Before a Once Upon A Time

A Single Lamp - From The Heart

Story 2 - A Single Lamp

Part 6 - From The Heart

The day of the Gala, he stood in front of a mirror for hours. He traded out clothing quickly, trying to decide what outfit, what combination of clothes would offset his opponent just that little bit more, give him just that tiny edge. His servants snickered in the kitchens where he was guaranteed to not hear them. They laughed that was vainer than any of the girls any of them had ever served - and that was saying a lot.  High class servants are often traded household to household because it takes years of training for them to be of an appropriate level of servitude for the high ranking in society. This being said, high ranking officials, dignitaries, the extremely rich merchant here and there, such as Gene, and the royal family often exchanged servants and used the extraordinarily good ones as bargaining chips or pot sweeteners for other deals. The servants where also often gifts to other high ranking people as acknowledgement of the other person.

But that was all fake. There was never any honesty or dignity or respect that high up in the government. All of it was for show - though for whom, it is hard to say. All of those in the high-ranking positions knew what the others were doing - and however scandalous it was, did nothing. And the servants had all been serving so long they knew the truths of these people also.

Perhaps it was for the members of other countries - though all that traveled between many countries knew that they were all much the same. Perhaps however, this infighting between dignitaries would be seen as a sign of weakness and cause other countries to declare war on them because they couldn’t pass up a ‘golden opportunity’.

Whatever the reason may have been, the servants had seen a lot of different families - a lot of different masters and mistresses (Of both varieties). In fact, up until two years ago, all the servants had begged to be sent here because for those three years, the years of Gene’s sanity, there had been hope of a master who wasn’t cruel just to be so - one who would care about his servant and their well bring - one would take over after his father and care for them and take care of the business and be overall a good master, a good person.

That illusion had been shattered over two years ago and now the only servants that were sent to him were those who rebelled - they were sent to be broken. And broken they were, bit by bit until they rarely spoke at all, hardly ever took breaks and never looked at or talked back to a dignitary. That was the way of things now.

Gene finally, having settled on his wardrobe, arranged to be carried to his carriage by his servants. He would not leave his home in dishonor - he could leave like a prince. Or how he imagined a prince would leave. In truth, the prince was kind and generous but Gene would never allow that small fact to shatter his illusion - it was too precious to him. It kept him sane. (Well, as close to sane as one can be when one is already a raging maniac.) He never spared a thought for the fact that he had left the both the carriage driver and coachman - not to mention his horses - outside for such a long period of time that they were already tired and hot, for a true prince would not care for such lowly servants.

Gene’s coachman was wiping his brow with a rag when the prince - excuse me - Gene came out. This was atrocious. He couldn't be seen with a coachman or driver who couldn't maintain his composure - who couldn't hold himself to the standard Gene held him to. When Gene was deposited carefully and slowly by the aching and shaking arms of his servants into his seat in the carriage, he calmly reached down to the servant who held up his sword for him to take and pulled it smoothly from its sheath. Then calmly, in front of all his servants, (Who had gathered to see him off - another requirement of princedom) he ran the bowing coachman through. He didn't even look at the man again, as he slumped, taking Gene’s blade with him. Gene sighed and said "Well. Now I need another sword. But then it won't match my outfit. I suppose we will have to start over. Oh, and I need a new coachman too."

There had been a lot of conflict over who should fill the coachman position too- those with families- those without? A man, a woman, a small person less likely to attract attention or a large one, more able to take a beating, though obviously that hadn’t done their friend much good. The debate had gone on almost until Gene was ready- then the person closest to the body was picked, and was handed a new, cleanly pressed never been worn version of the same uniform the dead man at their feet  was wearing. The poor girl looked like she was about to cry. It was bad enough she had to be close to the body to be in on the conversation and now this? It was madness but there was no time to protest. And so the young, 12 year old girl became the new coachman. But that is another story.

This second time through, there was no killing. Everything went smoothly, and no one was injured much to the relief of the all the servants.( Though when the driver and coachman got home that night they would both collapse from exhaustion and fits of terror, imagining the near misses, all their numerous brushes with death in this one night.)

Gene went to the Gala and danced the night away. He glanced at the clock every time it struck. Each time it made him just a little more angered. Why was it chiming? Was it getting louder? He couldn't tell, but even if it wasn't it would have been in his deranged mind. There was much wrong with him. The people at the party - or the majority of them knew this. Yet there was only one among them crazy enough to make use of his insanity - and that was the Good Fairy. She smilingly led him away from the crowd- and the chiming clock- and into a hallway.

She stroked his arms and looked into his eyes, disarming him with her magic, his defenses dropping.  Her magic dealt almost entirely with people - which was okay with her since manipulating them had always been her specialty, even before the magic came into play.

Even so, she collected objects infused with magic from other fairies and witches, keeping them and storing them for 'safekeeping', though it was really only for her own selfish desire to be the greatest fairy of all.(Though we all know that is Mal) However, there was a specific lamp merchant who had found out the truth behind the Good Fairy- that her name stood for greedy, overambitious, obscene and devilish. He knew this and had been trying to black mail her into paying large amounts of money to keep him quiet - so she was going to make him quiet. Permanently. And she had a perfect plan. She didn't care that it would set Gene free too- though she probably should have. She should plan everything - in her line of work especially. That meant knowing and caring about everything that could go wrong - but Gene was established as a cold hearted murder who had no mercy - and everyone tends to forget the past good in someone if the current version contains only the bad ( Like with Mal. She was good, but no one could remember it because history marked her as bad and there she remained.).

"Gene. I need your help. And I think you need mine. Let me see..." She leaned in and kissed him, an act that had never before been performed upon him. The faint smell that had been on the invitation wafted strongly from her neck and taste don her lips. He felt a sense of wrongness deep within his soul and something that deep down screamed that against it - but it was so far away that it didn't process. He smiled a bit when she pulled away, taken in by her beauty and her scent. She pursed her lips and then smiled a bit, thrilled that her plan was really working so perfectly. “I’ve seen you're heart. And I’m going to grant your wishes. You have three, you know."

This statement seems to wake Gene up a bit from his perfume induced stupor. “No. There are many more than three. I am not a moderate person. I want more than three."

The Good witch's smile never parted, disappeared or even twitched anywhere in his half- dazed tirade. “No. You have three. And they are all very sweet. You see I can only grant wishes from the heart and there are only three of those. Or, well, I shouldn't say I. I can't change a thing about you or your wishes. However, I know a lamp, a special lamp owned by the man that you are going to kill for me - and this lamp can."

Gene nodded sleepily, past objections forgotten. Anything the pretty lady said. After all, she smelled so good….