HELLO everyone! So, why am I here? Well, my lovely friends and critics, my state is currently under shut down until April 6th, and I'm on Spring Break. I've gotten far enough that I have an idea of where I'm going to go with the story, you're going to see a lot of familiar faces, and yea. I'm working teasing two other fanfiction ideas right now, but as long as there is a published story on my profile that is my main priority. Due to publishing the story two days short of a full month from my original publishing date, I may take longer to update. So, that's everything I have to say. Comment, favorite, follow, and please wash your hands. Love y'all.
Dreadful Destinies
To Rejoice
Chapter 1
In an alley probably too dangerous for a girl to walk down by herself was exactly that. The problem was she was not afraid of the alley, but the alley should be afraid of the girl. Making a quick turn towards a tavern, she ducked inside. Gwenaelle glanced around the dirty establishment before choosing a booth. More than likely the place was probably a nice one when it opened, with sparkly clean floors and red booths that weren't torn. She noted several people at the bar drinking, and several more over at a little table playing what appeared to be a game of cards. What a shame the tavern had all but collapsed, but she had seen worse. A waitress came over, chewing on some gum.
"What can we get, ya?" Gwenaelle leaned back.
"Water." She tapped her fingers on her table.
"Ya got it." Gwenaelle looked around the tavern once more. A television hung on the wall with a blurry vision. She couldn't help but smile. It reminded her too much of what was once her home. An image of Jenat's face crossed over the television. It had been three months since she disappeared, and tips were pouring in, but it was always too late. She always seemed to be one jump ahead, or maybe everyone else was two jumps back. The waitress blocked Gwenaelle's view of the television.
"That girl still missing?" Gwenaelle asked. She knew the answer, everyone knew the answer, but sometimes it was better to act like an idiot. The waitress looked over her shoulder to glance at Jenat's face, before turning back to Gwenaelle.
"Yeah," The waitress said, a strange look consuming her face. "It's funny. I could have sworn I saw her here with Old Man Orian."
Gwenaelle glanced at her curiously. Was it possibly a decent lead?
"Who's Old Man Orian?" Gwenaelle asked. The waitress shoved her notepad in her apron.
"Old Man Orian, comes in here every Thursday." The waitress stopped and looked around the room before landing her eyes on a card game with several old geezers. "That's him there."
In the center, like a king holding court, was a man with few teeth, a balding head, and an angry scowl. It looked like it would only take one good gust of wind to knock him down. Gwenaelle looked closer and saw on the back of his chair a rather expensive looking satchel. Smiling to herself, she approached the group of old men.
"Mind if I give it a go?" She asked in a small and innocent voice. The geezers looked up at her. Several racked their eyes over her, but Gwenaelle knew to play the innocent sheep. She fluttered her eyes at them.
"Get lost lady," one finally piped up from the back. Many grunted and turned away from her, but she could see Old Man Orian sitting there messing with his cards. On his fingers rested some pretty, fat rings.
"Oh, well, that's a shame. I really wanted to learn how to play, and well I thought I brought enough money." Gwenaelle held up the bag with her cash in it. She noticed how they turned and looked at the bag greedily. Gwenaelle turned away from them, and then started talking.
"But, if you don't want me here then I can just-"
"Sit down." Turning back around she came face to face with Old Man Orian as he fluttered the cards into a neat pile. She did as she was commanded, and waited as Old Man Orian gave her and himself cards.
"I'm going to teach you how to play Black-Jack little lady." Gwenaelle had to stop herself from gagging. Gwenaelle watched as the cards were given to her and Old Man Orian told her the rules.
"You know, I really like your bag," Gwenaelle told him sweetly. He grunted in response.
"Why don't we bet our bags, and whatever is inside them? Mine's too heavy with everything I carry and your's looks so nice and small," Gwenaelle noted. She also noted the itch in her fingers, telling her to turn the cards over.
"Sure, I'll bet my bag, but everything has to come with it." The geezer smiled. Several of his comrades chuckled when the girl nodded in agreement. One lite a tobacco pipe, the sweet smell captured her attention briefly.
"Now remember, a lady is someone with class, whereas a woman is someone beneath us, but sometimes they do have spirit. And many of you are meant to be ladies." Gwenaelle looked up at the teacher in confusion. She raised her hand.
"Can't someone be both?" Laughter from her classmates consumed her.
"A spirited lady? What a joke!" Said the boy to her left. Gwenaelle turned to face him, and found herself staring at Jay. They were fourteen, she was thirteen though, having skipped a few grades due to her excellent understanding.
"My mother speaks of a spirit lady, as does my father," Gwenaelle replied. She watched carefully as Jay's face scrunched in confusion.
"Impossible. Women cannot have both!" The teacher exclaimed. "Who? Who was this great spirited lady?"
"Well, the Enchantress, of course," Gwenaelle said confidently. A hush fell on the students as they all turned to look at her. The teacher's face contorted into a rather unpleasant one.
"Out!" She squawked. Gwenaelle blinked in surprise. " Get out!"
Gwenaelle stood from her seat and gathered her things before running out the door. She ducked at the book the teacher threw at her in further moved through the crowded streets of the Isle. Taking a deep breath, she smelled someone smoking a tobacco pipe.
"Heard what happened in class today."
Gwenaelle blinked back to the present. Old Man Orian asked the teenager if she wanted another card. Gwenaelle knew she had to get no more than twenty one. She smiled as she shook her head. The men clucking in laughter. Old Man Orian showed his cards, a vicious smile. Gwenaelle let out a sad sigh, before turning her cards over. The men around her groaned in dissatisfaction.
She left the tavern, two pretty bags swinging by her left hip. Gwenaelle paused briefly at a door that someone had thrown out. It laid on its side, and was once painted a pretty blue. The number 1 was still staying strong, but a 3 which meant to give the name 13 had, with all appearances, fallen off. Gwenaelle stared at the door. She knew the 3 hadn't fallen off, it flew off.
One minute Gwenaelle was sleeping on the docks. She had been woken up by some heavy winds, and decided to burrow herself deeper into her blankets. Gwenaelle had decided to stay on the docks and wait for the shipment to come in. She would be the first one when the goblins came, and she would be the one to get the best of the worst. She wasn't going to be the runt anymore. Gwenaelle was going to become strong. Stronger than Gil. Stronger than Gaston the Third. Stronger than Gaston Jr. Stronger than her own father. Gwenaelle was going to be the strongest one in the litter of Gastons, but for now all she wanted was to be warmer.
Another strong wind came through, and she nestled herself deeper. Gwenaelle had tried so hard to protect herself from the heavy winds, which seemed to be a warning of a tempest, but soon she found her own protection taken away from her. She chased after her blanket as it flew with the wind, twisting and turning down alleyways. Running. Heart pounding. Running. Whistling winds. Running. Tears from the cold streaking down her cheeks. Running. Next thing she knew she was barreling through some trash. She tried to stop herself from crashing into a boundary. Rolling through, she came to a crash.
Gwenaelle stood up and touched her forehead as she looked around. She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. She no longer smelled the salt water from the dock, and she heard several different voices from a nearby tavern. Gwenaelle turned back to where she had rolled from and saw a blue door. The number 13 stood proud, and then the door slammed open once more to the Isle. She had seen the buildings, what few lights on the Isle shined against the murky waters she was once resting around, but Gwenaelle realized too late. The door closed again, and the three nearly took off her head had she not ducked.
"Agatha, I'm back!" Gwenaelle called out. She set the two bags on the table in the small kitchen. Rolling her neck, Gwenaelle looked around the kitchen. A smile crossed her face as the warm glow of the ceiling light softened the room.
There were only a few counters, they rested in the corner. They were of a soft oak, and had white creamy tops. Above them were some wall cabinets in the same wood. An old fridge, that was more than likely stolen from the dump, gave a subtle hum, and the stove, which had seen better days, sat ready for the next dinner. The table which held the bags was old too and all of the chairs around the table didn't match the one next to it. Gwenaelle loved this kitchen, it filled her with a warmth so rarely felt, even in Auradon. Maybe it was because this was the first room she was brought to when she came to Auradon or maybe it was how often bread and jam were made here. Could've been the spices and herbs which were stored in the cabinet. Possibly something else. Something magical.
"Hello, Ellenor!" Two hands tickled her waist. Gwenaelle squealed, before smacking her attacker. Turning around, she came face to face with a boy who had a mess of curly, blonde hair.
"Oh, Axel! You're such a pain!" She hollered.
"Oh, Axel! You devilish handsome pain!" He mocked in a high voice. Gwenaelle narrowed her eyes at him, and a chase would have started if the boy's attention didn't turn to the bags.
"Some pretty high level magic in there, Gwenaelle," Axel remarked. Gwenaelle bit her thumb while turning back to the satchel.
"Do you think it's possible?" She questioned. Axel shrugged his shoulders.
"Only one way to find out." Axel gently pushed her closer to the bag. She allowed her fingers a moment on the brass buckle which had been polished with great care. Embroidery of blue devils and knots followed the flap. The smell, which tickled Gwenaelle's nose, smelled so strongly of the leather similar to the boots her father wore on the Isle. It truly was a beautiful bag.
"Where's Agatha?" Gwenaelle asked. Her stare not wavering from the bag even for a moment.
"I'm here," A voice of calm honey rang through the small hovel of a home. Both teenagers looked up to see a woman, hair so gray and curly she looked as if she was something not of this world. She hid the curls though, behind an old handkerchief.
"Go on," she urged the young girl. Agatha rested both hands on the back of one of the four chairs. Gwenaelle turned to the bag once more, all the detail which she had observed seemed of little interest to her now. Closing her eyes, she scrunched her nose, and pulled the flap over. She opened one eye, and looked inside.
A sigh escaped her when she saw there was nothing more than a bunch of crumpled papers. Gwenaelle sagged her shoulders. She should have known it wasn't going to be that easy. A rush of air, which seemed to have been frozen in the room, was let out. Axel rested his hand on Gwenaelle's shoulder. She gave him a soft smile before leaving for her room. Gwenaelle was almost through the doorway, when she heard Axel ruffling through the papers.
"I don't understand. I sense a strong magic," he mumbled. Gwenaelle rested her hand on the archway, and turned over to look at him.
"Axel, please go to bed," she pleaded. Agatha remained silent, watching her only son trifle with the bag.
"Here!" He called out. "This is what I sensed."
Holding the jewelry up by the broken chain, he showed off a gold locket.
"It's beautiful. Give it to some girl who you want to charm," Gwenaelle groaned. Agatha reached for the necklace from her the pendant, two serpents circled the edge, swiping her thumb on it, she couldn't help, but admired the depth of the marksmanship, even going down to the last scale of the reptiles.
With a great clatter the lights went out, and the three souls were bathed in darkness. Smoke met their nostrils as it seeped from the locket. It blinded them a great deal, until the lights came back on.
"I am the all powerful genie! I grant only three wishes to those who have freed me from my prison of isolation," called a voice. The three looked around. Agatha and Axel stood rigid from the amount of power which overwhelmed them. Gwenaelle seemed to have been frozen with fear. None responded.
"Achoo! Excuse me, when the locket doesn't get cleaned properly it gets dust in it, and no matter how much I clean it dust still finds a way to annoy me," said the voice in a much calmer tone. "Achoo!"
Gwenaelle swung her head to the countertop by the stove. Leaning on the counters with one finger rubbing under her nose stood Jenat.
"à tes souhaits," Gwenaelle muttered.
Gwenaelle looked around the dark alley. Near her foot was an old stuffed elephant, picking it up she ran her hands through it's dirty, matted fur. It's ears, once so mighty and proud, flopped. The trunk was torn in the middle, and the belly had a multitude of stains.
"You found Eddie!" A boy's voice called out. Gwenaelle turned to see the teenager and for a brief moment was reminded of the cherubs in her mother's old tales. He wasn't much older than her, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Gwenaelle froze to her spot as he approached. She was thirteen, and had heard rumors of what would happen to girls who were caught walking alone at night. Being beaten an inch to her death didn't seem particularly charming.
"I'm sorry. I must've scared you. See Eddie, that elephant you're holding, well, he was my first charm. I dreamt the number 13, and a blue door. Later I found this one," he pointed towards the door, "and I knew it was going to be important so I put a charm on Eddie to call me immediately if someone found him where I hid him."
Gwenaelle blinked.
"You don't talk much, do you? That's okay. Mom says I talk enough for a crowd. Come on. I'll heat you up some food back at the house. It's pretty chilly out tonight," he continued. Gwenaelle wondered if she should trust this boy. She didn't know his name, but he was offering her food. Warm food. She had to think back to when she had warm food. A week, maybe a week and a half ago. Someone had arrogantly thrown out some fries at Hades' place.
"Oh, I'm Axel, by the way," he said, as he threw a smile over his shoulder. Gwenaelle hugged the elephant to her chest. Her gut was telling her it was okay, and her gut had yet to steer her wrong.
Even to today, her gut had yet to be wrong. So, when her gut didn't tighten or do one single flip, she whispered one thing.
"Jenat."