Archive of Our Own

That day started the same way they all did.

You woke up. The painted stars on the ceiling of the tower, the only sky you had ever lain under, blinked down at you. Loneliness, your most constant companion, padded over from where it curled up in the corner of your bed. You let yourself languish with it, just for a moment. The you hopped out of bed. Enough melodrama. It was time to paint.

You completed your morning ablutions, but didn’t bother to change out of your nightgown. Not while last night’s work sat on the easel, waiting to be finished. Your mother would hate this painting – yet another depiction of the floating lights you expected to reappear in three days’ time. Though your mother could not explain them, and they weren’t mentioned in any books you had read, they appeared every year on the same night. They served as the subject of most of your paintings. Though there was much you had not seen, you knew the floating lights were most certainly the most beautiful things in the world, and it comforted you that you could see them from your tower, when so much of the rest of the world remained out of reach.

It would have been better to experience them up close, to travel to whatever land they came from, but you mother insisted you remain safe in the tower, especially on that day. You did not argue. Mother could be generous and gracious, but her moods were mercurial. You did not wish to suffer whatever punishment she saw fit for disobedience.

Your stomach interrupted your work. You took a break for lunch, which consisted of bread, jam, and the last of your dried meats. Mother would return in a week with more food. Until then you would have to be more careful how you rationed.

You cleaned, then returned to your work. You had made great progress, and you expected to be finished painting that evening. You pursed your lips in disappointment. You were running out of canvas. Your mother had promised to bring more with her next visit, but that left days with nothing to do, even assuming she kept her word. You had read every book in your possession a dozen times. You could polish the floors, you supposed. Clean the grout. You wondered what Josephine, the heroine of your favorite novel, would have done in your situation. A giggle bubbled up at the thought of her of scrubbing pans or darning socks. Josephine’s mother never would have asked her to stay in the tower to begin with. Josephine was born to be an explorer, one who took risks and had adventurers. You simply read about them.

You had just moved on to the foreground of your painting when you heard a sound coming from outside the window. A groan, then the clang of metal lodging into the tower wall. It could not have been your mother, who would have announced herself, and who always expected you to heave her up the side of the tower yourself. Which meant the day you had always dreaded had come to pass. Your paintbrush clattered to the floor.

Someone had found you.

You looked around the tower for something, anything you could use as a weapon. A pan would have to do. Boots thumped against the stone floor. A stranger had climbed through the window. A stranger was in the tower. But they hadn’t noticed you yet. They were distracted by the scenery below, giving you one opportunity to knock them out.

One opportunity was enough. The stranger crumbled to the stone floor. You kicked them over onto their back, allowing you to see them properly.

A girl, maybe a few years older than you. Her ink black hair was cropped short, one side longer than the other. Your hand drifted to your own hair, which would have fallen the length of the tower to the ground if you tossed it out the window.

The girl, or perhaps woman, wore a shirt and waistcoat, but no jacket, and the sleeves of her shirt were rolled up high enough to reveal tattoos that crawled up her wrists, to the back of her muscle-corded forearms. Tattoos painted the side of her exposed neck. You imagined that the planes of flesh that were not visible to you were similarly inked. Even her face was tattooed with the number six, though you could not ascertain the meaning.

It was a nice face, you supposed. You didn’t have much point of reference, it being the third you’d ever seen in person (the first two being your mother’s and your own). But you had seen sketches in books, and her strong shoulders and long eyelashes seemed superbly paintable.

Her eyelids began fluttering, and her head turned back this and that way. Her fingers twitched, reaching for something. A weapon, perhaps? Enough daydreaming – you needed to move quickly.

When Vi came to a strange figure loomed over her, more shadow than anything else.

Her head ached like it had been cleaved straight open. Had the palace guard found her? She moved to stand, and found her hands were bound behind her. The cord dug into her wrists as she yanked at the rope again, and again. She would certainly escape – she just needed the room to stop spinning first.

“Who are you?” you asked.

She could have asked the same. Instead of answering, she screwed her eyes shut and opened them again. The speckles of dim candlelight danced in her vision. Vi had been in worse spots, but not by much.

Three months planning the heist. A flawless entry. Would have been a flawless exit too, if it hadn’t been for that maid. But she’d escaped. She picked her cuffs, jumped out the moving carriage. Lost the guards, found an abandoned tower to hide in. At least, she thought it was abandoned. She scaled the side, swung one leg over the sill. Then the world went dark.

All that work, and for what?

“Who are you?” you asked again. “Why are you here?”

She took you in then. Not a palace guard, like she had assumed. Instead of a uniform, you wore a simple white nightgown. Cotton, cap sleeved, floor length. You must have been cold, with all the windows open, but you had a stubborn glint in your eye — and so much hair.

Long, impossible lengths of hair. They tumbled down your back and piled on the floor in heaps.  Someone could go lifetimes without growing hair that long.

Maybe you were magic. Or, more likely, she had a brain injury.

You grew frustrated with her silence. “Hey!” You grabbed her by the collar. Vi lunged as far forward as her bindings would allow, and you squeaked as you scurried back out of her reach. You tripped over your own skirt and tumbled to the floor. Vi’s head throbbed in retribution for the sudden movement, but her chest hummed with satisfaction.

You groped for the bag beside you – her bag – and pulled out a dagger. Fear wrapped its fingers around Vi’s throat. You held the knife out in front of you, pointed right at her. Light danced off its surface as your hands shook.

Shit. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m Vi. I was just looking for somewhere to stay the night, and this place looked empty.”

You frowned, eyes searching hers like maybe deception would be visible in them. The knife still pointed directly at her.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

You didn’t answer, grip on the handle tight enough your knuckles were bloodless.

She offered a facsimile of a smile. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Who are you?” you asked again.

Vi dug her nails into her palm to keep her voice level. “I told you, my name is Vi.”

“But why do you have these?” You withdrew a second dagger, tossing it to the ground with a clang. The sound rattled through her skull. Before she could say anything, you removed a third object. Thunder cracked through her. “What’s this?” you asked.

Calling it a necklace would have been a disservice. Thick plates of gold heavily laden with deep red jewels. Rubies, or garnets maybe. It was gaudy as all hell, but Vi wasn’t planning on wearing it.

She jerked forward uselessly, all pretenses forgotten. “That’s mine.”

You pursed your lips. “What’s this on it?” Your thumb caressed the back of the pendant.

Her angle of viewing made it impossible for her to see what you were gesturing at, but she knew every centimeter of that necklace. “The royal crest,” she said.

Your eyes went wide. “You’re a princess?”

Vi laughed before she could stop herself.

Your expression hardened. “You’re a thief.”

“Well, the king and queen steal plenty from us, so it only seemed fair I get something back from the parasites. It’s a tough world out there, princess.”

The air crackled with discontent. You jutted your chin out. “I know.”

“Do you? When’s the last time you’ve been outside?” Just a guess, but a good one, it seemed like, because a shadow fell over your expression. You didn’t speak, instead readjusted your grip on the dagger’s handle. Vi had to laugh. “Shit, have you been outside?”

You didn’t answer.

“Never?”

Your expression twisted with embarrassment. “I know all about the outside world. Mother taught me. The people are vicious, and violent, and selfish.”

She couldn’t disagree with that. But something in your voice made her think you wanted her to. Maybe that was her out. “Not everybody.”

You scoffed, but she caught a whisper of interest in your eyes. “I suppose you’re meant to be the exception?”

“No,” she started, and your expression crumpled. “But you can be, if you let me go. Just untie me, give me back my things, and I’ll be on my way.”

You hesitated a moment, lowering the knife to your side. “Where will you go?”

“You won’t see me again, I promise.”

You looked almost… disappointed at that. “Will you go see the floating lights?”

The question bewildered her. “What?”

You huffed. “Wait here,” you said, like she had another option, and then you disappeared somewhere behind her. The necklace disappeared with you. When you returned, you held a painting.

A beautiful painting, actually, of lanterns climbing up into the night sky. It was so lovingly rendered she half expected the lights to drift up off the page.

And she understood. The lantern festival was only a few days away, but she did not plan on attending. She had not since she was a child. “No, I’m not going to see the – the floating lights.”

A moment of despair. Then your face lit up, and she noticed, against her will, that you were actually rather pretty. “But you know where they are.” She frowned, but your smile only grew more resplendent.  “You could take me!”

Vi laughed at that, but it didn’t douse your newfound confidence. “Why would I do that?”

You stood taller then, shoulders back. “Because then I’ll let you go.”

“You’re going to let me go either way.”

You ignored the threat in her voice. “And I’ll give you back your necklace.”

That gave her pause. The room had stopped spinning, the ache at the back of her head had dulled. It would be easy enough to untie herself and to overpower you. Finding the necklace might be more difficult, but she knew she could make you talk. You were skittish and sheltered. She might not even need to lay a hand on you before you squealed. But something twisted in her stomach at the thought of taking it that far.

Maybe it would be better to just play along. You’d probably want to return to the safety of your tower before you made the edge of the clearing.

She sighed before answering. “Alright, fuck it, let’s go see these floating lights.”

You had expected her to say no. To cut her losses, abandon the necklace and go on her way. It must have been more valuable than you thought.

Because she said yes. So, you gathered some of your things, donned your sturdiest dress, and followed her out of the tower.

You loved everything about being outside. The mosquitos, the gravel cutting into your feet. Any sacrifice would have been worth being out. You had seen the forest a thousand times – a million, maybe, but always from above. Now, the trees towered over you, sheltering you from the worst of the rain. You had been transported to another world, one more beautiful and magical than you had ever dreamed. The air even smelled sweeter out here. You couldn’t believe Mother would keep all this from you.

Mother.

You faltered to a stop. Vi focused straight ahead. This was not the first time you had hesitated. You had insisted on turning back before you even made it through the hedge. And again, at the creek. And again, when you reached the trail. The first few times she had been sympathetic. It seemed her sympathy had worn off.

“Keep going,” she said.

You huffed, but took extra-large steps forward to make up for the distance between the two of you.

It would be alright. If all went well, Mother would never know. You would be home before her, and you would spend the rest of your life in the tower. You swallowed down the bitterness you felt at the thought. It would be different, then – you would have memories of the outside world to keep you company. Subjects for your paintings, context for the books you read.

Vi took a left at the next fork in the road.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

Vi ignored the question.

“Are we going to stop soon?” You aimed to keep your tone casual, like you were just asking out of curiosity, and not impending exhaustion. This wonderous world was beautiful – and large. You had been walking for hours, and there seemed to be no sign of stopping. She turned back to look at you, and her gaze dropped to your bare feet.

“We can rest up there,” she said, pointing ahead. You bit back a smile. You were starting to understand Vi, and you knew being too effusive in your gratitude would leave her mumbling and groaning.

So instead, you murmured a simple thank you and followed her to the clearing. There you tossed your bag onto the ground and quickly joined it. A thought crossed your mind – you would need to launder your dress and bathe before Mother returned, to hide the evidence. No use worrying about that now. You let yourself roll back onto the grass – arms spread out like you could embrace the whole forest around you.

Vi stayed on her feet. She wore a frown, as she so often did. “We need to find you some shoes.”

You looked down at your bare toes. They looked filthy, and they ached like they never had before. Shoes would be nice.

“I know a place we might find some. There’s a market not far from here.”

A market? “Really? That sounds–”

“Try to temper your excitement, princess.” Vi’s tone admonished, but the side of her mouth quirked up.

You turned your focus instead on the forest floor beneath you, trying to memorize each detail, cataloguing them all for those lonely nights ahead. The grass, damp from the rain that had been misting on and off all evening, lay so plush and forgiving compared to the stone of the tower. And the color! Such a vibrant green. Emerald, even.

You would have to paint this scene. You would start by washing the canvas in those greens. Then some cerulean, for the sky, and marigold and burnt umber for the soon to be setting sun.

And then there was Vi. She would be your subject, fit to be the heroine of one of your novels. You could see flashes of it – her inky-black hair, streaked with fuchsia. The way her shirt tugged across the taut planes of her back.

Vi cleared her throat, and you looked up. The setting sun lit her from behind, so you couldn’t quite make out her features. You threw up a hand to shade your eyes.

In her outstretched palm sat a flower. A daisy. Something warmed in your chest. This would be the moment that you painted. In the painting, her face wouldn’t be shrouded in shadow. Instead, the slopes of her cheeks would be kissed by golden sunlight.

“Have you seen these before?” she asked.

You had seen flowers before. You used them to make paint, Mother brought them for you. But the slight hitch in her voice made you say, “No, I haven’t. Thank you, Vi, it’s beautiful.”

She tossed it in front of you, suddenly, like it had burned her. You plucked it up to inspect it closer, running one finger along its petals.

Vi cleared her throat again. Could she be falling ill? Your eyes flickered back up to hers. “We’ll leave soon, be ready,” she said.

You had to leave sooner than expected. The rain returned. Not a light mist, like before. It came down in sheets. Less than a minute and you were soaked through to your chemise.

“There’s going to be a storm. We need to find shelter,” Vi shouted over the pelting. You agreed.

She took your hands, guiding you to your feet. “I know a place near here.”

She took you to a worn-down cottage. The windows were shuttered, the roof overgrown with moss. A sign, heavily weathered, stood watch out front, sagging with age and aching to be relieved. You could just make out the word ‘orphanage’.

She walked past the sign without looking. “Come on, we need to get dry.”

You agreed with that. But when you reached for the handle, it was locked. “Should we find somewhere else?” you asked.

Instead of replying, Vi produced out a set of pins. Excitement crept up your spine. A lock pick, like the character Josephine carried. She knelt and fiddled with the lock. It clicked, and the door swung open.

A barren room stood before you. Others had clearly stopped here since the orphanage closed, and taken everything they could carry. Vi passed through the threshold without hesitation. You followed, eager to dry off.

When the door creaked shut behind you the room plunged into darkness, with only the slivers of light slipping through the slats nailed to the windows to guide you. You could make out the rough shape of Vi, but nothing else. Silence fell between you like a plane of glass.

Eventually, you shattered it. “How did you know about this place?”

Vi scoffed. “How do you think?” Your cheeks went hot at the derision in her tone.

Fair enough. You fell back into silence. The rain battered the rooftop. Vi stretched out, cat-like, before lying supine on the wooden floor.

A bolt of lightning struck ground somewhere outside, lighting up the room for a heartbeat. You gasped, hands to your mouth before you could help it. Vi laughed, and you didn’t mind because it meant, for a minute, she was not thinking of whatever sour memories being in the cottage elicited.

You went to her, almost tripping over her leg. You could just make the silhouette of her out, flat on the floor. If she was as cold as you, she wasn’t showing it.

“I was an orphan too,” you said, finally.

Vi said nothing, but you could have sworn you saw her head turn slightly.

“My mother found me abandoned as a baby,” you said, wrapping a lock of hair around your thumb, then releasing it.

Vi did not hesitate. “Then she locked you up in a tower for twenty years. A beautiful story.”

“She didn’t – what’s your story then?”

She murmured something indistinct. The rain pounded against the roof, making it impossible to hear. You sunk down to your knees to be closer, floorboards creaking under your weight.

“What?” you asked.

She raised her mouth to your ear. “I said, maybe another time.”

Another time. It was better than nothing. “How much longer will the storm last?”

Vi laid her head back down on the floor. “How would I know?”

You offered a wry smile. “You seem to know everything.”

She laughed at that. “Hopefully soon, then we can get you to your lights.” You beamed at the thought. “And get me my necklace,” she added.

The darkness hid the way your expression fell.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and drew in your legs. The rain had soaked you through to the skin. You considered stripping down, but you would have rather frozen to death than do that in front of company. Vi propped herself up on one elbow. “You cold?”

You nodded.

She reached out blindly, finally catching your wrist. “Come here.”

You listened. You laid down next to her, ignoring the unforgiving floor beneath you. A blanket would have been nice, but as she wrapped her arms around you, you found it difficult to complain.

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” she whispered.

You weren’t sure what ideas those would be, but you kept that to yourself.

Eventually, the sound of rain lulled you to sleep.

Vi woke to the sound of birds chirping. They had returned in the storm’s wake. She untangled herself from you before nudging you conscious.

Your eyes fluttered for a moment as you processed where you were, and what had happened the day before. She waited for another round of panic and guilt to overtake you, but it didn’t. Good, she thought. She couldn’t take any more of that.

She stood, dusting off imagined dirt from her trousers. “Let’s go.” She resisted the urge to reach out a hand to help you to your feet.

Instead, you stumbled up on your own, still half asleep. “Go where?”

“To get you some shoes.”

The market was small. Hardly overwhelming. Maybe fifteen stalls spread out along the clearing. But you cowered like a cornered animal. Eyes darting from place to place, fingers twitching. She half expected you to dart back into the woods. Instead, you hovered near her, your hand ghosting over her elbow, not quite touching her.

She ignored you. The shoes would require most of her coin, and part of her bristled at the thought of the expense. It would be fine; she would make it back a hundred-fold when she sold the necklace. But to sell the necklace, she had to get it back from you. Which meant taking you to the lights. Which meant shoes.

The cobbler lit up when the two of you approached. Business must have been slow so far. You grabbed Vi, blunt nails digging into her bare forearm. She gingerly unlatched your hand from her arm, and instead interlaced your fingers with her own. So you wouldn’t bolt, she told herself.

You turned to Vi, eyes half bulging. She nudged you with her shoulder, encouraging you to speak.

A long pause. Then you blurted out, “I need shoes.”

Vi almost grimaced with embarrassment for you. But the cobbler remained undeterred. “Then you’re in the right place.” The woman, slightly gray at the temple, offered a warm smile and an open gesture at the wares before her.

The woman’s kindness flooded Vi with relief. It shouldn’t have mattered either way, a deal was a deal, but Vi found herself hoping that this trip went well for you. That you would find whatever you were looking for.

Vi patted you on the back, then shook her hand out like it stung. She had to stop touching you. “Come get me when you’re done.”

You squeaked with panic, but didn’t say anything. At least, not that Vi heard when walking away.

A few paces away from her a family erupted in peals of laughter. She remembered being part of a family like that, as much as she wished she could forget it.

Memory was strange. The open sky above showed no trace of yesterday’s storm. But it was still with her. Time had passed, had made the jagged edges smooth, but she felt the ache acutely enough to remind her to keep her distance from you. Losing one person, that could be chance. But losing everyone?

She was cursed. It was the only explanation.

Her stomach begged her to stop in front of a fruit stand. The vendor turned and broke into a grin at the sight of her. “Vi! Look at you, still kicking.” She accepted a free apple graciously. “People came through looking for you the earlier. Asked if I’d seen you. Said nothing, of course.”

Panic coursed through her. “When?” she asked, nails digging into the apple’s flesh.

He shrugged, casual. “Hour ago, maybe.”

She dropped the apple back in its cart and ignored the merchant’s sound of disapproval. “What did they look like?”

“Fancy-type guards, probably from the city.” He finally noticed the way her body had coiled up. “Relax, it was only two of ‘em.”

Which meant more were coming. “Shit.”

He said something else, but it didn’t register. She needed to get out of here. She had to find you, first.

Luckily, you were still where she had left you. She could only hope she still had some luck left over. “Vi!” You beamed when you saw her, the expression free and relaxed now. “I was just about to get you.”

She grabbed your wrist. “We need to go, now.”

Did she imagine those hoof-beats in the distance?

You frowned, but didn’t argue, and offered a parting wave to the cobbler.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” you asked.

Vi hesitated. “Remember what you said, about me being a thief?” You nodded. “You were right. And now there’s people looking for me.”

“For stealing?”

She grimaced. “And some other things.”

You did not ask any more questions. You could not, her brisk pace had left you panting. But she only sped up, not slowing even when you were well within the tree line again. “There’s a cave, up ahead. We’ll hide–“

Something whistled in the air. An arrow stuck itself in the tree trunk next to her.

“Halt!” A voice cried out. Fuck.

The guard reached for another arrow from his quiver. No time to think. A heartbeat passed and she stood over him, wrestling him to the ground.

He jostled her off him and into the dirt. He slid out a knife from its sheath, coughing. She snatched his wrist before he could use it. 

His thrashing almost knocked her hand loose. A knee landed in her stomach, knocking the air out of her. He wrenched his hand free and plunged the knife into her gut.

It was an agony like she had never experienced.

But she couldn’t stop. She knew as soon as she stopped, she was dead.

It had been a lucky hit on the guard’s part; he seemed mortified by his own success. He stumbled back on his hands, eyes wide, knife hilt forgotten.

Vi fought the weight dragging down her eyelids. She needed to stay awake. Before she knew it, her hands wrapped tight around his neck. He clawed at her arms; rivulets of blood bubbled to the surface and oozed down to her wrists. Then his fingers went slack. His arms fell to the dirt in a dull thud. She didn’t stop then, not until his face was ashen and gaze vacant. Satisfaction cut through the haze of adrenaline.

Then came the pain.

So, this was how it ended. Gutted like an animal. She couldn’t say she was surprised.

You had read there were 8 pints of blood in the human body, and they were all oozing out of Vi. Bile crawled up your throat. But you would not be sick. Not now. Not when she needed you.

The color leeched from Vi’s cheeks fast.

“Vi?”

Her head lolled to the side. She was dying. You knew she was dying. You had to do it.

Mother would never know.

You gripped her hand with yours and squeezed once, tight. She returned the gesture weakly, her grip barely a pulse.

“You’re going to be okay,” you said.

Vi made no response, no indication she could even hear you. You needed to move quickly. You grabbed the hilt of the blade. Vi let out a broken sound, and you yanked your hand back reflexively. But you had to do this. You reached for it again, and this time she spoke.

“No – don’t–” she started. The words came out choked, barely gasps. You shushed her, free hand gathering a hank of your hair.

“It’ll be over in a moment,” you said. “I promise.”

Her eyes widened in horror. She shoved you away with strength she should not have had. She rolled over, another groan cutting out of her as she crawled away from you, probably tearing up her insides even more. You caught her easily, a hand wrapped around her calf holding her in place.

“Stop! I can help you, please.”

She struggled a moment longer, then rolled on to her back, finally defeated.

You grabbed the hilt of the knife again. Even touching it ripped a sound of anguish out of her. Better to move quick, then. You yanked it out in one swift movement.

Vi made an inhuman noise. Her whole body convulsed, legs kicking, heels digging into the dirt. The blood from the laceration rushed freely, running like creek water. For a moment, you let the panic overcome you. Just for a second, you wondered if this would work. You pressed your hair to the gash, feeling like a fool.

But then you sang, like you had a thousand times before. A song you knew so well you couldn’t even taste the individual words anymore, just the droning melody.

As you sang, your hair shone, even through the slick maroon now coating it like paint. The strands lit up, each one, like fine chains of gold. You pressed deeper into her torso and Vi’s eyes bulged. She knew your secret, now. But her breathing steadied as you sang, the color returned to her cheeks.

You had resented your gift your whole life. But just then, as you felt her flesh knit itself back together beneath your fingers, you couldn’t have been more grateful.

“How is this possible?” Vi’s voice came out a rasp, though her chapped lips had gone plump.

“Magic,” you said.

 “Magic,” she echoed, wonderstruck. Her hands patted her torso, over the blood-soaked gash in her clothes. Her fingers brushed over unblemished flesh, and she let out a sound of relief.

Exhaustion began to overtake you, the way it always did when you sang. You fought the fluttering of your lashes, and the new weight in your limbs.

Vi noticed. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. “Just tired.”

Vi turned back to the empty forest around you, and the body of the palace guard a few paces away. Your stomach heaved at the sight. Maybe now you would be sick. “I know a place we can rest,” she said. “Come on.”

The cave stood only a few minutes away, hidden by a gushing waterfall. You wondered how Vi knew of all these places. You knew better than to ask. She watched, hawkish, as you laid back against the stone floor.

 “This is why your mother locked you up, I suppose.” She gestured vaguely at your hair.

You frowned, sitting back up. You had expected more awe, more gratitude. “She guards me because she loves me.”

Vi clicked her tongue. “Lots of mothers love their children. They don’t usually lock them up in towers.”

“She had to. Or someone could steal me away.”

Vi pouted in faux sympathy. “And yet, someone did steal you away.”

You groped for a counterargument. “Well, I’m going back.”

You expected her to keep arguing. Instead, she said, “Turn around.”

Your eyebrows jumped. “What?”

“Turn around and sit. Your hair is going to get in the way. I’ll braid it.”

You didn’t move. “You know how?” Vi shrugged. “Would I offer if I didn’t?”

Always so mysterious. “I meant, how do you know how?” As expected, she deflected again. “Turn around, and I’ll tell you.”

This time you listened. She gathered your hair in one hand, and if she noticed the shorter piece at the nape of your neck, too thick to be natural breakage, she said nothing.

You were glad. That story you wanted to keep to yourself. Although maybe if you had told her how you had almost been stolen away as a baby, by bandits who coveted your hair and its life-giving power, she would understand why your mother guarded you so. She protected you.

And protected your power, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Vi’s whispered in the back of your mind. Since being cut, that strand of hair lost its magical abilities.

You had considered cutting it all away a thousand times, so that there would be no more reason for your mother to hide you. But she needed your magic to keep her alive, and she loved you, so you stayed. It was that simple.

You wondered, not for the first time, where your mother was. What she would think if she could see you. She would never forgive you for saving Vi, for revealing your secret. But you could not bring yourself to regret it, not as Vi sat behind you, healthy and whole.

“Done,” Vi said, letting the braid drop. You instantly missed the feeling of her hands in your hair, of her knuckles brushing against your spine.

You turned to face her, suddenly furious. “You said you would tell me where you learned to braid.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I forgot.”

“You forgot to tell me, or forgot where you learned it?”

She paused a moment, considering her options. “Both.”

This morning you would have taken that as an answer, but you had saved her life. That had earned you a story, at least. You told her as much.

So, she told you a story. Told you a story about a princess. One that had been stolen away when as a baby. She told you how every year, the king and queen launched a thousand lanterns on her birthday to help guide her home.

“The floating lights?” you asked.

She nodded.

You had wondered for so long what they had meant. For a moment you let the satisfaction of knowing wash over you. But your thirst for knowledge remained unquenched. “That doesn’t tell me how you learned to braid.”

Vi groaned. “You’re never going to give that up, huh?”

So, she told you about her sister, and her long, blue hair.

“As long as mine?” you asked.

“I don’t think anyone’s hair is as long as yours.”

She told you how her sister built little machines. How she loved to draw. Then, Vi stopped.

You let the silence hang a moment, before you asked, “Where is she now?”

Vi didn’t answer.

“Your sister,” you clarified, like you could have been talking about someone else.

“She’s gone,” she said. From the finality in her tone, the haunted look in her eyes, she could only mean one thing.

You were silent a moment, eyes wet.  You held out your hand. She took it, and you pulled her into you. She came easily, burying her face in your shoulder. She shook against you, fingers digging into the fabric of your dress. You wanted to say something, anything, that would comfort her, but you did not know what to say.

Instead of speaking, you pulled her in closer. She nestled her face into the crook of you neck and wrapped her arms tight around your waist. For an eternity you stayed there, interwoven; the silence only punctuated by the distant waterfall and the sound of breathing. When Vi pulled away her cheeks were wet.

You had never seen someone else cry before.

“I’m sorry,” she said, though you did not know what she was apologizing for. “I – I just…”

You shook your head. “It’s alright.” You swiped your thumb over her cheek, and she flinched away. She turned to rub the tears away herself.

“Fuck,” she said, and she let out a broken laugh, running her hands through her hair. “Let’s just rest for a minute. Get your strength back. Long day tomorrow.”

You laid down on the stone, back turned to her to give her some privacy. She sighed as she laid down beside you. One tattooed arm draped over your waist.

“It’s cold,” she offered as explanation.

You did not argue.

The magic had taken its toll on you. You slept the rest of the day, and through the night. Vi woke first the next morning. She crept to the waterfall, took off her shirt and waistcoat and ran them under the stream. The water ran pink, then clear. She wrung out the garments, and then laid them to dry on the rock. The tear would have to wait until she found a needle and thread. At least clean the garments would look more haggard than suspicious.

She turned back to you. Your dress would also need to be rinsed, but it seemed dark enough that it would not stain.

Her fingers ran over her stomach again. The area you healed remained unblemished. Even the scars that mottled the rest of her torso seemed faded. If she had not seen it with her own eyes, she would not have believed it. She should have died. But she was alive, thanks to you.

It had changed her. It should have left her hardened, but she felt… lighter. Maybe the magic had healed her on the inside, too. Or maybe it had been talking to you about what had happened to Powder. Talking to anyone. But especially you. A weight had been lifted.

She nudged you with her foot. You blinked awake, eyes foggy and then crystal clear as you turned away, hands covering your face.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, and she realized she was still undressed. She reached for her still drying shirt and pulled it over her head.

“I’m clothed, now. It’s safe.” She could not keep the amusement out of her voice, and when you looked back you still pointedly kept your eyes on her own.

“Today is the day,” you said. Your voice was level, but she could hear the excitement almost bursting through that layer of calm.

“Today’s the day,” she echoed. “Let’s get that blood off of you.”

When you removed you dress you kept your arms wrapped firmly around your front, even though your chemise and stays kept you well covered. That left it up to Vi to actually clean the garment.

“It’ll dry as we walk,” she promised, handing it back to you. Seeing your hair pulled away from your face was strange. Nice.

 You nodded and gestured for her to turn around so you could dress. She acquiesced.

“I didn’t think I’d sleep for so long. How long until we get to the beach?” you asked.

“Most of the day.” She threw a glance back at your over her shoulder. “We’ll be there in time for the lights, though, don’t worry.”

You ducked your chin down to hide your smile. Then your face fell. “What about the guards, will people be looking for you?”

She had forgotten about that, so wrapped up in the mysticism of it all. A stolen necklace seemed so mundane compared to magical hair. “Probably. We’ll be careful.”

“And is that what we’ve been doing so far, being careful?” you asked, mouth twisted with displeasure. She had to let out a bark of laughter.

“We’ll be more careful.”

It took most of the day, much of which passed in silence, but you finally reached the bay.

The rich blue water foamed white where it kissed the land. You shifted your weight, testing the craggy rock beneath you. That had been a surprise, you had imagined sand. There had been many surprises the past few days, not all of them good. You had watched a man die. Had almost watch Vi die. But there had been good things too. The cobbler. The daisy. Vi. You could never regret this.

You gazed out at the waves. You could almost picture the lights rising up above them, the way they would tonight.

“This is where we’ll watch?” you asked. You turned to look at Vi.

She nodded. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you echoed. And then it would all be over. But you didn’t want to think about that yet. You chose, instead, to think about the lights. About her. You would let yourself have today.

You crouched down, feeling lighter than you had ever been. Giddy. The tide lapped at your fingers, colder than you expected. A shiver ran down your spine, and you yanked your hand back.

“Let’s go.” Vi called from behind you. She was already turned away to leave.

“Go where?”

“To the city, we need to eat something, right?”

The city.

The market square you had visited the day before had been overwhelming, at first, but this? This was a different beast.

Everywhere you looked there were people. Even places you didn’t expect, like down dark alleyways or climbing up walls. And there was so much noise. Noise from shops and shop goers, carts and horses, noise from friends gossiping, vendors hawking.

Vi shot you a nervous look you pretended not to notice. She expected you to melt down again, in this wondrous city. You could get lost here. You could stay for days, years, a lifetime, and no one would ever find you.

That was a dangerous thought. After tonight, you would return home and put this all behind you. But it was nice, for a moment, to dream.

The two of you walked down the street. It was too loud to talk, so instead you would nudge and point when either of you saw something worth seeing. An ornate carriage wobbling down the cobblestone. An infant yawning. Dogs chasing each other down the street.

Eventually Vi tugged you to a stop and dragged you inside a shop.

It was quiet and dimly lit. You could still hear the din from without, but it was softer, muffled. You could hear yourself think, for better or for worse.

An older woman was seated behind a worn wooden counter, clearly distracted by the sheer length of your hair, which trailed well onto the floor even in its thick braid. Her own hair was pinned up neatly, like most of the people you had seen throughout the city. Heat warmed your cheeks as you wondered what they might be thinking of you. Finally, she asked, “Outside or inside?”

“Inside,” Vi answered.

The proprietress gestured behind herself to a small corner with a pair of rickety tables and a handful of chairs. Vi followed her silent instruction, and you followed Vi, your braid dragging behind you, brushing your calves.

Your hand flew back to inspect her handwork by touch. The braid was still secure. You allowed the memory of her, her legs pressed into her back, her hands tangled in your hair, to wash over you. The way you had slept the past two nights, her arms wrapped around you.

Vi cleared her throat. She sat, looking up at you, puzzled. Likely wondering why you were not seated as well. You mumbled an apology and pulled out a chair.

Sketches papered the wall beside you. They lacked technical skill, but the artist was prolific. One was especially charming, a family standing in front of a hearth. Maybe it had been drawn by the owner’s child.

“It’s good, right?” Vi asked, looking at the same drawing as you.

You shot her an incredulous look.

She laughed, and you would have bottled the sound if you could. “Go easy. The kid who made it was probably ten.”

You rolled your eyes. “You should see what I was painting when I was ten.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“I wasn’t actually…” Vi shrugged again, picking at the edge of the table, but you relented despite her nonchalance. “Okay, fine. When you take me back, I’ll show you.”

“They better be good.” Vi sounded distracted, eyes focused on the menu behind you. You were stuck on your promise. When you take me back. A frown tugged at your lips, but you fought it off. You were being ridiculous. Of course you were going back. You had to; Mother needed you.

Maybe this had been a bad idea after all. Now you would spend the rest of your life alone, knowing Vi was out there. Would she even think of you?

Night fell too fast. Vi led you back to the beach, as candles slowly lit up the city. The candlelight only did so much, and you almost tripped on loose cobblestone twice, but Vi caught you in her arms both times, making it difficult to complain. The streets around you remained vibrant and bustling silhouetted by warm, low flame.

It felt like the whole city was vibrating in anticipation.

When you, and presumably the shopkeeper, were not looking, Vi had procured you a lantern. She revealed it to you on the beach, and you bit back a smile. You sank down by the ocean’s edge, and she followed.

The water was tame now, reflecting the brilliance of the stars above. But the stars’ shine was nothing compared to the radiance that was to come.

“I can’t believe I’m actually here,” you whispered, scared to break the silence.

“Me neither. I thought you were going to turn back miles ago.” You turned to her, ready to bite back, but she was smiling, eyes soft. Something about the look in her eye made you turn away again, suddenly fascinated by the paper lantern in your hands.

“Do you have a match?” you asked, still refusing to look at her. She handed one over.

“What are you going to wish for?” Vi asked.

You looked at her, puzzled.

“When you light the lantern, what are you wishing for? You have to wish for something.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Something dawned on you. “Oh no, that means you need a lantern too!”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Really.”

Your face burned at the endearment. You held out your lantern, finally brave enough to face her. “We could share?” you offered, head cocked to the side. You expected her to scoff, to make some comment about how she was too old for this. But she smiled again, that smile that made your stomach flip.

“Yeah, alright.”

You spotted the first lantern, climbing up into the sky. Alone, it looked almost like a lost lightening bug. But soon, it was followed by dozens of others.

“Now,” Vi whispered.

You struck the match, closed your eyes, and made your wish. You ignored the pang of guilt that followed.

You opened your eyes, and waited for Vi to do the same, before lighting the lantern and letting it float up into the air. You trailed it as climbed higher and higher, eventually joining its family up hundreds of feet overhead. Fingers brushed yours, once. Maybe an accident.

Or maybe not. You reached out and took Vi’s hand, and she let out a sharp breath beside you. But her fingers intertwined with yours, and she squeezed, once. Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Finally, it seemed that the lights had finished dancing.

You turned to face Vi, who was already looking at you. “What did you wish for?”

 She turned away, but her hand squeezed yours tighter. “You wouldn’t like it.”

You laid your free hand on her forearm. “How can you know that before you tell me?”

She scoffed. “Trust me, I know.” She looked at you then, and the expression on her face was familiar. You had seen it in the vanity mirror every day for years, imagining the world that existed just outside your windowsill. It was longing. She had wished for the same thing you had. More time.

“I can’t, Vi. I have to go back.”

 “I couldn’t agree more,” called out a voice from the darkness.

“So this is who stole my flower?” The woman eyed Vi, unimpressed. “Come, child.”

You had dropped Vi’s hand as soon as you had heard the woman’s voice, and at those words you scurried away from her. You looked back, once, regret plain on your face. Regret for what, Vi did not know.

Your mother looked nothing like you, and nothing like what you had described. Her hair was streaked with gray, face thin and lined. Without your magic, she was fading, and quick.

Vi could not hear what you were saying, but she saw your head lower in contrition. And she certainly heard the crack when your mother struck you.

She could not stop herself. “Hey!” she called out. Before she could take a step forward, her whole body froze.

Someone else had slipped into her skin. Her hands and legs moved of their own volition. Her body tremored with her fruitless attempts to regain control. She sank to her knees. Vi thrashed anyway. She had never run from an unwinnable fight.

Your mother’s face contorted with concentration and contempt. Her mottled hand stretched out before her. “You cannot stop interfering, can you?”

“Mother, leave her. Let’s go.” You took a step back, as if to head into the forest, but the witch did not move. Vi knew what to expect next.

Her throat closed in on itself. She clawed at her neck, but there was no relief.

“She knows too much,” the witch hissed.

“Mother – No! She won’t say anything, I promise!” Your pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Silence, child. How else will you learn?” Your mother’s face twisted into a sneer.

“Please, no, I learned my lesson. I’ll never leave the tower again, just don’t do this!” You shoved her outstretched arm, giving Vi a moment to breathe.

Then you were flung back onto the rock. The edges of Vi’s vision went black. Darkness circled in closer, and closer, and closer, until all she could make out was that wicked grin on your mother’s face.

For the second time in as many days, Vi knew she was going to die.

She wished she could turn her head, so you would be the last person she saw. She wished she could close her eyes, so the witch would not be.

Then, that wicked grin evaporated. Air flooded back into Vi’s lungs, all at once. She crumpled into the dirt. Her chest burned, and her head ached, but she was alive. She looked up and saw you holding a severed braid.

Your mother roared in agony. Lines cut into her face and hands. Her hair turned grey, then white, then fell off her scalp in clumps. She reached for you, but melted to the floor before she could even take a step. Vi felt for her knife, but before she could finish the job, the witch was nothing but dust.

A wail cut through the silence.

You fell to your knees and crawled to the witch’s side. Vi pulled you away from her and into her arms.

“It’s okay. You saved me,” she whispered into your temple. You shook your head furiously.

When your knees gave out Vi followed you to the ground. You wrenched out of her hold and crawled forward, hands groping at the remains. This time Vi stayed back. A sob tore out of you. You clutched at your mother’s dress, cradling it in your arms. You rocked back and forth, fingers sifting through the sand, body wracked with tears. Then your fingers caught on something. A necklace. Surprise cut through grief. You held it up to your face, letting Vi catch a look.

“What’s that?” she asked.

You shook your head. You didn’t know. As you stared, your breathing slowed, and the sobbing subsided.

Before she could ask to get a closer look, Vi caught the sound of hoof beats in the distance. At least five horses, headed to the beach. All the noise must have attracted them.

“Who goes there!” a voice called out from the woods.

Vi swore. “Let’s go,” she whispered, and you looked at her with wide wet eyes.

“What?” you said back, too loud.

“We need to leave, now.”

You lip wobbled, hands rooted in the pile of ash that had been your mother. “I can’t leave her like this.”

“You’re not going to have a choice if they find us–”

It was too late. A group of guards galloped onto the beach.

“What’s all this then?” The first guard, the leader, gestured for the rest to stop with a closed fist. “Our lucky day?”

He brandished a sheet of paper. A wanted poster. Her wanted poster.

“Grab her,” the captain ordered.

Vi weighed her options. She could run, but they would catch her. And what about you? Would they assume you had been her conspirator and lock you up in her place? She would have to give herself up and hope she could escape the way she had before.

But you spoke before she could. “Wait!”

The guards hesitated a moment. The authority in your voice even shocked Vi. She looked at you expectantly, and the guards mirrored her expression.

“I pardon her,” you said.

The guards roared with laughter. Vi’s face heated with embarrassment. You stood there, dress covered in dirt, face coated in tears, unflinching.

“You pardon her?” one of the guards guffawed. “You pardon her? And how exactly are you going to do that?”

You dropped the open your palm, dangling the small pendant you had retrieved from your mother’s ashes. The royal crest. “Because I’m the lost princess.”

The laughter died.

Vi took the opportunity to cut in. “It’s true. I found-”

“Silence.” The head guard turned to his compatriots, who were all murmuring to each other.

You were not the first to claim to be lost royalty. But you shared a striking resemblance with the royal family. And you had that necklace… Vi could just make out what they were all whispering – could it be true?

The captain spoke again. “I said silence.” A hush fell over the guards. “Take them both. We’ll do what we always do with lost princesses, present them to the queen.”

You didn’t know what had overcome you. Why you had said what you had, or how you had known it would work. A question remained: was it the truth?

Vi had been silent since the arrest. You snuck a glance at her, sat across from you, fiddling with something in her hands. You stood to look out the back bars of the cell again. Your hands were unbound, some proof they believed your story – or believed it enough not to risk leaving cuff marks on your wrists. But you were still locked up.

“That was quite the move back there,” Vi said, still focused on her hands.

“I had to do something.”

“How long have you known?” So, your bravado had convinced her, at least.

You shook your head. “I don’t know. I still don’t. I just guessed. I guess, I wondered since I saw the crest. The first time, in the tower.”

“And you were still going to go back with her?”

“She’s the only family I have. Had.” The shock of it all was still settling in. You didn’t know if it would ever really. She had been far from perfect, but she had raised you. And in return you—

Vi interrupted your thoughts. “If this works out, sounds like you’ll have a new family.”

“I suppose. A family of – what did you call them? Leeches?”

Vi grinned. Something made a clicking noise. She shook out her wrists, and the cuffs fell to the floor with a clang. “Something like that. You’re not half bad, though.”

Your jaw hung slack. “How did you do that?”

“A lot of practice.” She stood up and extended a hand to shake. You took it, dazed. “This is it, I guess. Good knowing you, princess.”

“The door is locked too, from the outside,” you protested.

“I have a plan for that,” she said with a wink. She walked past you with a pat on the shoulder.

“Wait – just wait,” you said. She turned back to you. “I wanted to thank you. For everything. You changed my life.” She stiffened, taken aback by your sincerity.  “And the necklace… its hidden under the fourth floorboard from the stairs.”

She let out a sound, half-laugh half-sigh. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”

Something inside you panged. You offered a wet smile. “That’s hard to believe.”

Vi looked at you a moment. She reached out, like she was about to stroke your hair or your cheek, then thought better of it. Her hand dropped to her side. Instead, she spoke. “Come with me.”

The carriage hit another rock, jolting you. “What?”

“It’ll be fun. Not as fun as lounging around in a palace, maybe, but it would be an adventure, and–”

You didn’t need to hear more. “Yes.”

“And—Yes?”

You nodded, and her answering smile was resplendent. “Okay. We should get out of here, then.” She took your hand to guide you to your feet.

The carriage rolled over yet another rock or root, and you tumbled into each other. You laughed, a bit too loud, and she pressed a finger to your lips, smiling herself. You were close enough that you could feel her breathing against your mouth. Her lips were slightly parted, and so, so inviting. It would have been easy to just lean in. To seal the pact with a kiss, like in one of your novels. 

Your eyes flickered back to hers. There was something in them you imagined were mirrored in your own. In a moment of courage, you let your eyes flutter shut and closed the distance.

It was barely a kiss, more a brush of the lips, but your face burned hot and your heart hammered away in your chest.

“What was that?” Vi asked, but she looked pleased.

“I don’t know.” Your stomach rioted against you. You shouldn’t have done that.

Then she leaned in again. This was a proper kiss. One that was long enough that she could take you in her arms and hold you flush against her. She was gentle, much gentler than you had imagined – and you could confess to yourself now that you had imagined it.

When she pulled away, finally, you were left breathless.

“You okay?” she asked, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as she searched your gaze. You nodded and took a step back to get your bearings. The cart lurched again, and you remembered, suddenly and violently, where you were. A glance through the barred window revealed you were in the woods still but would likely enter the city soon.

You turned back to Vi. “What are you going to do about the door?”

She grinned. “Just sit back and watch.”