A Faerie Tale, Broken

Irritated, he took a good deal of frustration out of the dead animal, cutting and cleaning it with a fierce gusto as if punishment for daring to get him lost. Once he was satisfied with his work, Hansel pulled some rope out of his pack and latched the boar onto the back of his horse. Making sure to carry his sword on his hip, he began his trek through the foliage.

After many long hours of this, the sky began to turn pink. With a deep sigh, he began the process of gathering wood to set up a small camp. Of course, most of his things were not being carried by his own mount. He had someone to do that for him. Butchering a hank of pork off of his kill, he set up a crude spit and began roasting it. It soon became apparent that he was really no good at this and let out a long string of curses.

***

The day was beginning to turn into night and her frantic wanderings had found Gretel no closer to either the trail home or a basket of peaches. Feeling quite abject and miserable, it took her a while to realize that the sudden pangs in her stomach were being induced by the smell of roasting pork. Her mouth watered at the scent and her hopes leapt a bit. Perhaps someone lived near by that would be willing to share a bit, or even possibly point her in a direction out of this place.

The stretching shadows had begun to play tricks on her mind and her steps hastened toward her perceived goal. It never crossed her mind, as innocent as she was, that perhaps the aroma came from someone in the forest she would rather not meet.

A crack in the underbrush was the first alert that he was not alone. Thinking it some sort of predator, perhaps drawn to the smell of the horse and his morning kiss, he got to his feet quickly with hand on his sword.

Instead of a wolf, it was a gangly child in tattered clothes that walked into his circle of firelight. She was covered in filth, yet he could still tell that her skin was a darkened bronze from working the fields despite the lack of winter sun. The girl was gaunt, the harsh lines of hunger accentuating her delicate features. Her blue eyes peered at him with shock and apprehension, no less surprised to see him than he was to see her.

As Gretel stepped from the forest, she did not expect to see such a handsome man. Not only in feature, but in clothes as well. His skin was much paler than her own, though by his fine thread, she had no doubt he was a lord's son. And, he was tall. Inches over six feet with a frame that had not fully filled out to the man he had yet become. His eyes were a dusky green, mixed with flakes of golden brown. Sandy hair was streaked with platinum, cut in a shaggy manner that forced as much of it to fall partially in his eyes as it did to wisp around his head.

Blushing, Gretel clasped her hands tightly to the basket, her heart fluttering. With a heavy swallow, she bit her lip then spoke, tentatively. "Sir... would you mind sparing some food for the night? I was sent up here to forage and I have gotten horribly lost."

Surprised, Hansel nodded then motioned to the fire. "Go ahead. There is plenty." He watched as she took a seat then set her basket on the ground next to her. With a soft yelp, she suddenly took up the spit and began turning. "You had it sitting too long on one side. It was beginning to burn."

Taking his own seat once more, he happily let her take over the chore. "What is in the basket?" Gretel looked to him and smiled shyly. "A little bit of cheese and some bread, and half of a small bottle of wine. You may have them if you like." Hansel nodded and held his hand out, fully expecting the girl to offer it. At least the peasant folk knew their betters. Even if not by name or title. When she stood and gave it to him, she did it with a rigid formality, as though the basket were a prized possession and not just a few scraps to add to dinner.

They fell into silence as he pulled out the meager offering. Slicing the bread, he laid the slabs of cheese on top. Then, as soon as the pork was done, he cut off thick hunks and placed them upon the cheese. Handing Gretel one such slice of bread, the prince quickly devoured the remaining bits and drained off the bottle of wine.

Once again, they fell into silence. She did not know what to say, and he did not think that he needed to say anything. As the night grew on, she cleaned up the rest of the pork and wrapped it in cloth, then curled up on her side and watched the flames. Soon, the child was asleep.

With a deep sigh, Hansel stretched out on the dirt himself, though the protection of his cloak was much better than Gretel's tattered rags. As his mind floated once more to the buxom red head, he drifted off into gentle sleep.

Chapter Three: A Song in the Night

Unbeknownst to the sleeping pair, they were not the only souls in this part of the forest. Miles away stood a house. It would not be so odd if someone were to picture it as a quaint log cabin. But no, this was a cottage. And before one could even brush that off as a common feature in the backdrop of tall pines and oaks, it was a cottage made entirely of sweets.

The walls were crafted of tan gingerbread held together by icing tinted the barest shade of pink. The roof was made of swirls of sugar in all colors imaginable, much like the old fashioned lollipops sold by the traveling fairs. The small cobblestone drive that invited one to the door was a tantalizing swirl of red and white peppermints. The quaint chimney, also constructed of gingerbread puffed out little bits of smoke, smelling faintly of caramel or chocolate depending upon the direction of the wind.

It was in the lovely little house, a child's fantasy, little would one guess that the occupant of such a home be anything but. The old crone was hunched over a boiling cauldron. Her wooden spoon stirred faithfully within a deep pool of red liquid. Every so often, she would hobble to her table to pick up one ingredient or another. This would be sprinkled into the mix, a puff of multicolored smoke released with each addition.

Every once and a while, her long, hooked nose would lean down near the surface of the slowly boiling concoction and she would take a deep breath. In one such pass, breathing in the fumes, her head suddenly shot upright. "I smell child..." Her voice was crackly and old, somewhere between the scratching of tree branches upon windows and the crinkle of fallen leaves in autumn.

As she sniffed around the air a bit more, she let out a soft snort and moved to a shelf along the far wall of the large kitchen. She lifted up a single vial that glowed softly with a pale azure tone. Uncorking it, she walked back to her cauldron. Leaning over slowly, the hag allowed three precious drops of it drip into the liquid. As it puffed, a deep violet cloud arose. It snaked through the room, a haunting melody chimed through the air. The wisp coiled up the chimney, and in moments, spread across the country side in a lovely haunting tune.

***

At the small campsite, Gretel's dreams were suddenly filled with warmth. She felt the calming presence of her mother rocking her gently. The scent of a fragrance she always had about her, long forgotten to a mind that had lost her seven years previous, filled her nose. Her mother's voice, soft and soothing, sang her a lullaby. She was safe and loved. "Come, Darling... Come with me.. I have so much to show you.." The voice was soft and soothing in her ears. In her sleep, Gretel's small form rose and her eyes opened. A haze filled the blue orbs, turning them an opaque purple. Then, in a deep trance, she took one step into the forest, then another.

Hansel, on the other hand, did not hear the urging voice the same as Gretel. It was a mere humming in his ears. An annoyance that had him swatting at invisible flies. When Gretel took her first step into the trees, it was the crackle of her steps that awoke him.

Sitting up, the prince blinked the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and rubbed them. As he glanced to the peasant child, he saw her covered in a nimbus of violet swirls. Jumping to his feet, he drew his sword, unaccustomed to dealing with witchcraft. As Gretel's steps took her further and further from the campfire, Hansel's conscience chose that moment to rear its head. Though he was admittedly spoiled beyond belief, he did have the noble sense to know that magic trickery used in his kingdom would always harm his people. And, whether he liked it or not, without people to rule, he would have no kingdom.

Walking up to the girl, he tried to do all in his power to wake her from her daze. Shouting, blocking her, and even trying restraint, though he did it from afar with the flat of his sword. There was no way he would touch that enchanted cloud. When nothing worked, he resigned himself to following. And so the pair made their way to that enchanted house of sweets.

***

As the old crone waited, she anxiously hobbled around her kitchen. It had been far too long since she had tasted the flesh of a child. Too much time had passed since she felt the rush of youthful exuberance, since she had stared at herself young and beautiful within the long mirror of her room. She hoped the child would be a girl. They lasted longer and the magic was much more potent.

When the door finally swung open, she was gladdened and dismayed to see that it was indeed a young girl. Her bones stuck out sharply, however, and the gaunt of malnutrition touched her features. She would need to fatten the child up first, revitalize her health before baking her up in a pie.

What she did not expect, was the tall young man that followed the girl to the door, sword out and ready. With a frightful cackle, she dipped her fingers into the bubbling potion that still glowed with the violet aura surrounding Gretel. Moving closer to the prince, her voice rasped out, "Come in, come in dear boy. It is cold outside and you will become ill." Slowly, she moved closer to the portal, her long nails dripping on the floor. Once near enough, she rose her hand and shook it at Hansel. As the ooze landed on his skin, it shimmered. Hansel suddenly felt himself immobilized. He stood as still as a statue as the old hag chortled out her glee.

He was much older than her typical prey, but she was never one to turn down a meal. Also, the boy was filled out much more. He would make a better meal than the girl at present. Walking over, she poked him with a single long fingernail. "Just a little for you. Not much fattening up needed here." Giggling with childish glee, the witch reveled in her trap. "Two little birdies almost ready for the pie."

***

One week. That is how long Hansel had been locked up within the cage that swung in the crone's kitchen. While he did nothing but sit all day, the hag tempted him with morsels and treats. He had refused to eat anything until the witch had threatened to chop of little Gretel's fingers and toes one by one while he watched. Not wanting to cause the girl any more strife than she already had, he eventually complied.

Gretel, on the other hand, had been put to the task of cleaning the cottage. The witch also took great delight in having her small morsel cook and bake the things that she would use to fatten up Hansel.

It was Gretel's ingenuity once more that saved them both from a fate in the oven. As Hansel was fed, he would place the food into his mouth and eat only so much as was required to survive. The rest he would knock down into the crevice between a work bench and the wall. Every night, after the snores of the witch reverberated around the cottage, Gretel would sneak off of her little pallet by the large wood oven and collect the bits. Tossing them into the fire, they burned up quickly without a trace.

The witch, however, was quite upset. Peering at Hansel with her poor eyes, almost filmed over in a layer of murky white, she spent a good deal of time each morning pinching and poking to see if he had fattened up any. Of course, with their ruse, he did not. Gretel, though, underwent a dramatic change. With some good food in her stomach, she regained her color.

Late at night she would sit next to Hansel and tell him stories of her home, the farm, and the wild requests her mother had made of her. At these tales, he had become enraged, promising her that when they got out of this current predicament he would ensure that she would never be sent into the forest like that again. Filled with a warm glow at his words, she smiled. It was clear to Gretel that talking to this handsome man made her feel funny inside. Then and there, she decided that she would marry him some day. Surely he would take her away from this life. And when they were all grown up, they would be able to live Happily Ever After.

Hansel, in turn, told her of some of his tales of being a boy. Teasing the hunting hounds, begging his father for a horse that later reared up and tossed him. All the while, he was cautious to keep the fact that he was the heir away from her. He built up his tales as though he were just another lord. After being cooped up in a cage with only Gretel as his companion, his prejudice of the girl faded away. He found her mind quick and intelligent, and he did not want their closeness to be aborted by the knowledge of who he really was. For the first time in his life, Hansel pretended to not be a prince.

***

There was a single flaw in their plan. The witch was a very impatient creature. After two weeks without any changes for the better, rather Hansel seemed to be getting skinnier; she finally decided to cook him up anyway. Sweeping into the kitchen like a vulture, she called for Gretel. "Stoke the fire high and hot. I am done waiting for the boy!"

Horrified, Gretel stood there dumbfounded. A hard 'swap' of a wooden spoon quickly had her moving. Sending Hansel a guilty look, she began the process of collecting firewood. Meanwhile, the witch hummed a tune off-key while rolling out what promised to be an enormous pie crust.

As she made her passes, Gretel's eyes often wandered to the large key that hung from the crone's waist. It was the only thing to open the cage. If they were lucky, or perhaps fast enough, maybe she could snatch it. If Hansel got away free, she would feel much better.

After the dough was kneaded, the crafty witch looked upon Gretel. She had grown more vibrant and stronger. At the end of her patience she decided to eat them both and called out to the girl. "Darling, is the oven hot enough yet? Crawl inside and tell me if it is good."

Gretel, suddenly realizing her peril, went to the oven door and opened it, the heat from the flames wafting into the air. Scrambling and scraping, she tried to get in. Or so she made it appear. "I cannot get in. How should I do it?" Infuriated, the crone went to the oven herself. "It is easy.. see?" As the hag stuck her own head in to show the child, Gretel suddenly let out a great push and the witch fell in. Snatching up the key from her waist, she quickly slammed the door shut and latched it tight.

As the old woman screamed and kicked against the door, Gretel quickly freed Hansel. With a shout of joy, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of that dangerously decorated trap of confection and back into the relative safety of the forest.

A loud cry went up and then a sudden explosion occurred behind them. Smoke of all colors poured heavy and thick into the air, filling it. Picking up Gretel, Hansel swung her around in a wide circle then placed her back on her feet. He kissed her on the top of the head and grinned. "Smart girl!"

She merely beamed back up at him, her cheeks flush from the excitement and the kiss branded upon her skin. As Hansel took her hand once more, they made their way into the woods.

***

The fabulous thing about explosions, especially magical ones, is that they attract a lot of attention. With the King's only son missing in the forest for onwards of a fortnight, the trees were almost saturated with searchers.

And that was who eventually found the pair. The soldier spotted them first, letting out a shout followed by the blowing of a hunting horn. "I've found him! It's the Prince! The Prince!"

At this, Hansel sped up his pace, a very confused Gretel in tow. The Prince? Whose prince? The thoughts sped through her mind. Shortly they were surrounded by a hearty group of men, each making a fuss over him. As Gretel was separated, she suddenly realized that he was THE Prince. Blushing furiously, she mentally traced each conversation she had spoken with him. She had been honest and frank, and he must have thought her a horrible country bumpkin. Not to mention that he must have been bored to tears, or would have been if there had been anyone else around to speak with.

However, true to his promise, he had made sure to see her well taken care of. As his soldiers returned her to her home, they announced to her astonished step-mother and her father quite clearly that she was now the warden of one of the more local Lords. That all right they may have had to her in ties, would now be severed. Blinking tears, she saw the pain in her father's eyes, but could not help but feel it was a just reward for agreeing to nothing less than her own murder. The Prince made sure that a large dowry was placed on her and also had a decent sum sent over in personal money for her use.

The last image she saw of Hansel before she was carted off was one she cherished in the years to come. He had been freshly shaved and was clean. His clothes were of fine cloth and in that moment, she knew that he had not been more handsome. With a final parting smile, the heir of the kingdom rode away to reenter his life. With a new perspective and maturity, he intended to take on the role that was dealt to him. However, in the coming years, the image of a gangly blonde haired child that had saved his life slowly faded from memory.

***

Four years had passed. Her new life was not only filled with riches, but also with the struggle of her education and upbringing. Placed in the care of one Lord Georgio, she soon found herself embraced into a loving home. His wife, Helena, had given him many fine sons, but had not been blessed by a daughter. With the addition of Gretel into her home, the Lady had taken to her as if she had been her own blood. She had not felt kindness or genuine good feeling from a parental model since the passing of her mother and she soaked it up. Happiness flowed through her, and she dreamed every night of the handsome prince she had rescued, and when he would return for her.

His sons had taken to her as a sister, and with her age, grew the beauty that had been promised. Now at sixteen, her golden hair had taken on a soft wave that made it flow and curl around her face. Her blue eyes had taken on a soft hint of purple, more indigo now. Bronzed skin slowly paled to a soft creamy complexion that complimented her coloring. The long legs that had made her look so awkward had given her a graceful height, stopping her at five and a half feet. In a striking resemblance to her mother, her curves filled in gently, adding a more womanly appearance to her form, though she was still on the cusp of childhood. Offers had been made on her hand, and Georgio could barely keep up.

To her, no one was right. She found herself comparing every man to Hansel and found them all wanting. The hair was not the right shade, the eyes too green or too brown. With each offer, she calmly gave denial. And because they loved her so much, they granted her that pittance. She still had many years to grow and bloom, and eventually she would find a man suiting enough for her.

Of course, fate was not so kind. One dark night, the rain had been pouring down rather viciously. Lightening thrashed the air and the tangent feel of ozone left the little hairs standing stiff across the skin.