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“...I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here,” she said, blond hair ghostly over her bone face - yet young, so young - eerily young.
Yes, Cordelia was wondering that. She was wondering why her wrists were weighed down by grating, iron chains, in a small cell where the floor, walls and bars were formed from a glass-like crystal. Her arms felt weak. The magic was drained from her. Was she drugged?
“And I’m sure that will soon become apparent,” the strange woman continued. She looked familiar, “I would recommend you observe your fellow inmates. Rather notably, my husband.”
Cordelia glanced at the neighbouring cells. It was… horrible. Her father in one, in twice the chains she bore, her mother in the next, chainless, but bruised, Grimtrix - her old headteacher from school - was ironed directly to the floor, a man who looked like he might have been Greylock, and in the centre, draped in golden chainmail, was King Roland.
Ah. This woman was Lorelei. Cordelia felt her eyebrows knit - Lorelei was dead. Very dead. Only now, she noticed that the dead Queen, though standing on a pillar, a few feet above them, bore her own chains.
“Someone died yesterday. Someone I cared about a lot,” Lorelei said, “he took his own life, actually. Which is why you’re here.”
A hush spread across the room. Death always brought a hush. “Who…?” Roland muttered.
A sadistic, past-caring smile broke across Lorelei’s face, “I think you have enough information to figure that out all by yourself.”
Cordelia considered the prisoners again. Save for Calista and Cedric, her whole family was here. Save for Calista and Cedric. It couldn’t be Calista, so…
“...old writing speaks of seven sins, seven deadly sins. The first of which being wrath,” Lorelei’s eyes turned to Grimtrix. He struggled against his cuffs. “Grimtrix the ‘Good’. Weren’t so good when you were beating your students.”
A spectral hand appeared, with fingernails like daggers, struck him across the face. He winced, blood ran down his cheek, the hand struck again, and again, again…
“Stop!” Cordelia cried, her chains scraped against the ground, “that’s a lie! Mr Grimtrix never did anything like that!”
“You’re right. Not to the children who ‘show ambition,’” Lorelei said, numbly, “but if you didn’t get the enchantments right, if you fell asleep in class… why, you would use the very spell that assaults you now, wouldn’t you, Grimtrix? Never actually get your own hands dirty.”
“...oh, but none of that mattered. He was destined to be a lowlife, a disappointment,” Lorelei let Grimtrix be, turning slowly, and walking towards the cell that held Goodwyn, “and your pride made you detest him.”
“I didn’t hate-”
“Then why did you treat him like you did? I have no special punishment for you save for this knowledge: you killed him. And not just yesterday, everytime you put him down, you killed the man he could have been.”
Goodwyn didn’t reply.
“Ah! Goodwyn did nothing wrong! You’re being unfair,” Winifred said, “that’s just how fathers are. Mine was the same.”
“A weak excuse - but you’re full of those, aren’t you?” Lorelei said, “ sloth, is another sin. You were complicit in your son’s murder.”
“Cedric,” Winifred said, like it finally hit. But she’d been the first person to say the name, and the first person to break the spell of disbelief they’d all be cowering under. “Cedykins. No, no that can’t be right. P-perhaps you meant ‘son’ in a metaphorical sense? A houseplant, perhaps.”
Lorelei didn’t respond. “And you,” now she met Cordelia’s eyes. Eyes that streamed with tears, endlessly. “It wasn’t really about the hair, was it? It was about the position. It was about the wand. It was about how all these things were denied from you, the talented child, and bestowed upon him, the failure; simply because you were the girl. You were envious. Don’t worry, I sympathise.”
“I-”
“What I don’t sympathise with is taking your anger out on your younger brother, when your father was really to blame. Your punishment will be melded with your mother’s.”
Cordelia’s chains came alive, tightening and crushing at her ribs. It hurt so much. She couldn’t breathe.
“Cordy!” Winifred called out, rattling the bars of her cell.
“You sat back as your son was tortured, now you’ll have to sit back while your daughter endures the same. I’ll leave her like that until we’re finished.”
Cordelia would have processed, but the closest she could manage to speech was a ‘squeak’.
“Greylock,” Lorelei’s voice lilted with laughter, “he was always the victim of your self indulgent, glutenous jokes. You were so focused on satiating your social appetite, you failed to consider his heart.”
Cordelia thought that was unfair. Greylock only wanted to make people laugh.
Pink-ish flowers (lilies, Cordelia thought) grew from the glass either side of him, puffed their pollen, he laughed hysterically, didn’t stop.
“Roland,” Lorelei’s words sounded like thunder, or the beat of a giant drum under the accompaniment of Greylock’s eternal laughter, “Roly.”
“Darling?” Roland struggled under the chainmail.
“Greed. You never credited him, you wanted the glory, you denied him every piece of power and liberty, until he felt no choice but to take it by force. You knew he was my friend, but when I died, you didn’t treat him like ‘my dead wife’s closest correspondent’, but just as another castle servant. Shame.”
“I didn’t mean to!” Roland argued, “I was busy with the twins.”
“The twins that you cursed me to bear - the twins that killed me?”
Roland wept.
Lorelei stopped speaking, all that remained was Winifred muttering to herself, the chains grinding at Cordelia’s waist, Greylock’s laughter, and Roland’s tears. Until another tear hit the glass floor, and shattered.
“But there are seven sins, and only six of you,” Lorelei choked, her face growing somehow paler and more skeletal, “I’m sure you’ve guessed this by now, but I am not innocent.”
She continued, “when I married Roland, I knew full well what it would do to him. Imagine, your two best friends wedd? You’re left alone. A third wheel at best, an obsolete part at worst. For him, it was the latter. And that’s what gets to me. That’s what summoned me from the grave. He might still be in your realm, if it weren’t for my lust.”
…
…
“Is there anything we can do?” Cordelia found the breath to ask. Every inch of her body stung with grief.
“The Wishing Well,” Lorelei said, “yes, it killed me - but if you wish carefully, it will treat you well. Use it to give him, and yourselves, another chance. You will find his body in the tower. Make it dignified, then go to the well, and fix your sins and…”
“And?” Roland said.
“...and the new princess,” though her face was wet, Lorelei smiled, “I like her. Give her my crown.”