No, you shithead. You’ve already woke me up, might as well fucking hand it to me!” Lesso screeches, throwing herself back under her covers.

“Lesso,” she hears Dovey chastise her lightly, her voice muffled from Lesso’s position under the covers. She also hears Dovey thank the servant, and ask the servant to leave the message open. The servant complies, and leaves as quickly as possible.

“Oh Storian.” Dovey’s voice, even muffled through the covers, is horrified. “Lesso, get up. Belle’s been kidnapped.”

Lesso’s mind goes blank for a second, and then she throws the covers back.

“WHAT?”

“Belle’s written us a letter. She’s saying, basically, that her dad was kidnapped by the king, and so she’s traded herself for him. Oh Storian, this is the exact same story as the original fairy tale.” Dovey’s eyes are streaking across the paper, as though looking for some hidden message.

“Are you fucking with me?” Lesso asks, sitting up and running a hair through her curls. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. It’s too early to be dealing with this. This is just a bad dream. The girl hasn’t even finished with the library yet.”

“I’m not. Lesso, what are we going to do?” Dovey’s breathing is picking up, and Lesso recognizes the signals. “If we don’t change Belle’s story, are we- What if we have to do this entire quest again? Belle- I don’t understand, how could she- What is-”

“Princess.” Lesso reaches and grabs the mirror, holding it closer to her so she can meet Dovey’s eyes. Dovey looks frantic, panicked, and Lesso understands. Dovey’s sacrificed too much for this to be the reason why they have to start over or for all their work to amount to nothing. “Belle’s story is not going to be the same. Remember? We’re here. We can change it. Okay?”

“How?” Dovey says, her breathing still quick. “How?”

“For starters, we’re going to speak to Snow White,” Lesso says, standing. She stretches. She’s getting too old for this nonsense.

“Are you sure we can tell her?”

Lesso raises an eyebrow as she tugs on a bathrobe and calls it a day, scooping up Dovey to make her way down to Snow White’s chambers. “You have so little confidence in the girl you raised? Plus, Belle invited Snow White to her sixteenth birthday party. I’m pretty sure that makes them best friends.” She pushes open the door and enters the hallways, ignoring the bows of the servants she passes.

“I’m not saying Snow won’t help. It’s just… Well, she’s the monarch of a different realm. She can’t be sticking her nose in other monarchs’ businesses.”

“And I’m queen dowager. Didn’t stop me from almost becoming the seventh prince consort of the sea.” She shrugs.

Dovey gives her a good glare. “Right. I almost forgot about that.”

“I still don’t get what you have against fish, princess.” A servant trips, and Lesso suppresses the urge to snicker.

“And I still don’t get why you like fish so much.” Dovey returns.

Lesso knocks on Snow White’s doors. “I’ve never had sex with a fish before,” Lesso muses, as she waits for Snow White’s reply. “I wonder what that’s like.”

“I really did not need to hear about that, stepmother,” Snow White says, her door opening. She’s dressed in her nightgown, royal blue and silky, and it fades into her ivory skin. Her bob of black hair pops even more against the colors. Oh yeah, Snow White is still definitely one of, if not the, most objectively beautiful women Lesso has ever laid eyes on, even as she’s wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Far too much information. How can I help thee?”

“See, Lesso?” Lesso looks down to Dovey’s face, equally splendid in its annoyance, and Dovey gives her a pointed look.

“See what?” Lesso protests, but Dovey doesn’t bother answering her.

“We got a message that Belle’s been kidnapped, Snow.” Dovey says, addressing the young queen now.

“Oh.” Snow White’s face sobers immediately. She opens her doors wide, and lets them in. “By whom?” Snow White continues, closing the doors behind them. She leads them to a sitting room in her chambers, and rings a bell for tea. Her rooms are all colored a pale blue, with hints of yellow in the golden embellishments around the furniture. Lesso’s never actually been in Snow White’s rooms before, she realizes.

“The new King de Villeneuve,” Dovey replies. “Lesso, can you stop looking around or just set me down, please?”

“Oh, right.” She sets Dovey down. “You know, snowflake, I like your tastes. It’s much less… Garish than I expected.”

“Not every royal woman enjoys extravagance,” Snow White remarks drily.

“I feel like the two of you are trying to say something,” Dovey says, narrowing her eyes at both of them. “And I don’t like it.”

“If the shoe fits,” Lesso shrugs, awarded by a flush on Dovey’s features.

“Can we get back to the matter at hand? And for the record, I’m not garish.”

“Right, right,” Lesso says, taking a seat. “Belle. Kidnapped.”

Snow White taps her chin thoughtfully, and sits down as well, crossing her legs gracefully. Sometimes, Lesso wonders as she looks down at the way she’s propped her own feet up on the seat next to her, how Snow White became so graceful. “I recently received news about our old friend Charming.”

“He’s still alive?” Lesso is genuinely shocked.

“Yes. And he has very recently struck up a correspondence with King de Villeneuve. I wonder if that has anything to do with Belle’s predicament.”

“But,” Dovey frowns. “Why Belle?”

“Perhaps he heard tell of Belle’s stay here at our castle?” Snow White shrugs. “I would not put it past Charming to attempt juvenile revenge on us for thwarting his plans. He is hardly satisfied with his status as a consort.”

“Okay, first of all,” Lesso interrupts. “He’s under the sea. How do you–” She shakes her head. “Are there sea birds?”

“I have my ways, stepmother.” Snow White smiles mysteriously.

“Great. And secondly, why is it always him? Honestly. Can’t he just give up?”

“Okay, but more importantly, what about Belle?” Dovey asks, ignoring Lesso. “Can you find some way to get her out of there, Snow?”

“That would be difficult.” Snow White replies slowly, “Our kingdom’s trade relations with King de Villeneuve’s realm art important for our access to oil. Our diplomatic relations with the Kingdom of Hayna, and thus the sea, art already weak. We cannot afford to lose Beaumont as a trading partner, either. I could, perhaps, begin to spread tales of the king of Beaumont taking an innocent girl as prisoner, but…” Snow White trails off. “Adam does not seem to care much for his reputation. And there are rumors already, since he was bedridden last year, that he has been turned into a beast of sorts through dark magic as he does not open his castle doors nor participate in diplomatic events. His people art already afraid of him. Spreading the rumor will do very little to help us.”

“So officially, we can’t do much.” Lesso summarizes for her.

“I could request a meeting with Adam,” Snow White muses. “But ‘tis more likely he will simply decline the meeting, or pass it off to one of his advisors. He has not been seen out in public for nearly a year. Even I cannot be certain of his situation.”

“You know,” Lesso says, an idea striking her. “If Charming is really involved in this, well, I could request a meeting. Adam would have to meet me, if I’m the one Charming wants to get back at.”

“That might work,” Snow White replies. “And as an envoy sent from our kingdom, it is unlikely that Adam would dare to hurt you. After all, our military is quite formidable.” Lesso smirks. She knows how proud Snow White is of her military. “But I dislike the idea of thee putting thyself in danger, even under the guise of a diplomatic meeting.”

“Oh please, snowflake. I’ve seen more dangerous beasts.”

“Still, Snow’s right, Lesso.” Dovey replies. “And even if Adam can’t do anything to you, Charming could, especially if he’s in the dark while we announce ourselves. He could poison you, or send an assassin, and it would be a sticky situation for Adam to deal with, sure, but so long as he has no direct hand in your death, it would be a difficult standing point for Snow to launch a war.”

Lesso whistles. “You’ve really gotten a hang of the paranoia, haven’t you, princess?”

Dovey blushes, and Snow White adds, “But she is correct, stepmother. If thee must go, I would much rather thee go under a disguise rather than as thyself.”

Lesso raises an eyebrow. “You know, that reminds me. I must have a spell, or a cauldron somewhere, to turn into an old lady.”

“Oh right!” Dovey exclaims, and Lesso knows they’re both remembering how in the original Snow White fairy tale, the Evil Queen turns into an old hag. “That could work.”

“Must thee take this risk thyself, stepmother?”

“Snowflake, you know as well as I do that we’re both tied to our kingdom. What you do, what I do, sends out signals to neighboring kingdoms. Who do you trust to not betray us?” Lesso throws back.

Dovey nods and adds, slowly, as though the words taste odd in her mouth, “You can’t jeopardize the entire kingdom for one girl, Snow. We have to be the ones who do it.”

Lesso looks over at Dovey, more shocked than she’d like to acknowledge. She can’t imagine Dovey saying that before, well, all of this, just as much as she can’t imagine herself going out on a limb to rescue a girl.

Oh shit. Lesso’s hand raises to cover her mouth. She hasn’t even realized. She just put her own life on the line for a girl she barely knows.

Fucking quest, messing with her mind.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Dovey says, her face tinged with the hint of a blush. “I can be utilitarian.”

“Shocking.” Lesso replies, before directing the subject back onto solid grounds where she won’t have to worry about Dovey asking her why she can’t find a way to delegate the task to someone else. “So, snowflake, you have any cauldrons lying around?”

“I believe father might have kept some in his old chambers,” Snow White replies, frowning. “Shall I have them brought to thy chambers?”

“That would work.” Lesso says, already straining her memory for spells to turn into old hags. “And if you could also get some mummy dust, the scream of fright, and a thunderbolt, I’d appreciate it.”

“Mummy dust?” Snow White repeats, looking aghast.

“Mummy dust. I’ll deal with the black of night, the hag’s cackle, and the blast of wind.” Lesso pauses, and looks over at Dovey, “You know, I never realized just how abstract these potion recipes are.”

“They’re not really meant to be said aloud in situations other than villainous monologues.” Dovey replies, deadpan.

“Huh. Maybe that’s why Grimhilde’s potions didn’t really help her in the end.”

Snow White looks between the two of them, and just shakes her head. “I did not understand most of what thee has just spoken of, stepmother, but I shall do my best.”

Back in their chambers, Dovey is uncharacteristically quiet. After a while, Lesso grows sick of it, so she turns.

“What, princess?”

Dovey seems to snap herself out of her thoughts. “What, what?”

“What’s with the long face?” She gives Dovey a look when she tries to protest. “C’mon. Give me some credit. I can read your face pretty well by now.”

Dovey sighs. “It’s just… Belle is supposed to be the Beast’s True Love.”

“Okay…” Lesso says slowly. “And?”

“If Belle and the Beast don’t fall in love, the Beast’s going to remain a Beast for the rest of time.”

Lesso thinks this over, and then says, slowly still, “And?”

“And, that means that he’ll be a monster for the rest of his life, Lesso! Come on, surely you can see why that isn’t a good thing.”

“Or,” Lesso says, “Or it could be a just way for him to learn how to be a better person. You know, all the Good shit you’re always going on about?”

“But he’ll be a beast!” Dovey replies, a little desperate at the way Lesso doesn’t seem to be getting it.

“So what? It’s not like he was lovable before,” Lesso replies, shifting around the books in her room to find the one book she’s sure she had before. Something about potions.

“That’s not the problem,” Dovey says, dismissing Lesso’s words. “The problem with him being a beast is not that he’ll be unlovable, Lesso. It’ll be that he’ll think he is unlovable, and that will carry over to his actions. And who will suffer the most if he makes decisions that stem from him believing in his own depravity? His people! He’s a monarch, Lesso!”

Dovey’s words are spinning in Lesso’s head, and she picks the one she thinks would be the most easy to address first. “You think he would be lovable, as a beast?”

“Belle loved him, as a beast.”

“Belle had Stockholm syndrome!”

“But the love was true enough to fool the curse. The point is not whether or not Belle really loved him. The point was, she thought she loved him, and the belief was enough to get the beast saved.” Dovey says, firmly. “And you’re missing the bigger point. The bigger point is about the people of his kingdom, Lesso. They’re the ones who are going to suffer the most.”

“Well, then, do you suggest we just let him kidnap Belle?”

Dovey sighs. “No.”

“Okay,” Lesso shrugs, “So don’t think so much, princess. I wouldn’t be too worried about the people. Generally speaking, if they get too unhappy, revolutions happen. And who knows? That might be good for Snow White. We might get to take over their kingdom.”

“You did not just turn this humanitarian crisis into a profitable scenario for our kingdom.”

“I did, actually, and the politician in you knows I’m right.” Lesso finds the book she was looking for, and she lays it on her desk. Dovey doesn’t answer her at first, and Lesso busies herself looking for the exact number of stirs it takes to create the potion.

Dovey sighs, again, finally.

“Politics have no relations to morals.”

Lesso's mouth drops. "You did not just quote ole Mach."

"Even Machiavelli has his moments."

Dovey looks at the potion they concocted with an expression of mixed disgust and concern. “Are you sure it’s supposed to be sticky?”

“Yes,” Lesso replies. “I’m sure.” She’s not sure at all, but she’s not about to show Dovey that. And besides, she’s pretty sure she got the recipe right. “So, you wanna do your fairy godmother thing and give me a few last reminders?”

Dovey gives her a look, but begins anyway, her tone taking on the deep timbre Lesso hasn’t heard since the first time Lesso asked her ‘who is the fairest in the land’.

“At the stroke of twelve, the spell will be broken, and everything will be returned to normal.”

Lesso checks her watch. “And remind me why we chose to leave the castle so late?”

Dovey’s voice returns to her normal tone as she replies, “Stop being dramatic. You still have three hours. Plenty of time.”

Lesso raises an eyebrow. “Says the mirror, who’s going to be staying out here.”

“Wait, what? When did we decide that, Lesso?” Dovey’s look of shock is comical, and Lesso has to cackle.

“Oh, you want to go inside and rescue the girl with me?”

“No, but–”

“See, you said no.”

“But–”

“Princess,” Lesso says, her tone final as she tugs on the black hood that looks much more like a witch’s cloak than a hag’s, but it was the only thing she could find in Grimhilde’s closet. “I’m not taking you. I don’t have pockets.”

Dovey chews her lips, and it starts to look painful before she speaks, “I don’t like the idea of you alone in there.”

“I won’t be alone,” Lesso says, holding the vial with their potion up in the light. Dovey’s right, there are sticky clumps in there, and it does not look appealing. “I’ll have Adam as company.”

“Wait, Lesso, maybe we should have someone else take a look–” Lesso bops the vial in Dovey’s direction in a mock-toast, and drowns the liquid before Dovey can finish her sentence. “Before you drink it.” Dovey finishes, lamely.

The liquid goes down about as well as it looked like it would. It burns, a little like alcohol, but tastes warty, like a frog would.

“Ugh,” She splutters. “It tastes like shit.”

Dovey doesn’t make a joke, and when Lesso opens her eyes, she finds Dovey looking at her very closely. “What? Are there wrinkles already?”

“No.” Dovey replies, her voice faint. “Are,” she visibly swallows, “you feeling alright?”

“I’m–” Suddenly, something comes up in her throat, and before she can do anything about it, she projectile vomits all over the grass. Luckily, she had enough time to turn her head, so she doesn’t get any on Dovey, but she does get her shoes pretty badly.

She’s about to say something about how disgusting she’s going to smell when suddenly, her body starts contorting. It’s not painful, until she hears something. It sounds suspiciously like a crack. Then she hears a blood-curdling scream, and with her last conscious thought she thanks the Storian that they found a hidden place and that there probably won’t be anyone noticing the scream.

And then:

She hears her bone break more than she feels it at first, and then the pain starts, in waves, hitting her from the top, rolling all the way down to her toes. Fire spread all over her body, every molecule covered in acid and then chewed on, needles stabbing deep into her skin and then ripping out. Her skin is too tight around her body, and it stretches, stretches, like someone is grounding glass into her skin.

She can’t make a sound as the pain dunks her under, letting her up for a breather every second, and then pulling her right back under. She can barely breathe, and the pain is so familiar, but something is different, because every breath feels like dying, every pound of her heart feels like someone taking a sledgehammer to her bones.

She manages a strangled breath, and the pain prickles at her lungs.

Then, as abruptly as it appears, the pain disappears.

Suddenly, she regains feeling in her body, and she realizes she’s on the ground, the feel of grass beneath her fingers. She can’t move, the phantom pain still spreading against her body. The rush of blood jumps into her head, as though overjoyed to be freed from the confines of pain, and she groans. Even the rumble of the sound makes her sensitive scalp tingle, though it is not necessarily painful. She hears something now, over the din of her heart beating.

“Lesso, Lesso, oh Storian, please. Please, Lesso, can you hear me? Please-” Dovey chokes up, and the sheer, true fear in her voice makes Lesso groan again. “Lesso, Lesso can you hear me? Why- Fucking mirror- Lesso! Oh Storian, don’t move, or move, I don’t know, just. Oh Storian, Lesso, are you-” Dovey’s breaths are coming in fast spurts. “Are you alive? Please, please, please, don’t be dead, oh Storian–”

Lesso drags her head off the ground, and it feels off, as though her head has been stuffed full of cotton, but it doesn’t hurt. She holds a hand out, and Dovey shuts up immediately, but her breathing is still too fast, fluttery, almost, and Lesso stands very, very slowly. She pushes on the tree next to her to rise, and when she dares open her eyes, the world is significantly more blurry than it was before.

“Dovey?” She croaks out.

“L-Lesso?” She can hear Dovey try to take deep breaths, and fail miserably. “Lesso? A-are you…”

“I’m great.” Lesso manages, and takes a step gingerly. She feels fine, if slightly wobbly. She takes another, letting go of the tree, and she finds she’s completely okay now, the phantom pains releasing their grip on her. “Breathe, princess.”

“I AM!” Dovey shrieks, and then bursts into tears.

Lesso tries to stand up straight, and finds she can’t. She doesn’t bother to try and deal with it just yet, though. Dovey’s tears make her feel off-kilter, as though she’s been turned upside down, and she detests the feeling. She hurries to pick Dovey up from where she propped her against the tree, and holds her close. Her reflection tells her that the potion worked, but Dovey’s crying, large tears rolling down her face like someone cut a string of pearls.

“Don’t cry, princess,” Lesso says. She realizes, belatedly, that she sounds quite harsh, so she softens her voice and tries again. “I’m okay, princes, really. Don’t cry. I’m fine. I promise. It was just the potion. And hey, it worked.”

“D-don’t.” Dovey hiccups, and her cries are nearly shrill. “I-”

“I know,” Lesso says, trying for comforting and hoping she doesn’t fall short. “I know, shh, it’s okay, princess. I’m fine. I’m great, actually. Just old. Well, older.”

“D-do you have any idea- How scared- I- How helpless- I told you- We should’ve-”

“I know, I know,” Lesso wants to pull Dovey out of the mirror and give her a hug, but she can’t, so she just clumsily wipes off the tears from Dovey’s eyes. “I’m okay, princess. I promise.”

“I hate being a mirror.” Dovey says, sounding a little like a petulant child and Lesso laughs softly. “D-don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry, princess.” Lesso brushes away another tear.

Dovey takes a deep breath, and then another, and says, with a sniff, “I-I’m okay now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I-I’m sorry,” She hiccups, “I just- You were twitching on the ground, and I could hear–” She breaks off, fresh tears filling her eyes. “And I couldn’t do anything.”

“It’s okay, princess. I’ve been through worse, ‘kay? It’s no big deal.”

Dovey meets her eyes. “Worse?” Her voice nearly chokes on the word, and more tears overfill her eyes. Ah, shit. She has, but maybe telling Dovey right now isn’t the best idea she’s ever had.

“No, that’s not- I mean, I’m okay. I really am. Hm?”

“O-okay.” Dovey takes another deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Okay.”

“Yes.” Lesso presses a kiss to the glass before she can think better of it. She freezes.

It feels so natural it scares her. But it isn’t as though she could feel warm skin under her lips. Dovey’s just glass. And what happens in the quest, stays in the quest, right? Yeah. She repeats the mantra in her head again, knowing she’s definitely lost her mind. She’s more terrified in that split-second than she was during the potion.

It helps, though, because Dovey also freezes almost immediately. Lesso isn’t even sure she’s breathing anymore. Lesso can feel the tips of her ears start to burn.

“So,” She clears her throat. “Should I head in now?”

“Uh-” Dovey hiccups. “Are you okay? Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You look…”

“Old.”

“Yes.”

Lesso chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll kick their asses, old or not.”

“Okay.” Dovey closes her eyes for a moment, and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, there is a look in her eyes that is so naked Lesso nearly turns away from it. Quietly, Dovey commands, nearly a plea, “Come back to me.”

“I will.”

Lesso gives her a two-fingered salute, and then tugs on her hood. She gives instructions to the carriage driver, a man they hired at the town next to the castle, to meet her at the moat in three hours, and starts down the road, striking a match to light her way.

By the time she reaches the castle gates, her back is already aching. Fuck, she hadn’t really thought this being old thing through. She feels fine, generally, and has enjoyed giving nasty looks to people she passes. They all just back away from her, and Lesso decides to give the credit to the large wart even she can see on her crooked nose. The potion certainly has a design in mind for old hags.

“I’m here to see the king,” She tells the guard at the door. He looks at her, a little suspicious, until she gives him her best innocent smile. She doesn’t know if it’s the wrinkles or the wart, but somehow, the smile works, and he lets her through.

In other words, the security at the de Villeneuve castle is shockingly lacking. Even Snow White’s castle has more guards. The guard who stood outside was alone, and the royal crest on his armor didn’t look like the rose of the Kingdom of Beaumont. Lesso hadn’t been able to see clearly in the dim torch lights, but the crest is too round to be a rose.

She steps into the darkened halls of the castle. The floor is slippery with what looks like fresh oil, and Lesso stops to swipe her finger on the ground. Yep, definitely oil. Odd decorating choice.

She stands, and surveys the grand entrance hall. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the castle was entirely abandoned. It has the makings of a great palace, with arching frames and majestic furniture dotting the place with a little livelihood. But everything is covered with a thin layer of dust, the type of dust that suggests it was recently cleaned, but hasn’t been since then. The lone torch burns bright at the end of the entry hall.

Lesso proceeds cautiously. She doesn’t stop moving until she nearly rounds the corner and then stops abruptly. There are footsteps heading towards her.

“I know that, dearest, but–” She knows the voice, and the rounded crests on the guard’s armor outside makes sense suddenly. It wasn’t a rose. It was a seashell.

“Yes, but–” Charming tries again, seemingly speaking to no one. Lesso strains her ears harder, and catches the whispers of someone else’s voice, a feminine one, and she grins wide. That has to be Ariel.

“Darling, I know that. But thy father must agree that Adam is a much needed ally.” He pauses, and paces back and forth, before he answers again, still sounding like he’s placating her, “I know that. Adam still needs me, though. I shall return soon. I will, I promise. Darling, you must understand,” Charming walks a little closer, and Lesso decides that it’s now or never.

She steps out into the light, crouching her back a little more, and clutching the stick she found somewhere along the way as a cane. The thing feels almost too familiar in her hands, and she walks forward around the corner.

“Yes, of course–” Charming cuts himself off. “Who art thee?”

Lesso curtsies, and searches her mind for some language that she remembers from her time in school. “Only an old woman, een desperate need of speaking wiz king Adam. Can you show me ze way to him, O kindly soul?” She wonders if she’s laying it on a bit thick, but she doesn’t want to use the dialect common to Snow White’s kingdom, so she just makes a guess and goes with it.

“And why do thee require an audience with the king?” Charming raises his eyebrows, impervious as ever, glancing her up and down with clear distaste in his eyes. “The king is not an easy man to meet.”

Lesso wants to punch him. Instead, she pretends to check around them for listeners, and takes a step closer. “I have heard tale of ze king’s ailment,” She whispers, “And I bring ze cure.”

“Thee?” Charming’s eyebrows climb even higher. “How shall I know thee speak the truth?”

“I– Oh, forget it,” Lesso spins, her shoes made a bit more slippery than she had expected by the oil, and brings her makeshift cane down hard on Charming’s head. He drops to the ground, unconscious, a look of shock still on his face.

“For Storian’s sake, you should’ve just listened to me the first time.” Lesso tells him. Then she gets down on her knees next to him, and drops her cane, and starts to scream.

“HELP!” She screams, throwing in a fake sob for the act, “HELP!”

She hears footsteps, and from the way they are heavy on the ground, she thinks it might just be Adam. “HELP US, OH, SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP US!” She screams, breaking into a sob.

“What is it?” A male voice, deep, and with a slight growl, demands. Without looking up, Lesso can tell this would be the elusive King Adam. “What has happened to Charming?”

She doesn’t look up, though, keeps her head buried in Charming’s sleeve. At least he doesn’t smell terrible. “Oh- Eet was ze most terrible- I was coming to meet ze king, and zis man told me that ze king doez not want a cure for his ailment and waz about to zend me off when he suddenly- Suddenly–” She cuts herself off, sobbing.

“Cure?” She hears the king repeat, almost dream-like. Then his voice hardens. “Look at me, dame.” Lesso obeys. Her suspicions were right. She’d thought that maybe the king had been turned into a beast when Snow White mentioned that he wasn’t meeting guests, and the thing in front of her confirms it. His eyes are beady and small, completely black, and the fur that surrounds him is bear-like. In fact, he would look half-bear if it weren’t for the horns sticking out the sides of his head. He is much, much taller than her, especially in her crouched over form, and he looms over her. “Who are youz?”

“Your majesty!” She gasps, and hurries to her feet to curtsy. “I am Grimhilde, from a kingdom over yonder,” she lies, straight through her crooked teeth, “And I have heard tale of your ailment.”

The king narrows his beady eyes. “Are youz a witch?”

“No,” She can visibly see Adam’s beast-like shoulders relax at her negative response, “But I know of one, and she izz ze one who has given me ze cure.”

The king’s small, animal-like eyes search hers for a long time. What he sees, Lesso doesn’t know, but she tries her best to keep a straight face and to look demure. “Alright,” he says, gruffly, finally, and Lesso lets out a sigh of relief internally. He scoops up Charming with one hand, and gestures towards Lesso. “Follow me.”

He drops Charming off in a warmly lit room, and Lesso checks to make sure she remembers the route before he turns back to her and leads her to the throne room. Out of all the rooms she’s seen in the castle so far, the throne room is the only one that has any semblance of its former glory, and torches are lit brightly on each side of the room, and none of the weird oil anywhere. Adam sits himself down on one of the large thrones, and Lesso stands in front of him.

“Well?” Adam says. “What is the cure?”

Lesso looks at him strangely, and breaks into a toothless smile. “Surely, young king, you did not zink ze cure would be for free.”

Adam draws his bushy eyebrows together. “Then how shall Ah know youz are speaking the truth a bat a cure?”

Lesso shrugs. “Nothing comes without a price, young king. Eef you wish, however, I can tell you vat ze vitch haz told me about you.”

“Fine. Speak, then, dame.”

“Eet was a dark and stormy night. An old dame like me came, requesting shelter, and yet you denied her.” Lesso says, her mouth contorting the words of the dialect oddly in her mouth. Nevertheless, she continues. “Enraged, she revealed her nature as a vitch, and she cursed you to remain ze way you are until you find True Love. Eef, on ze eve of your twenty-first birthday, you have not found eet, you shall remain a beast. Forever.”

Adam watches her carefully. “That is true.”

“Zen, may I now name my terms, young king?”

“Very Weew.” He nods, holding himself stiffly. “What are your terms?”

“I know you hold a young girl by ze name of Belle in zis castle.” Lesso begins. “Ze vitch I have known wantz her. I do not claim to understand ze ways of vitches, but she izz determined to have zis Belle, and haz sent me on her errand.”

Adam leans forward. “Belle?”

“Yes.”

“She is held in mah taur, given the bess room possible. Ah have need of her, too, dame, and Ah cannot give her to youz.”

Lesso raises an eyebrow, and holds up a wrinkled finger. “Ah, but vy do you need her, sire? You need her, only because you wish to break ze curse. Yet I have here the cure, and all I need is Belle. Eef you wish to fall in love wiz her,” Lesso shrugs, for all the world uncaring, “Eet does not matter to me. I shall simply go back and tell my vitch that Belle has not come. But if she does not love you back, your curse shall never be broken.”

Lesso places her hands over her cane, and stands straighter. “Eef you have no wish of my cure, sire, zen I shall be on my way. Good night.”

She turns to leave. “Wait!” Adam calls, and stands from his throne. Lesso turns back around, and raises an eyebrow. “Very weew. Wait here. Ah shall retrieve Belle.”

“No, sire.” Lesso shakes her head. “I must be ze one to see her, and retrieve her. No other man may see her from ze moment I step foot into ze castle. Zat is my vitch’s orders. Eef I cannot follow zem, she will be very angry, and I will not be able to give you ze cure.”

“Are youz threatening me?” Adam sounds more surprised than he sounds offended.

“I do not wish to, sire. But I have strict orders from my vitch, and she izz quite terrifying.” Lesso sighs a martyr’s sigh, and smiles at him. “Zo. Vill you take me to see ze girl?”

“Fine.” The word is deep, as though a promise.

Lesso follows him on a complicated route all the way up to the tallest room on the tallest tower. “Dramatics, much,” she murmurs to herself, and looks up with an innocent smile when the king looks back at her, his face strewn with shadows from the lamp he carries. “I love zis oil you have decorated with, sire.” The beast doesn’t deign that with an answer.

When they finally stand in front of a door that is barricaded and locked, Lesso raises an eyebrow at the king. “Vell?”

“She is mah one chance at True Love, if your cure does not work.” The king says, seeking some sort of confirmation in Lesso’s eyes. “Are youz sure your cure is real?”

Dovey would have hesitated. Lesso, though, remembers that the king in front of her, who seems very much like a soft puppy, is actually a man who is both cruel and manipulative, selfish and a terrible ruler. Maybe he didn’t deserve to be turned into a beast because he refused to give an old lady a place to stay at night. But he also doesn’t deserve to be king, to have all his needs and wants catered to while he does nothing but whine. He literally kidnaps Belle’s father, and for what?

Belle is constantly, blatantly harassed by men, and from the way no one stopped or even reprimanded Gaston, Lesso has a whole lot of questions about the way the legal system works in this kingdom. In the end, though, it just comes down to: Lesso doesn’t care.

“Yez.” She replies, pouring all of her sincerity into the word.

“Good.”

When the door opens, Belle is sitting on her bed. She looks up, her eyes swollen. “What are youz doing here?” She asks, hostile, “And who are youz?”

Lesso gestures at the girl to get up. She directs Belle into the hallway and circles her, feeling something warm tug at her intestines. “Yez, yez, still in good condition. My vitch vill be pleased.”

“And, the cure?” Adam holds his hand out.

“I left eet in my bag een ze throne room,” Lesso replies, and shows him her empty hands. “We shall go retrieve it now, zen?”

Adam’s eyes narrow. “Fine. Ah hope for your sake the cure is still there, dame.”

“Oh, eet vill be.”

And Lesso almost gets away with it. But as soon as they step into the throne room, an unwelcome sight sits on the throne. Charming sneers at them, an ice-pack on his head, surrounded by guards at both his sides.

“Thee very much art the stupid beast we hear about in legend, huh?” He asks, sneering at Adam.

Adam, on the other hand, looks furious. His nostrils flare as he says, “Youz are sitting in mah throne, Prince Charming.” His tone drops. “Get. Off.”

“I cannot believe thee trusted that witch,” Charming continues, as though Adam hadn’t spoken. “Did I not warn thee, multiple times, about the conniving nature of the witch? Did I not tell thee the way she ruined my life? Did I not, King Adam?”

Lesso feels another tug of something warm. She bends down, pretending to curtsy to Charming, but really to check her watch. Shit. Fucking shit. Of course.

The clock strikes midnight as the prince and the king continue to argue. Lesso, on the other hand, starts to back away, tugging at Belle’s dress for her to do the same. She can feel herself grow taller, can feel bones stitching themselves back together, and she thanks the Storian that at least it doesn’t hurt this time.

“Y-your majesty?” Belle whispers, at her side.

“Shut up and move,” She whispers back, gruffly. “While they’re distracted.”

“–Thee believed that?” Charming is nearly shouting now. “I have told thee over and over that she will attempt to thwart thy plans, and still, thee believed her?” It is almost funny, the way his face goes as red as a tomato, and Lesso almost wishes she could stay and watch.

“Triton has followed every step of thy so-called illness, and I promise thee thee shall be king for a very short time if thee insist on trusting every single stranger that walks into thy home, King Adam.” He practically spits the name, as though even admitting Adam is king is derogatory to him.

Adam is practically on top of Charming now, spitting fire right back at Charming. He is taller, and he looms over the prince, who is still sitting on the throne. “Youz had no cure for mah curse. Not even now, after youz have stayed in mah castle for a year. And she has yet to appear. How do Ah know youz are even speaking the truth? Youz have done nothing for me, even attempting to delay the good dame.”

“Delay her?” Charming repeats. “The good dame? She attacked me!”

“Ah have herd enough of your tales, youz conniving sea wizard. How dare youz sit on mah throne, and even begin to think of threatening mah throne, youz pathetic consort?”

“How dare thee speak to me in such a manner! I have vouched for thee in the court of Triton, so that even when they have set up thy castle to burn thee at the stake, I alone stopped– Look!” Suddenly, Charming’s eyes meet hers, past Adam’s shoulders, and he shrieks. “LOOK AT HER!”

All hell breaks loose.

Adam whips around, and from the way his eyes widen, Lesso is pretty sure it’s past midnight. Stupid, fucking, arbitrary fairy tale deadlines, Lesso thinks. To hell with it all. She grabs Belle’s sleeve and runs towards the castle doors.

“GET THEM!” Charming screams at the guards who had before this remained motionless at the sides of the throne room, and Adam lets out a positively animalistic howl that only makes Lesso run faster.

“If you want to get out of here alive, girl,” Lesso shouts to Belle, “You better pick up those feet.” She thrusts her cane in the face of a guard closing in on them. “Oh, and watch the oil,” she says, tripping one of the guards. “It’s slippery.”

Belle picks up her feet.

Lesso emerges from flames, coughing, with ash streaked across her cheeks. She’s getting too old for this, she reflects, carrying Belle and running as quickly as she can. Even in this scenario, knowing that there could be people chasing her, she can’t help but want to jump and whoop at the feeling of her legs, strong and true, carrying her where she wants to go. She doesn’t, of course. She’s running for her life here.

She hops into the waiting carriage, screams, “MOVE!” towards the driver, and doesn’t relax until she can hear the sound of the flame crackling fading behind them.

It’s only then that she stops, and sets Belle down on the seats, checking the girl to make sure she’s still alive. The girl is breathing, her breaths shallow but present, and her pulse pounds heartily when Lesso feels for it. She takes a deep breath, and coughs. The smoke might’ve gotten more to her than she had thought.

“Are you okay?” Dovey asks, frantically, blinking furiously. “Are you hurt? Lesso, your face is streaked with ash. Are you okay?”

“Yes, no, and yes.” Lesso looks out the carriage window, and when she makes sure there’s no one else following them, allows herself to finally settle back into her seat. “I’m good, princess. Why are you blinking so much?”

“Oh, thank Storian. I- Just- Thank you.” Dovey says, and blushes a little. “I was so worried. And the smoke. You know, my eyes. They get dry.”

“Ah. Sorry about that.” Lesso replies, her senses too alert for her to calm down just yet. She takes a deep breath.

Meanwhile, Dovey’s turned from her to the girl in her arms, whom Lesso sets down carefully. “Don’t be. I’m just glad you’re back. Is Belle still breathing?”

“Yeah.” Lesso checks one last time, and settles back again to close her eyes. Her head is a bit light, and the colors are bleeding into one another in the dim moonlight, but she feels calm, still, down from the high of adrenaline. “Don’t worry about me, princess. You should’ve seen those guards,” she chuckles. “The way they looked when I dropped the match. They scattered like sand in the wind.”

“Oh.” Dovey suddenly sounds distant, and it makes Lesso frown. She opens her eyes, and Dovey is looking at her with an inscrutable expression. “So you set the fire then.”

“Yeah…” Lesso replies, slowly. The night feels a little psychedelic, as though someone has spun it around suddenly. “So what?”

Dovey doesn’t say anything for a moment, watches her carefully. Then she turns away. “Never mind.” She takes a deep breath, and plasters a smile on her face. It looks so fake Lesso could spot it a mile away. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Never mind? Lesso’s frown deepens. “No, you’ll talk about this now. What do you mean, I set the fire? The fire was practically waiting to be set. The entire castle is covered with oil.”

“Lesso, you’re just back from–”

“No. Tell me, damnit.” Lesso’s voice raises, but she lowers it forcefully. “What do you mean?”

“Fine.” Dovey says, her eyes finally meeting Lesso’s. Lesso is nearly taken aback by what she sees, the strange glimmer of tears about to fall and the burning anger that is nearly as hot as the flames were back at the de Villeneuve castle. “You want to know what I’m talking about?”

“Yes.”

“You- You just set the entire castle on fire, Lesso. Do you have any idea how many people are in there? How many innocent people you just killed?” Dovey’s tone cracks, but she steadies herself and continues, looking almost like the ghost of the past, half hidden in the shadows as the carriage passes a tree. “It’s night. Even if someone did sound the alarm about the fire, I doubt they’d be headed to the servants’ quarters. You’ve hurt those who are already defenseless the most with this fire.”

Lesso can’t even defend herself. She just watches, stunned, as Dovey continues.

“You know, in the entire time we’ve been on this quest, Lesso, I’ve really started to look at you in a different light. You’re smart, you’re cautious. You do things like befriend young Edmund, and I almost believed your little games! I almost believed that you were a good person! And then you go, you go and do this. Do you have any idea how many people you could’ve killed?”

“Don’t.” Lesso’s voice is deadly soft. “Don’t bring Edmund into this. What I do with that boy is none of your–”

“That’s what I mean! I thought you were different!”

Lesso’s heard enough. The sounds of Dovey’s voice are shrill in her skull, and she coughs, effectively stopping Dovey’s tirade, but before Dovey can ask her if she’s okay, Lesso’s anger begins to lick at her, and suddenly, Lesso is fucking furious.

“THAT’S THE PROBLEM, DOVEY!” Lesso yells, ignoring the way Dovey is flinching away from her as though she is scared. “I am not a good person! Maybe I’m not Evil, but I am not a good person! Don’t put your expectations about who I am on me. I have never, and will never, want to be a good person!”

Dovey just stares at her for a moment.

“I don’t have expectations, Lesso.” She says, quietly. “But you’ve just killed dozens of innocent lives, and–”

“Innocent?” Lesso laughs, high and crazy. “They were not innocent! Did you not read a word Belle wrote? They kept her there! They helped the Beast keep her there! They are fucking kidnappers, the bunch of them, and no amount of shiny things they wear is going to change that!”

“DID THEY DESERVE TO DIE FOR THAT?” Lesso shuts up. Dovey very rarely shouts. Even at school, Lesso could count on one hand the number of times Lesso heard Dovey shout. Although this quest has already shown her a number of sides to Dovey that Lesso hadn’t seen before, so maybe the fact that Dovey doesn’t often shout isn’t the most important part.

“What do you mean–”

“I mean, Lesso, did they deserve to die because of that?” Dovey’s voice is literally shaking, and Lesso can’t tell if it is because she’s afraid, or if she’s angry. “Did they deserve to die because they were servants to a cruel king? In case you haven’t noticed, Lesso, they didn’t have a choice! In this realm, what Adam says goes, and why don’t you take a shot at guessing what happens to those who don’t listen to him? Hm?”

“I-” Lesso falters, but rallies herself before Dovey can notice. “I don’t care! Haven’t you listened to a word I said? I’m not a good person!” She waves her hands at the rumbles, the flames that are still roaring higher. “And besides, we got Belle out, didn’t we? I fucking saved her, didn’t I? Isn’t that the whole point of us going?”

“But at what cost? At what cost did we buy her freedom with, Lesso?” Dovey’s voice drops, and suddenly she isn’t vicious anymore, isn’t angry. She just looks depressed.

“Every time, Lesso. Every single time, you push and push against what I know is Good, and I let you. Every single time. This entire quest, you destroy everything, and I keep on letting you. Why do I keep letting you, Lesso?” Dovey asks, and she seems about to say something else when her eyes widen.

“Oh.” Suddenly, Dovey’s tone changes completely, and the word sounds almost like a breath she’s exhaled. But Lesso doesn’t understand a word she’s saying. All she hears, in every syllable of Dovey’s words, is Dovey’s resignation, is Dovey pushing her away, and suddenly, Lesso is desperate.

“I’m not, princess, I’m not.” She says, unknowingly bringing Dovey closer. “Princess, you have to understand. This was the only way.”

“No.” Dovey says, still looking shell-shocked, her voice faint. “This was not the only way. There is always another way.”

“You wanted Belle safe, right?” Lesso says, ignoring the way her voice cracks. “She’s safe. I got her to you, safe. Princess, this- this was the only way I saw.” Please, she doesn’t say, please don’t look at me like this, like I’m a stranger. Please look at me like you used to, like I’m whole.

Lesso has never begged. Never. Not even with Rafal, when he curled his fingers and let the blood magic drain her of all feeling but pain. But right now, she thinks maybe begging isn’t so out of the question, if it could make Dovey see her again.

The world is closing in on her, the color swirling, and all she can see is Dovey’s face in the middle of the convoluted sights. She can’t feel her legs, can’t feel her face, can’t even feel her breathing, and she’s just staring, praying, hoping that Dovey will see her again. Lesso’s never going to be a good person, and she didn’t lie, she doesn’t want to be one, but for a split second she thinks she might just try, just so that Dovey doesn’t have to look at her like that again.

She’s terrified, somewhere in this dark whole she’s dug for herself, because she has never felt this way before. She’s never wanted to change herself, alter the person she is, for someone else. She failed Rafal because of that, and her scars scream the price she paid for her pride. But right now?

Dovey’s lips are moving, but Lesso isn’t hearing anything. All she can think about is the way that she really hadn’t seen another way. The guards were chasing her and Belle down, they were so close, and what could she do? She saw a torch, saw the fire, had noticed how flammable the entire castle seemed upon her entry for this very possibility, and so she picked up the torch and dropped it onto the oil lying right there. She tugged Belle away from it as quickly as possible, and Belle isn’t hurt, she’s just unconscious from the smoke, and even now Lesso can feel the way the girl is twitching, coming back to herself.

Why is Dovey looking at her like that? Why can’t Dovey see that it was the only way?

“Lesso!” She hears, finally, as though under water, murky and muffled. “Lesso, breathe. Breathe!” That nearly makes her laugh. She remembers when she was the one telling Dovey to breathe, to calm down. How the tables have turned, eh?

“Lesso,” Dovey’s looking at her very intently now. “Lesso, breathe. It’s okay, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She wonders, very distantly, how Dovey knows, but she doesn’t ask. “I’m overreacting, aren’t I?” She asks, her throat scratchy, feeling like she hasn’t spoken in decades.

“No.” Dovey shakes her head, and Lesso wishes, again, for the hundredth time, that Dovey could touch her, that she could touch Dovey and know that she is right there, present and next to Lesso. “Don’t dismiss your emotions like that. You’re in shock, and I shouldn’t have sprung this on you right now. You’re right, you did save Belle. Anything else, we can leave for when you feel better, all right?”

“I really just did the only thing I could think of,” Lesso tells her, and tries to ignore the way her tone sounds like a whining child. She can’t bring herself to stop, though, because she’s still swirling inside.

“I know,” Dovey says, gently, tenderly, “I know. I believe you, okay?”

And even though she shouldn’t, Lesso believes her.

“Okay.”

Their carriage stops at Belle’s father’s cottage, and the old man doesn’t question anything when they show up. He takes one look at his daughter, still unconscious in Lesso’s arms, and lets them in.

“Is- Is she oh aard?” He asks, his kindly eyes filling with tears behind his spectacles.

“She’ll be fine,” Dovey tells him, her words kind as well. “But she needs to sleep. And so do we, if you don’t mind sparing a bed.”

“Of course. Of course. Youz can sleep in the bedroom owen the right.” The man speaks quietly, leading them down the hall in the small cottage. “It's mine, Ah hope youz don't mind. Ah'll stay here owen the couch.”

“You don’t have to–” Dovey begins, but the man waves her off.

“Thank youz.” He says, looking at them both, and taking Belle from Lesso’s arms. “Thank youz so much for bringing mah baby girl home. Ah don't know how Ah'll be able to repay youz.”

“How about we leave that ‘til the morning?” Lesso says, more faintly than she would have liked. But her head is still spinning, and she yearns to sleep, so she lets herself off the hook.

“Right, right. Ah'll let youz two get to sleep now.” The old man takes his leave of them, but not before looking them both in the eye one final time and saying, so heartfelt that even Lesso smiles. “Thank youz. Thank youz so much again. Good not.”

“Goodnight,” Dovey replies, and Lesso falls head first onto the bed and sleeps.

She wakes from a dreamless sleep to find Dovey, already awake and appraising her in her sleep. “You know,” Lesso says, yawning wide. “It’s not polite to stare at people while they sleep.”

“Maybe I was staring into space,” Dovey replies, her voice a little scratchy.

Lesso frowns at her. “Did you not sleep at all last night, princess?”

“I couldn’t fall asleep.” Dovey shrugs, indifferent. That is odd for Dovey. Normally, the mirror whines about her beauty sleep, so much so that Lesso often has to remind her that she’s a mirror now, and dark circles probably aren’t going to show up underneath her eyes.

“Why?”

“I-” Dovey takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I brought up the whole thing about the fire last night. It was bad timing, on my part.”

Lesso is tempted to groan and throw her head back under the covers, tell Dovey it’s too early for this, but she can tell Dovey really has been sitting on this for the entire night, so she just sighs internally and listens. If she’s being honest with herself, she’s unsure she wants to face the person she was last night.

What happens in the quest, stays in the quest, she chants to herself mindlessly, and focuses on Dovey.

“And I understand. I shouldn’t have projected my idea of you onto you. You’re not a good person, Lesso, and the sooner I understand that, the better. I understand now.”

Lesso waits patiently for the ‘but’ she can feel coming.

“But, there were children in Beauty and the Beast, Lesso. Children in that castle, and you burned them all.”

“I did.” Lesso says, evenly.

“Do you even feel… Bad?”

Lesso thinks about it. For a moment, she’s tempted to say, no, of course she doesn’t feel bad. But she thinks, for a moment, she could feel bad. For the children, and for the people who were forced to be there by a tyrannical king. More importantly, though, she can see in Dovey’s eyes that Dovey wants her to feel bad, and Lesso is too much of a coward to find out what might happen if she says she doesn’t feel bad.

She sighs. “I didn’t think it all the way through.”

“That’s okay.” Immediately, Dovey looks like she feels better. Did she honestly stay up all night agonizing over this? “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lesso says, running a hand through her wild locks. “Now, should we get up and go check on the beauty and her father?”

“Yes.”

They’re welcomed by the smell of blueberries and something buttery as they head down to the kitchen, and Belle’s father looks up from his place at the stove when they appear at the kitchen doorway. His grin lights up his entire face.

“Youzer up!” He gestures at them to sit down. “Come have some pancakes.”

Belle starts at the volume of her father’s voice, and in the sunlight Lesso takes a chance to really look at her. She wasn’t that close with the girl, but in the month that she was hanging around the library Lesso had grown used to her. Even she can tell, though, that Belle looks haggard. The circles under her eyes are dark, unable to be erased with just one night of sleep, and she doesn’t look thin so much as she looks haunted.

Lesso doesn’t get the chance to see more before Belle is standing and charging at Lesso, throwing herself into Lesso’s arms. “Thank youz, ma’am.” The words vibrate through Lesso’s clothes. “Thank youz for saving me.” Lesso can feel the way the girl is shaking, and so she allows the girl to stay there for a second longer than anyone else.

She clears her throat, once she feels the girl’s shaking become trembling, and pushes the girl away. “Blueberry pancakes?”

“Aye. Belle told me that they are your favorite?” The man flops another pancake down on a plate that is already overflowing with pancakes, and turns back to the stove with a smile. “Ah'm not that great of a cook, but mah daughter has always loved mah braffis!”

Lesso raises an eyebrow at Belle, and takes her seat. “My favorite breakfast?”

“Ah herd the cook talking a bat it to her son one day, your–” Belle says, cutting herself before she could finish her words. She takes a bite to hide the awkwardness, and Lesso exchanges a glance with Dovey. So Belle is smart enough to realize the implications a queen dowager sneaking into another king’s castle could have. Lesso is impressed, though, at the way she’s not even told her father the truth. “So Ah told papa.”

“Hm,” Lesso hums, and pokes the pancakes lightly. If Belle’s father doesn’t know about her status, then the likelihood of him trying to poison her would be slim. Still, she brings it to her nose and sniffs at her, detecting nothing except butter and blueberries, before she sticks her fork in it experimentally.

Nothing explodes.

Belle’s father plops down one more pancake on a plate, and brings it to the table, sitting down next to his daughter. He smiles widely at them both. “Do they taste all right?”

“Fine,” Lesso says, her words muffled by her mouthful.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr….” Dovey trails off.

“O’Hara,” the man supplies. “Maurice O’Hara. Just call me Maurice. And how bixicated of me! Youzer eating at mah table having saved mah daughter last not, and Ah didn't even think to ask youz for your names!”

“I’m Clarissa,” Dovey replies, “And this is Lesso. Thank you for your pancakes, Maurice, I think you can tell Lesso’s enjoying them.”

They both look over at Lesso, and Lesso just does her best to glare back at them. It’s hard to look intimidating when she’s just had another mouthful of pancake, but she tries her best.

“By golly, Ah'm glad she does!” Maurice says, jolly. Lesso has to suppress a shudder. Ugh, with Dovey’s undying optimism and this man’s jovial attitude, she’s going to be surrounded by rainbows and unicorns for as long as she stays here. The thought makes her shovel a few more bites of pancake in her already full mouth. “It's the least Ah can do for youz for getting mah daughter out of that horrible castle. How can Ah ever thank youz enough?”

“Yes, professor, how can Ah ever thank youz enough?” Belle says, her own bites small. She takes a deep breath. “Youz have no idea…”

To Lesso’s immense distaste, tears well up in the girl’s eyes, and her father is comforting her within the next second, patting her lightly on the back. And Dovey’s joining in, saying soft things, and Lesso just wants to finish her pancakes and get out of there.

“–Ah’m fine, thank youz, papa. Just, thank youz.” Belle takes a deep breath, “Ah'm so glad to be out of there.”

“Did Adam do anything to you?” Lesso asks, brazenly, and ignores the way Dovey gives her a good glare. She can practically hear Dovey telling her to be more considerate, to be more kind because the girl’s just gone through a kidnapping and that’s traumatizing. But she’s very good at ignoring Dovey when she wants to.

“No. He just tried to get me to read his books in his leeberr. Ah told him-” Belle takes a deep breath. “Ah told him Ah don't need his books, but he kept trying to force me to visit the leeberr with him.”

Lesso raises an eyebrow. “Tell me that doesn’t sound like a euphemism.” She murmurs to Dovey, who just shushes her.

“–He had these terrible moving cups and teapots who would tell me things and try to make me fill welcome. It was awful. They had these oz that were so lifeless, and then they would open their mouths and sound human!”

“Oz?” Lesso murmurs to Dovey for clarification.

“Eyes.”

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“–It was just horrible.” Belle finishes. “Ah’m so glad youz came to rescue me.”

“Next time, girl,” Lesso replies, licking a bit of blueberry off her fork. “Rescue yourself.”

“What Lesso means is,” Dovey cuts in, hurriedly, “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

“No.” Lesso gives Dovey a look, and then turns to pin Belle under her gaze. “What I mean is, there are so many things you could’ve done except trade yourself in.”

“Ah didn’t–”

Lesso interrupts her. “You know Gaston? He’s a creep, but he’s a powerful creep in your village. His words hold sway, and guess what? He likes you. You know that. He could’ve helped you storm the castle and got your father back if you gave him the right incentive. I’m not saying marry him, but you could’ve promised him a date, anything, and that would’ve been enough for him. The guy’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the batch, you know.” She doesn’t add how she knows for certain Gaston would’ve managed it. She isn’t about to tell Belle she’s part of a fairy tale.

“And after you were captured? What, you just decided to play house with him? Were you faking it to make him lower his inhibitions so you could run at the first chance you got?”

Belle shakes her head.

“That’s what I thought.”

Belle’s gone pale, and the table has gone completely quiet, but Lesso isn’t in the mood to read the room. She sets her fork down and keeps going. “You know what you should’ve done? I got into your room without much fanfare. You know why? Because Adam has terrible fucking security. You were at the castle for five more days than I was. I should’ve been able to rely on you to tell me either what defenses Adam had, or what ways had the least security, or even just his fucking schedule.”

“You gave me nothing. You know why? Because you were waiting for someone else to rescue you.” Lesso takes a sip from the cup in front of her, the frothy milk cooling on her tongue. “You got me this time. What about next time? Next time, who’s going to go rescue you?”

Silence meets her questions. Lesso takes another bite of her pancakes. She chews, feeling completely comfortable in the absolute silence that has now overtaken the relatively warm atmosphere of the table before.

Belle looks shaken, shell-shocked at Lesso’s questions. Her father, on the other hand, has recovered, and is murmuring in her ear.

“Harsh,” Dovey murmurs, and Lesso just shrugs. “Plus, is Gaston honestly your best second option?”

“That’s how we survive, princess.” Lesso says, swallowing her mouthful of pancake. “Use everything we have to our advantage, and hope for the best.”

“Manipulation?”

“It’s not like Gaston is the best person, either,” Lesso rolls her eyes.

“Does that make it okay to manipulate and use his emotions?” Dovey asks, still quiet. “To take his heart and rub it raw, use him until he’s outlived his usefulness towards the goal, and then toss him away?”

Lesso’s chewing stills. The way Dovey describes it sounds too familiar. Suddenly, swallowing is hard. But Lesso runs over what she’s said, and what hits her, suddenly, is that yes, she would do exactly that if she were in Belle’s shoes.

She would do exactly what Rafal did to her to Gaston, if given the chance. And even if Gaston isn’t the best person in the world, did he deserve that?

“Youzer right, your- Lesso.” Belle’s words interrupt her thoughts. “Ah should've done more to get out of the situation.” The young girl is still a little pale, but she looks more determined than before. “Ah don't know why Ah froze in the castle. Ah knew better.”

“Yeah.” Lesso says, a little dazed from the realization. “Yeah.”

“We’re just glad you’re okay, Belle,” Dovey says in her stead. “And if you want, our library is still open to you. You can still come by later if you like.”

“Ah would like that.” Belle replies, her tone firm. “Ah would.”