Thirteen Years in One Hundred Steps: Theme 61 – Fairy Tale

Her heart chills over and stiffens even more with each thought of him that passes by. She regrets not thinking about the magnitude of her decision when Ellis had asked. She hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to him. That was why she never looked in his direction when she pushed him into the light.

And now her dear friend has dark chains tying his will down. He is suffering. She wants to comfort him, but her now icy steel heart will not permit her to approach him. This whole situation seems beyond far-fetched.

Like a fairy tale.

She has always hated fairy tales. They were unreal. Impossible. Why do people even decide to make fairy tales? They’re stupid! Stories about things that will never happen! Who would even hold such stupid stories to heart?

Then again, a fairy tale of its own is starting to form in her mind. She looks to her dear friend, her dear friend who has words of darkness cutting into his wrists. Words are starting to form a story in her mind, a fairy tale. She hates fairy tales, though, and tries to push the tale away.

The story keeps forming. Condensing.

And now told.

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There was a girl, neither beautiful nor ugly, but rather average, who her parents absolutely hated. Her sister never helped and only watched as the younger sister was kicked and beaten by her parents. Her body learned to heal quickly, but it was not a comfort, because less bruises meant more beating.

She wasn’t supposed to have happened. She didn’t know why, but she knew that her parents felt she wasn’t supposed to have happened.

Back then, she believed in angels, and in the following years, throughout her whole life, she continued to believe in them. Believing that one day, they would come to give her wings to fly away with. Believing that one or two would save her from her parents and sister. Always believing.

It was the one innocent thought she kept and held on to as time went on, never telling anyone save for the people she trusted with her life.

She was three when her first angel came to her. The memory was vague, but she slightly remembered.

He was a tiny angel, not much older than her. He had messy dark brown hair and emeralds for eyes. He was obviously a mage, a little mage who was just trying to learn the basics of magic. His robes were too long for him, so in that ridiculously ruffled outfit, he stumbled and fell often. He was a sweetheart nonetheless, and he was the very first friend she had ever acquired.

He was a tiny angel with little cherub wings on his back. His tiny hands held a small tome most of the time. She thought the tome was actually her heart; he showed her the contents of the tome often. The tome was filled with words she had never heard of before, like her heart, filled with words and images she had never heard or seen before.

She ran away from home whenever she could to see her first angel. She always got in trouble for it, but she could not and did not want to stop seeing him.

Even when she was sick – which she always was – she shot out of the front door, running as far as her little legs would let her to her angel.

Then he moved. He never said anything about moving, but he disappeared. He was there one day, then he disappeared the next day.

She didn’t cry, though. She had no tears left to cry. She sat on his front doorstep, waiting until night fell. She still had no idea where he had gotten to, so she walked back home.

She kept on running back to the place Mark was before he disappeared, but he still never came.

She had lost her angel. Tears would not come up. She walked home and never came back.

Then she turned four. Things began changing when she turned four. Her father had said he would throw her out when she was older. Older was now.

She had screamed her hatred to her mother and father. Now she was outside in the cold. In the rain. The path was open to her for her to walk upon.

Hope shined the way before her. Hope, as little glowing orbs – fairies – illuminated the muddy path. She followed the fairies along the path, walking. Walking along. She started running along the path, rain ripping at her face. Now shooting down the path, she broke past the front gate, rain tearing at her face. She heard her father bellowing at her to never return, never return again.

But she kept running through the rain. She could care less about what happened to them. Someday, someday soon, she would break all ties she ever had with them. Her hatred for them pressing her ever forward, away from those people she hated, away from the memory of her first angel.

She stopped in front of that tree, collapsing from pure exhaustion, believing she would be dead before the next morning. She closed her eyes, wanting to die with all of the rain falling around her.

The fairies all came together again, and she met her second angel. Maybe older than the one she would come to live with later, but her second angel nonetheless. She learned to love. She loved him dearly. She didn’t want to leave him.

But he made it so. He held her tightly within his embrace, softly whispering to her like an older brother would to his younger sister. He kissed her tears away. He held her with love.

His wings were warm, she remembers. Soft white down and graceful feathers. The light touch of those wings as they held her close. So soft, so light. She snuggled against him, she remembers, loving him, loving him dearly.

Her angel, her dear angel she loved with her whole heart.

But he sent her back, her dearest angel; he sent her back to live. He loved her too, but now he had to send her back. He held her tightly, loving her dearly, a small child with no place to call home. A child who had no one and nothing to love, held tightly by an angel from the future who loved her with all of his heart.

Keep living, my sweetheart. If not for yourself, then for me. I beg you, please, stay alive. Grow. Mature. Then we can be together. You and me together, sweetheart. We can be like this again. I can hold you like this again, and you can hold me in any way you like. All you have to do is stay alive. You already have my heart next to yours; my heart is in your hand, so please, don’t leave this world with my heart in your hand…Not while you hold my heart in your hand.

Red orb, beautiful red orb shining and glowing in her hand. A soft, sweet glow. She loved the light. She loved the orb. She loved him. She held his heart, this soft red orb, closely to her own. She kissed his heart, still loving him, still holding him close.

White pure light within the scarlet of her eyes, and soft sheets and blankets burying her. Just like his wings. Just like his heart.

She wanted to go back to him. Thirteen years…That’s how long she had to wait. Thirteen. Such an unlucky number.

But there he was anyway, his cerulean eyes looking into hers. He was younger than her angel, but she knew, nevertheless, that this young boy was the angel who had cast her back. She loved the pinpricks of starlight in his sky blue eyes, but she hated him anyway. He had abandoned her in the realm of the living, and now he mocked her by returning as a young boy.

Or so she had thought at first.

The more she talked with him, the more she played him, the more she loved him…the more she realized this second angel loved her. And though she never admitted it, she appreciated his feelings. She appreciated being the one to be the keeper of his heart. That soft, loving scarlet glow…so soft, so warm, suspended lovingly in her hand…She realized that even more.

And then her first angel found her again. Or rather, fairies of hope guided her back to her first angel. She could see wings upon her first angel’s back, wings that were frayed and bloodied from sadness, hurt, and anger.

What happened to her dear first angel?

And he was about to be hurt even more. With fairies screaming in her ears, she thought of nothing else as she ran to save her dear angel. Wings must have grown from her feet – she never thought she could run so quickly for anything.

A rock flew from her hand to the demon that oppressed her angel. Her angel was saved, but at a yank of her hair, she could no longer feel the ground. Nothing but pain and held-back tears.

But her second angel freed her, and taking her hand and beckoning to her first angel, flew away back to the forests.

Her angels collaborated, silently speaking with one another as she sat a distance away, choking  on tears that overflowed, hiding them away from her angels.

They would not allow her to let her tears keep flowing, though. Whether or not their wings were tattered, they each put a wing around her, leaning on her, enveloping her with warmth. She lifted her face away from her hands at the warmth surrounding her, looking at each of her angels.

That loving look in each of their eyes confused her. Was she allowed to be held and loved like this? Everyone hated her…so why not these angels?

They could not hate. They could not dislike. Especially her.

Though she doubted, her angels – as their eyes glowed starlight – had kissed her cheek, taking her to their realm – a realm of stars and dreams. She wandered the stars with Marth. She journeyed through dreams with Mark.

Such dreams. Was she allowed to have such dreams?

Of course it’s okay. It’s okay to dream with us. No need to doubt. We both love you, Aliana. Go on. Wander the stars with Marth. Walk the moon with me. It’s no problem, sweetheart. We’re all together…It’s okay for us to be together. We all love each other…so we can stay together.

Is it that easy?

Can it really happen?

It’s such a fantasy, though…Can fantasies come true?

Maybe as long as I dream…Fairy tales might come true.

~~+++===+++===+++~~

No, it’s not easy.

No, it can’t happen.

No, fantasies can’t come true.

And no, even if I dream, fairy tales will never come true.

Stupid fairy tales.

Stupid fucking fairy tales.

Stupid mother fucking fairy tales.

She hated them. Because of those damned stories her little childhood self had believed, her dearest friend had words of darkness chaining him down. Blood seeped from the ever-fresh wounds on his wrists.

This is reality.

There are no angels to save her. No love to support her. Nothing but hatred around her. Nothing but forgotten memories that she tried to push away.

Will I ever see him again?

Probably not. Either he or she would be dead by the time he got back to Altea from wherever he was exiled to.

Can I keep waiting for him, locked up in this castle with almost everyone else sleeping?

No, you dumb idiot. You’re not a princess or a damsel in distress.

Are we actually star-crossed lovers where this separation was fated to happen, but where destiny will bring us together again? Like what those angels said?

No, of course not. There’s no way you actually believe those kinds of stories, right? You’re locked up in your own home, you realize.

But that can be part of a fairy tale too…Maybe he’ll come back and save me.

You’re such a little kid. Such. A little kid.

But it can happen, right? Like in the fairy tales. Because I –

You hate him. If you’d never met him, you wouldn’t have had to feel this way. You hate him for making you go through these terrible feelings.

No…I love him. He’s my prince angel.

No, you hate him. He’s your tyrant demon.

No, this is no fairy tale.

This is reality.