Encrypted

Chapter Seven

Heracles leaves me not an hour later, with the promise of a picnic tomorrow. How normal - it sounds odd now. But there's no reason why my life shouldn't be normal. Something crazy and bizarre happened. That, in itself, is normal. Crazy, unexpected things happen. And then it goes back to normal. I deserve normal. I deserve happiness. And I got no indication that anything more would happen. A lifetime of picnics and balls and Christmas parties awaits me. I smile. I want that for myself.

I turn in bed, drawing the duvet closer around me. The silk is cool against my skin, and I enjoy this strange luxury. Yawning, I close my eyes, going over times tables as I try to sleep. Mother made me learn them when I was little, and tested me on them before bed. They were boring enough to put me to sleep, so that's what I starting doing. The habit stuck. 

3x9=27

Mother. Part of me hates her. What kind of mother tries to destroy her own daughter because of something she can't even help? But the other part of me, the darker part, understands it. She was angry. Angry and bitter. She hated everyone, and I was no exception. That's still no excuse, but I understand it. It was a way to get back at Father, too. Not that he's even noticed. 

15x19=285

Finally, my eyelids begin to droop, and I roll over, letting sleep claim me. 

"You stupid little girl!" Mother stands before me, glamorous as ever. "Did you really think it was over?" She laughs, cruelly. I've never seen her like this, and I can't help a shudder. "This is only the beginning!" As I watch, she ages, gaining wrinkles. Her skin sags, and she hunches over, her hair grey, then white. Stumbling back, I try to call for help, for anything, but I can't talk, and I'm choking on my tongue. I start to cry, the tears rolling down my face into my silently screaming mouth, drowning my sobs. I try to look away, but my head won't move, and I'm forced to watch as Mother ages. She's crying now, too, and even after all she's done, I reach a hand forward, trying to comfort her. My hand hits a pane of glass, cool against my skin. I hit it, beating my hands raw, not stopping until blood starts pouring down my arms. In the end, I sit down, back against the glass, and stare at my hands. Except they're not. Yellowed and wrinkled, they're old. I stand again, looking into the glass. Very deliberately, I raise my arm. Mother does the same. God. God. It's a mirror. That's me, I'm old and, and - as I watch, my skin dissolves, turning to dust, until all that's left of me is a grinning skeleton. I try to scream, try to move, but I have no muscles, no tongue. My bones crumple to the ground in a heap, but I'm still there, watching, and - and - 

I wake,  and nausea crashes through me. I curl in on myself, trying to keep from vomiting. It was just a dream. It's all over now. After half an hour, my heart finally slows, and I sit hesitantly up, keeping my breathing steady. I'm safe. It's all fine now. I brush hair off my face, and realise I must have been crying. Odd - I didn't notice. How did I not notice? All thoughts, however, fly from my head as I see my reflection in the mirror on the gilded vanity. Not again. It was meant to be over. It - this wasn't supposed to happen. Not now. Not ever. It - it was meant to be one time. 

What will Heracles do? He won't mind, surely. He didn't before. But - oh God. It will happen again, won't it? If it's happened twice, then... But, surely, there's some way to stop it. I think back, going over both times. I didn't have the nightmare the first time. Maybe I was too tired - is that right? That you don't dream if you're sleeping deeply enough? That dream - it was real. Mother was talking to me. Maybe after appearing to me, and giving me a carriage, she was too tired. Maybe. I was asleep both times. I had been awake between, but I didn't age then. Only when I was asleep. Maybe that's when it happens. It happens. I'm already thinking of it as a normal occurrence. I fight back a sob. This is horrible. Why is it happening to me? Not anyone else, but me. 

I try to read, but my eyes won't focus on the words. I'm still tired, but I can't - won't - sleep. I know what will happen if I do. Only a few hours, then I can find Heracles. He'll know what to do. We can find a solution, then I'll get my happy ending. It will all be fine. It's hard to keep my eyes open. Every time I blink, they stay closed, unwilling to open. I can barely think, I'm so tired. I force my eyes open again, telling myself I won't let that happen again. I won't go to sleep. I won't. My eyes fall, and I can't do anything to open them again.

Seemingly a moment later, I wake, cramped, half fallen off the crimson velvet armchair. Heracles's voice sounds over me, and I smile at the familiar and comforting sound. 

"Are you sure there's nothing? Certain?" He sighs. "Ugh! Useless! Thorin, you know what to do. No - don't bother with all that. She won't need it. Yes, I'm sure! Get a move on! Oh, she's awake."

"What were you talking about?"

"You understand, of course, that as you are, you cannot be my wife? It will bring instability to the country, and look bad. Neither can I say what happened. You can't be allowed to live." His voice is cold, unfeeling. Indifferent.

"You - you don't want to marry me any more? You - want to kill me?" 

"It's not what I want, Ella. This is for the good of the country."

"You said you loved me!" He laughs. I never knew a single laugh could crack your heart in half.

"More fool you, for believing it! Oh, don't look at me like that. I said it because that's what you wanted to hear. They always do."

"There were others?" I ask weakly, hopefully. Maybe he'll tell me how everything he said was because he didn't want anyone to know his plans to run away together.

"Oh, Ella, didn't you know? There are always others. Did you learn nothing from your mother?"

"But - I thought I was special."

"Only because you were pretty. Did you really believe it was more than that?"

"But -"

"Where did you think I was last night?" I can't answer. I would cry, but I have no tears left. "And no, I'm not killing you. I'm not a monster." Oh, really? "Instead, I'll offer you a compromise. You can live in the old priest hole. I really have no idea why it's here, but you make do. Don't worry - it's not so bad. A little basic, I suppose, but it's actually quite spacious, with a toilet, and space for a single bed." I can only stare in horror. I can't believe it. My perfect Prince Charming has turned into the villain, along with Mother. All I can think is that this isn't how faerie-tales are meant to go.