Chapter Text
The first thing they had to do was rest. The next day was going to be long, tiring and not short of discussions, that was for sure, so when the princess guided her through the castle to find her bedroom, she just followed her without barely a word.
The princess was right; the castle was less impressive that she had imagined it. No doubt it would be splendid in normal circumstances - she could see the fine marble below the dust, the beautiful statues among the shadows, the grand place that it used to be before it became full of debris and spiderwebs. It was almost as if she looked at an ancient place, not at the castle that served as household of their majesties, King and Queen, god bless them and give them a long and prosper life.
Broken wishes, lost husbands, dead giantesses and ruined castles; why was everything so upside-down? She looked at the princess holding her hand and guiding her, and remembered how she and the Baker had talked in the woods, how they sang about trust and bounds and love that helped them get their wishes granted. It took two, it always did. And it would take two this time as well. She squeezed her hand tighter, hoping that her husband was safe and that they would be reunited soon; together, of course,with their little sunshine of a son. She was dying to ask the princess about them, but she didn't know if she could handle the answer right now. She could change nothing in that moment anyways, not until she had rested.
After going up some spiralled stairs and crossing two long hallways, they reached the royal bedroom. Margery blushed when the princess opened the white and golden door and revealed the big room behind it, with the biggest closet she had ever seen, an enormous king-sized bed of cobalt sheets and even a bath of its own. She gave a step back almost on reflex.
"I can't accept this kind of luxury. This is your room, my lady, not one made for people like me." She said, not wanting to come across as making herself too comfortable there. But the princess was having none of that; she looked at her with knowing eyes, not minding her reaction at all.
"We're the only ones in this place, I'm not going to send you to sleep in the staff's rooms. I never would." Cinderella gave her an encouraging smile, as if reassuring her that she really did not mind to sleep beside a commoner. She had never expected a princess to be so kind with her, royal blood or not. The only person of the royal family who had been that nice to her had been...
Oh, she couldn't think about the prince right now, not when his wife was offering her a royal bed to sleep in. It had been a strange affair anyway, a senseless and erratic roll-in-the-hay in the middle of the forest. It couldn't exactly be called a "nicety" either. At first it seemed like magic to have a prince desiring her, but now she could not help but think about it with shame. There was definetly something really weird about the woods; inside them there were no consecuences for those kind of things. Outside, however...
She pushed those ideas out of her mind and smiled in return at the princess, her expression weary from the lack of sleep.
"I appreciate your kindness, my lady, but are you sure that you don't want this bed just for yourself?" She asked just in case. When the princess nodded and went towards the closet she followed her with hesitant steps, and when the woman showed her a satin shift, delicately embroidered with red and golden flowers, her jaw fell open.
"It is very pretty, my queen. I'm sure it looks splendid on you." She said before the princess handed it to her without a word. Her mouth fell open again, and she shot the royal a confused and incredulous look.
"It will look good on you, too." Said Cinderella, already turning to search for her own nightgown. "It may look even better, actually. Red fits you." The baker's wife blushed upon hearing her kind, gentle words.
"You're too kind." she said, her voice trembling slightly, and she didn't know if it was because of how tired she felt, or because the princess' kindness makes her go weak in a way she never thought it would. She finds herself needing more of that selfless gentleness in the face of that horrible, bizarre situation.
The gown the princess choose for herself was embroidered on the lower hem with blue details of birds and branches, the rest of the fabric shining with a silvery gloss. She unlaced her brown corset with deft, shameless hands and let it slip past her shoulders and down her arms, until her fingers stared fidgetting with the tiny buttons of her blouse, the cloth showing just the tiniest peak of cleavage and creamy skin. Margery averted her gaze violently, not having realized until then that she had been staring so insistently at the princess while she was undressing. What had just gotten into her? She mentally chastised herself for her rudeness and turned around to change her own clothes.
"It does look better on you." Nodded the royal, staring at her when she was done changing. "Not that I mind." she laughed when she saw that Margery was getting nervous and apologetic again. "I already said so; we're the only ones in this castle, you don't have to act as if you're stepping out of line just because you get to share a bed with me." when the baker's wife didn't answer, she added. "I was like you before I got married, you know."
"You mean, a commoner?"
"Yes." Cinderella answered while she sat on the bed, the smile on her lips getting a little sadder. "It's not a story fit for bedtime, you know."
Her face and words spoke of pain and bad experiences, and Margery thought about apologizing again. This time, however, she did not. Sitting on the bed slowly, at the side of the princess, she took her hand and drawed circles with her thumb on her skin. Cinderella relaxed a little, then, closing her eyes with a calmer expression.
"Let's go to sleep, then. It has been a tiring day." the baker's wife muttered. "Rest will make us feel better."
"Yes, of course." and as they got under the soft blankets and rested their heads on the comfortable cushions, both of them tried to put away all of their own demons.
The baker's wife felt tiredness flood through her, but for some reason she had trouble finding sleep. There wasn't a fire cracking near her, nor her husband's quiet snoring at her ear. Nor she could feel the soft breathing of her child and the soft rocking of his cradle while he slept, moving his tiny hands and feet. Not even the insects sang outside, nothing but silence coming from outside the castle walls; that night was the most quiet night she had ever lived. She turned towards the princess; her back faced her, and she could hardly hear her breathing. She thought about waking her up, but decided against it inmediately. She deserved to rest, too, and it wasn't her fault that she couldn't do it. After an hour or two of turning on the bed awkwardly, she started to drift to sleep at last. Her muscles ached and twitched before they started to relax, and she could feel her heartbeat getting quieter by the minute. Intrusive, frightening thoughts made its way into her mind before sleep caught her, leaving her to the mercy of a deep slumber filled with nightmares about trees falling and people screaming.
*********
Cinderella waited and waited. She was still and quiet as a rock while she waited for the signs that would tell her that her companion was sleeping tight. When at last she heard the even, deep breathing, she turned to see Margery's eyelids flickering slightly, as if her eyes were chasing something in her dreams.
She made no sound while she got outside of the bed and out of her night shift; practical, sturdy clothes made for hunting replaced her gown. She had went to some hunts with her (late, if the forest heard her wishes) husband, and the royal worker had made her a fitting attire for the occasion. It was a fine piece of leather and chainmail, granting both protection and an acceptable level of lightness. She tied her breeches and left the room bare-foot before putting on her leather boots, wary of waking up Margery.
She grabbed a wool cloak before disapearing into the night; the woods awaited her. She could hear their song, the impatient rustling of the tree's leaves and the soft pulsating magic that seemed to permeate everything around it. Perhaps Margery could also feel it; perhaps, it was only her. Nonetheless, nobody could escape its influence, the freeing sensation that gave to all of their visitors when they set foot on it and, if uncontrolled, could lead them to do things that tended to regret. Maybe it was that spell that moved the baker's wife heart towards the welcoming arms of the prince, who knows. She shook her head; that didn't matter at the moment, just her and the call of the forest.
At night, the path towards the forest used to frighten those who looked at it. It was dark, and god knew what those bushes hid between their leaves. But Cinderella walked fearless inside it, even if she herself had been scared in the past. She knew that today there were no wolves, no shadows that could make her jump and go home. They had left the forest, just as the people had, in desolation and ruins to search for a better place. She looked up at a near tree, ravens perching on it and looking greedily down in search of food, their beaks stained with red and bits of entrails. Only the scavengers remained.
The path was difficult to follow in the dark. It almost killed them during the day a couple of times, but it was nothing compared with how it was at night. Apart from the darkness not letting her see where she put her foot, there was the air's wetness making every rock more slippery. She had to be very, very careful. When she reached her destination, her hands and feet where strained and sweaty, and she was sure she had some new callouses to add to her old collection.
She paused to look around; the soil had moved abnormally in that area, as if waves of sonething invisible were pushing it outside of its place. She walked forward until she could see a black liquid coming from the earth. It could be confused as water from afar, as it was flat now and not a bubble popped on its surface anymore. But if you came closer, it was obvious that it was way thicker than water.
Cinderella stopped just at its border, eyes cast downwards to the weird mass, but head standing tall. One needed to look confident when she talked to a witch, after all.
"I came here for the grimoire." She said loudly, in what she hoped was a confident tone. She waited a while; the liquid remained still. No voice came out of it, either. After a good while of waiting she was about to turn back to the castle, but then something finally happened.
The lake moved. Its viscous, black liquid rose up in the air in what seemed a formless shadow at first, before its shape became more defined and a familiar figure could be seen; the witch.
"You come here to awake a witch at night with your screams. Rude." She said. Her shadow had no face, but she didn't need to see her expression to detect the snark in her voice.
"I come to ask for your help." Cinderella answered. If her plan was to succeed, she needed all the knowledge that the witch could offer.