Chapter Text
"And as they linked hands they knew that they would be happy together for the rest of their days. The end. "
Sophie closed the book with a satisfied thump. "And now," she gave her sisters an authoritative glare, "it's time for bed." It had only been a month or so that Sophie had been given the responsibility of reading bedtime stories; long enough that she'd realized she quite liked bossing her sisters about and not nearly long enough for the novelty to wear off.
"Do we have to? " said Martha. Her pleading eyes would work on their father, but Sophie had resolved not to be swayed.
"No," she said. "You each got one story and that's it." She had been sitting on the edge of Martha's bed and now she stood up, dislodging the blue quilt on her lap, ready to return to her own room.
"But--" Martha began.
"Sophie," Lettie interrupted firmly, in the tone of voice that suggested she was going to be too bold for her own good. "Why is it only princes and princesses who run off together?" At least it wasn’t a quarrel about her fate as a middle sister this time.
"Because people write stories about princes and princesses," Sophie said, beginning to get cross at having her authority challenged. "Anyway, that last one was about a woodcutter and a blacksmith's daughter."
"Yeah, Lettie ," Martha taunted. "Didn't you listen?"
Lettie rolled her eyes. "That's not the point," she insisted. "It doesn't matter what jobs they have. Why aren't the stories ever about girls and girls or boys and boys?"
Sophie sighed. It was clear that Lettie just wanted to stay up later, and was fashioning an argument to distract her. "I don't know," she said. "It's not how the stories go. Now--"
"Why not?" Lettie demanded.
Sophie didn't know. She'd wondered, but it hadn't seemed like the sort of thing she ought to ask. Stories told you how the world worked, and what might happen to you because of it, and they had all told Sophie it was no good questioning them because she'd end up with a worse lot than she was already guaranteed. "Because that's not what people do, " she said, knowing that if she went into it further, Lettie would be getting exactly what she wanted. Besides, she didn’t have an answer and felt uneasily as though they shouldn’t be talking about this at all.
"Of course they do," Lettie argued. "Besides, these stories would have me believe that I could fall in love with a frog who only later turns out to be a prince, but couldn't love a girl at all.”
"That’s enough for tonight, Lettie.”
Lettie glared. Sophie got the uncomfortable feeling that she was being sized up. She stuck out her chin and tried to look intimidating.
“I wouldn’t marry a frog,” Martha said. “Even if I am the youngest. Frogs are gross.”
“Well I would marry a girl,” Lettie said. “No matter what anybody says.”
“You’re not marrying anybody tonight,” Sophie said, quite sure that Lettie should not be allowed to run off with a princess if it could possibly be helped.
And then Sophie saw the moment when Lettie decided to try a different strategy. Her stern stare folded into a sharp smile, and she began twisting a curl around one finger. "You'd run off with a princess, wouldn't you, Sophie?"
Something in Sophie's chest squeezed tight. "No," she said.
"Sure you would," said Lettie. "What about the one you do Maths with, who's always wearing yellow?"
“Anya,” Sophie said automatically. She was clever with numbers where Sophie was good with stories, and they had spent the last year helping each other with assignments. Sophie had, on more than one occasion, watched her deft, dark hands writing and thought that whoever she found while seeking her fortune would be incredibly lucky. But that was a far cry from... whatever Lettie was implying. It didn’t mean anything.
"I wouldn't run off with anybody," Sophie said. Her face felt hot suddenly.
"Alright, but if you weren't the eldest, and Anya completed a quest for you and asked you--”
“Go to bed.” Sophie snapped. “I mean it. It’s late.”
“See?” Lettie slid off the side of Martha’s bed and padded over to her own. “I knew it.”
“You don’t know anything,” said Sophie. “Good night. ” She grabbed her book and closed the door tightly behind her, not quickly enough to hear the rapid whispering that started up as soon as she was out of sight.
Sophie pressed the book to her chest and told herself it was stupid to be upset about it. Lettie and Martha were just trying to cause trouble and they were good at it.
There was no sense in dwelling on any part of Lettie’s scenario. It wasn’t going to happen. Sophie was going to settle down with a nice boy and that would be that. And boys were nice; there was no point in looking the other way.
She stayed up late that night reading. Every story ended nearly the same way, and that was as it should be.