There were no happy heroes.
If there were, then Darling Charming was not one. Perched like a bird in a cage, the warrior princess edged herself in the corner of her barracks. And as just how a bird snapped at anyone who approached them, Darling's anger was plunged like the tip of her sword into anyone who tried to reason with her.
"No," she said. Bitterness hung in her voice like heavy gas. "I am not okay."
"It's been nine years of war, almost ten," the soft, sensible voice of her brother hovered over from the door. "You think any of us are okay, Darling?"
The princess flung her blankets over her shoulders, barricading herself from Dexter. "No."
"Of course not," he continued, matter-of-fact. "But losing a squire is nothing compared to losing a brother.
Darling loosened the clutch of her hands on her blanket, letting the hard fabric fall around her. "Don't bring Daring into this. When he was taken, it was a tragedy. A grievous offence that launched a thousand ships – Ever After's best fleets. When that Raven girl took Ginger from me, it was a mere inconvenience, a childish misconduct that calls for a childish reaction."
"I understand your pain, but Darling, you're the greatest fighter in Ever After! Everyone's in shock about… well, you being in shock!"
"It's not my fault if the army's morale is damaged on my behalf. I'm not a leader, born to raise armies from fire. I'm merely a more-than-capable soldier."
Dexter faltered. "I… I understand." Exasperated, he turned and left. It was no use directing a retort against Darling. His sister used words like her sword, constantly striking people with her remarkable precision. Even the more well-read brother was not the wordsmith Darling was, and he lost debates against Darling more than anyone.
Although even her dearest brother could not breach Darling's hubristic walls of self-importance, there was one who could.
Holly O'Hair.
The princess' auburn hair was always tied into a type of braid that donned the tresses of many warriors, her grey eyes forever sharp and cunning as a hawk circling for prey. However, Holly's demeanor was not built for battle. Instead of a sword, her hand clutched a pen. Instead of a shield, a sheet of parchment. The lady was a writer, who wrote romantic poems with the skill of Sappho or Catullus, and epics that would have rivalled Virgil or Homer.
As the heavy footsteps of Dexter decreased down the hallway, a series of soft strides crescendo-ed in the corridor.
"Darling, I missed you," a voice whispered through the crack in the door.
Well, that certainly roused something within the Charming. Darling stepped off her bed, approaching the door of her barrack and swinging it open. Holly O'Hair stood there – hair in a braid, eyes just as piercing.
Darling looked at her, breathless. "I missed you, too."
Holly felt a nervous flutter in her chest. "Neat," she said. Neat? Was that the best word she could have picked? Darling didn't deserve neat. She stumbled into the room, every bit of her feeling the same aura of airy-ness as she did around Darling. "I'm sure you're sick of people barging in all the time," she continued, biting her lower lip in nervousness.
"I'll never be sick of you, though," Darling closed the door behind them. "You're welcome whenever you like."
"You're too sweet."
"I try."
Holly blushed. Around Darling, blushing seemed to be a common occurrence. "I understand this war is a pain for you, Darling. Ten years away from your brother, and losing Ginger as your second-in-command is obviously a huge distraction."
As painful as it was to hear her problems reiterated once more, Darling smiled at Holly. "You're the only one who even begins to understand."
"Impossible. Are you sure no one else respects our glorious princess and best fighter?"
"Respect, perhaps," Darling's tone was bitter. "But not care. Not in the way you care, at least."
Holly sighed. "You work too hard. Everyone respects you for that, so you motivate them."
Darling arched an eyebrow, letting the writer continue.
"But now you hit a block – mental, physical, whatever. And you lost people's motivation because of that. If we don't get that back, who knows what would happen next in the war." Holly looked upwards to Darling. Her eyes glistened not with pride, but with fear.
Darling looked at Holly, and felt the urge to sweep the princess into her arms, stroke her hands through her hair, and tell her that everything was okay. But everything was not okay. Darling certainly did not feel okay. She was swinging through periods of fatigue and sadness. The incident with Ginger and Raven only pushed her from clinging to the edge to falling into a deep dark pit of insecurity.
The warrior choked back tears. Where did all these sudden emotions come from? Darling coughed, and her mind travelled back to the start of the terrible war. "The Queen of Hearts, crown ruler of Wonderland… she took my brother from me. All I want is him back. I've stopped caring for my throne or my legacies. All my efforts have been to save him, and all I received is a lost squire and the cruel wall of Wonderland, unable to be breached, mocking me. Giving up seems sensible, but I would lose everything."
"Wonderland will pay," Holly said. Her voice was firm, resolute. "But not with your mindset like that! And certainly not with the rest of the army's in that condition."
"What in Andersen are you on about, sweetheart?"
Striding over to the corner of the barrack, Holly picked up Darling's helmet and sword that lay there, gathering dust. "You're not ready to fight. But I am." She wrapped her fingers around the grip of the sword with great care. "When the army sees me fighting, in your gear, they'll think that you regained your spirit. And then they'll fight and we might win."
"What if you get hurt?" Darling's brows knitted in concern.
"Have you ever been hurt in your own armour?"
As serious as the situation was, Darling couldn't help but giggle. "Touché."
Holly let the sword fall to the floor, and walked over to Darling. She reached to clutch the hands of the taller princess. "Don't doubt me, Darling."
"I never once did," Darling beamed. Thoughts of victory and battle swirled in her head, with Holly leading everything. "With you in the guise of me, the walls of Wonderland may be finally breached."
Holly smiled, and it was as if the sun had shined on Ever After once more. "I'll write epics about you," the words left Holly's lips as calmly as a bird took flight. "And romantic poems, too. Sappho has nothing on me."
Even in the dim room, Darling's blush could still be seen.
The auburn-haired scribe leaned up on her toes to cup the edge of Darling's cheeks, and bridged the gap between their lips.
There was a clamour never heard before on the shores of Wonderland. A thousand voices rejoiced, a thousand swords unsheathed and a thousand soldiers rushed to fulfill their duty.
"Our warrior princess has returned!" was a common shout heard that day.
Kitty Cheshire, prized warrior of Wonderland, sat governing the unbreachable wall of Wonderland. A thousand shouts of Darling returning came to her ears, but the kitten doubted that she was here. She had scanned the battalions, and the iconic armour was never seen.
After a while, the white and blue plumage of Darling's helmet came into view. A Cheshire grin crossed Kitty's face. Oh, so now the Charming princess shows herself.
Darling's body of armour did not move with the remarkable grace she once did. She carried the sword like weights, and turned her head under the helmet as if she was trying to escape. Kitty smirked. The knight resembled a struggling fish. It was laughable.
Kitty swung herself down to face the knight. "Well, I take it that you're ready to par?"
"Ready as always," the knight replied in a voice lower than usual.
The knight's hits were slow and steady, and she seemed to tumble over far too often. Kitty couldn't help but laugh at every clash of the swords. Only a few pars in, and the cat already spotted a weak point.
Kitty drove the white blade under the breastplate. Loose. Did the knight, so full of glory and honour mere days ago, suddenly become a skinny, pathetic wimp? The sword hit flesh, and the knight immediately crumpled.
"So weak, so pathetic," she said. "Wonderland might be crazy, but you're just a joke."
The knight was on the ground, squirming in pain. Yet, she still attempted to raise her sword and strike something. Kitty kicked the armoured body in the stomach, and she squirmed even more.
In the body of armour, Holly felt her vision disappearing. Her arms were stuck in the gauntlets. She couldn't even look upwards – her head was weighed down by the helmet. She was positive that at least one of her legs was injured. The princess coughed. Bile and other junk were lodged in her throat. Her sight blurred, and she felt something distinctly sticky and metallic pooling at her chest.
Another kick from the Cheshire kitten, another cough of blood.
Holly O'Hair bought her eyes up towards the sky. The azure blue seemed cruel and mocking.
She fell.
Over Wonderland, the sky was blue. Soft, cotton-candy clouds hovered. But, in a recently dug trench, the Ever After soldiers' spirits were not with the weather.
Holly's body had been deftly retrieved by Cerise Hood, but their scribe was long gone before anyone reached her. The corpse was laid down on a mound of soil, and her body covered in purple blossoms.
Darling was the last to hear and the first to sprint to the dug out trench. Her face striken with grief, she cried out to the crowd, "Why did you let me do this to her? Why didn't you guys stop me from stopping her?"
She trusted Holly, with her life, with her secrets, with anything. If only if she hadn't been so open with her trust. If only had she been firmer with love this once.
Dexter approached her in the attempt of comfort. Darling grimaced. Her brother wouldn't even be remotely close to understanding.
"All heroes paths are rooted in unhappiness," he said. His voice was calm and scholarly.
Darling scowled.
Did Persephone not weep for her mother during the winter months and for her throne during the summer? Did Queen Dido not fall down on the soft Carthagian sand, cursing in pain for yet another love lost? Even Atlanta, the swift-footed, would have been in tears when she traded freedom for marriage. A thousand examples of other heroines swirled in Darling's head, but blinking back tears, she pushed them all away.
"Why did my unhappiness have to be Holly's death?"
Dexter sighed. He looked at his sister. She went to stand over at the foot of the altar, hand curled up into a fist.
"I wish you died," she said. Tears hung on her face. Darling placed a palm over the hand of Holly's body. "All of you instead of Holly. She didn't deserve this."
A silence fell over the crowd.
"Perhaps it might be best to return home," Dexter mused. This was too much for his sister.
"I didn't come here to lose my love and my brother," Darling dug her head out of the trench, glazing over at the formidable wall. "If we don't breach Wonderland, then what purpose do I even have anymore?"
An obvious answer hung in the knight's head. It was risky, dangerous, ridiculous. But Darling didn't care about imperilising herself. After the death of her friend, nothing scared her.
"My name is Darling Charming. You killed my girlfriend. Prepare to die."
Darling stood in the middle of the battlefield, empty of everything but the knight and the Cheshire kitten.
"You're alive?" purred Kitty. "We all saw you fall. But in Wonderland, anything can happen, can't it?"
"Enough talk," Darling drew her sword. "I'm not here to exchange pleasantries."
Kitty arched an eyebrow. "Oh, what a shame. Seems as if the white knight has finally gained an edge."
The knight glowered in fury. "Shut up. I'm here to avenge the girl I love. So we're fighting, and that's final."
Kitty grinned, and faded from view. "In that case, catch me if you can, Charming."
"Too easy," Darling said.
It was a lot less eventful that scholars and writers of epics would later make it appear. Darling's eyes had simply traced the motions of Kitty when she appeared and reappeared. The knight, having taken a calculated guess, jabbed her sword in a wild direction, where it caught perfectly in the Cheshire's throat.
With a pout resting on her lips, Darling drew out the sword.
Kitty fell. Not in the awkward fumble of Holly, not in the dramatic way other soldiers perished. She fell with a smirk and a laugh, as if this was all a huge joke. She clutched her neck to staunch the blood, but still so too casually that it looked like she was merely scratching an itch.
"You know," the cat said as she lay dying. "You're destined to perish in this war as well."
"I don't care," an animalistic snarl came roaring from Darling's throat. As long as she had justice for Holly, Darling was fine.
She thrust her sword through Kitty once more, pinning the cat to the ground. Darling let out a wolf-whistle, and her horse came galloping through the battlefield towards her. Darling had covered her horse with violets, the flowers of Sapphic love, as commemoration for Holly. It was a beautiful white gelding that trotted with a noble elegance.
Darling strung the body of the vanquished on the steed, and hopped on her horse herself. Thrice she rode around the walls of the kingdom, dragging Kitty in the dust. She was starting to feel a diabolical sense of power.
That sense was overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, that halfway through the third round, the knight collapsed, tumbling off her horse.
She hit the cold hard ground. Jolting upwards, Darling felt empty. Her glaze travelled over the field, to the shock-stricken faces of her own warriors, to the tear-strained ones of the Wonderlanders. Finally, her glaze skipped over to her own bloody hands and to the soldier whose body lay dormant in the dirt.
Darling looked at the warrior who killed her love. Was this what Holly would have wanted, for her knight to have gone mad with vengeance? Darling grasped the bronze shield of hers in her free arm, and glazed as herself. No longer was she the brave, noble fighter. No longer articulated or graceful or dignified. She gasped for air, falling down to the ground, sobbing out laments and regrets.
In a war for a brother and a battle for a lover, she lost everything.
No happy heroes, indeed.