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hennessysTitle: Tales
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She grew up on fairy tales.
Warnings: references abuse, blink and miss it reference to rape
Notes: none.
She grew up on fairy tales. She knew what love was.
Love was enduring fire and ice and pain to hold to your heart, because you knew it was him beneath. Love was cutting off your little finger to unlock a door because you had lost the key. Love meant shifting your skin, changing yourself, kneeling to a new God or lifting up the old, because someone had become your whole world, because you could not be without them.
That was love.
--
And then there's Christopher.
He's a prince. Almost literally. If she casts herself as the hero of a fairy tale, he is the prince in the tower, locked away from the world until she came to rescue him from his palace of thorns. They say, of course, that he rescued her, but she and he both know that's not true.
If anything they rescued each other, but there's no room for that in fairy tales.
--
She thought, at first, that it would be a dark story, or at least the bare beginning of a brighter one. She will be the mother of a child forced on her, or, less painfully, a lover abandoned, left to raise her prince's gift all on her own.
She never thought to marry her prince and become queen. Did any of them? Christopher, of course, and she thinks his family feared it, but who believed it would happen? Yet she is crowned, and mother to his heirs, and who can take that from her?
--
She thought it would end. She thought it would be taken. She thought she would lose Christopher, her prince, before the story even began.
She thought it would be a tale she would never tell her children.
She smoothes the covers down over Charlotte's lap, and begins her story.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She grew up on fairy tales.
Warnings: references abuse, blink and miss it reference to rape
Notes: none.
She grew up on fairy tales. She knew what love was.
Love was enduring fire and ice and pain to hold to your heart, because you knew it was him beneath. Love was cutting off your little finger to unlock a door because you had lost the key. Love meant shifting your skin, changing yourself, kneeling to a new God or lifting up the old, because someone had become your whole world, because you could not be without them.
That was love.
--
And then there's Christopher.
He's a prince. Almost literally. If she casts herself as the hero of a fairy tale, he is the prince in the tower, locked away from the world until she came to rescue him from his palace of thorns. They say, of course, that he rescued her, but she and he both know that's not true.
If anything they rescued each other, but there's no room for that in fairy tales.
--
She thought, at first, that it would be a dark story, or at least the bare beginning of a brighter one. She will be the mother of a child forced on her, or, less painfully, a lover abandoned, left to raise her prince's gift all on her own.
She never thought to marry her prince and become queen. Did any of them? Christopher, of course, and she thinks his family feared it, but who believed it would happen? Yet she is crowned, and mother to his heirs, and who can take that from her?
--
She thought it would end. She thought it would be taken. She thought she would lose Christopher, her prince, before the story even began.
She thought it would be a tale she would never tell her children.
She smoothes the covers down over Charlotte's lap, and begins her story.
