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Twisting
Tales
Odette and her family are cursed… because
of their strange eyesight and wicked stepmother, they all must live out strange
lives filled with magic. In this retelling, a combination of fairy tales take on
an entirely different light. Rated: PG
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
(incomplete)
Chapter One: Odette
The
eldest princess of the kingdom of Ilvonna knelt before her stepmother, her long
blond hair shading her face from the young woman’s gruesome face. Averil was
only two years older than Odette herself, her father having married a woman half
his age and a couple years older than his own daughter. Averil was also very
conceited… to everyone’s eyes but Odette and her siblings’ own, she had
one of the most beautiful faces in the kingdom. Only the princesses themselves
were prettier than she, but to the princesses and prince, Averil was ugly. The
royal family of Ilvonna was cursed to only see the inner beauty, or lack of, in
a person.
“Odette,”
Averil said, and the princess could not help but glance up. Averil was smiling,
that much she could tell through the clear greenish tinted slime that dripped
from her face. Her eyes were a glowing yellow color, her lips always turned up
in a snarl that uncovered sharp unclean canines. Her nose was piggish and
upturned, the large bridge of her nose cutting through her forehead. Biting back
a grimace of disgust, Odette lowered her head again and let the fall of her long
golden hair cover her deep violet eyes, flecked with gold. Her violet eyes
indicated to all who knew magic that she carried a curse of obscured vision.
“Yes,
stepmother?” Odette asked, hating the title almost as much as her stepmother
herself. It was her father’s decree that all of his children refer to Averil
as ‘stepmother’ and no other way. Not even ‘your highness’ would suit
him.
“The
neighboring prince of Spirol has sent word that he demands a royal princess in
return for ending the hundred year feud. After much deliberation, your father
and I have decided that you will be the best choice as you are the oldest and
would be searching for a husband soon anyway.”
Odette’s
eyes flew up and she ignored the hideousness of her stepmother’s face in favor
of the shock she felt. “Spirol? But… after so many years, why give into his
demands now?”
“Because,
after so many years, the young prince has been considering waging war against
us. We feel that sacrificing one princess will not be so awful as endangering
all our people.”
Odette
was speechless. Her eyes darted to her father’s blank face and he nodded at
her. He would do nothing to stop his young wife from sending away his eldest
daughter. At sixteen, she was right that Odette soon would be looking for a
proper suitor… but the prince of Spirol was nothing close to suitable. She had
heard rumors that he was even more beastly than her own stepmother… although
she usually didn’t listen to the gossip of her ladies in waiting, this man
stuck out in her mind from the terror she had seen in the young woman’s face
that had come to her from Spirol. The young woman, named Debrah, had come soon
after the prince’s first fiancée had mysteriously disappeared and the maiden
had refused to talk of her previous days in Spirol. It was only now through many
months of kindness on Odette’s part that Debrah had began to open up. But
still, she would not speak of anything that had transpired at the palace.
“Do
you give your consent, or must we order you there?” Averil’s voice broke
through Odette’s astonishment, and Odette blinked. Regaining her perfect
composure she nodded.
“I
will go.” She really had no other choice… and if she went willingly, then
maybe, if the prince saw that she really wasn’t doing anything for him… then
maybe, he just might let her go back home. It wasn’t her father and stepmother
than she would miss, but rather her kingdom and her siblings.
Averil
smiled. “Good… very good…”
Chapter Two: Damian
Prince
Damian prowled angrily from one side of his bedchamber to the next. His
manservant looked on in dread, fearing for himself with his master’s mood so
sour. Once, he might have worried for the young princess coming to Spirol to
face this irate man, but after three years of concern for himself, he didn’t
have any worry to spare.
“Where…
is… she!?” Damian cried, lashing out
with his fist and shattering the porcelain vase that caught his blow. One of the
jagged edges cut his fist and he held up his hand, staring impassively at the
drips of blood that fell from the wound.
“I…
I don’t know, your highness…” the manservant stuttered, shrinking back in
fear and ignoring his masters injured hand as effectually as Damian himself did.
“Well
find out!” he howled, turning his snarl to his servant.
“Ahh…
ye-yes… master!” the servant cried, his knees shaking as he fled the room
and the livid prince.
Odette
peered out of her carriage window, the curtains gripped tightly in her gloved
hand. She was apprehensive to say the least, but she couldn’t hold in her
feelings of excitement either. She may be traveling to marry a violent prince
she knew nothing about, but she was free of her stepmother and so free of the
many restrictions the woman had placed on her. She doubted such a wild prince
would care so much what she wore or how she did her hair, or how she walked or
even that she read each page in her many books for five minutes before she was
allowed to even look over to the next page. Averil was jealous of her in almost
every way, and even with those limits, she still felt the need to send her away
from Ilvonna the first chance she got.
The
carriage rounded a bend in the road and Odette caught sight of the royal castle
of Spirol. She gasped. The gardens grew wild around the large stone building.
Odette could see where the building had once been elegant, but now after years
of disrepair, it was slowly being reduced to ruins. Brinks lay in piles with
vines growing in tangles around them. A broken carriage lay on its side, the
wood rotting from many months unprotected in the rain. Once perfectly sculpted
pine trees retained only a trace of their original shapes. The best of the stone
sculptures were run through with cracks and the worst lay in pieces around their
bases. The flowers bloomed in clumps in no apparent order, clusters of weeds
intermixed with their brilliant glory.
Drawing
closer, Odette could see that a ragged old man stood on the large veranda, the
white stone grayed from the weather. He fidgeted, his face widening into a large
smile when he saw her carriage draw up to the wide, open gates. As the driver
tugged on the reins and the horses slowed to a stop, he raced down the steps to
greet her. Throwing open the door for her, he poked his head inside the
carriage. Odette squeaked in surprise and drew back.
“Oh
dear…” he said, backing away. “Are you squeamish? Because that will never
do… Not here…”
Odette
shook her head and climbed out the door, ignoring both the old man’s hand and
her drivers, offering assistance. “No. I’m not squeamish. I just didn’t
expect you to do that. You surprised me, that’s all.”
The
old man grinned at her. “There are many things that you’ll never expect
here… but you’ll get used to them. Just like the rest of us who have
remained here.” He turned back towards the large castle doors. “Now come.
Prince Damian is expecting you.”
Odette
fell in step behind him. “What’s your name?” she asked as soon as they
entered the palace, her driver following with her luggage. She looked around;
the high ceiling was painted with scenes of mythology, gods adoring goddess,
cherubs bearing trays of food, creatures half man and half beast wandering among
them. The walls had not escaped as well as the ceilings, out of the reach to
human hands; large scratches adorned the walls, burn marks curled the wallpaper,
and wine stains discolored the walls in random places. Realizing that she was
ignoring the old man and he hadn’t answered, she looked back at him.
“Well?”
“My
name, my lady?” he asked, then smiled. “Melvin. I don’t even think the
prince knows that.”
“It’s
a shame…” Odette said, smiling kindly at him.
Melvin
nodded and they continued on. They passed a gilded mirror and Odette’s eyes
widened. Melvin really wasn’t an old man at all, but a young, handsome one.
Worry lines ran across his forehead, but that was the extent of his advanced
age. Her eyes had again worked their curse. She wondered at what kind of prince
would cause his servants so much grief that they mentally aged so. She began to
doubt her feelings of freedom and they were replaced with greater apprehension.
“M…
master?” Melvin asked, pushing open the door. Odette flinched. What kind of
man asked to be called master?
“So…
you found her… bring her in…” a deep voice growled from inside. Melvin
nodded to her, indicating the door.
Taking
a deep breath, Odette entered and froze. In front of her stood the most gruesome
beast she had ever seen. He was so far gone that she couldn’t even tell he was
once human. His eyes were a deep amber color and flames danced in them, although
there was no fire within the room to reflect. His brow was dark and drawn down
in a scowl. His nose was animal like and he had a snout, his mouth closed for
the moment. His back was hunched, as if there was a great weight on his
shoulders. Huge claws extended from his hands, which were curled into fists.
Black blood dripped from a gash on his right hand, although it had turned a deep
red by the time it splashed to the ground. He wore only pants that hung in
taters from his hips. His chest was firm, but a great scar tore the flesh over
his heart. His midnight black hair was long and layered to his nape; wild like
the prince she had heard stories of. It didn’t occur to her that the horror of
his body extended from the scar around his heart.