A story about the fickleness of love and the volatile winds of uncharted desire...
A satire of the temerarious nature of newborn affection.
A tale of a simple hatter and a heartless wizard.
-Her. Vanilla. Majesty
"Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you,
Did my heart fly at your service."
~ 'The Tempest'
...
1: Inception
He's taken my heart. She knows, and she's come to scold me…
Lady Prudence watched in slight disturbance and perturbation as the disreputable Witch sipped delicately from the glass flute of blood-red champagne, tilting her head back with a content smile that spokes volumes of easy pleasure. In the corner of the chamber, her elderly butler squirmed in discomfort, caught between awe and horror. Taking note, she waved him away with a flutter of her gloved hand, and he did not hesitate to scamper out the open doors, the empty silver tray jangling in his hands.
I wonder if she plans to bring him back…for me.
Sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, bathing the tiled floors in splashes of red, gold, and blue. Dust motes lingered in the air, dappling her long, fluttering eyelashes and emphasizing the pitch-black irises she inherited from her mother.
Probably not…
The Witch was dressed extravagantly for their annual meeting, -a fact that surprised her somewhat-, donning a strapless dusky gown that hugged her full figure so tightly it was near scandalous. Ruby tangles fell down to her slender waist and her frigid blue eyes were grim, yet sparkling underneath the chandelier above them. She snapped her long fingers expertly and the doors slammed shut with a startling bang that made Prudence sit upright in surprise.
"Prudence, you're looking awfully pale today." The Witch mused loudly with a wickedly beautiful grin. Her voice was thick and sweet.
Like her amoureux…her beloved…
Prudence took in a sharp breath, the hours of rehearsal she had spent perfecting her words suddenly seemed useless and in vain. "I...am?" She winced at how unsure she had sounded, how weak. No wonder her lover had left her…
Weak. Yes, you were weak, weren't you…?
"This wouldn't have anything to do with our deal, now would it?" The Witch conjured a small pipe in her hand, drawing in smoke with a heave and breathing it out with a small delighted giggle. She did not seem to notice Prudence's distressed expression...or care.
Looking into those impossibly bottle blue eyes…you melted…
"He…" Prudence cast her face down, her auburn tresses falling to brush her furrowed brows gently. "He left…"
Melted right into his hands…
The Witch let out a mirthless but hearty laugh, pressing a dainty hand to her chest. "Oh, my! He left you? And without warning, too?" She wiped away a tear welling in her right eye, smirking arrogantly as she flicked it away. "I warned you about him, dear…"
What was there to warn about? What was wrong with him? No, what was wrong with her…?
"It wasn't his fault." Prudence snarled suddenly, her chest feeling bound with emotion and constricted with ignominy as she forced out the words. The Witch's mocking tone humiliated her further as she confessed in absolute shame. "It was mine…"
My mistakes couldn't have been so careless, as to drive him away…
"Oh, really?" The Witch rolled her eyes, as if she had heard the very same words far too many times. "Please, do enlighten me."
Prudence's lips thinned and she felt her resolve cracking as her will to fight for him diminished slightly. She let her arm fall to her lap and folded her fingers. "I pushed him too far. Too fast."
So he left…and I feel so…
"Too fast?" The Witch grinned. "That's absolutely rich."
…Alone
"I asked if he would like to…if he would consider…" Prudence's voice became small and meek as her eyes flitted to the ground in unbecoming shame. She heaved in air. "…If he would take my hand in marriage."
...Unloved by the one you love most…
The Witch coughed abruptly, smoke wafting from her parted ruby lips as she stared at Prudence with something akin to shock.
Prudence stared back, eyes hard and jaded.
The Witch blinked, her mouth twitched.
Then she threw her head back and let out a laugh.
Sophie Hatter did not trifle with the trivial matters that were so often discussed in Market Chipping by the local gossips. Today, the town seemed to be simply bursting with news from the lowland manors that had spread quickly, like wildfire.
Sometimes women bustled by the hat shop, idly inspecting the articles she displayed by the windows this morning while chattering to her repeatedly about Lady Prudence's new beau who was, apparently, a native of Kingsbury and, had even more shockingly, refused her hand in holy matrimony.
The topic seemed to be especially popular since she'd had to endure hearing about it from ten different customers. And it was barely afternoon, too!
They told her about how Prudence had withdrawn from the world, starving herself to ease the pain. They spoke of the heartless man that had left her a shell of her former self. They talked about how dashing he must have been to have earned the Lady's fancy….
These were the tidbits of useless information that Sophie refused to let her mind linger on, lest she end up one of the giggling maids who strolled about in town, wasting away their days.
Like Delisse, for example.
"Can you believe the nerve of him, Sophie?" Delisse asked, carelessly placing the blue-ribbon hat she'd been trying on for the past minute back on the faceless mannequin. "Leaving behind Lady Prudence, oh I can just imagine her pain..."
"Hm," Sophie nodded absently. "Were you going to buy that hat?"
"What?" Delisse glanced around, as if forgetting were she was and exactly what the shop sold. "Oh, um. No."
"Oh." Sophie blinked, wanting to tell her to leave but feeling terribly impolite for entertaining the thought. Delisse was a kind-hearted, if a bit ditzy, girl. She didn't deserve that.
"Oh, well. I better go to Cesari's and tell Lettie. You don't suppose she's busy today, do you?" Delisse asked, her lower lip jutting out in thought.
Sophie remembered the rowdy young men that lined the counters, calling for her sister's attentions as they ordered cake and shamelessly piled her with compliments while they were at it.
'Lettie, why don't you come over and serve me?'
'Rascal, I was here first! Don't listen to him, Lettie!'
'You men are barbaric. Obviously, the lady was going to serve me next…'
"Nope, the bakery's not that full during the morning."
"Oh!" Delisse's face brightened as she breezed away, much to Sophie's relief and slight guilt. "Bye, then!"
I'm sorry Lettie.
…
Sophie had a few more minutes of well-deserved silence before the chiming bell rang, signaling the arrival of another potential buyer…or more useless news about the runaway beau of Lady Prudence.
Sophie lifted her head slowly from the book she had been reading, and gasped sharply in spite of herself.
A tall, stately woman sashayed in the room, wearing an inexplicably expensive dark gown that bloomed down in smooth, satin flows, the sharp smell of roses filling the air upon her entrance. The woman had hair far redder than hers, blushing the color of blood as they cascaded down her bare shoulders. A violet fan was in her right hand, tapping against her thigh. Sharp blue eyes took in the room, unimpressed.
"Good morning." Sophie greeted, a shocked lilt to her strained voice. What was such an aristocratic customer doing in her humble little hat shop?
The woman promptly disregarded her, diverting her full attention to the hats, yet not seeming interested enough to buy any. Her mouth parted, the closed, as if debating whether to deign speaking to one as simple and plain as a hatter, or simply go about ignoring her.
'Come for gossip?' Sophie questioned her in her mind, watching the woman stroll about the shop, humming contentedly. The woman tapped a ringed finger on her delicate chin, a smile lifting her ruby lips.
Sophie sat behind the counter and waited, careful not to seem too impatient. Nobles in Market Chipping had impressive and intimidating connections, and she did not want to upset one, knowing fully well that if she did, it would surely come back to her.
The woman turned to her suddenly, her expensive gown gliding over the carpet. "You there. Girl."
Sophie stiffened, put back by the woman's assuming tone. She was a stickler for manners, but she knew anyone would find such a tone slightly offending. "Yes, 'mam?"
"Have you any red velvet hats?" The woman asked, her voice airy yet demanding in it's own way. Yes, she was most definitely a noblewoman.
Sophie knew she didn't. She had sold her last red hat to Relda, an old woman who lived across the street, and hadn't bothered to make a new one since the trending color of the season happened to be lavender and baby blue…
But she knew saying that to any customer would only prompt pesky questions such as 'you didn't even bother to check?' or 'how can you be so sure?'.
And so, Sophie strode to the hidden chest beneath the dusty counter, opening the heavy metal lid and peering inside at the treasure of hats. The woman waited on the other side, tapping her long fingers on the empty table, inspecting the shop with a keen eye.
After a minute of false and fruitless looking, Sophie put herself upright and smiled apologetically at the woman. "It appears not, 'mam."
"Shame." The woman unfurled the fan haughtily.
Sophie hurried out the words, not quite ready to lose her only chance for profit for the day. "If I may ask, 'mam. Why exactly do you want a red hat? The trending colors are…"
"Lavender and baby blue." The woman cut in coolly, her perfect brow arching. "I'm well aware."
"Oh." Sophie could feel heat rise to her cheeks in rushed embarrassment.
"I apologi-"
"Why don't I," The woman cut in, her voice as crisp and brisk as autumn wind, "come back in a few days and give you time to make one? I'll pay you handsomely for your services…"
Sophie blinked, a little more than stunned. A special order, hm? This obviously gold-laden woman would be willing to wait for her, meek and simple Sophie Hatter, to design a hat?
"Nothing too gaudy, but keep the colors bright. Will you do it?"
Sophie stared back at the woman's hard, glittering eyes, feeling her throat close at the offer. She stared at the diamond bib necklace that sparkled at her throat and the darkness of her evening gown. She stared at the quirk of her lips that suggested measures of confidence and self-possession.
Just as she was about to refuse –as she was quite sure she wanted to- her vocal chords twisted and twanged and she found the word rolling off her tongue unwillingly.
"Deal."
The woman turned as her lips twisted into a knowing smile. "Lovely."
Sophie felt for her throat and swallowed tightly. Her chest heaved and fell irregularly as she struggled to explain what had just occurred. What had she said?
The woman shot her a sparkling grin, one that sent a chill down her spine. It was so knowing and bold…
Turning away briefly to wipe away a sheen of moisture on her forehead she gathered her wits to decline the offer again.
A whoosh of air followed and Sophie jerked around, jumping as she was a little more shaken from her loss of control over her own words a few seconds ago.
"Madam…?"
The shop was empty and the woman had gone.
Odd, Sophie thought in her head, her eyes darting to survey the sketchy scene. I didn't even hear the bell. As if she had left by the whims of magic itself…
Hiding is a specialty…
His eyes narrowed into tiny, icy-blue slits, peering through a fog of green as he watched her zoom across the phalanx of charms he had conjured up in the sky, effortlessly dodging his little blasts of magic and pelting his hexes with sparks of her own dark mana.
A specialty most useful, when you've run away so many times…
"Hell." He hissed, his breath coming out in smoky wisps as he drew himself upright, outstretching his fingers as he called forth a guise to cover his person from her watching eyes. A silky thread-like cloak fondled along his palm, invisible to the untrained eye. With a simple swish of his hand, he draped it around himself and sighed grimly.
Running, running, running…
She dipped close to the ground, her black gown spilling in with the darkness of the night sky as she vanished into thin air, leaving behind a cold laugh that sent a current of fresh fright to him.
Running from his past…his mistakes
A torrent of rain poured on the parched land before him at her disappearance and he glided across the dying field, his magnificent blue robe trailing behind him graciously. Water drizzled on his translucent form, mottling the fine fabric of his unseen white tunic and splashing on his pallid cheeks a trail of little, sparkling drops.
…Yet, in the end, they all came to find him…
In the distance, through a thick veil of musky fog, sat a moving castle that creaked out a greeting to him.
Michael stretched under the thick sheets he had wrapped around his tiny body, shivering. Firelight crackled above, playing with the shadows on the ceiling and depicting wicked shapes that sent a shiver down his spine.
A devious chuckle sounded.
Michael lifted the blanket below his chin. "Calcifer, stop."
"Aw, kid." A voice grumbled and Michael shut his eyes as warmth blazed across from him in airy strokes. "You ruin my fun."
"I'm trying to sleep." The boy replied sardonically.
The voice laughed cynically. "Can you take a little constructive criticism? You're failing. Miserably, if I may add."
"You may not."
"Oh, this banter is fun, isn't it?" The voice burbled happily. "Let's keep at it."
"Calcifer. Please, just go to sleep."
"I can't. That blasted Howl still isn't here and I have to keep watch over the castle."
"Maybe he is visiting a friend of his. You know how Howl likes to socialize." There was a tilt to the last word that sent Calcifer into a fit of chuckles.
"Howl doesn't have any friends at Market Chipping, Michael, you poor naïve boy. Lady friends, sure. But not…friends."
"Because that makes so much sense." Michael rolled his eyes, a smile inching down his lips tiredly.
"Besides, fire demons like me are a bundle of energy. I don't quite feel like falling asleep yet."
"Too bad you waste most of yours talking our ears off."
"Ha. Ha."
Michael turned his body to face the owner of the disembodied voice, glaring at the fire demon that sat contentedly on a pile of dark logs, smiling. Calcifer's flames were a magnificent red, and he played with the tips of it, making smoke curl into the air.
The door to the castle slammed open, startling them both. Michael turned and gasped sharply at what he saw. "Howl!"
The wizard strode in unceremoniuosly, his hauntingly beautiful features looking hard and jaded in the dim light that Calcifer provided. His bottle blue eyes were dark and gloomy, specks of gold touching his dulled irises. His jaw was locked and his mouth was curved downwards in melancholia.
"…Master Howl?" Michael asked.
"I'm tired." The wizard declared, tufts of his drenched blonde hair coming across his delicately furrowed brows. "Calcifer, prepare me a hot bath."
"Hmph." The fire demon huffed, put off by the wizard's commanding tone.
Michael watched as Howl slithered across the living room, his movements quick and precise, as if he knew exactly where to go. He dashed up the stairs, his robe falling behind him to reveal his tattered white tunic.
Michael frowned. "What happened, Master?"
Calcifer snorted at the wizard, a grimace painted on his wavering face. His eyes blazed and burned. "You let another one go, didn't you? And you ran away..."
Howl barely spared them a glance, leaving them with mysterious parting words to ponder upon as usual. "Perhaps giving away my heart was the best decision I've made so far, Calcifer..."
A breeze swept the wizard away and Calcifer smirked at a confused Michael. "I told you it was because of a lady friend."
The next chapter is coming sooner than you think...
Review, please. :)
-Her. Vanilla. Majesty