Archive of Our Own ^beta

It all starts with a curse, as so many stories do.

It was a beautiful day, my parents tell me, always with tears in their eyes, and not the happy kind. The sun was shining, flowers were blooming. I was a radiant, cheerful little thing. (That part I know is a lie. They had a portrait commissioned, and I looked like a dehydrated radish as an infant. But I let them indulge in their fantasies.)

Yes, everything was perfect, apparently—until Farrow showed up. Farrow is a fairy infamous for her curses on young princesses. Nobody ever invites her to princess-related events, partially because of the curse thing and partially because she’s sort of obnoxious and has terrible table etiquette. She doesn’t seem to care very much, because she turns up to every blessing, announcement, and celebratory ball anyway. In any case, she appeared in a billow of black smoke on this perfect day and strode to the cradle containing me.

“What a wrinkly child,” she commented conversationally. “Looks like a pickled naked mole rat.”

My mom cowered while my dad brandished his sword in a show of unfounded bravado. “Leave, villain!”

“Let’s not call names, now,” Farrow said amicably. “It’s awfully rude.”

“What are you going to do to our little Mana?” asked my mom, voice trembling.

“You guys are terrible at small talk,” she informed them. “Anyway, let’s do this thing, get this party started, so to speak.”

She stared intensely at me. I stared somberly back at her.

“I’m gonna be real here, I don’t have any inspiration today,” she finally said. “Your child’s face is putting me off my game.”

“So you’ll spare her?” my mom inquired hopefully.

“Hah! No. I’ll just use an old one.” Tapping her wand against her chin, she considered. “How about...eternal sleep at sixteen?”

My mother wailed.

“Fine, fine. Don’t say I never did anything for you.” Waving her wand, sounding almost bored, Farrow declared, “Your child will never get married. Boom.”

That’s where my parents conclude their tale, my father stoic and my mother bawling.

“But we’re fighting it, baby,” she tells me every time. “We’ll find you a spouse. You’ll have your happily ever after. Don’t worry.”

I was never worried in the first place, but I nodded anyway and pat my mom on the shoulder, because it seemed like the right thing to do.

My parents had the good grace to wait until I was twelve to start setting me up on ‘dates’. Really they were more like forced diplomatic visits with every eligible prince in the area—“And princesses! We don’t judge, honey!”—during which my parents would find some excuse to exit the room, leaving me all alone with the poor, unknowing royal.

Honestly, at first I didn’t know what the purpose of these meetings was either. It wasn’t like anything constructive happened during them. I mostly looked down at my lap, suddenly intensely interested in the brocade of my dress, and the other person fiddled with their thumbs until my parents finally came back.

It was a prince, a rather surly prince at that, who brought to my attention the real reason my parents were so intent on having me meet up with other young sovereigns.

“Aren’t you going to talk to me?” he asked after a few minutes of the usual hand-staring and thumb-twiddling routine.

I looked up, surprised. “Oh, sorry. Um…what would you like to talk about?”

He just stared at me, before saying in a slightly irritated voice, “You’re not very interesting, are you.”

And you’re apparently a raging jerk, but we all have our shortcomings. I don’t say that. I smile wanly and look back down at my hands.

“Seriously,” he continues, apparently not satisfied with my lack of response, “How do you expect to catch a husband when you can’t even hold a decent conversation?”

This gets my attention. “What does marriage have to do with anything?”

“Isn’t that what this is for? You’re trying to evaluate choices for a husband, aren’t you? No wonder your parents had to set it up if you’re so boring.” He turns up his nose and sniffs, but I don’t notice. I’m frowning, lost in thought.

I go to my parents that night and ask them about what the prince said.

They exchange glances. “Well, that explains a lot,” mutters my father.

My mother slaps him lightly on the arm. “Dear!”

“It’s true! It makes a lot more sense that she’s been failing every marriage interview if she didn’t know that’s what they were.” Turning to me, he tells me, “Look, you need to be as charming as possible during these things. Show off your assets. That’s how I got your mother, anyway.”

I tilt my head. “But why, though?”

“Why? To find you a spouse, of course! We told you we’d keep fighting!” My mom has a somewhat frozen smile on her face.

“I’m only twelve,” I inform them. “It is illegal for me to have a spouse.”

My mom waves that off. “Oh, it’s for later, later. We’re just trying to kickstart the process, is all.”

“Oh. Okay.” I bite my lip. Later, huh? I could work with later. Surely, later, I would see what all the fuss was about.

Later, then.

I’m fourteen when I realize I’m a little bit different.

I meet up with my fellow princesses and princes every once in a while, at some of the bigger balls. All of the princesses have started gushing about cute local royalty. And some of the princes, too. It seems to be all they can talk about.

“We’re actually going on a date later this week,” brags one of them. “Fully escorted, obviously, what with the threat on my life earlier this year, but I’m still so excited.”

“I’m so jealous!” whines another. “My parents won’t let me leave the castle.” They wink. “So everybody just comes to me.”

Titters and giggles erupt, and I fake a laugh. I don’t get the joke, but I was raised to be polite.

The conversation turns to kisses. Apparently, such-and-such is a dreamy kisser, and so-and-so slobbers. Gross. I make a face, which draws attention to me.

“What about you, Mana? Who was your first kiss?”

I pause. “I haven’t had one.”

“Really?” asks a prince with mild interest. “Why?”

I shrug and the conversation moves on, but I’m lost in thought once more. Why would I have kissed anyone? Why would anyone want to? Obviously I don’t know much about it, but it sounds messy.

I run into the surly prince later that night, who immediately scowls. “Oh. It’s you.”

I sigh. “Yes, hello, Branton.”

Branton doesn’t like me much, but he keeps coming back for visits to my castle. According to him, his parents force him to come, something about wanting to make a trade agreement with my parents.

“Still as plain as ever, I see,” he says, looking me up and down derisively. “Good luck with that.”

“And you still have the personality of a granite countertop,” I return. “Good luck with that.”

His scowl intensifies. “At least people like me.”

I smile placidly. “You didn’t deny it, though.” I start to turn around to leave, before remembering the conversation from earlier. “Hey, have you ever kissed anyone?”

He draws back, starting to flush. “W-why would you ask that?”

I shrug again. “Apparently everyone has, these days. I was just curious. No need to get worked up about it.”

“Of course I’m worked up about it!” he says, flush intensifying. “You—you—“

“I what?”

He glares at me for a moment longer before loudly declaring, “You’re ugly!” Then he whips around, his cloak fluttering in the air, and storms off.

I watch him bemusedly before deciding that it isn’t worth dwelling on the actions of a cave dweller. Also, those cream puffs look really good. I head over to the snack table and completely forget all about Branton, which is what he deserves anyway.

I’m sixteen when I realize I’m more than just a little bit different.

It’s later, you see, and nothing has changed. Or, well, some things have, but I still don’t see what the big deal is about dating and kissing and marriage and all those things. My friends still whisper about late night liaisons with kitchen boys and their arranged marriages with exotic royalty. They sigh happily about little touches and romantic gestures—he brought me a peacock the other day, just imagine!—and I still don’t get it. What’s the point? You can give presents to friends. You can cuddle with friends. Why bother with the romantic aspect when it causes so much pain as well? Because I haven’t missed that, either, the tears shed over lost love and crushes that never came to fruition.

My little arranged meetings still continue, and I’ve learned to hold a polite conversation at least, but I can tell my parents are starting to get impatient. My mother’s smile is strained, my father’s eyes tired. I don’t understand. It’s later. Shouldn’t I be like everyone else now?

It all comes to a head when Branton visits. He’s dressed even more stiffly than usual, all silver embroidery and starched hose.

“You look very uncomfortable,” I comment. “Want to change into something else? I have a tunic and leggings that I swiped from one of the pages.”

He flushes again, as has become his habit recently. “You can’t just—say that.”

“Say what?” I inquire.

He hesitates, then, “Never mind. Let’s go to the usual room.”

I sit down on the cream-colored couch and he takes his normal blood-red chair. Even his posture is stiff, sitting on the edge of the seat with his back ramrod straight.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes! Shut up.”

I squint at him. “Okay. But you’re acting very strange.”

He grumbles, “Of course I am. It’s weird you aren’t.”

“Why would I be?”

“Because—because—“ A thought occurs to him, and he starts squirming. “Wait. Did they not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

He drags his hand down his face. “Oh no. No, no, no. I’m not doing this.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I say peaceably, more than used by now to his melodramatic antics.

“Yes, I do!” he screeches. “It’s my duty!”

“Well, if it’s your duty,” I say dryly. “Seriously, though, if you don’t want to—“

“I do! Well—“ His eyes dart around the room wildly. “I think!”

“Then do it.”

“Fine! You’re so irritating!”

The last thing I expect is for him to awkwardly get out of his chair, lower to one knee, and present me with a small box. “Marry me.”

I look at his face—he’s looking away, blushing furiously—and then at the box and then back at his face. “I…beg your pardon?”

“You heard me! My—my parents, I’ve mentioned the trade agreement before, and they think the best way is—well. This. And anyway, maybe I don’t, um, completely hate you with every fiber of my being. Only most of the fibers. Like maybe seventy percent.”

My mouth opens and closes uselessly. He starts to look even more uncomfortable than he already did. “So?”

“Branton, we’re…” I nervously rub my fingers together. “We’re friends, but…”

“But what?” he demands.

“But…I don’t want to marry you.”

His face goes dark. Finally, he asks, “Who do you want to marry then?”

“Nobody?” I try, desperately. “I mean—“

“Is it André? Melly? Is it—“

“No, seriously, nobody! I—get up, that can’t be good for your knees.”

Trademark scowl engraved on his face, he complies and sits back down on the chair with a huff.

“I’ve never gotten the whole marriage thing,” I explain. “My parents said later, but—it’s later, and I still don’t get it. It’s like…I dunno. It’s like…” Realization slowly starts to dawn on me. “It’s like I’m cursed.”

He’s still frowning, but at least he isn’t quite as red in the face anymore. “I don’t understand.”

I bite my lip, then go over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, patting him like I used to do to comfort my mom. “I’m sorry to ask, but would you be willing to wait for an answer? I have something I need to take care of first.”

He searches my eyes, then mutters, “Fine. But this is highly irregular.”

“Thanks.” I flash a rare grin at him, then rush off to find my parents.

He’s left waiting in the meeting room in his uncomfortable clothes, wishing more than a little bit that he had accepted your highly inappropriate offer to change. He hates these clothes. Even if his mom says they make him look ‘absolutely ravishing’.

I burst into the throne room, interrupting a farmer who is holding up a chicken by the neck and claiming that ‘the witches did it’.

“Witches aren’t real,” I say, breathless. “But fairies…” I beam, excited to have finally realized the truth. “Fairies are real.”

My father shifts awkwardly. “Can this wait, honey?”

“Now Daron,” my mother reprimands. “She has news for us. Now don’t you, dear?” She bounces slightly in her seat.

“Oh, right!” My father sits up straighter. “Go ahead.”

“I’m—“

“Getting married!” my mother squeals, interrupting me. “Congratulations!” She turns to my father and says tearfully, “I knew that curse was just a bunch of—“

“No, it’s not!” I say happily. “That’s the point!”

“Wait, what?”

I skip forward and take both of my mother’s hands. “I’m not getting married.” I can’t stop smiling. “Not yet, anyway.”

“But—Branton—“

“Mom, I’m cursed!” I start pacing back and forth in front of their thrones. “Like I said, that’s the point. Everything is okay now!”

She starts tearing up again, those unhappy ones that I’m all too familiar with. “Nothing is okay.”

“Mom. For years I’ve thought I was broken somehow because I didn’t want to get married. But I just realized. It’s because I’m cursed! I’m not broken or different or weird, I’m just cursed!” I stop in my tracks and deliver my life-changing conclusion. “And curses can be broken.”

There’s a silence. Then, “We’ve tried,” says my father somberly. “Nothing works.”

“I’ll just find Farrow, then. I’ll convince her to undo it.”

“What? That’s too dangerous, you can’t—“

“It will be fun! Like a quest!”

“She’s too—“

“I want a sword. Can I have a sword? I don’t know how to use a sword, but I want a sword.”

“No, I won’t allow it!” roars my father.

“The sword? Jeez, okay. No sword.”

“No.” He’s obviously angry. “The quest. You are a princess. You can’t go on a quest.”

“That’s sexist, father,” I say calmly.

He sputters. My mom jumps in, “Sweetie, you’re our only heir. It’s just not safe.”

I scoff. “Please. She lives in a unicorn meadow. The worst that can happen is I vomit sparkles or something.”

“What a graphic image,” my mother says mildly, but my father is fuming.

“You need to take this seriously! You’re not going, and that’s final.”

An idea takes hold in my mind, and a devious smile spreads across my face. “But don’t you want grandchildren?”

They both freeze.

“…Fine.”

“I’m coming with.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “No you aren’t, Branton.”

“But you’re completely hopeless on your own! Besides, as your fiancée-to-be—“

“You know, on most people confidence looks good. You’re not one of those people.”

“—I have the right to keep an eye on you.”

My eyebrows furrow. “What an archaic way of thinking.”

He ignores me and continues, “I’m also very good with a sword.” He’s leaning against my wardrobe and blocking the door, which is typical. He always gets in the way when I need something. “My instructor says so.”

That piques my interest. “Sword?”

“Yes. Broadsword, longsword, rapier…anything sharp. I could probably kill a dragon with just a toothpick,” he boasts, examining his fingernails in a display of false modesty.

“Could you teach me?”

“To use a toothpick?”

I roll my eyes. “No. To use a sword.”

He coughs, suddenly sounding nervous. “Well…obviously. I think.”

“All right,” I decide. “You and your sword can come along.” My mouth twitches, and I add, “You can bring a toothpick, too, in case we come across any dragons.”

He scowls, as is his wont.

The expedition comes together quite nicely. Eventually, it’s the day we’re scheduled to leave. My mom cries a little bit, but then again she’s always doing that. My father admonishes Branton to keep me safe. And then we’re on the road.

Everything is silent for a while. It feels awkward, so I speak up. “So why would you want to marry me anyway?”

I hear Branton stumble. “What?”

“You hate me. Or, seventy percent of you does, at least.” I tap a rhythm against my hips, thinking. “Why not ask someone you hate less?”

When I look over at him, he’s blushing again. He stutters out, “I-I… don’t really…hate anyone less than you.”

I consider. Finally, I say, “I’m not sure if that’s sweet or really, really sad.”

He immediately growls. “Shut up! You’re the worst.”

I bump his shoulder companionably. “Well, for what it’s worth, I feel the same way.”

He pauses. “Wait, which part?”

I just smile mysteriously.

We come to the part of the road that leads through the forest. My father had warned me copiously about this area. People go in there and don’t come out, he said. The forest is filled with screams, he said. I think he’s being dramatic. I step inside.

Of course, just then, I hear a scream. I nod slowly. Okay. Maybe he was right.

“W-what was that?” asks Branton nervously.

“Well, I mean, it sounded awfully like someone screaming.”

He scrunches up his nose. “I know that. I mean—“

“Watch out!” someone yells. A wild boar goes running past at top speed, with a spear-carrying girl in hot pursuit. She stops just short of running into me and Branton, and the boar escapes into the brush.

She pants heavily, hands on her knees, then looks up and glares. “I said to watch out. That was my dinner.”

“Excuse you? You’re the one who came rampaging in here like—like some beast—“

I put a hand over Branton’s mouth, frowning. “What he means to say is that we apologize. We were actually just about to stop for a meal.” We weren’t, but like I said, I was raised to be polite. “Would you like to join us?”

She looks me up and down warily. I stare back steadily. She’s covered in grime and specks of blood, her hair is wild and pulled up away from her face. She’s lovely, though, in a strange kind of way.

“Well…if it’s not an imposition…”

I shake my head, sending a stern glance to Branton, who starts to say something against my hand. “It’s not. Please.”

We set up our dinner a little way away from the main path. Branton is quiet but scowling, as per usual. And he calls me a bad conversationalist.

“So, what’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m Princess Trea. I live nearby. You?”

“Princess Mana. This ray of sunshine over here is Prince Branton. We’re just passing through.”

“Oh, where are you going?”

“I’m trying to find a fairy named Farrow.”

Trea inhales sharply. “Farrow?”

“Yeah. You’ve heard of her?”

“Heard of her. Hate her.” Her face is dark. “She cursed me when I was a baby.”

While the situation might be slightly wrong for it, I start grinning. “Seriously? Me too!”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah!” I clasp her hands excitedly. “What was yours?”

“She told me I would never be loved,” Trea says sadly. “You?”

“Mine was that I would never get married. So I’m going to find her so that she can remove the curse.”

“So that she can marry me,” Branton says, rather mulishly. I hide a smile. It’s pretty obvious he’s feeling left out.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I say cheerfully. Leaning in close to Trea, I confide, “Mostly I just want to be normal.”

“Exactly!” she sympathizes. She turns serious. “Do you think she’ll really do it? Remove the curse, I mean?”

I shrug. “I don’t see why not. I’m sure even fairies can see reason sometimes.”

“Could I…” She clears her throat. “Could I come with? I never even dared to think…but if we’re all together, maybe we can convince her.”

“Of course!”

Branton takes me aside and hisses, “Are you serious? We don’t have the supplies to support another person.”

“Branton, we can’t just leave her behind. She needs our help. She’s just like me. Please?”

“But she’s so…” He searches for a word. “Dirty.”

“Nothing a good rinse won’t fix.”

To prove my point, I call out, “Hey, Trea. Is there a river around here that we could wash in?”

“Yeah! Let me just finish up dinner first.” She slurps the soup she’s working on as if to prove a point of her own.

Branton whirls to me with a disgusted look. “See? What kind of princess slurps their soup?”

“Apparently this kind,” I say severely. “Come on, don’t be rude.”

“Ugh. Fine! Have fun with your bath, you boorish mules.” He stomps off, but it’s made substantially less effective by the fact that he doesn’t want to go too far from camp. He ends up only a few feet away, hiding behind a tree. Trea and I share a look.

“Hey, Branton,” Trea yells. “You can join us if you want. I hear people form more intense bonds when they’re naked.”

He turns bright red and sputters. I laugh and throw an arm around Trea. I think this is going to be fun.

Trea is an excellent traveling companion. She’s knowledgeable about the area, a great hand with a spear, and knows how to pass the time well.

Branton is not happy about this.

He trudges a few feet from me and Trea at all times, except for when he pulls me back and whines. She’s loud, she’s irritating, she’s uncivilized, she’s suspiciously pretty for a forest animal.

When I hear that last one, I wiggle my eyebrows at him. He flushes and yells, “Not like that! Why do I even talk to you?”

“An excellent question. Please, feel free to stop.”

He purses his lips in response. “You could stand to be a little nicer to me. I am going to be your husband one day, after all.”

I sigh. “You know, I never actually said yes.”

“But you will, won’t you?” He’s frowning now. “You have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything. Besides, I’ll make that decision when I come to it.”

“But you don’t like anybody better than me, right?” The whine is back in his voice.

I shrug. “I suppose.”

“Then it’s settled,” he says decisively. “I don’t hate you completely and you like me the best. I don’t see any problems.”

I look at the sky, just barely visible through the thick evergreens, and wonder if that’s really what marriage is about, what love is about. The prospect doesn’t seem very appealing, but then again, I’m cursed.

I shake the thought and move back up to Trea. She smiles and starts telling me a story about the time she got stuck at the top of one of these trees. She wasn’t rescued until the late evening, hours later, when her parents finally sent someone to look for her.

“I wouldn’t even be allowed to climb the tree in the first place,” I muse. “My parents are very protective.”

“My parents pretty much let me do what I want. Honestly, I haven’t even seen them in a few months.”

“Really? Don’t you get lonely?”

She pauses. “Well, yeah. But I figure…”

“Figure what?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve just always thought it was part of the curse.” She starts fidgeting. “Nobody’s ever going to love me, right? So why would they keep tabs?”

“Even your parents? You don’t think they love you?” The idea is completely foreign.

“I can’t see why they would,” she says glumly. “Look at me.”

I tilt my head. “I’m looking.”

“Then look harder. I’m not the perfect princess they always wanted. I do what I want, and I play in the forest all day, and I’m—“ She pitches her voice lower to mimic Branton, and says prissily, “Dirty.”

I wince. “I didn’t know you heard that. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It’s true.” She exhales, kicking a pinecone out of the way. “I think the curse made me this way. Who could ever love someone like me?”

I pat her shoulder. “I get it. I guess my problem is sort of the opposite. Like, I love my parents, and I love my friends, but I can’t love people like Branton wants me to. Marriage-wise, or whatever. It must be the curse, because everybody else can do it.”

She gives me a hug from the side. “It’s all Farrow’s fault, but we’ll make it right.”

“Yeah.” I beam at her. “We’ll make it right. Definitely.”

“I hate to interrupt, but my feet hurt and I’m hungry.” Branton. I look back and see his smug face. He didn’t hate to interrupt at all.

“All right. It’s around noon anyway,” says Trea, suddenly all business. “I’ll go hunting.”

Branton puffs his chest out and proclaims, “I’m the man here! I should be the one hunting!”

“With that?” She looks skeptically at his sword. “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” he says huffily. “I’m the best.”

“And so modest too,” I murmur, but Trea is rolling her eyes.

“Fine. You can come. But don’t get in my way.”

“In your way?! How dare you—“

They leave into the forest, bickering all the while. I sit down next to a tree, contemplating. I wish they would get along better. That said, I can understand how hard it is to deal with Branton, especially if you don’t know him well. I know Branton better than anyone and I still have a hard time with him sometimes. He’s just a really abrasive person. Honestly, I’m not surprised I’m the person he ‘hates least’. I’m probably the only person who’s ever really bothered with him. Even his parents don’t, really. His dad is distant and his mom fawns over him but never really takes the time to talk to him. In some of his more open moments, he’s admitted that it kind of hurts.

“I wish I could…I don’t know. Tell them about my day? All my dad ever asks about are my studies and royal business, and my mom just showers me in presents like it makes up for them never being there. I wish I had your parents sometimes.”

I had taken his hand and patted it—my one-size-fits-all comforting technique—and he had flushed and pulled his hand away. “Only sometimes, though! And, I mean, obviously I turned out flawless anyway. Whatever. Forget I said anything.”

“It’s okay to be sad, Branton.”

“Not for me it isn’t,” he had said, uncharacteristically serious. Then he had turned away and mumbled, “And by the way, your hand is sweaty. It’s gross.”

Gross or not, after that he had started holding my hand every once in a while, an absent-minded sort of thing. I allowed it because I knew he didn’t get to touch people very often. Besides, it wasn’t like it was terrible or anything. I would never admit it, but I like being around Branton most of the time. He’s probably my best friend.

Is being best friends enough to get married, I wonder? Or is there something more you need? And if so, what is it? I wish I had grown up like all the others, able to just know and do. I feel like I’ve been robbed of something important.

But Trea is right. We’ll go to Farrow and we’ll fix everything. She’ll find someone to love her and I’ll be able to love. And Branton will get his trade agreement and, at the very least, someone to hold his hand. It’ll be fine.

So why am I suddenly so apprehensive?

When they come back, Trea is laughing and Branton is red. That’s not unusual or anything, but I decide to rib him about it anyway.

“What were you two up to out there all alone?” I tease. “Anything untoward that I should know about?”

Branton gasps, offended. “I would never! This girl is the most infuriating—“

“He challenged me to a contest and I won,” Trea says smugly.

“Because you cheated,” he hisses. “I almost had that rabbit!”

“You mean this rabbit? The one in my hands that I killed before you?”

He pouts, and I pat his head. “There, there. You don’t have to wallow in your inadequacy.”

“I am not inadequate!” he yelps, ducking out from under my hand. “Nor am I wallowing, thank you very much!”

“Are you sure?” chimes in Trea. “Looks a lot like wallowing to me.”

“I hate you both.”

“But only seventy percent,” I coo, and he glares.

It doesn’t really matter who caught it, in the end. It makes a very tasty meal combined with some stale bread and a few root vegetables. I cook it, because Branton is hopeless and the only cooking technique Trea has in her arsenal is charring.

“My compliments to the chef,” says Trea, burping contentedly.

“You’re disgusting,” sniffs Branton. “But yes, it was passable.”

I wave off the compliments (or what counts as a compliment from Branton, anyway) and say modestly, “I used to hang out in the kitchen a lot.”

Trea snorts. “So did I, but it’s not like I picked anything up. Except for that people get scared when you run after them with a meat cleaver.”

“You didn’t know that?” asks Branton disdainfully.

Trea grins deviously. “Oh, I knew.”

“You really are a beast.”

“And you really are boring. What did you spend your childhood doing, reading textbooks and ordering around servants?”

Branton is quiet.

“Let me guess, you wanted to make mommy and daddy proud so you did everything they told you to do,” mocks Trea. I make a slicing motion over my neck, but she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “And they told you you’d done very, very well, and it made you happy and you wanted them to love you, so you kept doing it. And now all you’ve got to show for it is this buzzkill personality and a superiority complex. Good job.” Her tone is sarcastic.

Branton stands up silently and walks off into the woods. I frown at Trea. “That wasn’t nice.”

“You’ve seen the way he treats me!” she protests, but she sounds a little bit guilty. “He deserves it!”

“You should know better than anyone else what it’s like to have parents that don’t understand you,” I say softly. “And nobody deserves that.”

I leave her with that to chew on and go after Branton.

When I find him, he’s hunched over sitting on a fallen log near a small stream, staring dully into the water. I sit next to him and put my arm around his shoulders.

Neither of us say anything for a long time. But eventually, he asks in a small voice, “Is that really all I am?”

“Oh, Branton.” I pull him a little bit closer. “Not at all. I think that’s just what you let most people see.”

“What do you see?”

I consider. “Well, you’re very smart. You have a very sharp sense of humor. You’re kind of mean sometimes, but I don’t really think you realize it because you’re also a little bit dense. You care more about things than you let on. Like your parents, and your kingdom, and what other people think of you, and maybe even me. You have a very strong sense of pride that sometimes gets in the way of things, but you’re also pretty noble. You have the biggest sweet tooth I’ve ever seen and you like adventures and you’re always willing to back me up, even when I’m doing something ridiculous like going to find a fairy to remove a curse. And you’re my friend.”

He hesitantly lowers his head onto my shoulder. “Really?”

“Why would I say all that sappy stuff unless I meant it?”

He nuzzles in a bit further and murmurs, “It was pretty sappy.”

There’s another silence, before, “Hey, Mana?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you dare ever repeat this, first of all.”

“Okay.”

He hesitates, then says, “I don’t think I hate you after all.”

I smile softly. “Thanks. Me either.”

“Good.”

We sit like that for a while.

It takes maybe half an hour before Branton disengages himself, muttering something about how my shoulder is really bony and uncomfortable. I tell him his head is big and my shoulder is numb. He primly states that my shoulder should be honored to be made numb by something as great as his big head.

We stand up, brushing ourselves off, and then Branton says, “So, do you know the way back?”

I look at him incredulously. “Are you serious? You know I’m terrible with directions.”

“Well, I wasn’t paying attention! I was in a state of emotion!”

I’m about to reply when I hear rustling in the trees. We both freeze for a moment.

“What do you think that is?” he asks uncertainly.

“I don’t know, but I think we should stop talking and—“

The creature emerges. It’s the wild boar from yesterday, and it doesn’t look tremendously happy to see us again.

“Run,” I whisper, and we start dashing through the trees.

I can hear it crashing through the brush behind us. I yell, “Branton, aren’t you the master of pointy things? Stick it with something!”

“You can’t kill a boar with a sword! And—I maybe lied, a little bit. I may have failed my swordplay classes.”

“Then why didn’t you say that?!”

“I wanted to sound cool!” he wails.

The boar is gaining on us, and then Branton trips. I rush over to him, kneeling at his side and blinking up at the boar with panicked eyes, when—

The boar stops in its tracks, blood blossoming from a fresh wound in its chest. I look in shock at the spear sticking out of it, then behind me to find Trea, panting.

“Just in time, huh?” she asks weakly. “Good thing I went to find you guys.”

We all make our way back to the camp, still more than a little bit shaken up. I collapse in a heap near the area we’ve cleared out for firewood.

“Are you guys both okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I respond, but Branton doesn’t say anything. Slightly worried, I inquire, “Branton?”

“You saved my life,” he says, somehow managing to sound both awed and pissed off.

“Well, yeah,” Trea starts to say, but he cuts her off, and this time he’s definitely pissed off.

“I owe you a debt.” He bows his head. “Whatever you ask.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“I may be boring,” he says bitterly, “But I’m a man of honor. Please.”

Trea thinks on that, then says timidly, “Then could I ask for your forgiveness? What I said was uncalled for. Mana was right. I’m not in any place to be making jabs about parents.” She pauses. “So…truce?”

He stares at her. Finally, he nods. “Fine. Truce.”

I knew he’d deny it if anyone asked, but there was just a hint of a smile on his face as he said it.

After that, Branton and Trea only grew closer. It turns out that their senses of humor actually mesh pretty well when they’re not constantly at each other’s throat, and they’ve bonded over their shared lack of parental attention.

“It’s like, every once in a while my dad would ask me how I was doing or if I wanted to hold an audience with him—an audience, can you believe it!—and I’d be like, wow, have you finally decided to start parenting?”

“Exactly!” Branton exclaims. “Or he’d be like, ‘Branton, I hear you’re lagging behind in your studies. What are we going to do about that?’ And I’m just sitting there going, oh, now you care?”

Honestly, I’m glad they’ve made up, but I feel a little left out. I never doubted that my parents loved me. Even if I didn’t always agree with their methods, I knew they were trying to do what they thought was best for me. I don’t really have anything to contribute. It feels a little bit like all of those conversations with my peers—“He’s so hot, right?” “Yeah, but she’s hotter! Don’t you think so, Mana?”— where all I could do was nod and hope it would end soon and we could return to talking about something interesting, like politics.

But all of that will change when we find Farrow, I remind myself. Not only will I be able to brag about a boyfriend, I’ll be able to brag about a fiancée and then a husband.

Feeling excited again, I ask Trea, “So how long will it take to Farrow’s home, do you think?”

“Oh, about a month,” she says cheerfully, in direct contrast to my own darkening mood. I don’t really think I’m the questing type. (Branton definitely isn’t.) “We’ll be out of this forest within the week, though.”

“Good. It’s creepy in here,” says Branton, shuddering.

Trea giggles. “Only because you’re a total wimp.”

They start to rib each other, again, and I’m left alone, again.

Later that night, when we’ve set up camp, Branton sits next to me while Trea is setting up the tents. “Not that it isn’t a welcome respite, but you haven’t been talking much recently. Are you all right?”

I shrug noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess.”

He gives me a level gaze. “I don’t believe you.”

“You’re welcome to believe whatever you want,” I say lightly, but my heart is starting to beat faster. How am I supposed to explain that I feel left out like some kid? Or, even worse, that I feel left out because I have great parents?

“Come on. You’re my fiancée-to-be,” he says self-importantly. “You should tell me everything.”

“Everything is so boring. Hey, why don’t you go talk to Trea about something or other? I’m sure it would be much more exciting for you.”

I’m trying to change the subject, but his eyes narrow speculatively. “Trea? Wait.” His eyes widen. “Are you…jealous?”

I smack my face with my palm. “No, Branton.”

“No, you totally are! Everything makes sense now,” he says, nodding like he’s discovered the reason behind the universe. “Don’t worry. I have no romantic intentions with Trea. Not that she isn’t very attractive.”

I stare at him dryly.

“But not as attractive as you!” he backpedals, then hurriedly adds, “Not that I think you’re attractive either, because you’re totally not.”

“Branton.”

“I mean, I guess some people could find you appealing. People that aren’t me.” He frowns. “But you’re not allowed to marry them, because you’re marrying me.”

“Branton.”

“And I’m marrying you, which is why you shouldn’t be jealous even if I think Trea is pretty. And I’m not going to take concubines or anything, in case you’re worried about that possibility. I mean, I imagine it’s something you’d be worried about, sharing me that is, because I am myself extremely appealing in every possible way—“

“BRANTON,” I yell exasperatedly. “I’m not jealous.”

“You’re not?” He blinks owlishly at me. “Why?”

“I’m just not. Trea is very pretty, anyway, so it would be silly if I said you couldn’t think that.”

“Then…” He crosses his arms. “What’s the issue?”

“I’ve just been feeling a little melancholy, is all. It’s not either of your faults.” That’s sort of a lie, but I’m not going to make them feel bad for having shared negative experiences. “I’ll get over it.” I hope that isn’t a lie.

“Well…okay. Do you want to talk about it or something?”

“Not really.” That’s the truth.

“If you say so.” He stands up. “Hey, what’s for dinner?”

“Salted fish and lots of berries.”

He makes a face. “I hate salted fish.”

“Too bad,” I say sweetly. “If you weren’t a terrible swordsman, maybe we could have something else.”

“Rude. I admit that to you in confidence while being chased by a large wild boar, and now you’re using it against me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” I flash a smile at him. “Go help Trea with the tents while I get everything ready.”

“You’re not the boss of me!” he calls out over his shoulder, but he’s doing what I say anyway.

I take a moment to control my roiling thoughts, then nod firmly and start getting the supplies out of our pack. My feelings aren’t hurt, and I’m fine.

(That one is definitely a lie.)

Within a few days, as promised, we’re out of the forest and into the rolling plains of Trea’s kingdom. It mostly relies on agriculture, silk, and trading. It’s actually a basin surrounded by mountains, but Trea assures us we won’t have to do any hiking. The path to Farrow’s home is straight and flat.

Unfortunately, a straight and flat path doesn’t seem to be in my cards, because one day I get abducted by a dragon.

It’s a very nice dragon, for the record. Their name is Pelli, they live in a cave in a mountain pass, and they’re vegetarian. “Please, darling, eating humans is so passé,” they say dismissively the first day I spend with them. “But having one as a servant happens to be very fashionable right now.”

“How fashionable is letting these humans go?”

They laugh, baring their teeth in the process. “Not very. You’re funny, though.”

I sigh and get down to work. Mostly they want me to arrange their hoard into a ‘pleasing display’. At least it’s interesting, getting to go through the hoard and see what dragons enjoy collecting. Pelli apparently has a penchant for decorative silverware.

After a while of this endeavor, Pelli speaks up. “Aren’t you going to talk to me?”

I wince, remembering my first conversation with Branton. “Sorry. Um…nice…weather?”

They laugh boisterously again. “Darling, nice try, but you can’t see the outside from this far back in the cave, and I know for a fact that it’s raining.” They pause. “How about I start, then? What was a lovely little thing like you doing on the plains of Asprit?”

I see no harm in telling them. “I’m trying to find a fairy called Farrow to get her to lift a curse.”

The dragon lifts an eyebrow—or the place where their eyebrow would be if they were human, anyway. “Interesting. Are you a princess, then?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Farrow mostly works with princesses,” Pelli says dismissively. “I’ve never found one trying to break the curse she gives them, though. You’re very brave.”

I shrug. “I don’t really think so. I just figured it was the best option.”

“As opposed to?”

I consider. “Disappointing my parents and Branton.”

“Why would you disappoint them?”

“The curse was that I would never get married. They all want me to get married and give them kids and make them happy.”

Pelli is quiet for a moment. “Would getting married make you happy?”

My brows wrinkle. “I guess. Everybody says so, anyway. I’m hoping I’ll understand why when the curse is lifted.”

“Darling…” They hesitate. “Have you ever considered that maybe this is just how you are? How you’re meant to be, perhaps?”

I frown, picking up a spoon and polishing it with the hem of my dress absentmindedly. “Why? Nobody else is like this. I’m not normal. I’m broken. I’m cursed.”

“I can assure you that you wouldn’t be broken for not wanting to get married or not wanting to date,” Pelli says in a severe, lecturing tone. “You wouldn’t be the first, and you won’t be the last. Are you telling these people that they’re broken?”

“Of course not,” I scoff. “It’s their business what they want or don’t want to do.”

“So why can’t the same apply to you?”

“It just doesn’t. I have a curse.”

Pelli looks like they want to say something, but they hold their tongue and nod slowly. “Well, all right. But…please just remember that your true self is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I look more closely at the spoon I’m polishing. “Is this blood?”

They grin, showing their teeth again. “Killing humans wasn’t always out of style.”

It’s hard to tell how long I’m with Pelli. Light doesn’t reach to the back of the cave—there are lanterns to compensate—and my sense of time has always been horrible. All I know is that one day, there’s the sound of footsteps coming from the cave entrance, interrupting my conversation with Pelli about dragon history.

“Mana! Are you in here?” someone yells. It’s Branton.

“Oh. Hello,” I yell back.

The footsteps quicken and I see Branton and Trea, both streaked with mud and breathing hard.

When Branton sees Pelli, he draws his sword, shaking slightly. “Let her go!”

“Oh my,” says Pelli mildly. “I’m terrified.”

“Branton, they’re a nice dragon,” I reprimand. “Put that thing away. You can’t even use it.”

Branton shoots a terrified glance at Trea, who starts to smile wickedly. “Mana, why would you say that?”

I ignore him and turn to look at Pelli. “I’ve gotten most of your hoard organized. Can I go with them now?”

Pelli huffs. “Fine, if you want to go so badly.”

“I can visit,” I offer. “On the way back from seeing Farrow.”

“I would like that. Well, be safe, then, darling. Best of luck.”

I wave goodbye to Pelli and join Trea and Branton, who stare at me wonderingly.

Once we’re out of the cave, Trea asks, “Did you make friends with that dragon?”

“It wasn’t exactly difficult.” I shrug. “Like I said, they’re nice.”

“You mean we’ve been searching high and low for you in the mud and rain and ick, and you’ve been cozy and warm in here having—high tea with a dragon?!” Branton hisses.

“More or less. I mean, we never had tea, but we did have some lovely chats.”

Branton growls, but Trea steps in front of him and puts a hand on his cheek, making him look at her—and oh, that’s new. “Come on, Branton. We’ve got her now. It’s fine.”

He’s obviously still raging, but his face relaxes slightly and he leans into the contact. That’s new too.

“You two seem to be getting along quite well,” I comment.

Branton turns his characteristic red and steps back. “No we’re not!”

“Aw, that hurts,” pouts Trea. “Did our kiss mean nothing to you?”

Branton turns even brighter red. “W-we—we didn’t—you—“ He turns to me, panicked. “She’s lying! I wouldn’t—“

“Was he a good kisser?” I inquire, knowing that she’s lying but also knowing that Branton will get really worked up, and he’s really funny when he gets worked up.

“Oh, the worst,” she says dismissively. “Saliva everywhere. Tried to bite me too.”

“Kinky,” I muse. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

Branton looks like he’s close to tears. “She’s lying, I swear! I’m the best kisser!”

“So you admit that you’ve kissed other people before?”

“I mean, no, but I’m the best at everything! That will obviously include kissing when I get around to it, so—so anyway, the point is Trea is a dirty liar and we never touched lips or anything and—“

I pat Branton on the head. “There, there. I know.”

As he sputters, I realize that the hurt feelings I had about being left out of their conversations have completely dissipated. They looked for me, even though it was hard. They care about me.

I take both of their hands cheerfully and swing them. “Come on, guys. Let’s go see Farrow.”

My unexpected stay with Pelli had set us back by about two weeks—apparently that’s how long I was in there—so we lost no time in making our way back to the path to Farrow’s house. We are about a week into this excursion when Trea suddenly stops in her tracks.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask.

“That way is the way to my parents’ castle,” she says quietly. “I wonder how they’re doing.”

I squeeze her shoulder. “Do you want to go?”

She turns away. “No. Let’s keep going.”

Right then is when we see two knights in full-on armor approaching. Trea groans. “Oh no.”

“Halt!” they yell. “Who goes there?”

Trea hides behind me. “Please, make them go away.”

I hold my ground and stare at the knights levelly. “Hello. What brings you here today?”

“Routine border check, miss. What’s your name?”

“I’m Princess Mana. With me is Prince Branton. We’re from a few kingdoms over.”

“Ah. It’s an honor.” One of the knights squints. “And who’s that behind you?”

“Uh…” I bite my lip. I hate lying. “It’s, um…”

“It’s me,” says Trea, revealing herself with an irritated look. “Can we please leave already?”

“Princess Trea! Your parents have been looking for you for months!” the other knight, a female, barks. “You all are coming with us.”

“Fine, Cal, calm down.” Trea yawns as if she’s bored with the whole proceedings, but I can see the panic in her eyes. “We want your horses, though.”

I start to protest, but the knights bow and get off their horses.

“Trea,” I say exasperatedly. “We can walk.”

“So can they,” she sniffs.

“But—“

“We really don’t mind, Your Highness. Please.” The male knight gestures to the horse.

Branton insists on riding behind me. I pretend not to be intensely uncomfortable for the entire ride. It’s tons of fun.

When we arrive to the throne room, Trea’s mother springs up from her seat immediately. “Trea! We’ve been so worried!”

“No need to worry. I’ve been fine.”

“And where have you been, exactly?” booms her father.

“Forest.” She doesn’t offer any further information. Her father doesn’t ask.

“Who are your friends?” her mother asks, somewhat awkwardly.

“Mother, Father, this is Princess Mana and her…companion…Prince Branton. They were traveling through the forest when I ran into them. We’ve been journeying together since.”

“Ah, Princess Mana! It’s a pleasure. Your parents actually invited Trea over several years ago, but she…” Trea’s mother coughs. “Elected not to go.”

I raise an eyebrow at Trea. She shrugs.

“It’s lovely to meet you as well, Your Majesties,” I say diplomatically. “I’ve heard so much about you.” I don’t mention that none of it was positive.

“And you, Prince Branton. We’re good friends with your parents, though we haven’t made the journey to your kingdom since before you were born. Our apologies.”

Branton’s face is impassive. “Please don’t worry about it.”

Trea’s father rumbles, “Would you two care to go to the guest rooms while we talk to our daughter?”

Branton immediately frowns. “I think we’d care to stay here, thank you.”

Trea’s father smiles tightly. “It wasn’t a request.”

I tug on Branton’s arm. He glares at me, but I motion to the doors.

When we reach the outside of the doors, he hisses, “How dare you! We can’t just leave her alone in there.”

“We’re not going to.” I gesture to the closed door. “We’ll be right here.”

Realization dawns in his eyes. “Ah.”

From this position, we can still here the goings-on in the throne room pretty well, especially with her dad’s deep voice and her mom’s high-pitched tone.

“How could you just leave for three months, Trea? We didn’t know if you were alive—or, or dead, or—“

Trea’s voice is angry. “I didn’t really think you cared.”

“Trea, of course we care! We’re your parents, we—“

“I’m sorry, can I please quote my father from before I left?” She imitates his low voice. “Trea, you need to get your life together if you don’t want that curse to come true.”

“You said that to her?” her mom says, voice rising even higher in pitch. “Astor, you know we agreed—“

“I was well within my rights! Trea is out of control, and this stunt just proves it!”

“But we talked about this! We never mention the curse, ever!”

“And how do you think that makes me feel?” asks Trea, starting to sound slightly hysterical. “You guys keep me in here like some dirty little secret, and you lie and you lie—you told Mana I chose not to visit her! You guys wouldn’t let me! I would have given anything to meet other people my age!”

The king and queen go quiet while Trea continues, nearly sobbing now. “You two think if you don’t talk about the curse, it won’t come true. But it already has! I don’t have anybody who loves me, including you. And I get it! I don’t love me either! But please, don’t pretend like you care when you only care about keeping up your reputation, because—“

“Trea, you think we don’t love you?” Branton and I have to press our ears up against the door to hear her mother’s voice, which has dropped to a whisper. “That’s what you think?”

“What am I supposed to think? When I’m around you act like I don’t even exist. I tried for so long to get you guys to love me. I tried so hard! But I’m done trying.”

“Trea.” That’s her father, sounding more emotional than we’ve heard him this entire time.

Trea sniffles. “Please let me leave. At least now I have friends, and—well, maybe they don’t love me either, but at least I can pretend.”

“Trea, we—we haven’t been the best parents, we haven’t done what’s best for you, but…” Her mother pauses. “Please don’t ever think we don’t love you. From the moment you were born, you’ve been the one bright thing in our lives. We don’t know how to deal with you sometimes, and obviously we haven’t done it well. But we love you with all of our hearts.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I suppose…” Her father clears her throat. “I suppose you’re under no obligation to believe us. Your mother is right. We haven’t done the best job of showing our feelings. But…maybe we can start.” There’s the slight sound of shifting, presumably him turning to his wife. “Dear, we should let her go.”

“What? But we just got her back—“

“She wants to go. We should let her.”

There’s a long silence. Then, a small, “All right.”

“…Thank you.” Then, there’s footsteps, and she’s running out the door, nearly bowling us over.

We smile apologetically.

“You heard all that?”

“Sort of,” says Branton.

“We wanted to make sure you were all right,” I say.

“I think I am.” She exhales slowly. “Come on, let’s get going.”

We traipse after her as she walks out of the front entrance of the castle.

“Hey, Trea?” Branton asks timidly.

“Yeah?”

“You said we didn’t…” He hesitates. “That we didn’t love you. But you’re wrong.” He glances at me for approval, and I nod.

“You mean…” Trea looks up at him hopefully.

“Platonically!” he adds hurriedly. “Like, platonic friend love. But we’re a team. And, uh…if you need anything you can just…ask. Or whatever.”

“I…” Trea chokes up. “I already have everything I could ask for. Thank you.”

She gathers both of us into a hug, and we respond enthusiastically.

Of course, it only takes maybe a minute before Branton starts squirming. “Let me go! You guys are really warm and soft and it’s weird!”

We laugh and squeeze him tighter.

In the remaining three weeks or so that we have left on our travels to Farrow’s meadow, we only grow closer. But, with about one week left, Trea starts acting strange. She pulls away from both Branton’s and my casual touches, she walks ahead of everyone, she’s short and snappy and generally unpleasant.

I confront her about it one day. “Trea, are you all right?”

“Aces,” is her curt response.

“I don’t think that’s the truth.” She turns around to glare at me, and I return her gaze placidly. Finally she looks away.

“Okay. Maybe something is bothering me. But I can’t tell you about it.”

“Why not? You can tell us anything.”

“No. I can’t tell you and I definitely can’t tell Branton. Can you just give me some space?”

“But…I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t have to be. I just need some time, okay?”

“Okay.” I gently pat her shoulder, and she pulls away as if I’ve electrocuted her.

“Don’t touch me!” she snaps, and I step back, shocked.

She curls in on herself. “Sorry. Just…I can’t take you being nice to me right now. Please leave.”

I acquiesce, but I’m still worried, and a little bit hurt.

“Hey, Branton,” I whisper when I get back to our camp. “You need to talk to Trea.”

“Huh? Why?”

I sigh. Oblivious as ever. “Because she’s being bothered by something and she won’t tell me what. You two are better friends than we are. Come on.”

“Okay, but I think you’re being a meddling hag,” he gripes.

He returns with big, round eyes and a hurt expression that matches my own. Trea storms into the camp and takes my arm, pulling me a good distance away.

“You told him to talk to me?” she hisses. “How dare you?”

“Well, you didn’t want my help, so—“

“I don’t need help! I just need to get over this and I definitely don’t need Branton knowing that!”

“I’m sorry! I just thought—“

“You thought wrong! You’re so irritating sometimes! Just leave me alone!”

“But why? I just want you to feel better, and—“

“Nothing you say can make me feel better because you’re the one I’m mad at!” she yells.

I wrap my arms around myself as if it will keep me from flying apart. “And…Branton…”

“Nothing he says will make me feel better either because—“ She stops.

“Because why?” I press.

“Because I’m in love with him!” She immediately claps her hands over her mouth.

Oh.

She’s up against me in a flash. “Don’t you dare tell him. Don’t you dare.”

“I wouldn’t,” I say woodenly.

“Fine. Okay.”

She looks like she wants the conversation to be over, but I can’t help but ask, “So…but why are you mad at me, then?”

She sits down on the ground and runs her hands through her hair. “I don’t know. I guess it’s irrational. I just…I can’t have him because he loves you. And you don’t even care. I know it’s the curse and all, and I know my curse would keep him from loving me romantically anyway. But then the curse will be lifted and you two will be married and I’ll be alone again and it just pisses me off.”

I sit down next to her, contemplating. Eventually I say, “I don’t think he loves me.”

She looks at me skeptically. “Are you kidding me? He asked you to marry him.”

“Yeah, because his parents wanted him to lock down a trade agreement with my parents, and because he’s never had any friends except for me so he figured I’d do.” I shrug lopsidedly. “He’s never even called me a friend, honestly.”

She hangs her head. “He’s kind of like that, though.”

“Yeah, but he said he loved you platonically,” I remind her. “That’s more than he’s ever said to me.”

“You think so?” she asks with burgeoning hope, then shakes her head forcefully. “No. I’m not going to let you do this.”

“I’m just saying the truth as I know it. I could be wrong, but I’ve known him for four years. I don’t know whether he loves you or not because I don’t know what it looks like. But at the same time, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t love me.” I pause. “Also, he’s said several times that he thinks you’re really pretty, so that’s a start.”

She blinks at me. “Why are you saying all this? Aren’t you going to marry him?”

“I think he thinks that’s what’s going to happen, but I’ve never been entirely set on the idea.” I rest my chin on my fist. “Maybe it’s just because of the curse, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be mad and jealous after the curse is lifted. But I don’t think so. You should go for it.”

She huffs bitterly. “I’m not going to ‘go for it’. You need a serious reality check.”

“Well, just an idea.” I stand and dust off my dress. “Think about it.”

“I don’t want to think about it. I want to get over it.”

I tilt my head. “Then don’t think about it. But I think getting over him is harder than just saying you’re going to do it. He is ‘appealing in every possible way’, after all.”

She groans and buries her head in her knees. I walk back to camp.

Things get slightly better after that. She apologizes to Branton and stops avoiding us, though she stares at Branton speculatively more often now. I give her a thumbs up every time I see her doing it, and she hurriedly looks away every time she sees me. It’s kind of funny, actually.

The week goes by quickly, and soon enough we’re at the entrance to the unicorn meadow. A quaint little cottage stands right in the center, surrounded by flowers and sunlight and (of course) unicorns.

“I expected it to be more…extravagant,” comments Branton, sounding disappointed.

“I think it’s lovely. Come on.”

We reach the door of the cottage. I summon all of my courage and knock four times, softly.

A frazzled woman with wild, bright red hair and woefully mismatched neon yellow clothes answers. “What? I told you, I—“

We stare at her. She stares back at us.

“Oh, crap.”

“Hello, Farrow?” I ask politely. “We’re here to—“

“I know exactly what you’re here for,” she says, massaging her temples. “You’re princesses, aren’t you?” She looks over at Branton and mumbles, “And a prince. That’s new.”

“Yeah, we’re princesses, and we’re royally pissed—“

I shush Trea. “What she means to say is that we’d really appreciate the chance to talk to you.”

Farrow sighs and runs her hands through her hair, making it stick up even more. “Fine. But you guys aren’t going to be happy with me.”

We sit down at a small table while she pours us tea. “What are you guys’ names?”

“Mana,” I introduce myself. “And this is Trea and Branton.”

“I remember you. I remember all of them.” She returns with the tea and passes us each a cup, staring at her own cup with a sense of melancholy. “Mana, what was your curse?”

“To never get married,” I respond.

“And yours, Trea?”

“To never be loved.”

She looks up from her cup and squints at Branton. “And what the crap are you doing here?”

“I’m going to marry Mana.”

“Ah.” She leans back, hitting her head on the top of her chair. “Ow.”

“Can you please remove the curses?” I inquire, still painfully polite. “We—“

“No.”

“But—“

“Listen here, you neon freak!” erupts Trea. “We didn’t come to have tea, we came to get the curses removed! You had better—“

“I can’t remove the curses because I never cursed anyone.”

Time seems to stop. “I…beg your pardon?” I ask faintly.

Farrow sighs and stirs her tea. “Sixteen years ago, I was still a pretty new fairy and I wanted to make friends. So I pretended that I could curse princesses like the old greats used to. I never could. I’m not powerful enough. I figured by the time the princesses grew up and found out it was all crap, I’d be far away from here, or people would just think I was full of it. I mean, who believes in curses anymore?”

All of us are sitting there with our mouths open.

“But, it turns out that the expectation is a pretty powerful thing. People treated these girls a certain way because of the curse, and the curse ended up being more like a self-fulfilling prophecy. It didn’t happen all the time, of course—the love-related ones in particular are usually broken by ‘true love’s kiss!’ or some crap like that—but basically that was the gist of it. I ruined a whole lot of people’s lives, and I feel terrible about it. But there’s nothing I can do now.”

Trea and I are both silent, processing, until Trea roars, “I’m going to end you, Farrow!”

“Trea!” I say sharply. “Don’t hurt her.”

“But she—I grew up all this time thinking—“

“I know. Me too. And I’m angry. But we don’t have to stoop to her level.”

Farrow has the decency to look a bit guilty at that.

“Thank you for your time,” I say with ice in my voice. “We’re going to leave now.” I start to turn, but then I look back. “There’s just one thing I’d like to know. If I’m not cursed, why can’t I love anybody?”

Farrow taps her chin. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that. Obviously I didn’t do anything, and usually when I gave marriage curses people didn’t have any trouble falling in love. Maybe you’re just strange?”

I absorb that, then nod. “Okay.”

I have to pat Branton on the shoulder to rouse him from his stupor. We all file out the door and sit just outside of the unicorn meadow.

“Wow,” he finally says. “So…”

“We came all this way for nothing,” says Trea, seething. “She totally played us.”

“Well, but…we got to meet each other,” Branton says hesitantly. “Maybe it wasn’t totally bad.”

They stare at each other with hearts in their eyes and my own heart almost breaks.

“I’m going to take a walk.” I stand abruptly. Trea and Branton call out after me, but I ignore them.

As I walk, I think. No curse. There’s no curse, which means I’m not normal. Even though it sounds strange, the curse had been a blessing for a shining moment in time. It had let me think that maybe I wasn’t broken after all.

But I am. I’m just as weird as I always thought I was. To love has always seemed to me something human, something that elevates other people. So what does that make me? Barely human, barely living.

I can barely contain my envy for Trea and Branton. There’s no curse, so they can love each other and get married and be happy. They’ll be fine. But what about me? I’ll have to go home and break the news to my parents, let them know I’m an utter disappointment, an embarrassment. Let them know they’ll never have a son-in-law or grandkids. Because as selfish as it is, I’m not going to do something I don’t want to do, and I don’t want to get married. I want to want to get married, but I don’t, and that’s something that’s apparently not going to change. I’m going to be on the outside looking in forever.

I slump on the ground and huddle in on myself. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.

The tears start anyway.

Why couldn’t I be born like everybody else? Why did it have to be me? Why not literally anyone else? Why not—

I hear the flapping of wings and a soft landing. I look up to see Pelli, looking very sad and very apologetic.

“I’ve been following you, waiting for you to get here,” they say by way of explanation. “I thought you might need someone after—“

“You knew.”

“…Yes.”

“You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“Would you have believed me?”

I consider. “Probably not.” Then I bury my head back in between my knees.

“There you go, darling. I tried to convince you it was all right, but obviously I failed.”

“How is anything all right?” I mumble, voice muffled by the fabric of my dress.

“Remember what I said? Your true self is nothing to ever be ashamed of. This is your true self, but you’re not broken and you’re as normal as anyone can be.”

“Being normal is falling in love and getting married and having kids and growing old together. That’s what everyone says.”

“A lot of people can say something and it can still be wrong. So what if you can’t love people romantically? You love your friends and you love your parents. Why isn’t that enough? How is it any different?”

“It just is,” I say, frustrated.

Pelli shakes their head. “No, it’s not. But even if it was, you still deserve to love yourself. You’re a good person and you’ve done nothing wrong by existing as yourself. Branton will realize it. Your parents will come to realize it. You will learn it as well.”

“How?” I ask miserably.

Pelli chuckles. “It’s hard. But I believe you can do it. You just have to let yourself be.” Their ear twitches, and they bow their head at me. “I have to go. Your friends are coming. But please, try to remember what I’ve said.”

They take to the air, leaving me staring at the sun. True to their words, Trea and Branton come rushing in mere seconds later.

Trea runs to me and says, “Mana! Are you okay?”

I wipe an errant tear. “Not really. But somebody says I’m going to be.”

“Why did you go running off like that?” Branton chides. “We were worried.”

“I just don’t know how to deal with this,” I say honestly. “If there’s no curse, I’m just different. I’m going to disappoint so many people.”

“What, because of the marriage thing?”

I give him a deadpan look. “Yes, Branton, because of the marriage thing.”

“Honestly, it’s sort of a relief,” Branton says bluntly. I gape at him.

“What?”

“Like, you’re not terrible and all, but I’ve realized spending the past month and a half with you that I don’t really want to spend, like…the rest of my life with you, you know? Not like that, anyway. You’re more like a sort of irritating sibling than a wife.”

Trea slaps his arm. “Branton!”

“I thought I loved you for a long time,” he continues, oblivious. “Or, maybe…I thought you were my only option? And you were a pretty good option, don’t get me wrong, but it always felt sort of weird.”

“Branton, shut up!” Trea hisses.

“You mean…” I swallow. “You’re fine with not marrying me?”

He nods, finally starting to look a little bit guilty. “Is that, um, bad?”

“Branton, I love you,” I declare.

“Crap.”

I grin. “Not like that. You have no idea how good it is to hear you say all that, because I don’t want to marry you either. Never have.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” He sags.

Trea looks between us both. “So, uh, you mean…”

“He’s all yours,” I say cheerfully. “I reiterate, go for it.”

She turns red. “Mana! You said you wouldn’t—“

“Does that mean what I think it means?” interrupts Branton.

“I don’t know. What do you think it means?” Trea challenges.

“That you have a ridiculously huge crush on me and want to give me infinite kisses,” Branton states smugly.

“You’re a pompous jerk,” she says disgustedly. “But…maybe.”

“Excellent. Because I maybe want to take you out on a date or several.” He pauses. “Say, how do your parents feel about trade agreements?”

“If you want one of those dates, you’ll shut up about trade immediately,” Trea says sweetly. “Also I will punch you in the face.”

He winces. “Okay. Fair enough.”

It takes us another six weeks to get home. Trea somewhat reluctantly stops by her parents’ on the way back, and we stay there for a week. They spend the entire time trying to make her childhood up to her. I’m not sure if it works, but I do see her smile at them once.

As soon as we get home, Branton declares to his parents that he’s not going to marry me and that he’s going to marry another girl instead. The looks of shock on both his parents’ and Trea’s faces are priceless. It’s the first time that he’s ever stood up to them about anything at all. They protest at first, but I inform them that I declined anyway, which is sort of true, and Trea tells them about her kingdom’s excellent farming and silk industry. They soften up a little bit after that.

Finally, I go home to my parents and tell them the news. There’s a lot of crying from all parties involved, but eventually my mom tearfully tells me that they’ll always love me no matter what and that they couldn’t be prouder of me.

I feel the weight from my shoulders lift a little at a time—when I tell my friends that I don’t want to talk about dating and they just blink and ask, “Why didn’t you say so?”; when Trea and Branton say their vows, smiling radiantly at each other; when I turn eighteen and my parents change the law that says you can only rule a kingdom while married. Slowly, I start to accept my differences, and slowly, I start to love myself.

I still have bad days. Trea and Branton bring their children over to visit frequently, and my parents coo over them and I wish I could give them that kind of happiness. Sometimes people inform me that I still have yet to find ‘the right one’ and I start wondering if I haven’t been fooling everyone all this time. People tell me I’m a sinner, abnormal, flawed, and I think they might be right.

But then Pelli will visit and remind me that I’m beautiful as I am, and my parents hug me and tell me I’m the best gift they’ve ever been given, and Trea and Branton clasp my hands and tell me that I’m their best friend and that they love me.

In the end, it’s more than enough.