Once Upon a Happy Ending: An Anthology of Reimagined Fairy Tales

by Casey Lane

“Save her!” The elderly king’s voice cracked as he spoke. “Is there no way to reverse this abominable curse?”

  The fairy wrung her hands and looked down on the ground. “Pernicia’s magic is too strong. To my knowledge, she is the only living fairy who dabbles in forbidden magic. There is a reason that her kind of magic is banned; the power and intensity are so strong that I cannot reverse it.”

  The queen, upon hearing the fairy’s words, burst into tears again. So heavy was her grief that she fainted in the king’s arms. Servants gasped, and there was a call to carry the queen to her room.

  The baby, perhaps sensing the chaos that had erupted around her, started to cry loudly at the top of her tiny lungs. The nanny was at the cradle in a flash, trying to calm the baby down with a tiny automaton bird.

  “Anastasia,” the king said heavily. “I implore you. You can take my life, just anything that can allow my daughter live. Anything, at any cost.”

  The fairy, Anastasia, spread her hands in despair. “I am sorry that my power…” Suddenly, she stopped. She stared at her fingers, which were inches away from the wand that was sticking out of her pocket.

  “Your Majesty,” she said in a low voice. “There might be a way, but are you willing to risk it?”

  Chapter 1

  “It’s him.”

  Talia checked the energy level on the laser gun; the tiny light on the smooth shell containing the cartridge was glowing green. Good; the last thing she wanted was her gun running out of energy in the middle of the game. She hefted the gun and gripped it high on her firing hand while using her other hand to support most of the pressure.

  Daphne, her best friend, waved a hand in front of her eyes. “Talia! On the left-hand side, forty-five degrees. Isn’t he hot?”

  Talia tore her gaze on the gun and looked up. The ‘him’ was a balding man with a wart on his nose.

  “That guy?” Talia was unable to keep the incredulity from her voice.

  “No, silly! I said on your left-hand side.” Daphne put her hands on Talia’s head and turned her to the other direction. “That blond guy in the black shirt. Don’t you think he looks awfully familiar?”

  This time, Talia could see why Daphne was so excited. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, the well-defined muscles in his forearms showing muscular strength. His profile displayed a strong nose and jaw, and his eyes were crystal blue, clear and luminous. A few seconds later, she looked away, afraid that he might notice her ogling him.

  “I bet he’s Prince Troylus, from Planet Kakoi,” Daphne whispered. “Lia, he’s even better-looking in real life.”

  Talia agreed that this guy, prince or not, was hot. But what was a prince doing here in a small Neru town?

  A gruff voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Move aside, kiddo.”

  It was the bald man, glaring at her like she was a beetle that crawled into his way. He pointed at a distant corner in the back; his left arm was bright, polished, and shiny. A cyborg, like herself.

  Talia flexed her own artificial fingers. They were made of the highest quality titanium in the market, and the sensors were the latest model, allowing her to use them with the ease and comfort of a pure human.

  “I’m competing.”

  “She’s competing.”

  Daphne spoke at the same time as she did. Baldie glanced at Daphne, who was the prettiest girl in the entire arena, and his annoyed expression instantly was replaced by an unpleasant leer.

  “Will those who have signed up for the competition take their position?” A monotonous voice echoed through the intercom. It was an android speaking from a room on the second floor. “As for those of you who are here to watch, keep behind the neon lines, or you will be required to leave.”

  A large blue-and-white robot with red lights winking from his sensors wheeled to the side of the arena. Two girls darted to the back, giggling, their eyes fixed on the dashing Prince Troylus. A couple of children were hustled out of the way by a lanky green humanoid that resembled a grasshopper.

  Talia double-checked the stall number she was assigned to on her ticket and took her place. Baldie glared at her, but when it turned out that Talia was the only being in her stall, he shook his head, muttering that kids shouldn’t be allowed.

  She barely paid him any attention. The minimum age at the Death Shot was fifteen, and Talia would be sixteen in three months. However, thanks to her scrawny figure, she looked younger than she appeared, and she was treated like one too. Aunt Stacie would have a fit if she knew Daphne and Talia took the shuttle to the shooting range. But she desperately wanted to save up so that one day she could travel to the capital, the Core City, and make a name for herself. She always dreamed of escaping the potato farm that she grew up on, but Aunt Stacie wouldn’t even hear of going to the town fair, much less the Core. Sometimes in her dreams, she could see the Core in her mind, with its sleek domes and gleaming spires, and she’d throw herself into practice. Aunt Stacie was strict, but she allowed Talia to practice shooting whenever she wanted, as long as she stayed on the farm.

  “Ten targets. Ten shots. Ten seconds,” the Android said. Talia knew the rules by heart, but it was different when there was money at stake. This wasn’t going to be the same as her practicing with scrounged junk in her makeshift shooting area. This was the real thing.

  Talia got into her stance for maximum stability—her feet planted wide, her spine straight, and her shoulders down. Slowly, she brought the gun to the center of her chest and flipped off the safety lock. She focused on the target—a large metallic plate with ten red dots that winked and flashed. The goal was to take out each dot in the shortest time possible. Although every shooter’s plate was the same, the placements of the dots were changed in every game, so that one couldn’t practice in the Death Shot. One had to rely on assessment and reflexes, which, in Neru, were preferable to test a shooter’s marksmanship.

  The onyx black net screen above the target flashed the countdown in huge white letters.

  Three, two, one…

  FIRE!

  Talia pulled the trigger.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  BANG.

  She didn’t pause to see how the others were doing. She had hit all the dots before the buzz went off, signaling that the ten seconds allocated were up. To decide the winners, the Death Shot calculated their scores by taking in the number of dots extinguished, along with the time that was used. While it wasn’t uncommon for several shooters to extinguish all ten dots, it was very rare that two people would finish at the same time.

  “Hand in your guns,” the Android said. “Calculations will now begin.”

  Talia wiped her forehead with a handkerchief. Perhaps it was a good thing that her palms couldn’t absorb any sweat. She had heard about a few real humans complaining how unfair it was to allow cyborgs in the game, but they were told that if they didn’t have the mentality to deal with a sweating palm, then they could just choose not to compete. Besides, cyborgs also had disadvantages—a rusting joint, a faulty sensor, or an inflexible limb.

  The scores flashed over the net screens. Talia held her breath.

  Identical scores. It couldn’t be.

  And the other person who had the same score was…

  Across a couple of stalls, Prince Troylus raised an eyebrow and winked at her.

  “Guess it’s down to the two of us,” he said.

  Heat radiated through her chest, and she had to tell herself to calm down and focus on the game.

  “According to the circumstances, a rematch shall take place,” the Android said. “Number six and number eighteen, resume your positions. You may check your guns now. If the energy left is insufficient, you may have it replaced.”

  Talia couldn’t believe it. Her first competition, and she already had a good chance at winning. All that practice from day to night had paid off. She looked in Daphne’s direction; her friend was bobbing on tiptoe and mouthing “you can do it.”

  “The rematch
will now begin.”

  New targets were placed in the firing area. Talia slowly raised her laser gun, her eyes fixed on the net screen. As long as she kept calm and focused, she could be grasping that bag of a thousand credits in a few minutes. Ten, nine, eight…

  “Everybody get down! Shake your hips to the music, boom boom…”

  Talia cringed as the onlookers snickered and hooted. Troylus was also trying his best not to laugh; his shoulders shook and his eyes crinkled with mirth.

  Her face burning, Talia realized she had forgotten to hit the mute controls on her commlink. As she fumbled with the buttons and stopped the song from playing on, the Android spoke.

  “According to the rules, participants are not allowed to disrupt the game when it has started. Number six has breached the rules, and is, therefore, disqualified from the game.”

  Chapter 2

  Talia sat on a polished white stool at the bar next to the Death Shot, swirling her straw in a glass of pineapple-orange juice. She couldn’t drink yet, but she didn’t mind. Daphne once pilfered a wine cube from her father’s cabinet and shared it with her, but the taste—for Talia at least—was awful.

  Next time, she vowed that she would have her commlink turned off. She only got it a few days ago, after weeks of begging and whining. If only she had taken the time to go through the entire manual and memorize all the functions, she would have known better. Aunt Stacie couldn’t have picked a better time to call.

  Talia looked around the bar, which was also owned by the Death Shot. Hanging on the walls were several photos depicting the history of the shooting range, right from the year it opened. At that time, people were still using ancient weapons that didn’t need any energy. There was even a bow and arrow on display, the steel tip of the arrowhead gleaming in the room.

  The arrow reminded her of a dream she had recently. She was in a room without windows, and there was a machine in the room. Something sharp—a spindle, to be specific, was attached to the machine. Every time she thought of the spindle, her fingers itched. The itch wouldn’t go away unless she touched the spindle tip.

  “So you’re a fan of the Walla Brothers?”

  Prince Troylus of Kakoi leaned against the counter with an amused grin on his face.

  Talia felt like crawling under a table. Even Daphne liked to tease her about listening to the Walla Brothers—a pop dance group that consisted of one member and four clones, known for their flashy clothes and catchy beats. Sometimes when she was bored, she’d grab an umbrella, pretend it was a microphone, and dance jerkily in the privacy of her bedroom.

  “Seriously, it’s pretty unfair that they kicked you out just because you forgot to turn off the sound.” Troylus slid into an empty stool next to hers. “How did you learn to shoot like that? Are you in a club or something?”

  Talia blinked. “I… not really. I practice by myself.”

  It was his turn to blink. “You don’t even have an instructor?”

  As if she could afford one. “I get my instruction from netsites. They have tons of free information. If one tip doesn’t help me improve, there’s always a lot more to try out.”

  He let out a low whistle. “That’s pretty impressive. If I had known you could become a first-class sharpshooter by learning on your own, I could have saved the credits from hiring private instructors and got a sky bike instead.”

  “But you’re the prince,” she blurted. “You can easily get a sky bike if you want one.”

  “So you know who I am.” Troylus sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I thought I’d have an easier time testing my skills at a remote town on another planet. To be honest, I didn’t expect that I’d meet my match so soon.”

  He grinned, and Talia’s heart skipped a beat. His blue eyes were bright and alluring. She stared at her glass and wondered how she should respond.

  Thank you, Your Highness? Too bland.

  Sometimes you can expect the unexpected. No, that sounded like she was trying too hard to be interesting.

  Hey, I know we’ve just met, but can I get your commlink? Whoa… Daphne would certainly tell her to go with that line.

  A voice like chickens squawking came from Troylus’s pocket. “Incoming alert! His Bossy Majesty is calling! Incoming alert!”

  Troylus looked like he had swallowed a laser gun; Talia tried hard not to laugh.

  “Sorry.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I’ll be right back.”

  He disappeared in the direction of a sliding door, and Talia took a sip from her glass. Troylus was more down-to-earth than she had expected, but still she found herself stressing out when holding a conversation with him. It wasn’t only because he was good-looking and charming; she was naturally quiet and reserved. If she had known Prince Troylus would be at the shooting range, she would have combed through every relevant netsite on making small talk. Daphne would be much better at this… speaking of Daphne, Talia looked around, wondering why it took so long for her friend to return from the loo.

  Her eagle eyes soon found Daphne in a corner, the bald man with a wart on his nose leaning close to her. His cheeks were red, and the glass he held was half-empty. Obviously, he was drunk and trying to make a move on her.

  Talia narrowed her eyes. There were a few gray-skinned humanoids near Daphne, but they were busy squabbling and barely noticed her terrified expression.

  Carefully, Talia extracted her own laser gun, aimed it at Baldie, and pulled the trigger. The glass shattered in his hand, and amber-colored wine splashed over his baggy pants.

  Anger flashed over Baldie’s face as he looked around. Daphne darted away, her shoulders trembling, and hurried over to Talia’s side.

  “Who did it?” Baldie bellowed. “Which coward dared to do this to me?”

  Since Baldie was being so loud, it wasn’t long before a couple of safety guards carrying stunning sabers appeared and marched him away.

  “That was some shooting,” a voice said. Talia almost jumped. She was so concentrated on seeing Baldie being led away that she hadn’t noticed that Troylus had returned.

  “That took guts to pull off,” he said admiringly. “You could have blasted his fingers off and he could have sued you.”

  She felt like an android that was missing a chip in its brain. She was confident in her skills, but what if Baldie had stumbled at the last second or Daphne got in the way? She should have alerted the safety guards instead of acting on her own.

  “She wouldn’t,” Daphne said, quick to defend her friend. “Talia never misses a big target like that.”

  “Talia, is it? A lovely name.” He leaned forward, a coaxing expression on his face. “Say, will you have a rematch with me? I know that the next game doesn’t start until tomorrow, but I could ask them to arrange a private match for us.”

  The way he said ‘private’ made the request sound more intimate than it was. Talia moistened her lips and wondered what she should say. Her heart leaped at the opportunity, but a glance at the time-teller stamped out any desire to accept his offer.

  “Sorry, but I must be going home. My aunt is expecting me, and the shuttle doesn’t run for another two hours.”

  Daphne elbowed her. “She’ll come tomorrow, Your Highness.”

  Troylus looked hopeful. “Truly?”

  Talia had a feeling that Aunt Stacie wouldn’t approve, but this was a chance to hone her sharpshooting skills with an excellent opponent. It didn’t hurt that the opponent happened to be both handsome and charming.

  “Okay.”

  Chapter 3

  Talia returned to the Death Shot the following day for a rematch with Troylus. She won by a teensy fraction of a point, which made the Kakoi prince insist he could beat her in another game. He ended up winning the second game, but Talia was certain that her loss was accidental. It had rained that day and water had leaked into her old boots, which must have affected her stability (or so she thought). And so one game led to another, until several weeks passed and Talia had finally saved enough for a round trip to
the Core.

  “If it weren’t for you,” Talia said, “I could have gone to the Core last week.” After all those games, she had learned to stop worrying about how she should act around him. Now she could even tease him a little.

  “Hey, I should be the one complaining.” Troylus followed her out of the Death Shot. “This is my first interstellar trip to Neru; I could have covered at least ten cities during these weeks.”

  “That’s because you couldn’t accept the fact that a farm girl could outshoot you. Most of the time.”

  He grinned. “In the beginning, I suppose so. But later I couldn’t stay away.” He stopped and pulled her under a tree. “Talia, I got a message this morning. My father wants me to return; I’ve been away too long.”

  “You’re going home.” She hadn’t realized that she didn’t want that to happen so soon.

  “Yes, but I fully plan to come back. The thing is, Talia, I’ve never quite met a girl like you.” He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest. “Promise to comm me every day?”

  Her heart started pounding. Troylus was staring at her, his gaze intense and serious. It was so unlike his usual lighthearted, playful self.

  “Sure.” Her voice came out as a whisper. “I promise. When do you leave?”

  “Tonight, actually. I look forward to beating you when I return.”

  “Not a chance.”

  It was late afternoon when Talia headed home, her mind still filled with images of the prince of Kakoi. He really seemed to like her, even though she was from another planet and came from humble origins. Still, he belonged to a monarchy. She wouldn’t let herself hope for anything more than friendship. He had told her to comm him every day, but it was possible that the correspondence would break off long before he came back to Neru.

  “Shake your hips to the music, boom boom…”

  “Child, where are you?” Aunt Stacie’s voice came over the commlink, shrill and anxious. “I thought you were out with Daphne today!”