The lyrics sung briefly in this fic are from a French medieval song called 'Douce Dame Jolie'. All French translations are courtesy of a random English-French Translator program, because I'm not too good with languages.
This one-shot is an accompaniment to my fic A Place Where No One Lives, which may have sparked a never-ending series of tales concerning my OC, or at least concerning her species. If this story makes no sense to you, go read A Place Where No One Lives, or its sequel.
To explain in brief, the mother and daughter in this story are essentially members of a Mary-Sue 'species'. They can travel to different worlds, and each has a core concept behind them, such as 'the concept of weaving natural fibers into cloth'.
December 12th, 1993
"Ready, little spider?"
Maureen Stanley jumped up and down excitedly. Of course she was ready. She was wearing her red fleece jacket over her white smock dress, the one with bumblebees embroidered on it. Also her favorite pink tights, and sneakers double-knotted on her five-year-old feet.
"Yes, yes, let's go!"
"Shh, Maureen, it's late." Maureen's mother said. "We don't want the neighbors or Daddy to hear us."
Maureen slapped her hand over her mouth. She looked around. The moon wasn't very high up, and there were still a few last traces of light in the western sky. But it was past twilight, and soon it would be very dark. The air was chilly, or at least as chilly as it got during a California winter.
Maureen's mother was a large woman, with an ample stomach and almost disproportionately thin arms and legs. But she stood in the backyard unselfconsciously. She smoothed her shirt over her waist, and cracked her knuckles.
"Take my hand." She said. "Don't let go for anything."
Maureen reached up and grasped her mother's bony hand. "Why are we going through the woods, Mommy? Last time we went through a door."
"I'm going to try and find a place with a forest." Maureen's mother said. "A place with trees and fierce beasts—hopefully spiders. Unless one has a specific place in mind, and a road to travel on, it's best to go from water to water, from woods to woods. You understand?"
Maureen tugged on one of her pigtails. "Yeah, I get it."
"Good." Maureen's mother brushed her ponytail of curly dark hair over her shoulder, and led Maureen out of the Stanley backyard, into the strip of no-man's land that ran behind their house. They immediately took a sharp left, following the patch of trees and wild shrubs that separated the back of their house from another backyard.
The two walked hand in hand for a few minutes, picking their way through the tangle of half-denuded bushes and dead, fallen trees. Maureen's mother began to breathe evenly—she inhaled every second step, and exhaled every fourth step. She stared straight ahead, eyes heedless of the rocky ground, focused on something far away.
The very first time they had done this—which had not been so very long ago—Maureen had asked her mother if they were there yet. Her mother had responded that Maureen wouldn't ever have to ask that. They were concepts, the pair of them. They weren't just human, they were each an idea…and they could go anywhere the concept of what they were existed. They could walk to different worlds the way most people walked to the local drugstore. And they would always know when they crossed.
Maureen felt it now. Between one second and the next, places changed and perspectives shifted. The sky was the same, dusk now faded into proper night. But the trees were bare of leaves, branches stark against the cold air. Snow covered the ground, smothering bushes and logs. And as Maureen looked around, she could not see houses bordering a strip of no-man's land. Instead she saw an endless forest, spilling out in all directions.
A gust of wind blew, and Maureen clutched at her arms. "It's cold!"
"It's a bitter winter here." Maureen's mother said. She raised her head, and sniffed the air.
"I smell meat cooking." She said. "It's a ways away, but it means shelter. Would you like me to carry you, Maureen?"
Maureen shook her head. "I can walk on my own."
The two set off, feet crunching on the unspoiled snow. The whole forest glinted with icicles, and each tree wore a cloak of frost. Small specks of snow began to drift down from the half-clouded sky, and more was blown about by the chill, uncaring wind.
Mother and daughter walked for a time in companionable silence. But the temperature was unpleasant, and by the time lights twinkled at them through the trees, Maureen was shivering nonstop.
"We're almost there." Maureen's mother said, as they passed through a thick cluster of trees.
Both stopped dead at the sight. They'd come to a castle. And not a small one….if it hadn't been so dark, they would have noticed it looming on the horizon. The great edifice of white stone stood tall, golden light spilling from the windows of its many towers.
Maureen felt her mother tug on her arm, and she followed. Her mother had spotted a side entrance—a small curved archway with a wooden door.
"It's locked." Maureen's mother said, testing the handle. "But not very well."
The round woman extracted a small case from the pocket of her trousers, and pulled from it a thin metal bar. She slipped it into the space between the door and frame, working it up and down.
There was a soft creeaaaak, and Maureen's mother pushed inwards on the wood with her shoulder. The door swung open, and the two stepped inside.
They were standing in a vast garden park. The flower plots were bare, and the bushes were wrapped in burlap. But there were torches burning merrily along the stone pathways, and red ribbons wrapped around all of the evergreens. Maureen took her mother's hand again, and the two of them jogged towards the castle, wincing every time the wind blew. As they neared the palace the lights became brighter, the torches along the path more frequent. And Maureen could hear laughter, and music.
"Douce dame jolie, pour dieu ne pensés mie, que nulle ait signorie…"
"What are they singing, Mommy?"
Maureen's mother cocked her head. "That's a French song. An old French song."
"Like French Fries?"
Maureen's mother laughed, despite the cold. "Sort of. French is a language. It's what they speak in the country France. I think this place is France."
"Seur moy fors vous seulement, qu'adès sans tricherie…"
"I don't understand it." Maureen protested.
"People from different places sometimes speak different languages." Maureen's mother said. "Don't worry, little spider. I can speak some French. We shouldn't have too much trouble."
By and by they reached the side of the castle proper, through of a small courtyard with what looked like a vegetable garden. There was a man slumped against a barrel, snoring loudly. He wore breeches and stockings, and big white shirt. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and there was a thick mustache across the upper lip of his ruddy face.
"Is he okay?" Maureen asked.
"Probably drunk." Maureen's mother said, nudging an empty glass bottle with her foot. "He's had too much wine, it made him warm and sleepy despite the cold. I think he stole it, though…he looks like a servant, not a nobleman."
The snow began falling in thicker flakes, and Maureen's mother bundled the two of them towards the door behind the garden.
Maureen breathed a thin sigh of relief as they stepped into the warm, bright room. It was a kitchen—or rather, a small room off from a kitchen. There was a slop bucket standing by the door, and past the fireplace there was another door that opened into what looked like a very big kitchen, full of people moving about and shouting in the strange language.
"Mon dieu!"
Maureen turned her head. There was a woman standing in the corner of the room, next to a half-arranged tea trolley. Her cheeks were rosy and pleasant, but she looked startled, holding one hand over her heart. She was plump—even plumper than Maureen's mother—with white hair pulled into a bun.
There was a smaller noise. Maureen looked to the right. On a rug near the fire sat a boy, a little younger than Maureen. He looked up at Maureen with big eyes, chubby hands clenched.
Maureen's mother put a hand over her heart. "Pardonnez-moi, Madame." She said, facing the white-haired woman.
The woman eyed Maureen and her mother. "Qui êtes-vous?"
Maureen's mother spoke slowly, clearly putting effort in to change the accent of her voice. "Si' vous plait, c'est très froid. J'ai un message pour le maitre du ménage. Pouvez-vous me prendre à lui?"
The woman still looked wary, but she nodded. "Oui."
Maureen's mother patted Maureen on the back. "Peut ma fille se…séjour ici, et d'obtenir chaud?"
The woman's face immediately softened as she looked down at Maureen. "Oui, certainement."
Maureen's mother got down on one knee, and held Maureen's shoulders. "Stay here by the fire and warm up." She whispered. "I'm going to go have a look around."
Maureen nodded. "Okay." She whispered back.
"Don't leave this room. I'll come back for you."
Maureen's mother got up. The round, white-haired woman motioned for Maureen to sit on the rug in front of the fire. Maureen did so, and watched as the woman led Maureen's mother through the door into the bustling kitchen. Maureen held her hands out towards the flickering flames in the fireplace, enjoying the warmth soaking into her chilled limbs.
"Bonjour." The little boy said, from his seat on the rug. His hands were still clenched into fists, but he was smiling at Maureen. There was a gap between two of his teeth.
"Bone-jewer?" Maureen said back, echoing his words.
The boy seemed to like this, and began chattering quickly, his words fast and incomprehensible.
"Um…" Maureen said, feeling frustration and worry rising in her throat. She didn't understand what he was saying!
This didn't seem to bother the boy, though. He kept talking. By and by he'd stop, and look at the fire again, or play with the small wooden horse on the rug beside him. Then he'd resume his speech, without any input from Maureen. Eventually he seemed to get bored. He climbed to his feet, and walked into the kitchen, calling: "Maman? Maman?"
Maureen shrugged, and looked down at the rug she sat on. It was a cheery rug, woven from thick strips of red and yellow cloth. Maureen touched the fabric gently, marveling at the texture.
The poke against the back of her head was sharp, and sudden. Maureen had felt it once or twice before—like someone touching your head, or the inside of your head. But no one was ever behind her. Maureen's mother said it was the place they went to, talking to them, telling them what it was thinking.
And right now it was thinking something BIG.
The wave of air that suddenly blew in from the kitchen didn't startle Maureen. In fact it made perfect sense, given the BIG. But the thundering noise and rumbling under the floorboards that followed was scary. Maureen scrambled to her feet.
Something was happening. The air felt thick. Shouts and cries of distress began to echo from the doorway into the big kitchen. Maureen thought could hear the little boy's loud, fearful crying amidst the screaming. Maureen glanced fearfully towards the door that led out into the snow. She wanted to go outside, but her feet felt so heavy…
Suddenly Maureen was swept up, thin tough arms encircling her. Her mother had appeared, thrown Maureen over her shoulder, and she was running.
"Mommy, what—" They raced out the kitchen door, into the cold. The drunken man was awake and on his knees, bellowing in horror as he clutched his head. His body was shifting, melting—
"Don't look, baby!" Maureen's mother said. "Shut your eyes, don't look!"
Maureen squeezed her eyes shut, fingers clenching in her mother's shirt.
A sudden shockwave vibrated through the ground. It was chasing them, moving towards them. Maureen felt her teeth rattle in her head as the wave sped forward. It was consuming, it was enveloping, and though Maureen's mother ran faster and faster, it was as if the wave were always just behind them. Maureen could hear screaming from inside the castle, human cries of horror giving way to the groans and ululations of deformed mouths. There was a moment where the shockwave seemed to hit a climax, and light flashed so bright that Maureen could see it through her closed lids. She buried her head in her mother's shoulder as the light died. With the backward whoosh of an ocean shore, the wave slowed, then faded.
Maureen cracked an eyelid—they were past the side gate, moving through the woods. The castle had gone dark. The lights had been snuffed, and the white stone walls had taken on a dark, sickly hue.
Maureen's mother slowed to a stop, breathing raggedly. She relaxed her grip, and let Maureen slide off her shoulder to the ground. The air was still frigid, but the wind had died down. Everything was very quiet.
"…what was that?" Maureen asked.
Her mother looked upset, and half-shocked.
"Something horrible." Maureen's mother said. "It started at the front gates, and it swept through the whole castle."
"Magic." Maureen said.
"Indiscriminate magic." Maureen's mother said. "She—it wanted everyone in the palace. It would have gotten us, for being at the wrong place at the wrong time."
"But we were just visiting!" Maureen said. "What about at Disneyland, when Mickey was scary, and you said he wouldn't hurt visitors?"
"This is not like Disneyland, Maureen." Her mother said. Her voice was calm, but very serious.
"This is never like Disneyland. We are not tourists, protected by bars and panes of glass. We walk amongst everything. Whoever, whatever we see, they will see us too. Sometimes we will not know the language, or the customs. Sometimes people will think we wear strange clothes, or want to attack us just because they don't know who we are. You have to be on your guard. "
Thunder rumbled. The clouds in the sky had coalesced, and a small storm was gathering over the dark castle. In the distance, a pinpoint of light appeared—then grew to a glow, moving through the trees.
"Somebody's coming." Maureen said.
"Stay right next to me." Maureen's mother said. She bared her teeth in a grimace. The glow moved closer and closer, growing larger and taking on a shape.
It was a lady—a tall, beautiful woman whose body radiated soft light. She had bright eyes, and long blonde hair that hung thick and lustrous over her shoulders. She wore a long white dress, and as she walked, her feet left footprints that glowed briefly before fading.
She paused as she took in the sight of Maureen and her mother.
"Vous ne sont pas du château." The beautiful woman said.
"…non." Maureen's mother said, after a moment. The two women eyed each other steadily
"Vous êtes autre chose." The lady said.
"Oui." Maureen's mother responded. She looked furious, staring with a wild intensity at the beautiful lady. "Je vous ai vu. Vous n'a pas me voir. Mais j'ai vu ce que vous n'a."
The woman shrugged. Even that gesture was radiant. "Mon entreprise ne vous concernent."
"Putain!" Maureen's mother shouted. Her voice rang loud in the silent night. "De faire cela à un petit garçon—à tous ces gens!"
"Mommy?" Maureen said, clutching her mother's sleeve. "I'm scared."
The beautiful woman looked down at Maureen. "You are Eenglish." She said, eyebrows raised. "Do not fear, ma petit fille. I would not—"
"Hurt a child?" Maureen's mother finished. Her tone was mocking. "Salope, what do you think you just did?"
"Le prince, 'ee eez not dead." The woman said.
"Je pense qu'il souhaite qu'il étaient morts." Maureen's mother said, pronouncing her words very slowly and carefully.
The beautiful woman crossed her arms over her bodice. "J'ai peut être sévère, mais c'est pour la bonne. Je suis un sage enchantress—"
"Vous êtes un putain!"
"Careful." The beautiful woman warned. "Do not anger me. You 'ave seen what I am capable of, oui?"
The outrage on her mother's face, Maureen would never forget.
"I am to say pardonnez-moi, excusez-moi…just to save my own skin?" Maureen's mother hissed.
She drew herself up to her full height, eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"I am Arachnida! I am the thirst in ticks and mites, the sting in spiders and scorpions. I am a better beast than anything you have ever conjured. And I will not bow, not to the likes of you. You did nothing to earn that boy's scorn and refusal, true. But what you did to him earns you my hate. Evil woman!"
The lady's eyes narrowed.
"Eet eez not forever." She said. "'Ee may escape 'is curse. Eef 'ee learns to love, and Eef someone loves 'im een return—"
And how many years will that take, I wonder?" Arachnida sneered. "Bete or garcon, he is mortal. How many years of life imprisoned as a nightmare creature—not even a proper animal—will you condemn him to, simply for being a spoiled brat?"
"'Ee 'as until 'is twenty-first birthday, or the change, eet becomes permanent." The lady said. "A Prince must be wise and good. 'Ee will become so, or never be a Prince again."
Maureen felt something tickle the back of her head. A voice. It wasn't in English…but it wasn't speaking in words, not really. The things it wanted to tell Maureen, it said without words. And it was whispering that this woman, this Enchantress, she was in the right. She had done the right thing.
"We are going." Maureen's mother said. "I assume you are going to let us leave. Unless we've somehow failed a morality test in the last two minutes, and must now become monsters and silverware."
The beautiful lady pressed her lips together. "You may go." She said. "But eet would be best eef you deed not return."
"That's no matter." Maureen's mother sneered. "I already know how this ends."
Arachnida took Maureen's hand, and led her into the woods, away from the softly glowing woman.
They walked through the snowy woods for a time, with only the moon and stars for light. Arachnida walked steadily, eyes sharp even in the dark. Maureen moved more carefully, but trusted her mother to guide her.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, little spider?" Her mother's voice was tired, but gentle.
"How do you know how what ends?"
Arachnida looked down at her daughter.
"I haven't read you many fairytales, have I?" She said. "I imagine you picked a few up in kindergarten, but you can always miss a few."
"I know the one with the three little pigs." Maureen said.
"That's not this one." Arachnida said.
"That was a real fairytale castle?" Maureen's eyes widened.
"That was a real castle, period." Maureen's mother said. "With real people inside it. I'll read you the fairytale, and more stories besides. But know this: in some capacity, every story is true. And you need to understand what that means. A story that might be a fairytale where we live…somewhere else, it's real. The princesses locked in towers aren't just tragic characters, they're real children who've been imprisoned, who can't go to school or play with their friends. It's not just dramatic or interesting. It's also true, and deadly serious. Do you see?"
Maureen shrugged. Her mother smiled.
"This is all a bit abstract for you, being so young." Arachnida said. "You're putting up with it wonderfully. And as you get older things will make more sense."
Get older…Maureen scowled. Almost all the adults in her life told her she was getting to be such a big girl. But Maureen knew that was a lie, because her mother explained so often that Maureen was little, and would need to learn and stretch her brain in order to understand things better. Maureen concentrated.
"…so real people got hurt, back at the castle." Maureen finally said. "Like Miss Cartwright at school, or the toll booth man? Real people like that?"
Arachnida nodded. "Yes. And one of them was a little boy, only a handful of years older than you. He was a nasty little brat…but he didn't deserve what happened to him. That Enchantress is half-mad with power, thinking she can ruin lives to teach good manners."
"This place said the lady was good." Maureen said.
Maureen's mother sucked in a breath of air. "…yes. To this world, she is. But you must find your own way of thinking Maureen. You cannot let a perspective do your thinking for you. To me, what that woman did was terrible. No matter the outcome of her scheme, it was not worth it."
Arachnida shivered.
"Hold my hand tightly." She said.
"Are we walking home?" Maureen asked.
"Yes, I-no. No. You should know Maureen, right now, that the house we live in with Daddy is no more home than that palace was. Home changes. Home is wherever you happen to be right then, any place you can be beside your kin and kind. Where the people you love are…that's home."
Mother and daughter continued waking through the snowy forest. Between one moment and another, they were gone.
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