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It was like a little beast had been following her, her whole life.
When her heart ached, it only got bigger.
Bretta knew, as her heart ached a lot. She had no idea why.
There were moments she could cage this beast. Times she could tell it no and times she could control it, mostly with a strike of the chisel onto a stone into a story.
The beast would sit at her feet and purr happily at her as she spun around, hugging the story to her chest.
People loved her. The people of the tale loved her.
She knew they wouldn’t make fun of her. They wouldn’t call her portly or cowardly or gross.
They would stick by her side no matter what issues she faced!
And it made the beast happy…for a time.
Her stories grew boring and long. Her wrists were sore from how many piled up in her room.
…she couldn’t even stand to re-read them as she tried to write another.
As she stepped outside eve after eve to see the one she wrote them for…Just look over her and not see her.
Grey Prince's glory faded into monotony and repetition, and Bretta wasn’t one for the same story over and over again if she didn’t get to be an active part of it.
He hardly let her get a word in, and she felt small. The beast in her heart grew bigger and hungrier.
She didn’t even think, as she sat on her bed and stared at her pile of broken tales, that if she tried to rewire her heart to feel once more for her White Saviour, it’d work.
She felt more alone than ever, as her vision blurred wetly. The beast sat at the foot of her bed, and she could only imagine it breaking it down to the wood that made up her baseboards, but nothing happened.
She’s in a fairytale sitting here, and she knows it.
She doesn’t even have a wish for “things to be like they once were.” because that would either be a tedious fantasy…or having the people who would send her into spirals with how mean they were to her.
The other beetles her age.
The girls who were pretty, always talking about their fifth lover before the season was even halfway over. That number six was just a talk away.
The boys who tapped her shoulder and told her their friend had a crush on her, and when her heart soared they rescinded the offer as it had been a practical joke the whole time.
The others lost to the plague, who made her feel like she had to hide in her head or she’ll become just as hurtful as they could be.
She didn’t want things like that.
And she didn’t want things like this.
So Bretta sniffled, wiping her eyes as she asked the beast how to stop her pain. How can she rid herself of the thrall that being around these people put her in?
And the beast told her. She told herself.
She is the beast. She must rid the others of the beast.
She must find a better tomorrow. Away from here.
If love was ever to find her, it must not come to this empty little town. Must not be around those who make her cry.
So she wrote these final words to anyone who will find who she used to be and grabbed a blanket to fill with a few supplies.
She wasn’t quite sure what one has to pack on a maiden’s journey of romance, but she packed warm.
Three pieces of her favorite fruit. A blank stone and her chisel. That was it.
Love would find her and she’d be taken care of.
Bundle tied tight, she looked around her home once more. Her parents were long gone after they all almost fell to the dream, she had room to take over, it seemed…
What a fate she’d wish on no one, but nobody will care for it now.
Nobody will know nobody is inside.
She swung it over her shoulder, and into the sleepy town she went. The square was left empty in the night, she found herself walking fast.
But…in the quiet wind, she paused at the bench.
She’d never see this bench again. It was her favorite place to sit and daydream…now she’s leaving to face real dreams…
So she stared at it and pondered sitting with small tears. She knew she shouldn’t, yet she pondered.
She needed to pursue her dream, she needed-
“Hey-”
A real voice cutting through the quiet air of the square startled Bretta into dropping her bundle, the stone inside causing a thunk.
She waved her arms and cowered a bit, hoping she wouldn’t be harmed while she was still trying to build herself up to be as she writes.
“Ah-!” The voice yelped at her scare, and Bretta saw…It was the mapmaker’s wife…her name eluded her, but she knew who she was by how she looked.
That’s how she’s been taught to perceive people because it's how others perceived her until she hid.
Bretta picked up her bundle and took a few steps back.
“It’s awfully late to be out. The wind chill will get you if you aren’t careful.” The mapmaker’s wife said, tone a little snippy with a touch of concern. Bretta didn’t care for it.
“I’ll be fine…” She said, holding up the bundle to cover part of her face. “You will? Are you on a walk?”
She wasn’t sure what the wife was trying to achieve as she leaned against the side of the bench.
Was she trying to make small talk with her? Could she not sleep? Bretta didn’t really care, she knew she wouldn’t understand.
If she was going to turn into a confident maiden, however, she knew she couldn’t act without grace or shy away. She lowered her bundle and stood performatively straight.
She was too aware of how large she was compared to others her age. So she crossed her arms, showing the wife that she was still quite insecure in stance.
“I’m leaving, actually.” In her mind, she looked like such a strong, imposing force who could just walk away now, but she didn’t. She just looked nervous, one who is small trying to act so big.
She stayed still, and the wife looked her up and down. “You are?” She sounded like she had caught Bretta sneaking out the window to see a performance.
Bretta gripped the bundle tight, then loose, nervously taking a step back. “Yes. Yes, i-uh-I am! I am because I need to leave! And find what I need, because this little place doesn't…it doesn’t, uh…have that-”
She tried to find a poetic way to express her feelings, but her mind was still a tad cloudy from tears.
The wife sat down, adjusting her tail end so she could sit comfortably on the bench.
She crossed her legs and suggested. “Well, what are you looking for? You’ll need more than whatever you got in that puny thing. Do you have food? A map? Compass, cloak?”
Bretta rolled her shoulders, looking down. Then she looked perplexed. She wasn’t expecting anyone to try and stop her but really? Just going to check her items and send her off?
She knew that she knew who this wife was.
So Bretta sighed and sat on the bench too. Not all the way, like she was going to get right back up and bolt after showing.
She opened the bundle, and the wife could see her small spread.
“I see…” She said, grabbing one of Bretta’s fruits before she could even close it. Three relatively large plums. She loved the color. Purple is her favorite.
Bretta startled again, almost demanding it back but she lost her voice as the wife tore the plum atwain, perfectly in the middle.
She removed the pit, flicking it to the ground, and gave the other half to Bretta.
“Uhm-” Bretta looked at the half in pure awe that someone would even have the audacity to do something like that to her, but she had no words.
The wife took a bite of the half she kept, doing exactly what she wanted to do. “You know, little one. I see you around more often than you think. I’d see you peek into the store like you’re about to come in, and you slink off.” She squeezes the plum a bit, enjoying the taste.
“So I think, “Gee, Iselda! What ever could that girl want that she can’t come in and ask for!” And I ponder just for a moment. Then I see you do it again. You’re looking at paper. I set it closer to the door. My paper sneakily goes missing. I see your little hand, and I shrug it off.”
Bretta held her half close to her stomach, not eating it. She was trying to think what Iselda was trying to get by telling her that. Iselda…She guessed she never came in to ask her name…
Iselda held her plum down too, looking at the bundle Bretta packed. She prodded at it, almost accusatory, “So I’m sitting here, wondering how this shy girl, too scared to ask me of all bugs for paper, expects me to believe she’s going to be alright leaving by herself all of a sudden. What exactly does she think she needs so badly?”
Bretta stared at her, trying not to cry out of embarrassment. Or bewilderment. Or anger. Or whatever emotion was filling her gut.
“I…It’s not…” Bretta put the plum half down, trying to build her confidence. “It’s not your issue.”
“I feel like if I saw you galivant off to who knows where for vague somethings and never came back; if someone asks where you went it’d be on my head.” Iselda leaned a little down, reminding Bretta just how tall she was even when sitting.
Bretta tied the bundle back and shook her head. “I don’t predict anyone will mind that. I need to be off.”
Iselda tsked, and said, “Yeah, and I’m the Queen. Think of the Elder. That old bug sits with you every day, standing by the lamp.” Bretta went quiet again, not standing yet.
The Elder rarely talked to her, but at times he’d listen to her. Especially as of late.
“He’d notice. I’d notice. That crass lad you sit with would-” This hit a nerve with Bretta. She couldn't help but blurt.
“He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t, he doesn’t! He doesn’t…love me…” She all but yelled, quieting when she finally said it out loud. “He… shouldn’t …and he doesn’t…and nobody does. So…I’m leaving, for that.”
Iselda’s eyes widened a touch, and she hummed an “Ah…” as she processed that.
“So…you’re fleeing from the kingdom, just because that boy doesn’t care for you?” Iselda kept it to herself that even if the boy felt any affection towards her, she’d be far too young for him. “And you think that’s the only course of action to deal with it?”
The wind was very quickly leaving Bretta’s sails, but she kept mentally patching it up.
“I mean…yeah? Why…Would you stay in a town where everyone looks through you? Where when you enter someone’s presence, you fade away in their eyes or the conversation cuts off? Where you haven’t gotten a kiss from someone other than your mother since you were a grub?”
Bretta never had her first kiss. She wants to run until she finds it.
Iselda hears her words and sees her pain, but her youthful voice and face make her sigh. She offers to hold her hands, but Bretta doesn't accept so she says. “I understand how you feel, but-”
That made Bretta blurt out a “Psh-”
“What?” Iselda asked, sounding so genuine it made Bretta nearly laugh.
A bitterness Bretta fed to the beast bubbled up in her and she claimed, “Like you’d really understand!” Tears filled her eyes, more visible than most due to her lack of a mask or face shell.
“You’re so pretty! You have a nice husband! A shop you own! I mean, look at you, you’re nothing like me!” Bretta gestured to her body, and Iselda was so confused.
Bretta sobbed a little bit. “I’m not going to be like you either…unless I leave and find it now. Cause right now, if I stay, I’ll always feel like everyone hates me!”
Her tears streamed down and Iselda went, “Hey hey hey, okay back up. I wasn’t born this way, and I didn’t fall into the life I have right now! Look, kid…” Iselda thought back and thought hard before Bretta got her nerve to get up and leave.
“When I was your age, like, how old are you? Are you even finished molting?”
Bretta didn’t answer, curling into the bench away from her to not hear the lecture, but not fleeing. That was correct.
“Either way, I felt like nobody liked me too. I felt ugly and weak because I grew taller and bulkier in places no kid wants to think of but it was how my body developed. So I threw myself into a hobby, which happened to be nail fighting and hunting. It became a bit of the core of my identity.”
Bretta didn't let Iselda see her confused face. “I would flee conversations with those of my village and be the first one signed up on the hunting peak. I would fight like I didn’t have anyone to return to, and if a beast ate me then so be it!”
Iselda looked down at her plum, and still remembered the blood of the prey on her hands and how much attention getting it would give her. It fueled her in the worst ways.
She touched Bretta on the shoulder. “It was my lowest, and you know what happened about it?”
Bretta didn't pull away, but mumbled, “Happily ever after?” while turning to face her properly.
“I got hurt. Badly.” Bretta let out a quiet “oh…” as Iselda said, “It wasn’t even a beast or hunt that did me in, we were scouting new hunting grounds and I winked at a girl and said I could climb the cliffside the fastest. Fell and broke my nail wrist.”
Bretta made an empathetic pained noise.
Iselda just continued the story. “I felt so shattered that the scouting group had to carry me home, where I was treated and kept for evaluation. The girl didn’t visit me. I felt so lonely as my people’s doctors barely spoke a kind word to me and kept prodding my wrists and asking me about my molt developments.”
Iselda felt her wrist, as it still popped to this day. “And while I rested, feeling completely alone…you know what happened?”
“What?”
“This short boy walks into my room, and meekly calls my name. He sits next to me and adjusts his glasses as he unfurls a piece of paper he was given. He says, pretty much scripted, that he had volunteered to help in my place as a scout while my wrist healed. He read some more of that paper with a cute little mumble before folding it and putting it away, saying it felt “rather unremarkable.” Then he smiled at me.”
She blushed a bit, hoping the girl didn't notice for the sake of the story. “I was rather against the idea of them sending my replacement to greet me, but then he offered me his hand. He said that was their intent, but he’d love to still have me along even if I couldn’t do much. I couldn't even fight…but he wanted me around.”
Bretta couldn’t help but ask her “Why?”
Iselda shrugged, not remembering if she ever asked him. “Maybe he was lonely too. Maybe he liked the way I tried my hardest. Maybe I was lucky? Who knows. But from then on, even after I was healed we scouted and hunted together. We were inseparable…and you know who this little scout was?”
“Who?”
“My sweet husband, Cornifer.”
Bretta gasped, the twist! Oh, she loved a good twist, even when she felt this way. Bretta shook her head, trying to still be mad and upset. “What does that have to do with me?”
Iselda shrugged and gave her back the plum. “It just means that love will find you no matter where you are. Love will find you safe. Love will find you kind. Running about with it on your sleeve will only drive you batty, little one.” She put her hands on both of her shoulders, pushing them together to hold her tight.
“You will find someone who loves you as much as you love them. You’ll find someone who holds your soft heart dear…someone nice who loves you for who you are and one who will want to take you around the world to give it to you even if you think the world is contained in their sweet sweet heart.”
Iselda cut off her prattle by pushing Bretta’s chin up. “You’re so young and ambitious, I see a mirror in those eyes. Don’t hurt yourself trying to find it so fast. You’ll be alright. Sleep on it. Talk to the Elder and shopkeep, we can help you find where you need to be, okay little one?”
Bretta took in all her words like a sad young fungling who drank too much acid rain. More tears spilled down her face, and her bundle and plum fell to the floor as she boldly scooted into Iselda’s embrace.
“Ohhh, there there…” Iselda awkwardly patted her back as Bretta cried into her shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. You have all the time in the world.”
Bretta hasn’t been held like this outside of a story in so long…she hardly wanted to let go.
So Iselda gave her a gentle rock as if she had just found Bretta awoken from a terrible nightmare. Bretta felt a sense of home return to her. A sense of reality.
When Bretta cried all her tears out, her chest felt heavy yet warm. She wiped her eyes and Iselda pet back her antenna. “Would you like me to walk you home?”
“It’s…it’s-snot that far…” Bretta mumbled, but Iselda still asked, “Do you want me to?”
And the young girl nodded.
Iselda held her hand as they walked the small path to Bretta’s home. She stood hunched by the door, peering inside to make sure Bretta got into bed.
It seemed like she fell asleep fairly fast. Iselda would hate to think if the girl was that tired, she wouldn’t’ve gotten very far if she hadn’t stopped her.
She shut Bretta’s front door and looked towards the Dirtmouth well, pleased she at least wasn’t going in that direction.
She kissed her claw and blew it in that direction.
“I love you, Corny. Thank you, my dear...” She said to the air, and for a moment she felt the air say that he always loved her back.
She never doubted that.
Not for a moment.
She hoped all the girls who struggled like she once did would find a similar light in their life before that glow within them flickers out.
She’s glad she caught Bretta’s in time.