Night's Omen

"Please."

"Oriana...."

"Please."

Gawain closed his eyes for a moment. "I hate saying no, why do you make me do it?"

"Then don't say no."

"Would you have me steal?"

"I don't know, I don't care, just... oh, have you seen her garden? A few fruits, a few vegetables - they'd never be missed. You want a healthy child, don't you?"

"Oriana," he sighed again.

"There's too much for her alone and you offered to buy. She won't sell, you know that. It will go to waste - the vegetables will rot in the ground and the fruit will fall from the trees and it wouldn't be missed, Gawain-"

"They're still hers and it is wrong to simply take, Oriana-"

"But she won't sell."

"Anything else, please."

"I want nothing else, I can think of nothing else - I can't sleep, Gawain, I can't concentrate. It wouldn't be so bad if she weren't right next door but the wind will blow and I can smell it, I swear I can smell everything and because there's always that scent, a maddening scent, I can't even seem to taste anything else. Other food turns to ash; I know, I've gone and tried it - I even tried the same things that she's growing but they're so pale and dull and lifeless compared to the smell. I need something so that I can eat, Gawain, and it wouldn't be missed...."

"Oriana, no, it's hers to do with as she pleases-"

"Once, please. I just need a taste, I just need to taste them to see if it tastes how it smells. Please, I need that flavor to remember, to hold close so that I can tint other foods with it."

"Ask me for anything else, please."

"But there is nothing else I need."

And so, one day soon when the woman who lived next to them was gone, Gawain stole quietly over the fence and took from the garden. He only took a little and buried some coins where he did, that she might find when she was digging, so that he wouldn't feel such a thief. And he took them back to his wife, and for a time she was content. But the garden, and the garden's produce, seemed to be as addictive as a drug. What he'd taken, and the memory, lasted for a while. But not forever.

"I just had a dream."

"Oh?" He laughed a little. "Was it a nice dream, then?"

"It was the garden, and I was eating a salad and a pear and a plum and an apple-"

Gawain felt his heart begin to sink. "Well, I'm glad that you still remember," he said, hoping it was as innocent as that.

"But Gawain, I don't, not really. It's faded. I was so sure that I'd be able to hold the memory close, to keep it with me, but it's faded and I can't recall, not really. Please, I need more."

"Ori, please."

She became sharp. "It's going to rot, what is so wrong with one person enjoying it? I'll save it, it will last a long time...."

He couldn't help but notice how this time she didn't promise never. And the produce didn't last as long as she thought it would (of course it didn't) but the garden next door was always blooming and full of its fruit, even in winter, and there was no respite. Every time Gawain would bury money, still feeling like a thief but at least not as much of a thief, and then there came a day when his wife was heavy with the child she was carrying, when the baby was almost born, and they were almost out of money.

"I need more."

"No, not more, we have taken enough."

"More, please, I can't concentrate, only until the child is born, please, I just need a little bit more."

"But Oriana-" But this argument went as the others had, and finally Gawain stole over the wall at midnight. He didn't have enough, really, to compensate for what he took. But he'd come back later, he'd leave more. And this was the last time. It would be the last time. He pulled out what he had and buried it and then, almost not able to stand himself (but it was all right, he would come again later and this time not to take but to give), wanting to slit open his skin and slither away, he reached up towards a pear.

Elke had noticed - not at first - but later on, that she had randomly begun missing vegetables from her garden. At first she'd thought it was a mole or a rabbit, but that search had turned up with no good results, and she was left with the alternative of spying on her garden to see precisely who had been digging up her lovely prize delectables. One such as herself made many potions with those things that she took time to grow from her enchanted earth, and it was hard enough to get a decent spell with even the finest ingredients, so for someone to be snatching her, well, livelyhood... it didn't sit well with her.

She used a simple invisibility spell to shield herself from prying eyes, and hid out in the middle of her lettuce patch. She was almost about to give up, when she heard something. She narrowed her eyes. How DARE he? It was that man from next door who had asked her to sell her goods to him previously. She should have KNOWN! Elke was furious. She dispersed, materializing behind him and grabbing his arm as he grabbed her pear. She was not tall, but her features were fiercely beautiful and very, very angry. Power crackled around her as she spoke.

"Nobody likes a thief, my dear," she hissed. She snatched the pear from his hand. "I never would have suspected my own next door neighbors would have been the ones stealing my precious hard work, but now... It's no bother. Nobody will miss you."

And with that, she raised her hands. "Hope you like terrariums, because you're about to spend the rest of your life as my pet toad," she snarled. She began her incantation, swirls of blues and greens tracing from her fingertips.

Gawain felt his heart drop down somewhere in the region of his boots. He'd always known there was something odd about her, but never considered what. Still, the fact that she was going to turn him into an amphibian didn't seem as strange as it might. As mentioned, he'd known something was strange. Besides, there were the lights to consider. And yes, it was insane - but... somehow, at the moment, it seemed very possible. He let himself fall to his knees, head bowed. Possibly worst of the lot was that he felt he deserved this. "Please, Madam," he said softly, and his throat was tight or it might shake, "please. Take what I have - I've left more - and give me two weeks more as a human." They money was clenched in his hand, and he wasn't quite sure what his wife was to live on. But perhaps he could find something. In two weeks he might be able to find something.

Two weeks should do it, at least then Oriana should be able to take care of herself. He didn't want to leave her by herself, but perhaps he must. But, even if he had to, he wanted to try his hardest to see that they wouldn't starve. And she was in no position to take care of herself right now - at least then the child would be born. At least that would be something.

Elke paused mid-word, and held her hands in the air for a moment. "I don't want your money, fool. Don't you think if money had been the issue I'd have accepted your offers to buy my things when you tried the last time?" she snapped. "Honestly, what do they put in that water you're drinking?" She tossed her hair aside angrily.

Still, he was begging. Elke always liked it when people begged. "Two weeks, hm? What's so important that's going to occur in two weeks that you feel will quell my wrath, little man?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes. Her hands were lowered, though, and that was good, at least.

Elke wondered what was so pressing that he risked death for. It piqued her interests, to say the least. "Well, what of it?"

"I don't know, but it is all I can think to offer," he said softly, "and I want to offer something." He was an honorable man, Gawain was, and in some ways was glad he'd been caught. Though bitter, he'd earned this. He knew as much. And it felt good, therefore, to receive it.

He stared at the ground. "There is nothing I can offer in the space of that time to quell your wrath, but it would give me time to take care of a few last things. My wife..." and here he trailed off, not sure what to say. "Please, gracious lady."

"No good," she said. "What else've you got?" Demanding, wasn't she? Well, he'd been filching her garden stuffs, so she was only right. She put her hands on her hips. "What about your wife, eh? She got anything I can use? Let's go pay her a visit," she suggested.

She turned around and began towards the wall, fully intending to go right over there. "Two weeks, eh?" she repeated to herself, tapping her finger on her jaw. "Come along, now, wouldn't want to surprise her, would we?" she called back to him.

Elke was determined to find something she wanted out of this equation before she waylaid the man.

"I told you," he said, sounding almost desperate in a controlled sort of way, "feel free to extract your vengeance. Turn me into your pet and keep me in a tank, do what you like. Just please." But no, she was already headed for the wall.

This couldn't be happening. But it was. Ah, it was.

He followed, trying to think of some way to stop her. But she would not be stopped. And then she was at the door and then she was going in and he was still trying to think of something that he could do but there was very little, save attempting to do something like attack her which probably wouldn't have done any good anyway.

Oriana looked up somewhat sleepily, very pregnant but still very pretty with eyes as gold as her thick hair, just curly enough to add texture and volume and curl the ends, not enough to make it unmanageable. She looked to Elke in something like alarm. "Gawain...?"

"Well, hello there," she said brightly. Elke already had an idea. She walked straight in and made herself at home, plunking down in a chair and crossing her legs together, arms out at either arm of the chair. She smiled wickedly.

"It seems your husband is a bit of a thief, although now I suddenly know where all of it's been going. Tell me, how exactly do you plan to repay me for what you took? You can't very well give it back, and money just doesn't interest me. As you can tell, I've got enough of it." She shrugged and smiled a little, eyes flitting to Gawain, who seemed positively gray.

"Tell you what. You can have all of the fruits and veggies your little heart desires... you just give me that baby when it's born. I can't have children, you see, so it would mean so very much to me."

When one of them protested, which inevitably, they would do, she would only shrug. "Fine. Then I'll kill you both. Fair enough?" she chirped. The witch wasn't playing a very nice game.

They both spoke up, actually, and then she offered to kill them both.

Gawain closed his eyes slowly. How?

Oriana looked over at her, and though she felt somehow horrible for it now, she couldn't help smelling the breeze that blew in through the door.... She trembled, slightly. "Please, isn't there something else I can offer? It's my fault, please-"

"Even now, you covet my garden, you silly woman! Prioritize, please!" she shouted, standing up and clapping her hands loudly in front of Oriana's face. She stilled, and smoothed down her long, brown locks of hair, before smiling sweetly. She leaned into Oriana's personal space, cutting Gawain out of the picture for the moment.

"Can't you just... taste it? All that beautiful, green, crisp lettuce?" she sang, her voice low and enticing. "Or those rich, luscious red apples, the kind that just crunch when you bite into them? It could be yours, all of it... just give me this one, very small, insignificant thing, and I'll leave you to your feast."

"Yes I do, of course I do, I don't know what you do to it but-" She wanted it but she didn't want it and the fact that she wanted it had her torn between desire and disgust. When the witch leaned in, the battle raged. Oriana closed her eyes.

"Please, is there nothing else I can offer?"

"You waste my time, woman," she said through clenched teeth. She lifted a hand as she rose, and gestured to Gawain. "Or do you offer your dear husband instead? He would make an interesting toy for some of my new torture devices. I wonder how long it is before you can break a man in two?" she purred.

She was by his side suddenly, arm around him, gaze smoldering as she looked back at Oriana. "What do you say, darling? Men aren't terribly hard to find, I'm sure even with a child you'd manage just fine... and he is quote handsome..." she trailed off, looking at him as though he were a specimen.

Her head snapped back suddenly. "I might just take him instead," she said firmly.

Oriana grew pale - she still couldn't see Gawain, and so she wasn't quite sure how he looked, but she was guessing he'd gone ridged; that's always what he seemed to do. She shook her head softly. "He's-" not mine to give, but that sounded just wrong.

"Is there nothing else I can do for you? That I can give?"

"No," she said, "but on second thought, I want the child after all. Either give it to me, or I'll reach in there and rip it out now, and I'm not positive, but from what I've been told, it won't survive for very long outside of the womb in that state.. and neither will you."

She backed off of Gawain and went straight for Oriana, though she made no move to lunge at her. She just stood there, looming. The air around her was thick, heavy with power. She was going to act soon, though, so one of them needed to give her something nice quickly.

Oriana hesitated and hesitated and then hesitated some more, trying to think of anything else. The witch, however, didn't seem in the mood. But the woman still didn't move until the other actually started coming at her, at which point Gawain stepped reflexively forward and Oriana screamed, eyes closing, curling up.

"No, please, you can have it." She didn't want to name it as a boy or a girl, lest she expect something and be disappointed, though her mother had said it was a girl. She wondered what she'd done, but wasn't life better? Please.

The enchantress suddenly stopped in her tracks and straightened, posture turning cheerful as she flipped back some of her long, dark hair. "Great!" she said, clapping her hands together. "Now, you don't even bother coming to get me when she's born - and it is a she, by the way - I'll just come over here and pick her up myself. Oh, and one more thing."

She vanished from thin air, then, and for several moments it was silent. Then there was a tap at the door, and she opened it up, a donkey with a cart of fruits and vegetables on their front step. "As promised, of course. I hold up my bargains, you see. It's best you two do the same," she added, her voice dropping from the cheerful octave to the low, dangerous on. She looked from Oriana to Gawain, and then smiled brightly again.

"See you in a few weeks!"

And with that, the witch unhitched the donkey and left the cart alone on their porch.

Gawain went ridged, but it was a very controlled sort of stance, a fierce withholding of movement rather then the absense of it. Oriana, however, had frozen as though made of ice when the witch had vanished and reappeared and left the door standing open. And then something - he didn't know what, she didn't know what, but something - it just seemed to snap.

She shouldn't be running, she really shouldn't, but at the snap that was almost audible, lines of pain so sharp they could almost be seen, she did. Oh, not far. She couldn't run very far, but she got out the back door and to the edge of the yard, almost falling next to the tree. "Oh, what have I done?" she whispered, to herself or to the world or both. The wind picked up.

She stayed there, under the tree, for what might have been seconds or might have been years, a part of her not ever wanting to set foot indoors again. Or not indoors, just that house. Crazy, impractical - finally he came out after her and then, after another small eon in which stars were born and died, they went back into the little house and lived, as best they could. Despite the fact that it had become almost hateful, it was good that they had the produce from the witch's garden, having little else around to eat. So they survived on that, and in just under two weeks a child was born - a girl, just as she'd said.

Elke had been biding her time up to this point, though she hadn't been home much. Rather, she'd been preparing. She'd selected a lovely plot of land and had a tower constructed, where she would stay at the base, and her daughter to be would stay at the top. It had a beautiful view, one any respectable mother could want for a child to grow and watch as the seasons came and went and the landscape around them change.

Not two days after the birth of the child, she came back to the house, and tapped at the door. She was giddy with excitement - her first husband, the miserable warlock that he was, had denounced her as barren. She looked at her perfect nails as she tossed her hair aside wistfully. She'd turned him into exactly what he was - an ass, and now that ass, or donkey as it were, faithfully tilled her gardens for her day and night, immortal forever as her little servant. Life was better with him as the donkey. He was much more agreeable when he relied on her for his very existence. It was something Elke relished, as she did now, waiting for the door to open.

"Come now!" she called. "I want to see my daughter! Don't make me wait, I hate waiting," she warned, the threat of impending doom looming in her melodic voice that could so easily turn a heart cold.

He didn't want to answer the door and she didn't want him to answer the door, but in the end....

Oriana hugged the tiny form closer to her and willed time to stop; the infant wriggled in the blankets. But it didn't and the witch was outside the door and time was marching on, inexorable.

"Come now! I want to see my daughter! Don't make me wait, I hate waiting."

Feeling as though the action would break his bones, Gawain opened the door and let her in. Oriana sat in the first room, holding her child tightly. She looked up and tried to think of something to say, but she couldn't.

"Merry Christmas to me," she sang as she came right on in, pushing Gawain aside to walk towards Oriana and the infant. "Let me hold my little girl, hm?" she cooed, holding her hands out.

It was hard to believe the witch was as wicked as she was - from the looks of it, she seemed still youthful, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, and a smile that could break your heart. Although it seemed to be heart breaking all the smiling she'd done lately, what with her irreversible bargains and all.

"Now, don't be shy, I won't hurt her," she said, trying to coax Oriana into giving her the child. She really, really didn't want to have to take her forcefully, but that didn't mean she wouldn't.

Oriana just looked at the other woman for a long moment, then closed her eyes and held out the baby, allowing her to take the infant into her arms. It felt like her heart was being torn out, but there was the bargain and... oh.

Nothing to do, nothing to be done, this was what happened and what was.

~*~*~

ick, short

"Wonderful," she said, holding the little girl gently in her arms. She turned, burying her nose into the blanket, nuzzling the child lightly. "Why, hello there, my little darling," she sang to the small girl. "Don't be scared, I'm your new mommy."

She headed towards the door, and glanced over her shoulder at the couple. "Don't look so heartbroken. You can have more children." She paused, and then glared at them. "And if you ever try to come and take her from me? I'll kill all three of you."

This was one bi-polar witch. She switched back to her happy, new mother self, and made kissyfaces at the baby. "Be seeing you!" she chirped, and with that, she vanished.

And Ava (Avalon, really, but she was often just called by her nickname) grew up in the witch's care - and there was Mother and there was Ava and that was all that there ever was and ever had been, other then the trees and the birds and the animals. She was a kind, bright, happy child who charmed the sparrows and the small creatures of the trees for companions, and lovely for a girl - she was her beautiful, golden mother in miniature, her honey-colored eyes often sparkling with some new delight.

"Mother?" she'd asked when she was young, "what else is there?" In the world, of course.

Elke would brush Ava's hair often before bed, and that was when the question would arise. "My darling," she began one night, setting the brush down on the bed. "Come here, turn around." And when Ava did as she was asked, which was always, Elke tried to find the right words to express the world to her.

"The world... is a complicated, cruel place. It breeds hate, greed and filth around it, and it gets so bad that you can't even breathe anymore. It makes people betray you, and bargain for things that aren't theirs to give." She paused. She wanted to scare her, partially - Elke never wanted Ava to leave her. Of course not, she loved this child like her own. She'd had her fair share of mishaps with other people, and now, finally someone who loved her unconditionally? Elke wouldn't ever let that go.

Ever.

"The world is a bad place, my sweetest songbird, and we will remain here in our forest away from it, away from the corruption of the others. They would do terrible things to us if they found us - harm us, rip our clothing, take our freedom, make us slaves to their hatred-driven ways. The world is not a place for us. This is our place, my love. This forest, this tower, safely hidden from prying eyes. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Elke looked into Ava's eyes, a very severe expression on her face.

She loved it when Mother brushed her hair, and she'd lean back against her as the brush moved smoothly, rhythmically, soothingly through her gold silk hair, gently working through any tangles that there might be. It was ritual, as were the stories. And yes, that was when she'd ask the question, and that was when Mother would tell her that the world was wicked and cruel and hateful, all except their small haven in the forest, this tower, where the rest of the world didn't quite reach, where it was Mother and it was Ava and that was all that mattered.

She didn't want to see the world, particularly, but that didn't mean she wasn't curious.

"Are there sparrows?" she would ask, when her sparrow friends would twitter at the window, black eyes shining bright and friendly, little sparrow heads cocked to the side as they hopped and twittered, as though inviting her to come and play with them.

Elke would sigh. "Once, my love, there were many sparrows, but the others ran them all away, and drove them deep within the wilderness. There were all kinds of birds, some you'd never even believe to see unless you were standing before them, and even then? Doves, robins, even peacocks, birds filling the skies with laughter - except for the vain peacock, who prefers to walk," she would add with a wink.

"But now, most of them have gone away, or simply passed on. Your sparrow friends that come to the window, though, they fled and came here, with us. They know the truth - that the world is harsh, and that this is simply a better place."

She would kiss Ava on the forehead and tuck her into bed, and then vanish from the tower.

As the witch grew older, her powers became less sturdy, and she found one day, that she had to call up to Ava.

"Ava, darling, I can't seem to get up! Why don't you throw your hair down the side and let me try to climb it? I promise, I'm light!" she sang. "I've brought you some treats, and I can't throw them all the way up there and keep them in tact!"

Her hair was long, of course her hair was long - Mother loved her golden hair and would only cut the ends to keep them healthy, not cut all of it, so as Avalon grew her hair grew long indeed, and Mother would come at night and brush her hair, brush and brush and brush, then braid it in coils. But Mother wasn't there always, of course. Avalon didn't resent the fact, or not really. She tried not to; Mother would come and she would go, but she kept Ava in the tower to protect her from the world which would hurt her if they let it, but she'd long grown tired of the room and the room below.

When she was younger Mother had showed her games to play and had stayed more with her, but now that she was older she had to leave more, and Ava was left to count the stones in the walls and the ceiling and the floor.

One time, for her birthday, Mother brought her a large stack of snowy white paper and inks - black ink, red ink, blue ink, yellow ink - and Avalon had lost herself in drawing, but drawing wasn't enough and, no matter how echonomical she was, there wasn't always paper, nor was there always ink. She found a stone with a broken corner that was sharp, and when there was no paper and there was no ink and she wanted to shed her skin and sail away, she might force herself to calm down or she might draw with it. She scratched pictures, being careful to keep the small drawings under her pallet, where they wouldn't be seen. Mother could be fussy sometimes, and that might be one of those times - you never knew. Sometimes, especially when Mother wasn't there, the room felt like a prison, like the walls were somehow collasping in on themselves and Ava wanted to go out and see the forest, at least, that she could see from her window. But she couldn't - the walls were high and they were steep.

One day she heard Mother call to her, telling her to let down her hair so that Mother could climb it like a rope. Slightly dubious, but nonetheless obedient, she'd tossed her golden hair out through the window and leaned out, grasping the sill as Mother almost seemed to breeze up her tresses.

"Hello, Mother," she'd smile, and the itching at the base of her spine to move, to do something, would be aliviated for a time and once again there was Mother and there was Ava, safe from the world.

Elke climbed into the window, and sat down, brushing her hair from her face. It had begun to change, and a streak of gray washed through the center, wrapped around in a bun, though strands still escaped. She was petite still, beautiful still, but her heart had become less kind as age had approached her. Her youth was leaving, and the reflection she looked into no longer pleased her.

Still, she loved Avalon, and wanted to try and bring her things to make her happy. "Here, now," she said, opening the basket she'd carried up with her. "I've brought more paper, more ink, and books. Really, why don't you try writing something? You draw and read so much, I bet you could write a lovely tale of your own," she offered, holding them out to her.

"I also brought you some plums from my garden," she said, producing them from the basket before she set it down. She left out the entire fact that they were the reason she was there, among other delightful appetizers for her selfish, greedy biological mother.

"What's wrong, Ava?" she asked, sensing the girl's desire for motion.

Avalon looked up in some surprise from the basket which she'd been examining - more paper, and more ink, and books and plums. "Wrong, Mother? No, nothing's wrong." And, in a way, it was quite true. In more then one way, now. Mother was here, and that always helped alleviate the itch at the base of her spine that spread on through her limbs, the desire to do something, anything, just so long as it was different, alleviated the monotony, almost painful, of stone walls on all sides and a world only a few yards square.

There was the world, of course, that would get her if she left - but more then that, though it had never been said out Mother had seemed (to Avalon, at least) to have hinted more then once that there was someone looking for her, and they would hurt her if she let them. The tower, therefore, was safe and thoughts of wanting to leave for any reason were a kind of craziness in itsel :-\f. But some days she wanted to slip through the cracks in the walls, for something different, even if she didn't leave. But the window was what she had.

"Nothing is wrong. Thank you for the paper, I know that it can be hard to find it." Paper was precious, as were the inks, and that made them more treasured.

Elke stared at Ava for a moment before nodding. She didn't quite believe her answer - the bit about nothing being wrong that is. Ava was grateful for the paper and inks, and Elke knew this to be true. She had not raised a girl who was spoiled and cared for nothing, that was certain. She smiled a little, wondering if her biological parents knew just what they were missing. She hoped it dug into them every day, the wondering, the not knowing, all of it. She hoped it drove them mad.

"You're welcome. You know I'd bring you anything you asked for, my darling." She smiled, though she was beginning to suspect that she couldn't keep Avalon in this tower much longer without either chaining her to the wall or giving her some sort of incentive.

"Is there anything you'd like for me to retrieve next time?" she inquired, tilting her head. "Anything that would bring my princess out of her little doldrum?" She knew Avalon got bored - that was no secret. She wondered what she could bribe her with for a few days at least.

Oh, she could certainly keep Avalon here - though she wanted to leave, certainly, it was the kind of 'wanted' that was an unnamed thought, one she wouldn't even acknowledge to herself. Mother was good and kind and had always taken care of her, loved her, and if Mother said that there were bad things waiting in the world for her then she would stay locked away in her tower, a golden bird in her gilded cage. Oh yes, she would remain obedient. Probably. Then again, it might drive her mad - if she wasn't slightly mad already. She'd been locked in a tower her entire life, cut off from all outside influence. That kind of thing could have a few psychological effects.

But she could alleviate the boredom for now - she had books and she had inks and she had paper and she had food that she could tame the animals with, whom she had been making progress with. She looked back up at Mother, face thoughtful. "It's almost my birthday, isn't it?" she asked. It was slight changing of the subject, true, but birthdays were slightly different then other days, and it did well to remember that when she considered her request, as Mother would already be bringing surprises then.

Elke thought for a moment, and then blinked a few times. "Why, yes, I suppose it is. My, time just flew by this last year. Oh, I still remember when you were as tall as my knee! You used to climb up on my lap and I'd read you stories. Not anymore, though," she said wistfully, a wry smile on her face. It was hard to tell whether she was sad or not; Elke did a good job of hiding her emotions when she wanted.

"What of it, dear? Was there something special you were hoping for? You know, I might be able to get another level in this thing. It'd be a pain, but I might be able to manage. A solarium, how about that? You seem so fond of the birds, it would be a nice place for them to visit you," she suggested. A solarium was a nice idea - Elke could easily construct an upper level of the tower with magic. It'd take a bit of effort, but she could do it.

Avalon's eyes widened at Mother's suggestion - another level? A solarium? It was quite true that she loved birds; for quite some time she'd almost asked for a little caged bird to keep her company, and maybe Mother had sensed that, since she had brought Avalon a canary once, when she was much younger. It had been golden with bright black eyes and a neat black crown to match a few black feathers at the ends of his wings. She had loved him, but it had also always struck her (she sometimes felt like a bird herself) as wrong to keep a thing of air and freedom locked up like that. She couldn't leave, but he certainly could, and in the end he had. She'd opened the door and he'd flitted away, out the window and into the world.

Ava smiled up at Mother, the look happy and heartfelt. "That would be wonderful. Thank you." And it would similarly be wonderful to have somewhere else to go. She never went outside; the sky seemed so big that it might swallow her if she tried. And here was a way that she could, ever so much better then simply a balcony. Another place that she could go....

Elke smiled, triumphant. That did the trick, all right. She'd get her things together and try to find the proper spell to construct one when she went home that evening. "It'll take a few weeks, I'm sure, for me to find the correct way to go about it, but I think the anticipation will be worth the wait." She reached forward and gave Avalon an affectionate tug on strands of her hair, and winked. "Then your bird friends will have somewhere to rest when they come visit. Perhaps you can draw them for me, and I can have them framed."

She stayed a while longer, but as always, Elke had meddling to do in the real world, and so she had to leave the tower, and did so as gracefully as she always had, sliding down the long golden braid Avalon had grown. She gave her a wave from the bottom of the tower, and vanished into the forest.

Avalon did generally keep her hair in a braid now, simply because it had grown so long that it was very difficult to manage any other way. That didn't stop her from unbraiding it all to brush and brush and brush quite often - after all, though at times there was little to do... well, hair like hers demanded considerable grooming. It could take almost all day to brush it properly, which was perhaps why Mother did not do it as often as she had used to. And it did look pretty in the sun, glittering as though made of spun gold.

She took the soft bristle brush that Mother had given her and she brushed and she brushed and she brushed, brushed until her golden hair positivly shimmered and fell in soft waves all around her. And then, once the long process of brushing through her hair was done, she carefully and meticulously braided it and refastened the end. A sparrow perched on the sill and chirped at her as she was done, and she looked up at it and laughed. She had paper and she had books and she had ink as well as charcoal and she was to have a solarium.... Sometimes Mother really was much too good to her.

Avalon carefully ate half the plum that Mother had given her and then offered the other half to her birds and her squirrels and the mouse in the corner.

Soon it was dark and she went to bed. She fell asleep quickly.

Prince Valerius had been separated from his riding party, which was mostly his own doing. He'd grown tired of being bored to death with politics and sly jeers back and forth between the men who fought constantly for his father's favour. It drove him to do foolish things, like claiming he heard something, going to investigate, and no doubt scaring the daylights out of them when they happened upon a very missing prince.

Oh well. He could endure being screamed at by the king if it meant a few hours of peace from those rambling idiots.

He enjoyed the warm sunlight on his shoulders as he road with Polly, his absolute favourite mount. She was temperamental at times, but what woman wasn't? She was a pretty golden mare, with a mane and tail of the lightest blonde - she resembled what could be considered a Palamino in colouration and size, actually. Adam didn't care what she was, so long as she was as willing to explore as he was, and she sure seemed pretty into it. She began to slow her pace as they crossed by a small stream, and he stopped to let her drink, wandering a few yards while she busied herself in the water.

At first, he didn't actually believe his eyes. There, in the middle of the woods, smack dab in the small clearing, was an extremely tall tower. It's tip was only just above the tallest portion of the tree line, so it wasn't a wonder nobody'd found it. These were lands in between two kingdoms, and not often traveled, but even so...

"What in the devil?" he asked himself aloud.

Avalon was at the window, head resting on her arms (her hair was very heavy, after all) as she looked out at the forest. It was nice doing that sometimes, not doing anything, not thinking of anything, just watching. She'd seen a hawk a little while ago, flying free.

And she was confined to one tower, just one, only one place. On the other hand, she would have a solarium soon. Then, at least, she would really know what it was like to be under the sky. Ava tried to imagine what standing on top of the tower might feel like; perhaps like a squirrel at the top of a very tall tree.

A new sound, down on the ground. Crunch, crunch - a bear, perhaps? She had seen a bear once and he'd obliged her by staying near long enough for her to get to know him well enough to draw him. She looked over to the sound, somewhat curious- and then started back, almost a startled bird herself. It was... it was something like herself, actually. Only not really; the whoever-it-was had dark hair like Mother.

Avalon pulled back from the window a bit, uncertain.

He had seen someone! He was sure of it now! He ran up to the base of the tower, and then took a few steps back. "Where is the door?" he asked, mystified. He walked around it a few times, and then just gave up, backing up enough to see the window again. He cupped his hands to his mouth and began to yell.

"Hey! Is there anyone up there?" he called. He knew he had seen someone up there, but he didn't know who, or what, it had been. "I'm not going to hurt you! I just never knew this tower was here before!" he added lamely. He figured that there had to be a way up and down. Honestly, who lives locked in a tower forever? That would just be ridiculous.

Avalon was almost like a bird herself - curious, but still a bit wary. She could see him as he walked up towards the base of the tower and heard his question - door? What door? She came forward again and peered over the windowsill - there he was, now backing up again. She'd ducked back a little once again when he looked up and spoke, but stepped hesitantly forward after a second.

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

"Sweet!" he exclaimed to himself as she peered over the tower again. She really was pretty - maybe she was an enchantress? He'd heard stories of how they'd live in hard to find places in order to live undisturbed. But she didn't look like an enchantress...

"I'm Adam!" he called up. "I just sort of got lost and found this place. Do you live up there?" he asked, trying to find an appropriate level between a shout and speech that wasn't so loud it'd alert his hunting party to his whereabouts. He wasn't in the mood.

"Can you come down and talk to me?"

Avalon was curious now, and that curiosity was overcoming the wariness that had been her first reaction. She leaned a bit further out of her window again, kind of... well, studying Adam, truth be told. He was somewhat facinating.

"Yes, I live up here," she'd said when he asked that - and then... come down?

"Come down?" She sounded almost bewildered, as though the suggestion itself was ridiculous. "No, of course not." Not that she hadn't thought about it occasionally, but aside from the fact that there was no way to get down there was the fact that Mother had told her time and again that she was in the tower for a reason, for protection. Avalon wondered if Adam was part of what Mother had been talking about. But that was a silly thought - he seemed nice.

Besides, even if he was (though she didn't think so) she was still in the tower, therefore she was safe. So hah. Not that she could really change that situation anyway....

Avalon shook her head again. "Mother said not to."

Adam frowned a little, but he wasn't one to be defeated so easily. "Well, where's your mother? I can ask her. I'm a prince! I can't really do anything terrible, if that's what you're worried about. I mean, I guess technically I'm a good guy. Have you ever seen the castle? It's only about a two days ride from here. It's pretty neat - some of the spires are even taller than your tower. You can see for miles, I bet you'd really like it, since you're so fond of being up there."

He was teasing her, but only just a little. He was starting to think there wasn't going to be a good way to talk himself up into that tower, not without talking to her mother first. Maybe if he invited them both to the castle...

Avalon shook her head again, this time looking almost a little alarmed. Mother was SO overprotective though, and she didn't want her to be mean to Adam. He didn't seem like someone you needed to be mean to, that was all. "Mother isn't here right now, but I don't think that she likes visitors. She probably wouldn't like you. Maybe you shouldn't talk to her. Maybe I shouldn't talk to you. Mother left me in this tower to protect me, she said. Maybe she meant from you."

And 'fond of' were possibly not the words - not that Adam would know any better. And not that she hated it either, of course not. She just wished that she could run, could move. She couldn't up here, not really.

Adam huffed. "Fine, then. Suit yourself. See you around," he called. He gave her a wave and got back on his mount, heading back for the woods. He didn't go very far, though, only far enough that he could hang around and see what it was the girl was doing all day. He didn't really think it was stalkerish - he was still young, and he had a habit of being boyishly curious about many things he shouldn't, including places he wasn't supposed to be.

Elke, of course, had no idea that someone had just been there, and after an hour or so showed up for her usual rounds. She'd brought Ava some spectacular apple juice from a fresh harvest. She was actually quite proud of it, if she didn't say so herself. She'd also had some time to sketch up the rough idea of the solarium, complete with a little ladder and a loft. That she hadn't done so much as spoken to someone who built things to give her an idea of what it was going to take. She could use magic to do it, but if she had no idea of how to construct it, well. It wouldn't be the most sound structure to be climbing on, that was all.

"Avalon, let down your hair!" she called from the base of the tower, rapping on the side of it with her staff.

If Adam was hoping for anything exciting to happen then he was dissapointed, as Avalon just sort of... stayed in her tower. As she always did.

She read until she heard someone outside the tower again, but she didn't go near the window until she heard Mother calling for her to let down her hair. Then she smiled, a look as sweet as sugar, and began lowering her impossibly long braid. It had become routine now, Mother asking for Ava to let down her hair that she might climb up.

"I didn't think you were coming this soon!" she said happily once Mother was in the tower with her, and she gave her a hug.

Elke beamed, hugging her 'daughter' back. "Now, come close, look what I have," she said, pulling the sketches out from her sack and spreading them across the table Avalon used for drawing. "This is how the solarium is going to look - roughly, of course. I figured I could leave this for you and you could add on things you wanted. Do you like the rope ladder to the loft, or should we just do stairs?" she asked critically, looking around the tower.

She pulled out the apple juice she'd brought and set it down on the small nook where Avalon kept her supplies, pouring her a glass. "Here, try this! I've been working on it for a while now. This was a good harvest, I think, I finally found the right amount of soil for the trees."


From the woods, Adam couldn't really see very much of anything. All he could do was sit, and wait, and listen to the occasional voices in the tower as they went back and forth. That had to be her mother, anyways. They didn't look much alike, but then again, Adam couldn't really see either one of them spectacularly well. He sighed and bit into a carrot he'd found in his pack, halving it with his horse.

Avalon looked around herself as well - a ladder would give more room, but stairs might be nice too. Hm, decisions decisions. And then she examined the drawings a bit more carefully.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. And she could make suggestions? Oh, this would be a wonderful birthday.

"Here, try this!"

She then took the juice that Mother proffered and made appropriate sounds of approval. "That is good," she smiled. Mother was so kind.

Adam kicked around in the woods for a while longer, and then poked his head out from the clearing in time to see Elke climbing down from the tower. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but it wasn't nearly late enough for bedtime, so when he heard a 'good night' he was equal parts appalled and confused. Adam had a habit of staying awake until the sun rose, though, so there was definitely a conflict of interest, there.

Once she had gone, he sneaked around the side of the tower, and knocked on it. "Ava, let down your hair!" he called, doing his best 'old lady' impression. He was crossing his fingers, hoping she wouldn't look down and see that he clearly was NOT her mother.

Well, luckily for Adam, Avalon was somewhat preoccupied with the drawings that Mother had left her. Also, her hair was long and heavy enough that she couldn't really focus much on what was happening on the ground below her while piling it out the window. Nor would she have thought to check - Mother was the only who ever came to visit her and certainly the only one who ever asked for her braid.

Mother had probably just forgotten something which was why she was coming back so soon. Well, Avalon wouldn't complain. Of course, had she stopped to really think about things she would have realized that her voice also sounded quite strange. But she was, as mentioned, preoccupied with the drawings of the solarium. She'd been sketching out ideas softly on a blank sheet of paper - she didn't want to risk the ones that the actual diagram was on.

Avalon gathered an billowing armful of braid and then let it out the window where it tumbled to the ground - which also made it difficult to look directly below. Avalon had a strong head and neck but do you know how heavy that much hair could get? And what need had she to examine the ground? There was no reason (well, fine, except for the voice) to think that it wasn't Mother.

Give her a break. It was the first time in her life that it had been anyone but Mother, and she was eighteen in just a few days.

Before Avalon could react, Adam leaped onto the windowsill to steady himself, thankful that it was at least a foot wide. "I told you I'd come up here eventually," he said cheerfully. "Wow, this is a pretty interesting set up you have.. it looks almost like my room, actually.." he yattered on, blissfully unaware that Avalon might actually be utterly horrified at his presence.

"Hey, you draw?" he asked, jumping down off the sill and heading for her art table. Ah, Prince Adam. Not always the most... astute of men, but certainly he means well.

Horrified? Maybe not quite yet. Shocked? Oh yes, certainly. She'd turned towards him once the added weight was gone and then drawn back a pace, eyes wide, at who it WASN'T. And then he looked around her room and started chatting casually.

"I-" she said falteringly, but couldn't get much farther then that. In a way she kind of wanted to run away. Yes, despite thinking that more company would be nice she couldn't remember a time when 'company' had meant ANYTHING beyond her animals and Mother. Running away, however, wasn't really an option. She settled for backing up against the wall on the opposite side of the room from him. And then staring a bit more. He looked... different, up close.

Adam laughed a little at how stunned she was. She must not get a lot of visitors as forward as he was. He gave her a bow. "Forgive me. I am Prince Adam Valerius, at your service, m'lady." He straightened back up, and then continued his observations of the room/living quarters.

"So... you don't get out much, do you?" he asked finally in the awkward silence. She was probably the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, but she seemed almost frightened of him somehow, and he couldn't figure out why. Maybe that old lady had something to do with it. Hmm..

At her service? He was at her service? But what was he supposed to do? She blinked, not sure WHAT she was feeling anymore. Confusion was part of the mix, certainly, as well as feeling hesitant about... well, just about everything. Strange, that's what this was.

"So... you don't get out much, do you?"

Still hesitantly, still feeling confused, Avalon shook her head. "Of course I don't - I don't leave. Well, I-" she hesitated for a moment, seeming unsure as to what to say (and really, who could blame her?) "I do have other levels and Mother is going to build me a solarium, but I don't leave the tower."

... yea, she didn't leave. Which meant that Adam was the only man she'd seen, other then the occasional drawing in one of her books. Still, even if it hadn't been so she was sure she would have thought him handsome. He was, after all. Yes.

He sat down in a chair, looking up at her with a brow arched. "You don't leave the tower? Why not? It's really not so bad out in the world. My kingdom is nice, anyways. Lots of peace treaties and good trade allies, no war or famine or plague... the castle is huge, you should see it. And I have my own horse," he added stupidly.

"What do you do? What's your name?" Adam was persistent, but Avalon was pretty. In fact, she was, upon closer inspection, the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. That hair, those eyes - Adam was a little lovestruck.

It was strange, for her, how at home he was making himself. Also confusing, what he was saying.

"But the world is out there," she said, sounding rather lost, "and it will hurt me if I let it - that's why I'm here. Mother built the tower and put me here to protect me."

Adam went on, extolling the various virtues of the world Outside, and he was making her somewhat curious. Of course, there was only so much that he could do with the things he was talking about. Never having had experience with anything like peace treaties or trade allies or war or famine or plauge they only made her curious, and huge was all relative. Most places would probably seem huge to her, but because of that they were equally difficult to envision. There was the tower, which was small and safe, and the outside, which was large and dangerous. It was difficult to imagine some place that was sort of in between. Of course, it would be nice to see.

Avalon came closer and sat down herself, looking up at him. "Is it very much bigger then here? There are two other levels below, you know."

She was so innocent, so sheltered. But despite the fact that she still didn't really know what was going on, she wasn't really afraid of him anymore. His eyes were a large part of the reason - they looked so deep and so kind. Warm, somehow - warmer even then Mother's eyes, it seemed.

"I draw and I read and I look at the clouds," she said when he asked what she did. "I sew and I take care of my hair. I write some things sometimes, but they're never much good." And then she shook her head and laughed a little when he asked for her name. "Oh I'm sorry - I'm Avalon. Mother calls me Ava, sometimes."

"I could protect you," Adam said, puffing up a little bit. "I'm pretty good with a sword. And a crossbow. And a dagger, and a shield... and most weapons, actually. When you're a prince, you have to be." He smiled a little. "But I don't think anyone would want to hurt someone as pretty as you." He just threw that out there, to see.

"The world? Big? It's... bigger than anything I can describe. It's like... " he sighed, and turned towards her more fully. "You look at the sky a lot, right? Well, it's as big as the sky. The sky covers the world, basically. Wherever you see sky, there is something underneath. And the sky goes on for a long time."

He wondered if he'd explained that right.

"Avalon. That's a pretty name."

She smiled at him when he said he would protect her, and she had such a warm smile. "Thank you," she said, then blushed when he said that she was pretty. She blushed prettily too, the look somehow complimented by her coloring.

Well, Mother had told her that many times but then Mother was a bit different then a stranger telling her so. Or maybe not a stranger; after all, she knew his name. But she didn't know him nearly as well as she knew Mother. It made sense - she had only just met him a little while ago. "Really?" she asked, feeling shy. She liked the way that his lips curled when he smiled. It made her want to smile back and so she did - though more shyly then he had.

And then he went on, trying to explain the scale of things. "But... but the sky goes on forever," she said softly, looking instinctively out the window at it. A field of blue. She shook her head a little and turned back. "How big is your castle?" Which had been the original question, really. Not that it mattered, knowing ho much of everything there was was also interesting. Of course, just how BIG he'd said the outside world was... it was difficult to wrap her mind around.

"Thank you," she said again when he mentioned that he liked her name. "I like yours."

"Well, it's a lot bigger than this, I can assure you," he said. "Even if you have other levels. We have spires on the castle sort of like this, but I don't think anyone uses them for rooms. I think they're watchtowers, or storage rooms, or a combination of both. My mother is slightly unorganized, and she tends to stash things there, thinking my father doesn't know about it, when he actually does. It's funny to see. She's got oodles of fabrics and things there - things she saw that she bought and meant to have made into anything from dresses to draperies, and then totally forgot about." He laughed a little when he thought of her - Queen Calista was notorious for being scatter-brained, but she was a kind and just queen, and the people loved her all the same.

"I'll take you there," he said. "I can bring back some rope, and we can climb down. We can come back before your mother notices," he suggested. He somehow felt like asking for her permission was a one-way ticket for trouble.

When she blushed, she looked like an angel, and Adam had to look away for a minute, because she had made him blush. He looked back, and then scooted a little closer to her. Not to be creepy, but because she had a sort of... something about her. He'd never met a girl that was so genuine. The women of the court were very catty and tended to be a bit... fake.

It was a bit difficult to picture: there was here and there was the world, what else could there be? Avalon looked around the room, feeling remarkably uncertain. And how much bigger was a lot bigger? Three times this size? Four? Even that seemed a bit odd, though it was imaginable. But what if it was bigger?

Avalon went distracted for a moment as she tried to decide what he'd meant.

And then he offered - take her there. Her head jerked up, as though she'd been startled, and she stared at him, her head tilted a bit to the side and her gold eyes wide and wondering. "I... but Mother wouldn't like it. I don't think so anyway; she always told me that I should stay here." Even if she did sometimes want to leave. "I... I'm not...." Her voice trailed off when he scooted a little closer, blushing. She moved a little closer herself and then raised her hand - pale, but in a golden way - to touch his cheek.

"I think I might like seeing it," she finally said softly. Adam... she'd never met anyone like him before. Well of course she hadn't, she'd hardly met anyone. But she'd imagined people, out of her books, and none of them were ever like him either.

Adam resisted the urge to grab her and kiss her when she touched him. She was like heaven, and he wondered if this was how his father felt about his mother when they'd first met. Their marriage hadn't been arranged, and so they hadn't been trying to force one on him, of which he was very thankful. He'd had friends who'd been betrothed, and it had never worked out well.

"I can come get you tomorrow, if you want," he said, his voice low. "We won't tell your mother. Does she ever visit more than once a day? If she doesn't, than as soon as she leaves, we can go and I'll have you back before dark. I can try, anyways. I promise I won't let anything happen to you," he said, taking her hands lightly in his own. They were so delicate in his large hands, and yet, it felt so right.

"I promise, Avalon. Won't you come with me?"

"I..." she started, looking down at their hands (his hand felt warm) and then up at his face (his eyes were gentle) and then out the window and the impossibly blue forever-sky, and it seemed to be reaching out with inexpressible potential and was, like a siren song, calling to her.

She looked back at Adam, her expression slightly scared. "I don't know if I want to come back," she said softly, as though it was shameful. "Is that wrong?"

"No," he said. "Everyone has to grow up and leave home eventually. Maybe if she'd let you out more you'd have more of a willingness to stay, but... Ava, I swear on my throne, I would never let any harm come to you. You could come back with me to the kingdom - we could make you a princess if you wanted. You would be free to come and go as you pleased, and we could even get you your own horse. We could go mountain climbing, riding, swimming, fishing..." he trailed off.

Adam couldn't help himself. The thought of this beautiful girl indulging the idea of leaving -- with him -- was too much. He leaned forward and have her a kiss - a light, quick press of his lips against her own. "Say you'll come tomorrow? I can help you pack your things. We can build you an aviary at the castle too, so you won't miss this too much," he offered.

The prospect was almost dizzying - and then he'd leaned forward, almost to quickly to catch, and brushed her lips with his own.

"Say you'll come tomorrow? I can help you pack your things. We can build you an aviary at the castle too, so you won't miss this too much."

Avalon laughed a little, suddenly feeling almost giddy, feeling unchained - it was like her heavy, heavy hair had been cut and she was floating upwards to the sky. Sometimes she felt as though the weight of it was the only reason that she couldn't fly, and this was one of those time.

"I... yes," she said. "Yes, yes, please yes - I don't know how much I have to take, only really my books and my drawings, some of them, but yes." She thought she wanted to kiss him in return, but she wasn't quite sure if she was supposed to or if she should - Ava was soft and innocent and naive, sweet and inexperienced in just about everything. Hesitantly she lifted her hand again and ran it down his cheek.

"... thank you."

He took her hand and held it tightly for a moment. "I'll be back tomorrow, I promise. Have your things ready and we'll head out. We can leave your mother a note, if you want. When she's ready she can come to the castle and we will welcome her," he promised.

With that, he gathered himself and went on his way, of course with Avalon aiding his flight down the tower. He got on the horse and rode away, becoming smaller and smaller until he was but a speck in the wooded forests that surrounded the tower.

Avalon nodded, trying to look a bit more serious but feeling almost dizzy. "Yes, I'll wait." She bit her lip for a second, glancing down, and then looked back into his eyes. "Hurry back." She'd... she'd miss him. And admittedly, maybe that was simply because it was someone who was THERE and someone NEW, but... but she didn't know.

The girl let her long, heavy braid slip out the window and let him climb down, wincing a little at the pain in her neck and scalp as she always did when the hair, which was heavy ANYWAY, suddenly dropped and then gained more weight, but also putting up with it as she always did. And then once he was down and had let go of her braid she didn't even pull it back in immediately, as she normally did, so that she wouldn't have to support the weight so long. She stayed at her window as he mounted his horse, as he rode away. She stayed until she couldn't see him anymore, and then even longer. Finally she turned away, pulling her braid back through the window and coiling it neatly so that she wouldn't trip over it whenever she moved (unless she kept some kind of order she really did, and then she pulled her hair and tripped at the same time which was - to say the least - not in the slightest bit fun).

She went and curled up on her bed for a few moments, looking at the sky outside her window - so blue - and wondering what tomorrow would bring.

Finally, with a happy sigh, she got back up again and set to ordering her belongings, deciding what to take and what not to. There really wasn't very much that she wanted, which made things easy enough, but there were a few things.

Unfortunately for Prince Adam and Avalon, there, Elke was a lot smarter than she seemed. Everyone was her spy - the trees, the birds, the very spring breeze. They came to her, telling her all sorts of interesting things about how her lovely Avalon had been corrupted by that - that MAN.

Elke decided to play a little trick on them, to teach them a lesson. She used her best illusion, the most powerful glamour she could muster, and the next day at the agreed upon time, summoned a horrible fog to slow Adam down enough in the forests while she dealt with her treacherous daughter.

Assuming the continence of Prince Valerius, she stood at the base of the tower and called up to Ava.

Avalon, of course, suspected nothing. She'd gathered her few books, some of her better drawings, a feather from a hawk that she'd found one day - it was almost gold, especially when the light struck it in the right way - and... well... she was waiting. Trying to draw as she waited, but her movements were too sharp and impatient, the pen felt fat and heavy in her fingers, lines would not go where she wanted them to.

Giving up after a while, she got up and paced. And then she heard someone calling her, and ran over to the window. She smiled when she looked down. "Adam! You came!" Her expression was soft and happy. Out the window with the braid - it was so heavy - but this was the last time anyone would have reason to climb it, and that thought made her smile. He felt lighter than yesterday as he climbed, but the world felt lighter, as if she might fly.

It didn't take but a moment for the glamour to melt away, leaving Avalon nothing more than a memory of her prince. Elke folded her arms, tipping her head to one side and speaking with a slipping, sliding tone of voice that was melodic and dangerous.

"Well, what my servants told me is true. I had such high hopes for you, Avalon, my child," she said, trailing off with a sigh. She made tsking sounds with her tongue and began to pace, slowly in a very definite circle around her, like a carrion crow signaling flesh for the taking.

"What should your punishment be?" she sang thoughtfully to herself, fingers tapping full lips as she stared at the floor. She looked up suddenly, and smiled, fingers splaying across her lower lip as her mouth turned up into a sadistic sort of smile that she'd had once before - on Avalon's behalf, of course, but in the sight of her as a baby.

"I know," she said again, this time softly. And with that, she grabbed a pair of shears that she'd allowed Avalon to have to cut at the blooming vines which twined her tower - and snatched that thick braid of Avalon's, cutting it at the middle of her back.

Thunk. It fell to the floor, and Elke stood, staring at it as though it were the greatest art she'd ever seen, shears loosely in her hands, a smoking gun.

Avalon had mixed feelings upon seeing Mother. She wasn't unhappy to see her - she was never unhappy to see her, not mother - but she was worried that mother would think that her going to even see anything with Adam would be bad, let alone leaving - but this tower was a cage and it was suffocating her. And, on another level she was confused - why had Mother bothered to disguise herself?

"Mo-" but she cut her off which was almost like a slap. And her tone...! Avalon had never heard it before, never even heard everything really like it, and it made her take a hesitating step backwards. And she started to pace, circling Ava.

"Mother?" she asked, her voice unsure and now slightly scared. She was ignored.

"What should your punishment be?" Mother sang, and Avalon stared at her, as warily as a squirrel. And then Mother smiled, smiled like nothing Avalon had ever seen before. "I know."

Avalon swallowed. "Mo-Mothe-" she began, but by then Mother had grabbed a pair of shears and grabbed her golden braid - grabbed it fast and hard enough that Avalon almost screamed - and then there was a snip and a heavy thunk and Avalon was feeling lightheaded, light all over, as though she might float to the ceiling unless she had something to hold her down, and in a kind of shock as she felt the ends of her hair brush against her arms, unraveling from the loose braid, for the first time in over ten years.

Trembling, half in shock, she looked at the braid on the floor and then back to Mother. She felt that she would float away, or that her head would leave her shoulders - she half wanted to hold it down to prevent that.

"Planning on leaving!" Elke shrieked, waving the shears around in a flippant manner, one that brought them dangerously close to Avalon. "After everything that I've done for you! Really, Avalon? And for a man?" she hissed. She threw the shears into the corner, where they clattered, smashing some glass figurines she'd given Avalon as a child.

"I told you constantly that this tower was to protect you, for your own good, and yet you still find a way to disobey me! Where did I go wrong?" she wailed, raising her hands in a frustrated manner. She looked for a moment to be upset, but then the real truth of the matter reared its head. "I think..." she said softly.

"I think I know just what I'll do." Avalon's packing was convenient enough, because Elke was planning on whisking her away with but a snap of her fingers - South, to the deserted plains where people went to die. There she would have no more protective tower, no more Adam, and no more Mother to care for her.

Avalon flinched back when Mother shrieked at her - shrieked. She'd never done that before. "Mother, I-" Avalon started to say.

Crash.

The girl looked in horror over at the remains of the glass figurines, then back at Mother, who had become not-Mother. She backed up against the wall, pressed herself against it - the light feeling of being free of the weight of her hair still as thought it might carry her away, still odd, and the feeling of not being chained to the earth by her braid almost making her dizzy.

"Mother," she whispered once again, as Elke snapped her fingers. She didn't know what else to say. Didn't know what to think.

The magic came and went, dissipating quickly. Where they had been in the tower had been changed, transformed into the small confining space of a wooden cabin barely big enough to hold the two of them. The tower had been a palace compared to this place - dust was all over, and so were mice. A small table sat in the center of the 'kitchen' sort of area, chairs overturned.

The windows were broken, and a swell of hot wind brought in a blast of earth through the glass, scattering it across the uncomfortably hard floor, which groaned with every step Elke took. She walked 'round in a small circle, and smiled. "This will do."

She turned and opened the front door, a thing that nearly came off the hinges, bathing the dirty and half-lit room in harsh sunlight. Outside was equally as desolate - the land had once been cultivated for its vegetation, but the greed of men had made the earth barren and dry. It rained, but nothing grew, not for at least a quarter mile where the edge of a forest was. To be sure, it wasn't the same forest, and Avalon would have a better chance of growing snowballs in the ground than finding her tower again.

"Ungrateful," she hissed again. "Now see how hard life is when you disobey."

She slammed the door and was gone.

It had felt, suddenly and for only a second, as though she were the only thing in the universe that was moving, or maybe as if she were the only thing in the universe that stood still. She-the-room flew apart into a thousand pieces like a stack of paper in the path of a tornado and then flew back together but in a different pattern, like it-she had been magnetized but the wrong magnets had aligned themselves with each other.

This wasn't right.

"Mother?"

Her throat was so dry that the noise hardly qualified as a whisper, but it was probably the loudest sound Avalon could have made in that instant. It mattered not - Mother ignored her.

She was in a state of shock, or entering a state of shock, and didn't react to much when Mother swept around the room with harsh, sharp satisfaction, sharp enough to cut yourself on like the blade of a knife, or the shears that she had used to crop Avalon's hair. The free ends - rough and uneven, having fallen out of what braid they had left - tickled her neck and arms with a sensation that she couldn't ever remember feeling before in her life. The lightness of her head added another layer of unreality to the package, and she felt as though she should be floating up to rest against the ceiling, so untethered was she.

Surely this was a dream.

Surely she would wake up soon, and she would be home, and all would be as it had always been, with only Mother and Ava in the entire world, by themselves and needing only themselves- but then what would that make Adam?

And the door slammed and Mother was gone.

Avalon did not move for ages. Stars could have been born and died in the space of time that she didn't move, hundreds of forests could have been born from a single seed and fallen into the decay of old age in the time that she stood there, civilizations could have risen and its citizens died of boredom in the time that she was frozen in place. As she stood, unmoving, the only thing that proved it was a living image and not a picture was the hot wind whistling like a lost soul across the harsh landscape outside, in through the broken window and through the loose, jagged ends of what was left of her hair.

After a second-year-eternity-minute-hour she started to cry, or realized that she had been crying, utterly silently, and finally she let herself sink down, as slowly as if the air were made of transparent tar, and then cried, utterly silently.

Mother. Adam. Home.

She didn't move from that spot on the floor for more then a day.

It was some sort of vain hope - that Mother would come back, that she would wake up, that she would die (but she didn't want to die) - and it felt as if movement, even in the slightest, would shatter that.

But mother didn't come, and Avalon didn't wake up, and she didn't really want to die, and her throat felt as though it were made of sand, so after that day she finally began to move again. She made it to the door and then stared - and there were trees in the distance. It wasn't a long distance, and there were trees.

Avalon walked the longest space she had in her entire life, away from the harsh openness of the wilderness and back home into the trees.

Only they weren't even the right trees. Her trees were different.

Avalon's world - always small - vanished into smoke.

And so, with nothing better to do, she wandered. She walked until the thin slippers that she'd been wearing - all she ever need wear, merely to keep her feet from becoming cold on the bare stone of her tower - shredded to pieces, and then she walked until her feet began to bleed and she left a trail of bloody footprints. She found a town but didn't know what to do with them, as they didn't know what to do with her, and so she wandered on. She wandered forever, meeting people and people and people, and she began to first resent and then almost-hate (except she couldn't hate) Mother, who had kept all this from her and then cast her into it, fickle Mother who had sheltered her too well. It was a hard season, but gradually Avalon began to learn.

Trust her, don't trust him, this is what you must do, this is what you mustn't do, this is where you are (though that didn't help her, as she didn't know where she'd been, not really - always she hunted for where she'd been, for a country with a castle as tall as the sky and as big as half the forest that had a prince named Adam), this is this, this is that, roads leading to the left and right and no roads at all.

Avalon grew as she wandered - became Avalon, and not merely Ava, became a girl and not merely a doll - but still she was lost.

And so she wandered.

  Adam, meanwhile, had his own set of problems to deal with. Well, not problems - problem. Singular. And it came at him in the form of a woman who was very much not Avalon. When he'd gone to the tower to see her as promised, he climbed right on up, and was met face to face with the witch. There had been a wild fray, and in the end, she'd thrown him straight out of the tower. By some grace, he'd caught footing on the brick for some of the fall, which probably saved his life.

  His eyes, however.

  He'd landed face first into the thornbushes that surrounded the base of the tower - things he'd carefully avoided, until of course, now. This was a failure and a half. When he'd finally crawled out of them in an incredible amount of pain, he found that he couldn't see what was going on. He couldn't see at all, actually. He yelled and searched around, for Avalon, but all he could hear was the laughter of the witch and the sensation of being lifted and thrown. He couldn't explain it, but when he was finally deposited with great force back on the ground, he had a feeling he wasn't anywhere near the tower.

  He wandered very blindly for what seemed like forever. Adam may have been fairly self-sufficient, but he was still born royal and raised as a prince, so the idea of having to amble without anyone to help him find his footing, literally, was foreign to him. He tried and failed for a few weeks at least, until by luck he came across a town with people in it who were kind enough to help him. The problem then was that they'd never heard of a Prince Adam, or the royal family - or his land. He began to wonder just where the witch had placed him.

  He could naturally assume that it was the furthest geographical point from Avalon, but it didn't stop him from "looking". He went from town to town, wandering with a walking stick and senses that once had been dull now slightly less since he had to rely on them to survive. He was robbed more than once, a humiliating experience, and he'd found that not every village or city he would enter was as full of kind people as he would have hoped.

  He knew, eventually, that he had to stop wandering. He had to give up. And so, with a heavy heart, the small village that he'd come to rest last would be the one he would stay at. He sat by the fountain, weary and tired, listening to women call after their children and men talk about the morning's finds at the market. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost hear Avalon's voice, but no - that was cruel.

  His heart wouldn't let him give up, but his body couldn't do anymore with the aimless walking.

But a quest could not be left unfulfilled; the witch could not win in the end, the prince could not falter and die, the princess could not remain cursed and lost forever. It was a fairy tale, after all, and fairy tales simply couldn't end in such a manner. The story - for it was a story, all life was a story - could not be left unfulfilled. There wasn't always a happily-ever-after, but there did need to be a conclusion, an ending, a point at which one could rest.

It couldn't end yet.

Avalon wandered, and in some ways her sheer naivete protected her, as there was always someone who would watch for her, look out for the lovely girl with the hair and eyes like sunshine and the ever-so-innocent air. She had nothing to steal but her dress - Mother had left her with the clothing she was wearing but nothing else - though people certainly would have tried to take that if they'd been permitted to, and those not interested in her clothes were frequently interested in Avalon herself. She quite often stayed in the wilds, but if not for that and the strangers who protected her, she would have been raped many times over before her wanderings were done. Not all the people were kind, which she wasn't sure she understood at first, but after a while she began to catch on.

Still, she wandered - for what else was there to do? She was a bird who had been uncaged after a lifetime of bars, and see how big the world was. Yes, Avalon wandered and looked for a palace like the sky.

She never thought she'd find Adam elsewhere. Until... until she did.

It was the latest of many town, towns and villages and cities (though not many of those; Avalon stayed in the wilderness in her wanderings - cities boxed her in as she never wanted to be boxed in again, because this way even though it could be terrifying the world was there, it was there); she'd been so many places that they would blur together and she was no longer sure even of an exact number. She wasn't expecting anything different. Then she saw the figure on the fountain.

"Adam?" Her voice was hardly more then a whisper.

He was different - his clothing was muddied and torn and worn through, he carried a staff, but the biggest change was his face. It wasn't scarred, it was difficult for thorns to scar, but his eyes were pale and opaque and blind. It made her draw breath, quick and harsh as a gasp, but surely it was him.

"Adam?" Her voice was tremulous as she came up to him, then reached out with a single, no-longer-so-soft hand to brush his cheek.

  He was dreaming. In his dream, an angel with wings of gold and hair the colour of wheat was wrapping her milky pale arms around him. The warm sun shined down on him and he gazed into her sunset-coloured eyes, really gazed, as she rewarded his faith in love with the return of his vision. He sighed, cursed himself a blind fool for his imagination.

  He could almost hear her singsong voice, so melodic and perfect. What a cruel trick, his hearing played on him.

  And then something brushed his cheek, and it was familiar-but-not. Adam started, reeling back so fast he almost fell, and he was quick to throw his hands up to catch the offending party's own. He was rough at first, unsure of the intentions of the one who stood before him, but something made him instantly loosen his grip. The voice --

  "It can't be," he whispered. "It can't be, because she said you were dead," he repeated. He felt his sightless eyes water at the mere notion that this was truly his angel, his Avalon, standing before him. Adam was a grown man and didn't cry, but this was worth crying for - crying for his love, his beautiful angel who had been slain because of his stupid desires.

  "You're not real. This is my mind, playing tricks," he said. Still, he held her hands - gently, as he had when they first met. Finally, he whispered - "Please, don't be in my mind," he pleaded.