Fairy Tale Reversed Read online

  Fairy Tale Reversed

  kk@dpg

  Fairy Tale Reversed

  By Ileana Coca

  Lulu.com

  Copyright 2013 Ileana Coca / Standard Copyright Licence

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-291-94753-3

  To my friend Katia.

  Thank you. Without your support and patience, I would have never achieved my dream.

  Various Kinds of Monsters

  Snow-White

  Love in Cold Blood

  Once Upon a Time

  The Wiser Thing to Do

  Ice Queen

  Bearing the Cross

  Novelties and a Visit

  The Luxury of Choice

  The Phoenix and the Snake

  The End of the Fairytale

  The Truth

  Staging the Drama

  Angels Fall First

  This was it. The drama had been played to my purpose and Snow-White was lying dead in her crystal coffin. The happy privilege of kissing her rose-red lips was no longer mine. Somebody else was her saviour, somebody warm and alive, for whom blood tears were not a perpetual torture. A human heart would soon beat alongside hers. Mine was dead.

  Henri glanced at me, hiding the sarcasm in his grin. He had always known my mind, had always known where to find me, but he had enjoyed the search all the same. Now, he was also enjoying a particularly easy victory and Alzbeta was showing herself too eager to please him. I looked away from their newly-found commonality: the world might end, taking all of us along in its dooming annihilation, and they would not care. I truly envied them. I lacked their indifference. I still had a purpose. I loved.

  Head on my knee, Andrej lifted his large brown eyes to me and his long-lashed lids blinked sleepily. Disapproval was etched on his cherub’s features, but his breath was coming out calm and quiet and exhaustion finally took hold of his thin figure. I let my hand stroke his beautiful golden curls, never knowing when the two redheads decided to abandon me to my misery. I sat before the fire and the night was never-ending.

  Once, so long ago it seemed, I had had Irena’s love. Now, I had her hate and my silent heart would have to forever struggle with this most terrible burden. Because I had been foolish; because, for the smallest infinitesimal second, I had dared grow wings and soar to the sun to touch its fiery rays. It had burned me and I had fallen, half of myself, down to the black all-consuming Earth.

  Will I heal now?

  Will my eyes open to the light?

  Will my heart beat again?

  Will she ever forgive me?

  kk@dpg

  Various Kinds of Monsters

  Monsters are not supposed to love the humans they hunt. Monsters are not supposed to behave as humans do. Monsters are not humans. Yet, I was the monster who had always broken the general precepts of his horrific kind. I was the exception. I had recklessly allowed myself to feel what humans feel, to live with humans instead of devouring them.

  Away from the Norse land that had forsaken me, I travelled the world far and wide, eager to stifle the cry for blood. I fought in foreign wars in service of foreign kingdoms, defending Christendom and my own sanity. Of noble origins myself, I was forced to assume a lesser role; instead of being served, I served. I was a King who had to step down from his rightful throne because he did not have the heart to condemn his own people.

  After too many years, I finally tired of making war against the Saracens and returned to Europe. Rome and Florence embraced me in their fine arts, their poisonous intrigues and blood feuds. Venice decided that she preferred the monster in me rather than the human, so I indulged myself in my old habits once more. But how heartless can a monster be, after all? I needed a change and it soon presented itself in the most unexpected manner.

  One night a century later, while hunting in the forests of Moravia, I heard screaming and gruff laughter. Unseen and perfectly silent, I witnessed how a band of gypsies was robbing a lonely traveller just like me. Naturally, I intervened and scattered the lot, thus saving young King Jaromir of Bohemia from ridicule. We became friends almost immediately and he welcomed me at his court, honouring me with the command of his royal guards.

  Soon, I became the King’s most trusted advisor, much to the local nobility’s discontent and envy. I kept my nature secret for a while, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before Jaromir found out. Overwhelmed with remorse, I decided to repay my friend’s generosity with the truth. Thus, the night before his wedding, I confided in him. He reacted wildly at first, of course, but his own better judgment came to my aid when he realized that I represented no danger for the courtiers and the people—on the contrary, with one such as me by his side, King Jaromir could declare himself invincible. I was allowed to stay and had numerous occasions to demonstrate that my devotion was at the service of humanity and peace. Jaromir’s friendship for me was strengthened and I was happy to have found myself a home after so long.

  More years passed and misfortune fell upon my friend when his wife Izabela died in childbirth. King Jaromir loved his daughter well enough, even though, at a subconscious level, he still blamed her for the Queen’s early demise. Ten years later, disconsolate and lonely, the King remarried to a very rich Moravian princess, although I had previously advised him against it. The new Queen was beautiful, elegant and half his age. It was only natural that someone else would soon catch her eye, someone younger and with a special gift for immortality. I succeeded in eluding her advances for more than nine years before a new tragedy occurred. During a romantic cavalcade with his young wife, Jaromir fell and broke his spine. Having been sent to Saxony in a diplomatic mission, I was not there to save him. When I returned, the King had been buried two days.

  *

  It was a long winter that year. The second Sunday after the King’s funeral, Princess Irena and I were in the park. She had wanted to walk in the snowy grounds and play with Yuri, her German shepherd, even though the poor animal got little attention from her. I knew that she was trying her hardest to look calm and recovered for everyone else’s sake, already conscious of the great responsibility weighing on her shoulders, but she could never deceive me.

  Shortly after his second wedding, the King had named me his daughter’s guardian and tutor. I took an instant liking to her: at ten years of age, Irena was exceptionally bright and spirited. She learned all things effortlessly, already developing good skills for poetry and languages. To her, I was the kind and patient guardian, her protector, her friend, perhaps the closest replacement for the father who could not be present in her life.

  The King and Queen were always immersed in matters of the state or of their own. The child of the first marriage was something of an obstacle. Her stepmother was simply ignoring her, while the father found less and less time to come and visit. So, Irena felt the distance quickly, and a natural shyness prevented her from trying to win back her father’s attention. She loved and respected him, but at the same time, she learned to be aware of his immense duty towards the kingdom. The elegant wooden dolls he offered her she treasured on a high shelf of distinction; the toys that I would bring her were always scattered on the nursery floor, always ready for her interest, one of my own rag dolls next to her on the pillow.

  Did I remain oblivious to her kind nature, her gentleness, her exquisite beauty? Of course I did not. For ten years I watched her grow, I watched her bloom, a white velvet rose to the sun, and my feelings bloomed with her. She was dearer to me than my own life, bringing new and bright purpose to the dark and forbidden existence that I had been unjustly condemned to.

  The steely sky seemed to want to fall down on us that day. The cold did not really bother me, of course, but it somehow added to the dreary atmosphere that h
ung around the castle since the King’s demise. With her usual sensitivity, Irena felt the gloom most acutely and, even during such leisure stroll, she did not like to leave my side. At other happier times, she and the dog would have run deeper into the park and I would have pretended to have great difficulty in finding them. She would have jumped up on my shoulders, thinking that I had heard nothing, delighted that she had won the game yet again. Today however she simply walked close to me, saying very little. Only when we reached her rose garden did she leave my side and made a few steps forward, inspecting the carefully trimmed bushes, now completely frozen.

  Lost in thought, I stayed behind on the snowy path, just gazing at her. If things were different, if I were human, if she were not the future Queen responsible for the fate of an entire nation—but no, I could not let myself think such thoughts. I was not allowed to. I watched her walk by herself amidst the frozen bushes for a while and I was about to suggest we returned to the warmth of the fireplace in our library, when fickle gods decided to intervene mischievously.

  ‘Lord Holder, her Majesty the Queen wants you in her chambers,’ a houseboy announced.

  ‘Right away,’ I nodded, dismissing the youth.

  Out of the sadness that she did not have to hide in my presence, the Princess turned and gazed at me wonderingly, her eyes two large brown fountains of curiosity.

  ‘What does she want with you?’ Irena asked, a clear trace of dislike in her soft voice.

  She walked back to me through the thick snow, a look of genuine concern on her beautiful face, and my heart cringed with an unknown pain. I could not know what Alzbeta wanted from me now, since I had been careful to make my position very clear from the beginning. I refused to let myself entrapped into useless court intrigues.

  Irena held her hands out to me and I received them, feeling her incomparable warmth even in the frosty air. The picture of innocence, faint redness blossomed on the Princess’ snow-white cheeks, in dramatic contrast with her raven hair. Her eyes were searching mine anxiously, but I did not want to worry her unnecessarily: she did not need to know her stepmother’s foul games. I ruffled her hair and pinched her chin, smiling reassuringly.

  ‘I do not know, child, but you shouldn’t linger out here in the cold. Look, Yuri’s half-frozen already!’ I said lightly. ‘Come, there’s a good fire in the library; run wait for me there and, after I’ve seen the Queen, you and I shall read more from Master Shakespeare’s tragedies!’

  Irena’s blush faded, her features frowned, and her eyes looked away almost as soon as I began to speak. Her hands leaved mine with undisguised nervousness and she made a few steps away from me.

  ‘I don’t think I’m in the mood for tragedies today,’ she mumbled, her disposition altered under some new distress.

  What had upset her to such degree? The pain caused by her father’s death had dimmed during the past few days. We had spent more time together than usual and I had succeeded in keeping her entertained with art and poetry. Today even, although rather melancholic, she had seemed glad to come out for a walk in the gardens, glad to leave the oppressing funeral decorum of the castle. What could have changed?

  ‘But I thought you liked the story of Romeo and Juliet and wanted to finish it—’

  ‘I finished it last night, but didn’t like it anymore. It’s absurd to die for love!’ Irena declared, her heart-shaped face puckering, her eyes searching for the dog. ‘Yuri! Here, boy!’

  Swimming in the snow, the faithful companion bounced back to his mistress and licked her palm. She stooped down and embraced him, running her thin fingers through his silver fur. The twinge in my heart intensified when her eyes threw me a sharp glare, returning to gaze adoringly at the dog instead. It was obvious that Irena was holding something against me, but whatever it was, it had to be unfounded. All I had ever done was care for her and protect her; surely, whatever rumour she might have heard I would be able to deny—except perhaps if she had been made aware of my true nature…her sudden rejection would then be justified.

  As though an angry kitten, Irena turned on her heels and walked determinedly away without sparing me one look, the dog bounding happily at her side.

  ‘Dying for love can sometimes be justified,’ I sighed, watching her thin figure melting away through the castle doors.

  I knew there was heavy talk about me at court. The nobles’ murmur of discontent had grown ever clearer after the death of my protector, the King. Everyone had to be wondering why I had not aged one day, why my white skin was perfectly smooth, why my battle skills had never once failed, why my diplomacy was as sharp as a needle. It seemed that I had overstayed my welcome, and I knew that the dreaded moment of the separation was looming ever closer. I would have to leave everything behind and start anew somewhere else, but the thought of abandoning my home was unbearable.

  Repeatedly, I had promised myself that I would only stay until Irena were securely seated on the throne of Bohemia, safe from all the ravenous hands that hungered for power. She would take a worthy spouse and rule the country wisely and generously. My mission would then be accomplished. I could not—dared not—hope for more.

  Seeing Irena running away from me in anger brought heavy remorse to my soul, but I was determined to go to her and settle all matters the instant my interview with the Queen was done. Without further ado, I sprinted across the snowy grounds faster than any human, eager to return to Irena sooner.

  At the end of the second landing corridor, I met Jan Turek, the court’s Lord Treasurer and First Counsellor, coming out of the Queen’s quarters. Irena’s official fiancé, he had been charged with the increase of taxes, even though the treasury did not necessarily lack in funds. He kept attempting to dissuade Alzbeta from such drastic measures, especially now in wintertime, but the grim look on his handsome features stated clearly enough that yet another attempt had just been wasted on the Queen’s indifferent ears. Turek appeared resigned and helpless and, when he saw me, his brow furrowed darkly.

  ‘Milord Holder,’ he bowed.

  ‘Milord Turek,’ I nodded.

  ‘You are going to see her Majesty?’

  ‘Yes, she sent for me,’ I answered. ‘How did you find her?’

  ‘Her Majesty is quite distraught,’ Turek answered quietly. ‘What can you expect after almost ten years of marriage?’

  ‘And a fruitless marriage at that!’ I murmured, unable to hide the irony in my voice.

  It was common knowledge that the odds had not favoured King Jaromir’s second marriage. Shortly before his death he had confided in me, saying that the Queen’s womb was as barren as the Arabian Desert. In the end, Jaromir had died deprived of the joy of a male successor.

  At my mockery, the crease between Turek’s eyes deepened and the hand that was resting on the hilt of his sword gave a nervous twitch.

  ‘I wouldn’t rush to judge,’ he murmured, his deep blue eyes flashing up to me.

  ‘What do you mean by that, Milord?’ I asked, lowering my voice.

  His handsome features suddenly older than his thirty-five years, Turek directed me towards a window, farther from the guards’ prying ears.

  ‘I believe it is now safe for me to tell you…that her Majesty is with child,’ he whispered, his eyes flashing left and right to make that sure nobody was listening.

  That was indeed shocking news. It could mean that Irena would no longer be the only heir.

  ‘Milord Turek, are you certain?’ I breathed.

  ‘As certain as I can ever be; her Majesty has just told me herself!’

  ‘So that’s why she wants the taxes raised?’ I guessed.

  ‘She wants to build him a fortune!’ he scoffed, running his fingers through his greying hair

  ‘Him?’

  ‘Yes, her Majesty is convinced it will be a male heir…’

  ‘But how far ahead is she? Our King only died last week!’

  ‘Ah, well, that is precisely the question, isn’t it?’ Lord Turek hissed, his eyes throwing sparks.
‘She told me that seven weeks had already passed, but I know for a fact that their Majesties have not been sharing beds for a while—’

  Turek broke off his sentence, a look of panic in his eyes, but I was already far ahead on the dreaded truth.

  ‘Are you saying that her Majesty is carrying your child, Milord?’ I whispered so quietly, that the poor lord was literally forced to read my lips to understand.

  Apparently, I was not the only one from whom Queen Alzbeta had attempted to gain favours.

  ‘I—I didn’t say that—’ he stammered too late.

  I smiled reassuringly, trying to calm him.

  ‘Do not worry, friend, I will not betray you,’ I said softly, resting my hands on his shoulders. ‘But you had better make sure no one else is made aware of this, or you will stand accused of high treason, as you very well know!’

  Turek gulped loudly, averting his eyes. With one trembling hand, he wiped off the sweat beading his forehead, obviously very sorry to have let his secret slip.

  ‘Can I trust you, Milord Holder?’ he whispered, his fingers twisting his feathered hat restlessly.

  ‘You have no choice now but to trust me,’ I replied calmly. ‘But between the Queen and me, I am not the one you should fear the most!’

  Turek’s eyes were boring into mine, desperate to believe.

  ‘What should I do?’ he murmured plaintively. ‘She wants me to raise the taxes, but all she’ll ever accomplish is fill the castle dungeons with the poor who cannot pay! It’s the middle of winter, for God’s sake!’

  The desperate Lord Treasurer looked down, shaking his head deeply troubled.

  ‘What should I do?’ he repeated softly. ‘Tomorrow she will announce to the entire court that she’s carrying Bohemia’s future monarch—which is the greatest lie, indeed, the greatest treason possible!’

  I sighed, not knowing how best to console him.