Original Fairy Tale, Part II

The dressmaker’s shop was in a tizzy when she arrived. Normally, she was fond of the women, who were patient with her fidgeting and related some of the best gossip in the kingdom. Today, they were too busy to talk, hustling her into the enormous white gown dripping with crystals, delicate lace, and tons of ruffles and pink bows. 

“Madame Fran,” she gasped as the older woman squeezed her into the tight boned bodice, “do you remember any ruler here before Stephen? I had a strange dream last night…”

She pulled tighter. “Hush, Your Highness. Don’t talk. Let me focus on this.” Cora could barely breathe when she pulled away from it. “Now, isn’t that beautiful? Our king says it’s the finest creation we’ve ever made.” 

It was very beautiful. All the lace and ruffles and brocade and satin also made it very heavy. She could barely move. “Don’t you think it’s a bit much? I’d much rather have something simpler, like what you’re wearing.” 

“This old thing?” Madame Fran twirled in her elegant red and white dress, with its simple lines and bit of ruffle on the skirt. “No, this isn’t suited for a queen. Our king says you should have only the best.”

“Yes,” she murmured, “I suppose so. Madame,” she added, “what do you know about King Stephen? How long has he ruled here?”

Madame looked up with pins in her mouth, scrunching her wrinkled face in though. “I…I don’t know, Your Majesty. There was someone else before him…a nice young man.” The older woman shook her head. “But he vanished. King Stephen took over a year ago. He’s quite a catch, isn’t he? He’s so very handsome, every woman in the castle swoons over the sight of him!”

Cora frowned. “He is handsome,” she began slowly. “But what else do you really know about him?”

Madame shrugged and tied off the last thread. “What else is there to know? He’s funny, good-looking, and charming! Isn’t that all that matters?”

“What about how he’s tripled taxes? Or treats anyone he sees as beneath him like dogs?” She yanked harder at the pearl buttons in the back than she meant to. “I saw him kicking a dog on the stairs that got in his way! And he barely gives them scraps to eat. And you should see how he treats the cats we have to keep away mice! Pushes them away and leaves them out in the cold.”

Madame’s eyes remained dreamy. “Huh? Oh, that. You know how young men are. They have tempers. I still think he’s the second-most handsome man in the kingdom. After…” Madame frowned. “After…” She shrugged and got the bottom buttons done. “Well, there was someone. But he’s gone now. Stephen is the true beauty of the kingdom, and every woman’s dream of a man.”

“Except mine,” Cora muttered as she got back  into her own dress. There was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. She should have been happy with him, but…

She had just returned to her rooms when a familiar misshapen face peered inside, knocking on her door. Stephen’s humpbacked manservant stumped shyly over to her, a book in his hand. The pockmarked face was now joined by a symphony of bruises that made him resemble a swollen potato. 

“Thank you,” Cora said gently, “this is my favorite book, but I’m more worried about you. You look like someone beat you badly. As far as I can tell, you’ve never harmed anyone. You work like a dog, obeying Stephen’s every command.” 

He nodded. The sad look in those hazel eyes…she knew that look. She’d seen it before. “You know,” she added slowly, “you’re not really such a bad fellow. I’ve grown very fond of you. Stephen and the others only seem to care about themselves or what the nobility think. You’re sweet to everyone. When I’m mistress of this castle, I’ll make sure everyone treats you better. You should fight them! You’re not big, but you’re strong. You don’t have to listen.”

His rubbery lips turned down, and he nodded. “No, you don’t! You’re a man, same as anyone.” She patted his shoulder. “You’re not really so bad-looking. You have a really nice smile, and your eyes are such a lovely hazel!” Her eyes locked with his. They were so familiar… 

“Cora, what are you doing?” She was about to give him a kiss on the cheek when Stephen barreled into her room. His chiseled features looked far less attractive when they were blotchy scarlet with fury. “You are only supposed to be kissing me, not this…this freak!” Those long bony fingers grabbed the hunchback by his messy black hair. “I think I’d better lock you in the servants’ quarters again. You’ll only get in the way at our wedding.”

“Stephen! Leave him alone!” She pushed between them and took the stubby little man by his shoulders. “You’re stronger than him! Your biceps are bigger than his head. You could probably beat the stuffing out of him if you wanted!”

“He can’t.” Stephen’s high-pitched giggles were more sinister than cute. “He can’t disobey me. Can you, you little freak?”

“He’s not a freak!” Cora turned furiously to face the man she was supposed to marry. “He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be! You’re nothing like the real Stephen. They told me he was kind and noble and just. You’re a spoiled bully!”

The man who claimed to be Stephen grabbed her by the chin. His deep brown eyes flooded with red. “You will love me. Of course, you will. I’m beautiful and powerful and talented. I’m everything a woman could ever want.”

She was ready for it this time. “You’re also rude, obnoxious, selfish, and abusive. You don’t love anyone but yourself.” Cora pulled back, glaring at him. “That’s how you break the spell. You admit the truth…and the truth is, you’re a terrible ruler and a worse person. Everyone in the castle may fawn over you, but they don’t know the real you, do they? They don’t see the man I see, or that he,” she nodded at the hunchback, “sees.”

“You…you little…” His finely sculpted cheeks flamed red as his eyes as he yanked her arm, squeezing it painfully. “You want the truth? I don’t love you. You’re a stuffy, boring little chit. I love that fertile land in your family’s kingdom. When I marry you, I’ll be able to expand my lands. You are a means to an end.” 

Cora struggled, kicking him hard. “You bastard, you’re hurting me!”

To her surprise, he suddenly released her arm. She fell back as the hunchback slammed head-first into his gut, sending them both sprawling. The upper arm strength built up from months of hauling garden tools and logs allowed him to hold Stephen to the floor.

“You…you…” He sputtered. “How did you…you’re supposed to obey me! It’s part of the curse!” A black light managed to lift the hunchback and throw him into the wall. 

Cora ran to the hunchback’s side. “You poor man,” she moaned as she gently rubbed his back. “Are you alright?” She wrapped her arms around him, leaning into his rough, bumpy shoulder. “Whomever you are, I’ll protect you. I won’t let him hurt you again.” 

The hunchback opened where his mouth was and tried to form words, but no sound emerged. “What is it? I can’t hear you!” He tried again, but while the lips moved, nothing came out. “What are you saying?” Her heart went out to him as despair filled his eyes. 

His fingers flew as he tried to mime his concerns about his master. “I know,” she admitted. “We really have to get out of here.” He reached for a quill and scroll that were on her desk, but his stubby sausage fingers spilled the ink and couldn’t grasp the quill. Several attempts at writing “I…am…” barely produced a few scratches. 

“You can try all you want.” Stephen suddenly towered over them. “You can’t write. You can’t speak. You can’t communicate. I made sure of that. You’re a slave to me.”

Cora pushed between them again. “Slavery is illegal in this kingdom and Pennlyn! Can’t you do anything besides abuse and use everyone around you?” 

His red eyes glowed like smoking fires. “That’s how you survive. You use people, before they use you. My cousin was always too soft to run a kingdom. Too kind and noble. If you’re kind to them, they’ll run all over you. People need an iron fist that will force them to bend to their command. Power is what’s important. No one is anything without power.”

Cora glared at him. “Where did you get all of that cynical nonsense? Honey catches more flies than vinegar. The kingdom needs someone who will make decisions based on what everyone needs, not just an elite few.”

He let loose with one of his titters…but it now sounded like the unhinged music of a madman. “Oh, it is, is it? You’re such an amusing woman. My cousin was amusing, too. I offered him everything,” he squealed, “did he tell you that? I told him we could rule together. We could bring this kingdom to its knees, his brilliant mind and my magic! I offered that fool unlimited power, and do you know what he said?” She stepped back as he grabbed her arm. “He said a leader listened to his people, not his ego, then tried to throw me out! Can you imagine that? He was weak and stupid, but I taught him a lesson.”

“I’m sure you did,” Cora muttered. She tried to yank her arm away from his grasping fingers. “Stop hurting me!”

His red-hot eyes smoldered like burning coals. “Stop fighting me. You’re just a woman. You exist to do what I want you to do. None of the other women here have any trouble doing what I say.”

The man who claimed to be Stephen turned his red-hot glare on the hunchback. “I can see my weak cousin is a bad influence on you. We’ll have to remove him.” Another black light shot from his hand, surrounding the hunchback. When it subsided, he was gone.

“Where is he?” She hissed. “What did you do to him?”

“He’s at the fortress in the center of the woods that I call my home.” He shook her like a rag doll. “You have no time to worry about him. We’re getting married.”

She finally yanked her arm away. “Are you crazier than you look right now? I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth!”

“The ceremony will be in an hour.” The sorcerer she was certain wasn’t Stephen glared at her. “One of the maids will be along with your dress in ten minutes. You will be in it.” Fortunately, he stomped off before he could see her stick her tongue out at his back.

There was no way she would marry that contemptible ass. The real Stephen was out there somewhere. When the maid came in with her dress and gushed about how beautiful her gown was, she convinced her to try it on, just to see how it looked. While the maid admired herself in the mirror, she changed into the maid’s clothes and sneaked out the door. 

To  her surprise, she was easily able to walk out of the castle. No one stopped her, or even looked at her twice. They were all too busy preparing for the wedding to notice a simple little maid. By the time they discovered the switch, she’d be half-way across the woods. 

Trouble was, Cora forgot how vast the woods were. Within an hour, she was hopelessly lost. She’d walked in the woods before, but only for short strolls. She’d never gone so far on her own. There were all kinds of scary noises that made her nearly jump out of her skin! 

She had started to give up hope of ever finding her way out when she came upon an older woman gathering mushrooms from the forest floor. “Mistress,” she asked, “I’m lost. I need directions to a fortress owned by a wicked sorcerer.”

“Oh, I know all about it, Princess Cora.” Graying curls and wrinkles spreading out from her eyes indicated that she was perhaps 50, but she had a large, shining grin and lively dark eyes that gave her a more youthful air. “I know why you’re here.” She groaned a bit as she rolled up to a full standing position. “Darn it. Every time I stand, I hear another crick. I make more noise than a full standing orchestra of crickets!”

Cora frowned. “You said you knew why I’m here, mistress.”

She waved a hand at Cora. “Florrie, dear. Call me Florrie. You seek our true king.” The merry eyes narrowed. “He’s in Harron’s keep in the darkest part of the woods. Harron isn’t going to let go of the throne that easily. His black magic is strong.” Cora could barely keep with her as she hurried down the overgrown path, mushrooms in hand. “If you’re going to rescue my poor Stephen, you’ll need protection.”

“Your poor Stephen?” Cora raised her eyebrow. “You know him?”

“Know him?” Florrie snorted. “I was his nurse when he was a child, then his advisor.” She sighed. “He was such a good boy, even as a child. Rarely gave me much trouble. When the other boys would be playing soldiers or cattlemen, he would be reading or tending to his flowers in the garden. He never would have gone to war if they hadn’t conscripted him. When he returned, he vowed he’d never allow violence in his kingdom again.” 

The older woman made a face. “Harron was a terror when he visited. Played the roughest of all the boys, tore flowers out of the ground, bullied animals and people alike. He was horrible to Stephen. He’d step on his flowers and rip pages out of his books. He couldn’t understand why Stephen didn’t want to join him out carousing with the other boys.” She smirked. “For all that, he never went to war. He spent those years practicing his spells.”

“How can I get in the castle?” Cora pulled her rough knitted shawl around her shoulders. “I haven’t any magic.” 

“I’ll help you.” Florrie pushed past a thicket of raspberries, stopping to pick a few. “I’m a witch myself. Not a bad witch, mind you. Never took to the black arts. They do more harm than good, and I like living the simple life.”

Cora was barely able to follow the quick older woman. They finally came upon a little cottage in a clearing. It was only one room, with a thatched roof, a bed, drawers, a table and chairs, and a little chimney and cauldron, but it was clean and well-kept. 

Florrie went straight to a spinning wheel in the back of the room. “Here.” She reached into a basket and came out with a ball of yarn. “Unraveled, this will show you the way to wherever you wish to go. If tied around a person, it will hold them fast until you leave.”

The older woman was almost a literal whirlwind as she went through her cupboard, dropping food in basket. Cora saw a thick sausage, oil to dip it in, an apple, some cheese, and two loaves of bread. “The cheese and apple are for you. The rest are for the animals and other objects who live in Harron’s keep. They’ll help you gain their confidence.”

She then handed Cora a long, sharp knife with a simple but elegant gold hilt. “This is a very special weapon. Only magicians can create steel this sharp and fine. It will cut through anything and reflect whatever magic is shot at it.” 

Her long, bony fingers brushed gently across Cora’s forehead. “You’re a sweet woman, but you’re smart, too. Smart enough to see through Harron’s illusions. Once you know what Harron really is and how he works his magic, it no longer has any power over you.” 

“How did he do it?” Cora complained. “Florrie, how did he manage to pull the wool over the eyes of the entire kingdom? Not one person remembers Stephen, but the ladies swoon over Harron, and the men invite him for another round of beer.”

Florrie tucked a knitted cloth into the basket. “They see what they want to see and what they’re told to see.”

Cora shook her head. “I could never reconcile the King with the man everyone talked about in Pennlyn. Harron treated his servant, his dogs, and everyone around him who didn’t try to win his favor badly. He was a follower, not a leader. Everyone abused the hunchback because he was ugly, but he never did anything unkind to me. I’d rather have a kind man who looks like a beast than a man who abuses anyone he sees as beneath him.”

“Then you’re wiser than most.” She gave her a slightly yellowed grin. “Now, you go rescue my Stephen, while it’s still light out. Please bring him home! He’s like a son to me. I’ve missed him these past months.”

She waved as she hurried down the path. “I will, Florrie! And thanks again!” 

Original Fairy Tale, Part I

Once upon a time, there was a princess named Cora who lived in Cape Holly, a small land by the sea. Her parents promised her to the king of Pennlyn, a much larger kingdom on the edge of a thick woodland. They were known as one of the wealthiest and most fertile kingdoms in all the world. Cora didn’t care about their wealth. She was more intrigued by their king. He was said to not only be handsome and kind, but a fine ruler. Cora herself, while no sweeping beauty, was pretty enough, with her dark waves and snappy brown eyes, but she was also an intelligent scholar who had studied at university.

“They call him King Stephen the Just,” her father told her on the way to Pennlyn. “He’s said to be fair. Always considers both sides of the story before he passes judgment. He’s not a big spender, doesn’t have many parties. They say he’s quiet and studious, Spends most of his time in his library.” He took his daughter’s hand. “Very much like you, dear. I think this will be a perfect match.”

“He’s also quite charming,” her mother gushed. “I heard he’s the tall, dark, and handsome type. Long dark curls and flashing sable eyes and a smile that melts your heart. And he was a great soldier in the late war who led his men to victory. Quite a catch, as I’ve heard peasants say.”

Stephen’s country was primarily dark woods and beautiful old towns with sturdy towers and fine timbered homes. She’d love to explore them someday, when she could get away from the court. She loved roaming through old towns, finding the best deals and libraries and stores with wonderful books filled with favorite stories. Maybe he’d join her, if he really loved books and exploring as much as she did.

The carriage pulled up at the sprawling castle on the hill just outside of town. It was the largest, grandest building Cora had ever seen. Outside was a whole row of servants in blue and gold livery. The man who joined them was the tallest, most handsome man Cora had ever seen. His glossy black hair was stick straight, and his brown eyes had a reddish tinge to them that twinkled far more mischievously than they should have for a sober scholar. His wide glowing white grin held more than a hint of a smirk.

“Cora!” He threw his arms around her, muffling her in the folds of his velvet and sable robe. “I’m so glad you’re here! Let me look at you!” He swung her around, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Well, you’re a little on the plain side, but you do have a marvelous figure. Where did you get that old rag you’re wearing? It’s totally out of date.” 

“This old rag,” Cora said sharply as she straightened the simple blue gown, “is my best dress. You don’t look like King Stephen, and you certainly don’t sound like him. Are you his brother?” 

He laughed heartily, but Cora saw a sneer under it. “I don’t? I’m the new, improved Stefan. I don’t sit in some dusty corner, hiding among my paperwork anymore. I get out and enjoy life.” He grasped her father’s hand in such a hearty handshake, her father nearly bounced off the ground. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty, I’ll take good care of your daughter. And is this your beautiful wife?” Her mother beamed as he gave her a big peck on the cheek. “Just gorgeous.” 

Cora knew something was wrong. She felt uncomfortable all through dinner. Stephan flirted outrageously with her mother, but his attempts to talk with her father came up short. He seemed to know little about the day-to-day lives of the citizens of his kingdom, and cared less for their feelings. He mainly chattered about the massive wedding he had planned for them and all the balls he intended to throw. 

“I dislike balls.” Cora made a face. “I’d rather enjoy a quiet night at home in the library than wasting my time and my country’s finances on parties.”

Stephen let loose with a condescending little titter. “Don’t be such a wallflower. There will be time for reading tomorrow, or the next day. As for running a country,” he chuckled as her father tried to cut in, “time enough for that, too. After all, they’re just peasants. I’m their king. They have to do what I say, or else.”

Cora frowned as she joined her father in the hall after dinner. “Papa, I don’t like this. I’m sure this isn’t Stephen. I don’t know who it is, but it isn’t him.”

He nodded. “Your mother thinks he’s a dream, but I say something is wrong. This man doesn’t know the first thing about running a kingdom. People don’t obey you just because you wear a crown. You have to earn their trust and respect.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I want you to stay here. Find out who this man really is, and what happened to Stephen.” 

She made a face. “Papa, I’m not a spy! Why don’t we just ask him where the real Stephen is?”

Her father shook his head. “He’s too crafty for that. He’ll just toss out another bit of flattery. No, I think there’s more going on here than it looks on the surface.”

“I’ll try, Papa,” she said hesitantly. “I don’t like being with that man for longer than I have to, but I’ll try.”

That was when she saw two soft hazel eyes, surrounded by coarse, spiky black hair that stuck out in all directions peek around the corner. “Hey,” Cora said coaxingly. “You can come out. I won’t harm you.” 

His misshapen face was jumbled like someone had pulled out his nose and waddled his cheeks until they resembled a lumpy sour potato no one would want to eat. Those beautiful eyes were set at one side of his head and peered out through thick, almost girlish lashes. He was strong like an ox, with long, hairy arms and loping legs, but the vast hump on his back bent him over like a wizened old man.

“Hello there,” she murmured. “I didn’t see you with the others when I arrived.”

Stubby fingers big as three of hers around shyly produced a sunflower from the folds of his tattered burlap tunic. “Oh, thank you!” She gently took the bright sunny bloom. “I prefer sunflowers to roses or carnations. They’re so bright and cheery, and when the petals are gone, you can roast the seeds.” 

Unfortunately, Stephen bounded around the corner at that point. “There you are, Cora! There are members of the court who would love to meet you…” He glared at the hunchback. “What are you doing here? How did you get out? I locked you in the kitchen closet for a reason. Why are you looking at my fiance?”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” She smiled at the misshapen man. “What’s your name, sir?”

Stephen burst into his silly giggles. “He doesn’t talk. He can’t even write his name. He’s a mute half-wit I took in out of charity. We just call him Ugly.”

“I don’t think he’s ugly.” Cora gave him a sweet smile. “I think he’s very…unique.” 

He swung her around. “Ugly is ugly. You’d much rather look at something beautiful, like me. Come on. We’ll send your parents home, and show you off to the court.”

“Now?” She snapped first, before her father could open his mouth. “My parents just got here!”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re nice people, but we’re consenting adults. We don’t need chaperones.” 

“I was hoping, well, that I’d have more time with them…”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.” He turned to her father. “We’ll discuss her dowry after she leaves. It’ll be substantial, of course.”

“Of course…” the King began warily. He didn’t get the chance to finish before Stephen dragged Cora off down the hall to the ballroom.

The garden was a quiet spot at this time of the day. Most people were inside, avoiding the heat of the day. She wandered down the winding paths as she tried to gather her thoughts. No matter how much she told herself otherwise, she couldn’t bring herself to love Stephen. He didn’t seem like a man who led a country to victory. She suspected he probably couldn’t lead a hound to a fox.

The only people outside with her were the many gardeners who weeded, pruned the bushes, and planted and watered new flowers. They waved to her as they went about their work, but they otherwise left her alone. She knew she was supposed to love Stephen. He was handsome and charming, but also shallow and self-centered. He wanted her to be some little doll he could trot out at state functions, then put back into her trunk when she wasn’t wanted. 

Her own eyes popped open as she heard stumping footsteps. The hunchback servant limped around each sunflower and hollyhock, gently checking each petal and leaf for aphids and other damaging bugs. He lovingly spread a bag of rich dirt around them, then tugged off dead or yellowing leaves. His stumpy fingers struggled with a fat yellowing leaf on one towering pink hollyhock with red edges. She could see the frustration in his hazel eyes as it refused to budge.

“Here.” She smiled and knelt next to him. “Let me help you out there.” She put her fingers over his, grasping the leaf gently. It took a second, but they did manage to pull it off. “You know,” she added as she dusted off her hands on her skirt, “you’re a good gardener. The only time Stephen is ever out here is when there’s an outdoor party and he’s bragging about the philox to visiting nobles. You treat these flowers like your own children.”

His smile was nearly radiant, or as much as it could be on that grotesque face. “You really love these plants, don’t you? I’ve seen you out here before.” He nodded quickly. “I’m not a gardener, but I do think the garden is very pretty. I’d like to spend more time out here.” Her face fell. “If Stephen will let me out of his sight after we wed. He either ignores the flowers, or steps on them5. I heard Stephen the Just loved his garden, but this Stephen can’t tell a tiger lily from a lily of the valley.”

As she spoke, ants trooped across the plot of flowers. Instead of crushing them or harming them, the hunchback took the leaf they’d pulled from the garden and led them away from the flowers and over to a plot of grass on the other side of the path. “That was very kind of you. Those ants weren’t hurting anyone. They just wanted lunch.” 

“You!” Moriyata, the head gardener, came around the corner, shaking a rake. “You’re supposed to be tending to the flowers! Your Highness, I’m sorry if he frightened you…”

“Not at all.” She helped him to his feet. “You have an excellent worker here. He should be commended. The sunflower he brought me when I arrived was perfect. He has a good eye.” She leaned over and whispered at the hunchback. “Don’t let Moriyata bully you! You’re good at your job, and you’re a nice fellow.” She patted his rounded shoulder and went on her way…not noticing the hunchback’s sad hazel eyes following her the whole time.

The next few weeks were among the most boring of Cora’s entire life. Despite everything she’d heard about Stephen, they seemed to have nothing in common. All he did was go out hunting or carousing with his friends during the day, then throw lavish parties for them at night. He spent money like it was water on fine clothes, expensive carriages, and his many hangers-on. 

She loathed every minute of it. He tittered when she tried to talk about serious topics and made fun of her for preferring to sit in the library and read instead of go hunting with him and his giggly girlfriends. He had no patience to search for antiques with her in town, spending most of his time with his tailor getting another suit made, or to browse in bookstores or music shops.

Cora felt more at home in the kitchens and libraries than she ever did in the ballroom or court room. The servants tried to hustle her out, claiming it was no fit place for a lady, but she stayed on. “Where I come from,” she told Mrs. Wickers, the cook, one afternoon while rolling out the pastry for an apple pie, “men and women of all classes learn to cook. We’re small and lack resources. There’s only so many people to do the cooking for you.” 

That was when she heard the door slam. “Took you long enough, didn’t it, you disgusting thing?” Mrs. Primrose, the housekeeper, scolded the misshapen hunchback who carried the wood over his broad shoulders.”Could you have been any slower? Just drop the wood by the ovens and be off with you. You have to get those pots scrubbed by two, so I can start the soup.”

“That was unnecessary, Mrs. Primrose.” Cora knelt by the bent over creature. “He’s a living, breathing human, like you and me. I’ve seen him carry loads twice as heavy and move even faster.”

Mrs. Primrose snorted. “He’s a lazy good-for-nothing simpleton. You shouldn’t encourage him, Your Highness. It’ll make him even less likely to work.”

“Or more likely.” He grabbed a pot, only to grab at his back, wincing. “Oh, you poor man. Here.” She sat with him. “Let me help you. My mother always said work was good for your character, no matter who you were.” 

“Your Highness!” Mrs. Primrose’s little jaw dropped open. “You’re a princess! A princess never gets her hands dirty.” She took Cora by her arm and tugged her back to her feet.

She frowned, dusting herself off. “They do if someone needs help.”

Mrs. Primrose glared at him. “He doesn’t need help. He’s a servant.” The little man quivered under the tall, sharp woman’s rigid gaze. “His Majesty found him on the street. Took him in as a charity case.”

Cora made a face. “That doesn’t give anyone the right to treat him badly.” He gave her the most beautiful smile. It spread across his lumpy face like a beacon amid the pits and craters of his cheeks. 

“Your Highness!” Charleton, Stephen’s fussy valet, ducked into the kitchen just as she was going to give him a peck on his cheek. “My master wishes to see you right away. Something about a visitation with the Prime Minister of Almond Blossom Province and his wife.”

She sighed. “Darn it. I forgot about that. Denilee,” she handed the maid her apron, “please wash these with the others tonight.” 

She most of all hated those visitations. Cora had never known what to say to foreign dignitaries, even when she was with her father. She always let him do most of the talking. Stephen had no trouble doing most of the talking with the Prime Minister. He didn’t let her get a word in edgewise. All they’d do was gaze in his eyes, and they were all a twitter over his handsome looks and fine clothes and charming manners.

She preferred helping the peasants with their problems. She always tried to be fair with them and give the best deal for both sides. She wasn’t perfect, but more often than not, people left happy. Stephen didn’t seem to care. He yawned and ignored them when the farmers and merchants spoke, then sided with whomever had the most money or influence.

“Cora,” he said condescendingly after he awarded a plot of farmland to a rich merchant, instead of the peasant who originally owned it, “that peasant means nothing to me, other than someone who pays tax money. That merchant not only pays higher taxes, he could donate funds to our treasury.”

She glared at him. “That wasn’t fair. That land belonged to the peasant, and you know it. You didn’t even give him any recompense. He needs that land to plant crops and earn money for your ridiculous taxes.”

He looked intensely into her eyes, the dark orbs gaining a bloody red tinge. “You don’t care about some peasant, and you don’t see any trouble. You’ll do what I say.”

“No…yes…” Her mind suddenly went blank. “I need…I need air.” She hurried off before he could stop her.

The best place to think was wandering the halls of the castle. They were numerous and long, seeming to go on forever. She never knew what she’d find. The castle had dozens of little rooms and towers and alcoves that held every little treasure and fancy anyone could imagine. Lavish artwork lined the walls, most of them depicting Stephen’s ancestors.

While most of the paintings were of regal, serious men Stephen had boasted about, there was one portrait, almost hidden on a barely-used hallway, that she didn’t recognize. The man in the portrait looked a little like Stephen, with his heavy sable curls that flowed past his shoulders and gentle little smile, but his hazel eyes held far more kindness than mischief. He was a little bit older, too, with more lines in his face and silver on his temple that gave him the look of someone who was far more mature and had seen more of life than Stephen ever had. 

He sat on a stone bench in the garden, a book open on his lap. He wore no crown, no fine jewels or rich silks and velvets. His suit was plain, but well-tailored. Instead of a sword, he held a quill pen over the book. Those eyes…you could get lost in those eyes. They were much kinder than Stephen’s, she thought. Those eyes would never try to manipulate or force someone to do what they didn’t want to do. 

Even as her fingers brushed the oil paint, Stephen rounded the corner. “Cora!” He snapped angrily. “Where the hell have you been? You’re supposed to be having dinner with me in the dining hall!”

“Huh? Oh, hello Stephen.” She blinked, wondering how long she’d been standing here. “Stephen, who is this man? Is he a relative of yours? He looks like a slightly older version of you. His suit is a relatively new style, so this must be a recent portrait. Does he live here? How come I’ve never seen him?”

Stephen grabbed her hard by her arm, his eyes swirling into a blazing blood red. “You will forget about him!” His fingers pressed so hard into her soft flesh, she was sure he left bruises. “He’s a cousin who tried to steal what was rightfully mine! Just a soft-hearted fool. He means nothing to you.” He yanked her head to his scarlet eyes, his deep gruff voice a nearl-animal growl. “He. Means. Nothing. To. You! He is nothing! You will forget you ever saw him. You’ll forget everything. You are MINE! Everything is MINE!”

“I…” Cora tried to push him away, but those red eyes…she’d never seen anything so frightening, and yet so powerful. They drew her in before she could even blink. “I…no…” She pulled away. “I need…I need to leave…”

She nearly ran into the hunchback on the way down the hall. In fact, she just about fell over the little man. “Oof! I’m so sorry.” The bale of wood he carried slid to the floor, sending splinters everywhere. “Let me help you with that…” 

“What are you doing here?” Stephen flew at them, his cape billowing behind him like bat’s wings. “I’ve told you to stay downstairs! And look what you’ve done now. Running into MY fiancee! Making a mess! I ought to have you horsewhipped!”

Cora grabbed his hand. “You’ll do no such thing. I ran into him. It was a mistake. No harm done. The floor can be swept, and the wood is fine. There’s no reason to treat him like that!” 

He shoved the hunchback down the hall, nearly making him fall over again. “Get out of my sight! Go to the kitchen and stay there. I don’t want you scaring people in the halls.”

“Right now,” Cora snapped, “I’m more scared of you than I am of him! Why are you so hard on the poor man?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. ‘He’s just a servant, Cora. We have more important things to discuss, like our wedding.” He pulled her hard into his arms, kissing down them and around her neck. “I’ve already invited all the important people…organized the wedding dinner…we’ll be married in the throne room, where all the most important people can see us…you’ll wear a dress made by the finest seamstress here in the castle…”

“Wait.” She managed to push him away. “Do we really need all that pomp? Can’t we just have a small ceremony, with you and me and my parents and a few close friends?”

“Of course not.” He tittered loudly. “You’re so funny. You’re going to be the queen, and my wife. We’ll have the biggest ball of the year, and afterwards…”

Cora didn’t want to hear it. “Can we talk about this later? I need to…get a note out to my mother and ask her to help me choose linen and china patterns.” Actually, she had no intention of asking her mother any such thing. She only wanted to escape his smothering grasp and attempt to pinch her rear. 

She spent the rest of the afternoon asking everyone about the man in the artwork. No one in the castle recognized his description. Even Charleton and Mrs. Primrose drew a blank, and they’d been there for years. When she tried to find it again, she discovered that the artwork had been removed from the wall. No one saw it, or knew what happened to it.

Who the man was and where the artwork went plagued her well into the evening. She was still thinking about him, even as she laid down in her plush bed. Why did no one recognize him? Why was his artwork hanging with those of the other nobles? Where was he now? It kept running through her mind, even as she dropped off to sleep…

The garden was beautiful in the moonlight. It gave the well-manicured flower beds and rustling trees a ghostly air and made everything pure silver. Even the white gown she wore had a silvery glow under that round moon, and the fountain’s tinkle was like sweet silver bells. 

She found what she was looking for on the same stone bench in the portrait. He was there. She’d know him anywhere. He looked just as he did in the portrait, even with the book in his lap. He wasn’t smiling now, though. In fact, he seemed terribly sad as she settled down next to him. 

“Who…who are you?” She whispered. “Stephen won’t tell me anything about you. He said you were an usurper, but I can’t believe that…”

His slender hands, surprisingly rough and tanned for a king’s, went over hers. “Cora, the man you know as Stephen is a liar and an impostor. He stole everything I had and bound me and my kingdom with a terrible curse. He’s trying to put you under the same curse now. He wants you to forget me, like my people did.”

“I knew something wasn’t right about that man!” She frowned. “Wait. If you’re Stephen, who’s running the kingdom?”

He sighed in frustration. “He’s my younger cousin, Harron, a sorcerer who practices the dark arts. He manipulated my guards so they believed I was the impostor, then ordered them to take me prisoner and lock me away in my own dungeons. That’s how powerful he is. His magic turned an entire kingdom against their ruler.”

She rubbed his long, tanned fingers. “How can I help you? I’m an ordinary woman. I have no magic.” 

“Look beyond what you see on the surface. Things aren’t what they seem. And above all else, do not look into Harron’s eyes! That’s how he works his powers. He has the ability to hypnotize any being and force them to do his bidding.” 

Her mind whirled with dozens of questions, so many that they all spilled out at once. “How could all this be true? Are you still in the dungeon? Did they move you? I’ve only seen your portrait since I arrived, and Stephen…Harron threw a fit when he saw me looking at it.”

“You see me every day, Cora. I’m so close, but I can’t…when I’m near you, I can’t speak to you. I can’t even write my name. My hands…” His sorrowful eyes glanced down at the supple digits, watching as they flexed. “The curse…”

“Your hands are beautiful.” She leaned on his strong shoulder. “There’s something about you. Your eyes…your smile…I know I’ve seen them before, and not just in the painting.”

Cora, I’m so near by, but I can’t…tell you.” His gentle hazel eyes turned back to hers. “I can’t tell you how much I…I…”

“NO!”

They were about to kiss when a bolt of black light sizzled between them. Cora was thrown off the bench, landing hard on the dirt path. She moaned and rubbed her elbows, managing to sit up just in time to see a figure emerge from the bushes. “What in the…sir? Who are you?”

“That’s none of your concern, woman.” It was the Stephen she knew. He looked just like him, only he wore ebony robes with sable trim. Black light shot from his hand, forcing Stephen to his hands and knees before him. “This weakling was going to give the game away. He knows you’re supposed to find out on your own.”

“You,” Stephen hissed, “weren’t supposed to use your magic on her!”

His double glared at him. “She was being obstinate, poking her nose where it wasn’t wanted. I had to make the game more challenging.” His black light roughly twisted Stephen’s arms behind his back, making him scream in shock and pain. 

“Stop! Please!” Cora stumbled over to Harron and grabbed his arm. “Don’t hurt him! He’s done nothing wrong. He only wanted to see me.” 

The look of pure hatred he gave her with those swirling scarlet eyes sent her scrambling back into a tree. It twisted his handsome face, with its sharp chin and straight ebony hair, into an evil mask.  “He almost violated part of the curse. For that, he must be punished.” 

Harron’s beefy hands wrapped hard in Stephen’s glossy curls. “You belong to me, cousin!” Stephen screamed as he whipped his head back. “I’ll show you where that soft, stupid heart of yours gets you! You’re not fit to rule a kingdom, and you’re certainly not fit for this wench’s company!” 

Cora kept yanking at his arm and kicking at him. “Leave him alone!” She screamed along with Stephen when another wave of darkness sent him to the ground. “Stop! Stop hurting him!” She tried to grab his arm, but he shoved her away. 

“Forget him, woman. Forget you ever saw him.” He yanked her in front of his eyes as the scarlet-black light swirled. “Forget him…forget everything…”

“No! Oh no…” Everything swirled around her as she threw up her arm to protect from the red light. 

“Cora!” The real Stephen’s voice grew stiffer and more scratchy as the black light surrounded him. “Don’t…forget…things…aren’t…what they seem! Look…closer!” 

“I…oh…” She looked up at him, just as another wave of black magic blasted over her…

“Oh god, no!” She woke up screaming in her own room, her legs tangled in the sheets. It was only a dream, but it felt so real. Too real. She’d been having that dream, or one like it, for weeks. Someone was trying to tell her something. She changed into her gown before Denilee could help her dress and dashed out of her room.

In fact, she almost literally ran into the man she wanted to see in the hallway. “Cora!” Stephen…or was it Harron?...jumped away. “Whoa, sweetheart! What got into you? Are you being chased by some monster?”

“No, but…” She took a breath, then continued. “Stephen…I've had these dreams…”

He gave her his obnoxious little grin. “About me, I hope.” 

“Well,” she started again, “you were in it…”

“Tell me about it on the way to the dressmakers.” He took her arm. “We need to stop putting this off, Cora. We’re going to get married tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” She yanked her arm away. “But we aren’t ready yet! The dress isn’t finished, and we haven’t bought all the bridesmaids gifts, and…”

He yanked her chin up to his eyes. “We’re getting married tomorrow, my bride.” They swirled that same blood red she saw in her nightmare. “We’re going to be very happy. You will be my wife, my pretty little toy, and you will do everything I say. You will forget anyone and anything else. Dreams are just dreams. You can’t believe anything you see in them.”

“I…” She blinked, trying to remember what had frightened her so badly the night before. “I…”

He ran a finger down her cheek. “You’ll be a little doll to share my throne and produce heirs. You’re rather plain, but we could do something, dress you up in linens and lace…” 

She managed to duck away when he tried to nibble down her neck. “I think I’ll go to the dressmaker and see how my bridal gown is going.” Her mind was whirling when she left. There was something in her dream she wanted to remember…something about appearances being deceiving…but it eluded her. 

Friends and Blank - A Match Game Short Story

Rated: PG (Discussion of divorce and sexual situations)

Set: October 15th, 1977, between filming of 1093 and 1094

It surprised Betty White when her friend Brett Somers was sitting alone in the back of the employee lounge area where their lunch was held. Or maybe it shouldn’t have, given the comment that contestant Denise said to her. Betty was seething herself, although she was professional enough not to show it on the air. How could that contestant be so rude? Bringing up Brett’s ex-husband Jack Klugman running around with some blonde at the Hollywood Race Track was tacky, short-sighted, and just plain mean.

What an introduction! Betty grumped to herself as she filled a plate with food in the Green Room. Denise probably thought she was tossing out some juicy little tidbit a girlfriend told her to pass on. She may not have realized how contentious and difficult Brett and Jack’s separation had been, or how hard it was on Brett…but that didn’t mean she should have said it in the first place.

It didn’t escape her that the only person who matched Denise was TV talk show hostess Sarah Purcell, who didn’t know Brett well. In fact, Denise’s first answer to the question about what hot object the barber had used on a customer had been rather good. Her second answer was terrible, though. Betty normally wasn’t a fan of sitting in the sixth seat, but in this case, she was glad to send Denise on her way. 

Betty managed to manipulate the heavy tray through the lines of people in the lounge area waiting to fill their plates with beef stroganoff and chicken a la king. “Penny for your thoughts?” She said jauntily to Brett as she sat down next to her. “The chicken a la king looks excellent. I thought the beef was a bit on the gloppy side.”

“Huh? Oh.” Brett barely looked up from pushing her food around on her plate. “Hi, Betty. What brings you here?”

“You.” Betty slid into the chair next to her. “Are you alright? Everyone heard what that lady said onstage…”

Her friend’s depressed countenance darkened instantly. “What that damn ass does is his own business. If he wants to run after blondes, what do I care? I obviously don’t mean anything to him anymore.”

“Brett.” Betty put her hand on her friend’s, her face heavy with concern. “She may not have meant any harm, but she did hurt you. You and Jack were married for eighteen years, Brett. That’s a long time to be together. Now, I haven’t known you that whole time, but I do know you’re more sensitive than you want to admit.”

“I thought,” Brett muttered softly to her chicken, “that we loved each other. That he loved me. At least, until the last couple of years. After we moved to California and I had Adam,  he sort of seemed to settle down. Once we got here, though, we just…all we ever did was argue. I thought I was happy taking care of the boys, but I guess I was really bored.”

“Brett, don’t blame yourself.” Betty didn’t like the haunted look in her friend’s dark eyes. “Jack’s got a healthy appetite for just about everything, including sex. He did suggest you for this show, after all. He wanted you to get out.”

She pushed her chicken a la king around. “I needed to get out, and I knew darn well what he was saying about me on this show.” 

“You’re doing a lot better, though.” Betty picked up the salt and added it to her bland chicken. “All jokes aside, I think you’ve done great on the show. You’ve won some people money, haven’t you? And you have a regular job, which is more than Jack can say right now. He’s just doing those Quincy movies for NBC. I’ve heard that they might be picked up for a full series, but it’s not a sure thing.” 

Brett took a long swig from her glass of vodka. “And I wouldn’t give up this for the world. Helping these people win money and tossing out jokes with you and Charles keeps me sane. My boys are getting older. Dave will be in college next year. They don’t need me like they used to. These people still need me. And you, and Charles, and even Dickie…Richard.”

Betty put a hand on her shoulder. “I know how you feel. My first marriage didn’t work out. We were young, and he wanted a traditional little wife. At least Jack understood that you wanted to work. He encouraged you. He’s the one who got you this job.”

“And that’s one of the only things I’m grateful for nowadays.” Brett sighed. “If Jack hadn’t suggested me for this job, I don’t know what I would have done. Gone crazy, probably. He thought I was just getting out of the house. I don’t think he expected me to make a career out of it.” She managed a few spoonfuls of chicken. “Where’s Allen? I’m surprised he’s not watching the show.” 

“He’s filming Liar’s Club at Metromedia Studios.” She grinned. “I was going to meet him for cocktails after filming. How’d you like to come with us? You could bring Charles or Nipsey.” 

“Nipsey told me earlier he has to get to Lake Tahoe for a show.” Brett smirked. “I know for a fact that Charles is between boyfriends at the moment. Bet he’d love to get out and do something. I’ll ask him before shooting starts.” She smiled and put an arm on her friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Betty. I guess I needed an ear to bend.”

“Anytime. My ear is always open.” She took both their plates. “I think we’d better get back to the studio. Ira will have an aneurysm if we’re late.”

“He’s had enough lately.” Brett left her glass in a bin and grabbed a bottle of club soda and a cup. “I don’t think Dickie’s forgiven him for the School Riot incident. What was Ira thinking? If he matched Ed and me, he should have matched all of us. If Charles and I hadn’t come up with the 'victims' bit on the stairs, the audience might have started scaling the walls.” 

Betty made a face and took her own club soda. “I’m glad I missed that. Patti Deustch told me about that. She was terrified to even hold up her answer, poor woman. Considering Ira’s never been especially consistent with the rules, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s not the last time he and Richard clash over them.”

“I just hope they don’t cause any more trouble. I don’t think I can handle another riot.” Brett put an arm around Betty. “Come on. Let’s go help these people win some money.”

Betty nodded…but noticed that the smile didn’t quite reach Brett’s eyes. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll even find Charles a man.”

“Oh honey,” Brett smirked, “I think it’s years too late for that.” 

Betty chuckled as they headed off. She was glad to see her friend smiling again. Brett deserves better, she thought. And she does have better. She has us.