by Jack Heckel
Something snapped in Will as he watched the fairy mocking Princess Gwendolyn. He stood and bellowed, “THAT IS ENOUGH, FAIRY!”
The entire court, and even the fairy herself, shrank back from the intensity of his anger. He pointed a quivering hand at the sprite. “Your casual mockery of Princess Gwendolyn’s suffering and the curse she has been placed under has made clear to my mind one thing: The Princess may have opened the door that allowed you into our fair kingdom, but it is your agency that has caused our suffering.”
The fairy smiled mockingly and seemed prepared to argue, but Will overrode her, saying fiercely, “It was your twisting of a young girl’s love wish that brought about the death of Princess Rosslyn. It was your cruel trickery that then denied King Rupert and Princess Gwendolyn their own chance to be together, and sentenced her to a life of imprisonment. And it was your callous disregard for all, save your own malevolent amusement, that brought the dragon down upon us to terrorize this kingdom. Princess Gwendolyn may have wronged the Crown and those in this room, but you set upon us a never-ending nightmare, and, as your crimes are the greater, justice demands that you be judged first. After all, it isn’t always the man that throws the first punch that starts the fight.”
Will heard Liz groan behind him and realized that he had just quoted Prosper’s town drunk. He swallowed, trying to compose himself. “So, um, let’s begin.”
The fairy’s elfin features clouded with anger, and the sparkling light in her face darkened as she seemed to draw the shadows floating above into herself. “Judge me?” she shouted. “Thou wouldst dare judge me? Thou, who art King only because of the treachery of this vile woman and thine own lies?”
The court rumbled a protest at this attack on their new King’s honor, and the fairy spun on them. “Know, gathered nobles, that thy King, who darest to wear the label ‘dragon slayer,’ did not raise a hand against the beast.”
She spun back to Will and dropped her voice to a hissing whisper that nevertheless carried to every corner of the chapel: “Say that it is not so.”
“It is the truth,” he said in an even voice. This made the crowd mutter. Rupert gave him a warning glance, but Will stood and looked out over the gathering. “The dragon’s death was an accident, but it was a most fortunate accident for this land and its people. I, for one, will accept the providential nature of the beast’s passing with gratitude, and I will measure my small contribution to the creature’s death against any other’s, save, perhaps, my sister’s.”
A heartbeat of collective hesitation passed, and Will knew that his reign as King would either end here or . . .
Someone in the back, that Will would later swear sounded a bit like the Scarlet Scoundrel, shouted, “We’re with you, King William, every man jack of us!” A general roar of approval sounded at this, and the nobles and footmen stood together and began a chant of “Long live the King! Long live King William . . .”
Will let the warm embrace of the crowd wash over him and smiled, then gestured for quiet again. The crowd settled, and his face grew stern once more. “I have been judged, Fairy, and am pleased to say have been reprieved.”
The fairy extended a long glittering finger from beneath the flowing sleeves of the flowered gown to point at Will. “So, dost thou now consider thyself worthy to sit in judgment of me?”
A flash of inspiration came over Will, and he said with a dangerous smile, “No, Fairy, not I.”
But the fairy did not seem to see, or at least did not heed, the warning sign. Instead, she stared hard at him and continued to speak over a rising rumble of voices in the gallery. “If not thee, then who? Sad old Rupert, naughty little Edward, perhaps thy domineering sister, or thy ill-tempered, ill-mannered wench Rapunzel?”
“Be very careful with your next words, Fairy, you tread on dangerous ground,” Will said, gripping the chair arm so tightly that the wood popped under the strain of his anger.
“No, Your Majesty, it is thee that treads upon dangerous ground,” the fairy said, her voice dead and hollow. “Thou dost not know what powers thee trifle with. Knowest now that I canst not be bound by any law of man, and I willst not submit to this mortal tribunal.”
Will smiled grimly. “You are right, Fairy. I do not know the limits of your powers, or how our mortal judgment might be brought to bear against you. Fortunately, I will not be the one to make those decisions.”
He took a moment’s pause to calm his nerves and commit himself fully to the course he’d chosen. Then, quietly but firmly, he said, “No, Fairy, the one who will judge you will be Gwendolyn Mostfair.”
“Gwendolyn Mostfair!” sputtered the fairy in rage.
“Yes, Princess Gwendolyn Mostfair,” he said again, and the word echoed about the chamber. “I appoint you to be this creature’s judge.”
Several gasps came from the crowd. The Princess looked up at him with wide eyes. “I don’t understand.”
Will descended the stairs to her. “You have wronged me, my sister, and this kingdom, and by all rights I should hate you. But I do not. I see now how much you must have suffered under the fairy’s hand, and I see the temptation you must have felt to lash out against those that failed you. I do not justify your actions, but I understand them. I also know that you are the only person here who has managed to impose your will upon the fairy. Consider it part of your penance to me and to this kingdom to devise a means of enforcing our judgment that will keep future generations safe from the fairy’s wrath.”
Gwendolyn studied him for a moment and then nodded.
Will let out a breath of relief and asked, “What would you suggest? Shall we lock her away somewhere?”
Gwendolyn and the fairy stared at each other in mutual hatred, but it was the fairy that dropped her gaze first. Gwen spoke.
“No, Your Majesty, a fairy’s life is not measured in years. Even were one to devise a prison that could stand the test of time, a thousand years of confinement might pass and still she would learn nothing. The only punishment that she will feel, that she will suffer, is one that removes her ability to impose her will on others.”
The fairy smirked. “She speaks nonsense. Thou may keepest me in thy glass cage for a time, but nothing can bind a fairy’s magick.”
Gwendolyn mirrored the fairy’s disdain. “You forget that I already have. To impose this judgment, Your Majesty, we need more fairy gold. Did you keep the dragon’s key?”
Will nodded and gestured for a footman. After a brief conference, the servant sprinted from the room.
For the first time, a flicker of doubt kindled in the fairy’s eyes. Gwendolyn fixed her with an icy smile. “Where is your defiance now, Fairy? Shall I explain to them the cause of your fear?”
“While I was sleeping,” she turned back to Will, “the dragon would talk to me. In those conversations, she explained a great deal about the magic that had entrapped us. As it turns out, a fairy’s magic is fixed by gold spun by that fairy’s hand. It serves as a connection between the mortal world and that of fairy, and it is the one thing that can be used to counter fairy magic.”
There was a gasp of shock from Charming. Will and Liz looked to see him fingering a golden wolf set on a thin chain. Gwen’s eyes narrowed. She strode over to him, snatched the medallion from his hand and studied it carefully. “Where did you get this?” she demanded.
He gently extracted the golden wolf’s head from her fingers and hid it beneath his shirt. “I was given this by a nobleman in the Northern Woods. Though his true name is Lord Adam, he is better known to the people of Royaume as the Beast.”
An astonished buzz rumbled through the gathered court. “You actually met the Beast?” Will asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I lived for several days in the home of Lord Adam. And he told me that when he was younger, he had the misfortune of making a fairy wish, and that this fairy twisted the will of his wish so that he was transforme
d into the horror of our legends. She gave him this golden medallion as a token of her grant.”
The Princess threw back her head and laughed. “This is a rich irony, Your Majesty. This same fairy must have cursed the infamous Beast as well, and also spun this gold medallion. While Edward wore the amulet, her magic had no potency on him. I thought it was the fairy’s curse that had stopped me.”
At that moment, the footman reappeared. Will’s face brightened. “Excellent work.” When he turned back to Gwendolyn, he was holding the dragon’s golden key in one hand and the fairy ball in the other. “Now what?”
She tapped a finger on the glass ball in his hand. “Within this sphere is the golden locket I wore during my imprisonment. We will bind the fairy into a compact between you,” she pointed to the key, “and her,” she said, pointing to the locket. “So long as you ensure that the key is not lost or destroyed, she will be bound to her word.”
Will turned to face the fairy, who was so dark with rage and fear that the light that touched her melted away until there seemed to be nothing left but the silhouette of a winged shadow.
“Binding a fairy is an abomination,” the fairy warned. “If thou dost this today, I warn thee, there will come a day of reckoning, Your Majesty.”
Will’s body stiffened at the threat. With the key, he pointed to the floor in front of him. “Kneel, Fairy.”
She did not move.
“I said kneel.” He thrust the glass orb toward her like a spear.
The fairy, pitch-black in her flower dress, floated slowly across the chapel floor until she stood before him. She glowered with eyes that pulsated an infernal red, and then stiffly dropped to her knees.
Despite his brave words, Will felt sweat on his palms. At his side, the Princess said, “Touch her once with the key.”
He took a deep breath and gently placed the key on the fairy’s right shoulder. She flinched as though burned.
Gwendolyn’s voice cut through the silence that had fallen on the chapel.
“With gold spun from thy hand,
We do make thee this command:
Swear with bonds that none can break,
To abide the vows today thee make.”
The fairy did not answer.
Will lowered the glass sphere so that it lay directly in her gaze. “Make your oath, Fairy.”
She bowed her head low until she was a black stain on the stones of the chapel floor. When she spoke, it was in a voice as cold as frost. “By the stone of the Earth, I swear, by the eternal fires of the Sun, by the North Wind’s might, by Winter’s bite, that I will stand fast to the terms I hear thee make.”
There was a swirling of air and light around the fairy, and with it again the strong smell of nutmeg. Then all was still. The fairy remained unmoved.
Will looked hopefully back at the Princess. “Now what?”
Gwen smiled at him. “There is one last thing needed before you can seal the compact, Your Majesty.”
She took the ball from his hand and threw it to the floor. With a splintering crash, it shattered into a thousand pieces. The light from the globe swirled about and then into the flickering body of the fairy, filling her until she knelt manifest in flesh and blood before them. Gwendolyn bent and plucked out the tiny golden necklace from the shards of glass. She looped it around the fairy’s neck.
“Now you must set the terms of the accord, Your Majesty.”
Will nodded and turned his gaze back to the fairy. He kept the key on her as he spoke. “Fairy, my terms are that you shall leave the boundaries of Royaume, never to return. And you shall not, from this day hence, use your magic or curses, either directly or indirectly, on any person, noble, or common, or any creature, great or small, of this land. You are banished.”
As his final words faded away, the fairy’s eyes went wide. A gust of wind raced up the aisle of the chapel, and swept her rose dress away in a cloud of pink and white blooms. Naked, she grasped at the golden chain around her neck.
The wind became a gale and tore at her illuminated flesh, stripping it away in great plumes of dust. She released the chain and stretched out her hands as the tips of her fingers disintegrated.
Her voice, a bestial shriek, rose above the howl of the wind and then was cut off. “I shall return, and all shall suffer—”
The wind became a gentle spring breeze that swept away with it, in dancing swirls, the motes of her body and the last traces of her telltale scent.
All was silent for a time, eventually the courtiers and footmen rose from their places of refuge among the pews and curtains, then the shocked relief of conversation began to fill the room.
Will turned to the Princess as the particles that had once been the fairy mingled with the dust floating in the light of the sun. “Thank you for your help, Princess Gwendolyn.”
“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” she said, head bowed.
“Sorry for what?” Will asked.
“Sorry that I was blind to the man you were.”
He smiled. “If I had been the man I am today, many things would have been different. I am sorry also for what I did, and what I still must do.”
“It’s okay, Your Majesty,” she said. “Whatever comes next, the fault was mine, not yours, and I . . . I thank you for coming for me.”
“It was my pleasure.” He gave her one last smile, and then his face turned solemn, he climbed the stairs to the throne and once more faced the crowd.
“Princess Gwendolyn,” he began in a low voice, “I have banished the fairy from this kingdom. I now must answer the question of what punishment would best serve justice in your case.” He sighed. “Your crimes have been well documented to us, and, though I believe that you have been punished most cruelly for your part in the death of your sister, you must still answer for all that has happened since your return.”
The Princess smoothed her dress and, taking on the regal mask she wore so well, looked up to Will. “I am ready for your judgment, Your Majesty, and declare myself guilty of all charges.”
“You offer no defense?” he asked.
“None, Your Majesty.”
“Very well,” he said sadly.
Will started to speak and then stopped. He realized that, while the Princess might never be queen, she and the kingdom deserved a moment of dignity. Carefully, he composed in his mind the words she would be required to live by, and he would need to live with. When he was sure of them, he rose and pointed the golden key at her.
“Princess Gwendolyn Mostfair, as your crimes arose principally out of your reckless ambition for high title, so shall your punishment be one of common humility. You are hereby stripped of all possessions and relations and banished from the court. You are”—his voice broke—“to be cast out into the world, friendless, to make your way as you can. To live by the skill of your own hands and the grace of those you meet.”
Gwendolyn’s face paled, but otherwise she did not flinch. Instead, she made a low curtsy, and then stood and held her head high. Will gestured to two footmen. “Take her at once from this place. Give her two sets of clothes from the servants’ quarters, coin in an amount equal to a month’s wages for the lowest maid, and then cast her forth.”
The men fell into line beside her. The faces in the crowd were black against her, and she looked so small and frail. As the men turned to march her out, Will realized that he could not do this thing, not like this. He raised a hand. “Footmen, wait!”
They paused and the nobles whispered among themselves.
Will crooked a finger at his sister. “Liz, may I have a moment?”
She crossed the dais to stand next to him. They whispered together for a short time, and then Liz nodded and stepped to the side, a quizzical expression on her face. Will looked at Gwen, who had turned at his command. Her face was a carefully constructed mask of dignity, but he could see that it
was brittle.
“Gwendolyn Mostfair, I have completed my judgment as King, but William Pickett is not done. It comes to my attention that you may have difficulty in making your way in the world under the King’s judgment. Doubtless, many exaggerated accounts of your deeds will spread beyond these walls. I suspect you will have a hard time finding those willing to take you in.” There was a general murmur from the chapel. “I, for one, will not be accused of putting a lady out into this world unsheltered. So, my sister and I offer you our old home in Prosper. It is a poor place, made even poorer by the dragon’s indelicate touch, but it is yours for as long as you wish it.”
Gwendolyn looked at him in stunned disbelief. The mask broke and tears flowed freely from her eyes and down her pale cheeks. “That is most generous, Your Majesty. I accept.”
“We shall see if you still think the offer generous after you have lived there a time.”
“It is something of my own. For that, Your Majesty, I shall be ever grateful.”
She bowed again, then rose and, flanked by the footmen, strode down the aisle out of the chapel and into the world beyond, like a queen.
The entire court watched her leave and then looked once more to Will, who stared after her, a bemused expression on his face. Will realized with a start that the entire court was staring at him. He straightened his shoulders and said, “Yes, well, if our business is concluded—”
“No, Your Majesty,” came the answer from Charming. Will turned and saw the former Prince steal a quick glance up at Liz, his eyes filled with fear and regret. “Your Majesty, if Gwendolyn Mostfair is to be judged today for her crimes, then I must also be judged.”
Will raised a hand to stop him, but Charming pressed on. “I acknowledge before the entire court that I perpetrated against you a crime most foul. I betrayed you to a violent and dangerous highwayman.”
Someone in the rear of the room shouted, “I HEAR HIS NAME IS THE GREY . . . I MEAN, GREEN TERROR AND HIS MEN ARE THE SILENT SAVAGES!”
Charming looked back for a moment in confusion and then continued. “Yes, well, whatever their name, the treachery was unforgivable, and I beg the King’s judgment.”
