by A. W. Cross
The young woman felt her jaw drop open as Griselda spoke, but she couldn’t begin to piece it together. A magic being? It just wasn’t possible!
“My father was not magical, at least not in the fairies and dragons’ sense. His magic was natural. He made the most beautiful furniture I’ve ever seen. Each of these horses, and every fiber of their hair was hand carved. The mirrors, the music box, he created every detail. To me, that is magic.”
Griselda smiled, nodding her head. “It is a gift, no doubt about it. However, I think you know as well as I, that there was more to your father than just his unique wood working gift.”
“It’s not possible. I knew my father for nearly twenty years, and I never saw anything ‘magical’ about him in that sense. He was a hardworking farmer, who barely had more than a couple cents to rub together. He loved my mom and I, and when she passed away, he threw himself into his work. He had to, to provide for us.”
Griselda nodded, “That sounds right, but dear Bella, you can’t recall a single moment when things didn’t seem quite right? I’m not saying that’s proof. Over time, we all learned how to live among the humans without being noticed. We had to.”
“No, not ever. The only change I noticed was when my mother died, he became more reclusive. Her death impacted him in ways only one who truly grieves could understand. He used to venture to market every day. He was well known throughout the town, and beloved by all. He didn’t joke as much and stayed near home more often. It was okay though, we only needed each other and did well until he fell ill and passed away a short time ago,” Bella said, arms crossed. She was not about to believe that her father was some magic being, and she had missed it all her life.
The older woman crossed the room and put her hand on Bella’s shoulder. “I understand your reluctance to see the truth, my dear. It can be difficult to comprehend, but he created that carousel so you could see the true nature behind the people in your life. That means, he didn’t want these things to be hidden from you. Possibly because he felt guilt about hiding it from you himself. It is an old magic, which means, no matter what you think, he has been around for a while. Only magical beings can outlive humans. I do not say that to argue with you, only so that you understand that there is a purpose in all of this.”
“That’s fine, say what you must, because it doesn’t matter. I don’t believe it, and I’m leaving,” Bella said with a huff, snatching up the carousel off the bed, and marching past them down the hallway. I can’t listen to this a second more, she thought. Irritated by all of it, wondering just what Griselda hoped to accomplish by pushing her to believe that her father was a magic being.
If that was the truth, that would mean that Bella had inherited some of his magic, and she knew that wasn’t true. She thought for a moment about looking in the carousel mirrors, but the idea so worried her, and made her feel ridiculous at the same time, that she took clutched the item closer, and took off running down the stairs towards the main exit.
“Bella!” Fletcher called after her, his large dragon body, thundering loudly behind her. “Please,” he called to her.
“No! I can’t” she answered, running from him, afraid to look behind her, and afraid to look in the mirrors.
“Whatever you’re running from, the outside won’t protect you.”
She didn’t know why, but tears started to stream down her face, and she felt her heart rate speed up. Something was happening, and she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to hide from it forever.
Without answering, she found herself running outside, searching the castle grounds for the stables where she would get Stan and they would get as far away from here as possible.
I can’t, she thought. I can’t listen to him, or Griselda. It’s too much.
“The stables!” she said thankfully, as she spotted the barn-like structure that wasn’t far off and made her way there. It was nearly as elegant as the castle home, but she could see that just as much care had gone into the stables as the castle itself. “Stan!” she called out, as she ran towards them, making her way inside.
She heard his familiar whinny from the far end of the barn, and feeling a sense of relief wash over her, she made her way to him.
“Bella,” a voice called to her from the dark.
Her heart stopped, and she started trembling slightly. The voice was familiar, but she hadn’t heard it in months.
“Bella, don’t be afraid.” In the dark of the elegantly constructed barn, a soft whispering of smoke appeared, and in its wake, her father stood.
13
“No! You’re dead!” she shouted, wondering if she was seeing things in her mind because of Griselda.
“My darling Bella, my time is short, and I cannot stay here and argue the truth that I am standing before you. There are a great many things I should have told you, when I was alive. I was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if you knew the truth, afraid you wouldn’t be able to conceal it. Afraid that you would reveal yourself to the wrong person.” His voice was kind, compassionate.
Bella took in a deep breath, watching the smoke figure of her father walking towards her, and wondering if she should run, but also feeling the need to cry.
“What do you mean?” she finally said after a long moment. Perhaps she was dreaming, and if that was the case, she didn’t want to spend what little time she had arguing with him. She wanted to know why he chose to reveal himself in her dream, though she had no recollection of sleeping. She could feel the gravel of the rough ground poking through her soft leather boots.
He walked closer, “Bella my dear. You may not believe what I’m going to say, but you must trust me. Trust that nothing I’ve ever told you has ever been a lie, and I won’t start now.”
She remained speechless, wondering if she should trust the form of the older man, with the peppered beard of grays and blacks, and the kind eyes that watched her grow. His hands reached out to her, as they so often had when she’d fallen and needed help. Or when she’d been hurting, and he’d comforted her. The smoke apparition was just as real as all those moments.
“I’m listening father,” she took a calming breath, as if she could sense what he was about to say was going to be too much.
“I need you to hold up the mirrors to me.”
Bella shook her head, fear creeping over her. “I don’t want to.”
“Bella, do as I ask, I don’t have much time.”
In the background, Stan was neighing and whinnying louder and louder.
Hands shaking, she held up the carousel in front of her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look in the reflection.
“Please! Before it’s too late, please look.”
“Father, why are you doing this?”
“Because you need to know the truth my daughter, and you have to know now. Trouble is coming.” He said sternly.
“What does that mean? Trouble is coming?” she asked, wondering what he could possibly mean.
“There’s no time, Bella, the reflection!” reluctantly, she held up the carousel, and wound up the music box. The familiar song filled the air, and when it stopped, the mirrors reflected a brilliant light emanating from her father. A light so bright, it seemed as if it could fill every dark place in the world. Her father, that was the most incredible thing.
It was him, just as it had always been, but upon his head, what appeared to be a large crown that nearly drowned his hair. On each side of his crown, large wings that looked to have been separated from an owl or eagle, and they fluttered lightly. His clothing was aged leather, a set of armor she didn’t recognize, with cross-hatched etchings in the leather.
In his hand, a large scepter that stretched to the sky, it appeared to be made of gold and jewels, and she found it too beautiful to look at. His face, kind, but firm and stern. His large beard flowing like a waterfall from his face down his leather covered body. His kind eye watching her diligently.
“Father?” her voice said, nearly breaking. “What happened to your
other eye? What am I seeing? Who are you?” she asked, not sure what she was seeing, just knowing that the large aged man she saw in the reflection was unlike any man she had ever seen. It was her father, and it wasn’t.
“Dear Bella, that reflection is truth. Today, when I leave, I will return to Valhalla, where I will wait with Frigg, your mother. A goddess, and queen of the realms if there ever was one. I am Odin. Though a little less to be feared than lore makes me out to be. I do not demand spirits, or slain beings to appease my anger. I simply watch over those that battle, and your job, my daughter is to ensure that all who fight, do so fairly.”
Bella stumbled back a bit, in complete disbelief of what she was hearing. Not knowing if she had completely lost her mind, or if she should run from the apparition, and hide. Or if she should allow Fletcher to kill her, to put her out of her misery, because she’d clearly lost every sense of sanity she ever had.
“My mother’s name was not Frigg, it was…” and for the life of her, Bella could not remember her mother’s name. Though she could remember the woman’s glorious pale face, and the halo of red waves that flowed over her shoulders like a halo of angel.
“You do not remember her mortal name, because it was mortal. Just like everything else in the mortal realm, it has faded away. When the time is right, my dear, you will join us in Valhalla, and we will teach the truths about everything you have missed and everything that your magical being cannot embrace right now.”
“When will that be?” she asked, wondering if she would remember any of this when she woke up.
“When the time is right, as of this moment, you are needed here. You are needed by Fletcher, and people you have yet to know. Do not fret my dear, we will wait. We have eternity to spend together. Please look in the reflection as soon as you can. For now, my time has come, and I must leave. I love you, daughter!” The smoky apparition of himself started to fade away.
“No, father! Don’t leave! If you’re real, can you just stay? If you are Odin, or whoever it is you claim to be, why do you not have the power to remain here?” she asked, growing frantic by the moment and not wanting to lose him again.
“Bella, my dear, I have responsibilities. Just as I had to you, when I was alive, now I have responsibilities to the worlds beyond here.” He walked closer, wrapping his cloudlike arms around her shoulders, and even in that, she could feel his warmth.
“Please don’t leave me again,” she started to cry, but even as she heard his soft whispering of,
“I love you,” he was gone.
Bella fell to the ground on her knees, clutching the carousel tighter than she ever had before. Tears streamed down her face, as Stan eventually quieted down, and all that was left was her and the memories of his visit. The fact that she didn’t wake up, when he left, and that she could feel her heart breaking again as if he had died all over, told her she wasn’t dreaming.
“He really was here,” she said brokenly. Wondering how she would bring herself to her feet, how she would go on like normal after this moment. Suddenly, leaving to be near the ocean felt like the last thing she wanted to do. All she really wanted was her father back, and some sense of normalcy.
She also really wanted to know who Odin was in the grand scheme of things, since she’d only come across brief mentions of him in literature, and none of it seemed to be good. What did that make her? The carousel trembling in her hand, she gingerly lifted it up, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to see.
14
“Bella,” a voice startled her from behind, and she nearly dropped the item on the ground.
“Fletcher,” she said, standing to her feet, and turning to face him.
“Are you all right? You look a little shaken?”
She shrugged her shoulders, replaying the conversation with the hazy apparition of her father over and over in her mind. Should she tell Fletcher, or would he think she was crazy?
“I, um, saw my father. Or at least I think I did, it still feels like a dream,” she found herself confessing to him.
“The father who made that carousel for you?”
She nodded.
“Yes, or at least I think,” she replied, less intimidated by his dragon form now that she was struggling with her own knowledge of self. At least Fletcher was easy to understand, dragon and human. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it, but she had at least read enough fairy tales about dragons and could see him walking around in front of her.
Odin, though? God of war? That was all her memories pulled up, it was the only thing she could remember of him. It made her fearful to look in the mirrors to see her own true form.
“Can I ask a question?” he asked, stepping closer to her. The sound of his claws and feet moving over the ground.
“I suppose, though I’m not sure I’d have an answer.”
“Did he tell you who he was?”
She nodded.
“And?” he asked.
“Griselda was right, my father was magic, in a sense. That is, if what I saw was real,” she looked away from him, her eyes searching the end of the barn for the familiar form of Stan who stayed quiet, even though Fletcher had joined them.
“So, what is he? And what are you?”
“Please don’t, I can barely wrap my head around everything as it is,” she said, brushing away his questions.
“Okay, I understand. I still have a hard time accepting who I am. I’m sure you can see that in the damage I’ve caused to my own castle. Accepting myself, like this, has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to face. I was supposed to be a king, eventually. Yet, I’ve been reduced to an angry monster who can’t even pick a flower from his own garden. I can’t hold silverware or take a drink of wine.”
“I can’t take a walk in the woods without breaking down trees or ripping through nature. It’s why I spend a lot of time in the air, it’s the only place I can’t cause destruction,” he said sadly, looking down at the ground. There it was again, the part that made him human.
“That must be really difficult for you,” she said kindly, daring to walk closer to him and lay her hand on his scaled neck. He grunted slightly and shied away from her hand. Only she pressed on, knowing that his time as a dragon, even with Griselda and Charlie, must have been incredibly lonely. Somewhere in the core of his being, he was a man. A human. Humans needed interaction, and other people.
In his eyes, the yellowed eyes of a beast that blinked uncertainly, she saw the deepest root of sadness she'd ever felt in another being.
"You have no idea how hard it's been," he confessed, setting his hind end on the ground, as they locked eyes.
She ventured another step closer to him, again laying her hand on his scaled skin, "Is it okay? If I touch you, I mean?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting him to shy away again. She could sense the hesitation in his demeanor, but he nodded.
Her fingertips ran over the metallic like feel of his scales, which were cool, but smooth under her caress. "You're beautiful you know, I mean, a little intimidating, but nothing I've read in books could have prepared me to see a dragon in real life. As a creature, you're stunning."
He grunted softly, a trace of smoke flaring from his nostrils.
"Well, I can honestly say I've never been told that before," he grinned wide, and his large pearlescent teeth dripped with saliva.
"Maybe don't do that though, it makes me a little fearful that you're going to eat me," she grinned.
"No, I've never taken a human life, and I don't plan on starting now. Especially not with you." He winked at her, and in his odd beastly manner, she felt comforted by his promise. "So, do you plan on telling me the truth about your father?" he asked, and she looked down at the carousel she still held in her hand, the sun calmly setting on the reflection. Would she be able to see the true version of herself, if she glanced in it after nightfall?
"Oh, Fletcher..." she said softly, the image of his human self, uniformed in blue and gold walking around her room upstairs. That
moment felt like a lifetime away for her father's visit had changed everything. Even as she struggled with the reality of it.
"Bella, I'm a dragon in case you haven't noticed, there's nothing you can say that is going to make me shy away. I promise you. You can trust me."
She withdrew her hand, letting their gaze meet once more, before she walked away from him and began pacing.
"I don't even know how to begin, considering, I don't believe it myself." she shook her head as she walked, replaying the conversations over and over in her head.
"Did he tell you who you are?" he asked her again, and she still couldn't bring herself to answer.
"I mean, in a sense, yes... but at the same time no."
Fletcher still sat on his hind end, regal head held high, front legs dug deep into the dirt of the barn. He continued watching her expectantly, and as the moments passed, she felt the pressure to tell him the truth.
"It makes you uncomfortable to tell me what your father said, doesn't it?"
Bella turned her back to him and nodded her head. "All my life, I've escaped my village by reading books. Fairytales with happily ever afters. Stories with made up beings, and magical creatures. Things that I believed to be made up, all this time."
"Like dragons and fairies?" he asked, a smile playing on his dark lips.
Bella nodded her head again, "Like Odin."
If Fletcher had been human, his jaw would have dropped to the ground.
"Odin, The Odin? God of war?"
She nodded her head, "Yes, well according to what I've read, that's not all he's responsible for. Trickery... Poetry... Chaos... Battle... and his sons? Does that mean I have brothers I've never met? and what does that make me? What is the point of my life? I mean?" her words grew more high-pitched and insistent.
