Royal Fools

V. The Winter Fairy

Emory walked the familiar path to the Fitzwilliams. Marius followed from afar, but having been around the king long enough as his most trusted guard, he knew how paramount it was to remain unseen.

It had been years, but Emory still couldn't get used to having men around him at all times. He grew up in Birchfield with a certain freedom his other siblings never enjoyed.

Every morning, he and Henry would wake up with little to no lessons, and were lucky to have had the Fitzwilliams as part of the small group tasked to watch over them.

Mr. And Mrs. Fitzwilliam had a younger daughter, Eliza. The first time they met, she told them she was a winter fairy from the woods.

"But your hair is black. Shouldn't it be white?" Emory had asked her.

"The mud nymphs painted it black," was her reply.

He remembered her leading them everywhere, saying the woods were her home. She showed them the lake and glided over its hardened surface like the fairy that she claimed she was. After everyone who had gone out to look for them finally found them, the fantasy was shattered, exposing her childish lies.

But the magic remained. When they met again, she was a witch in training. And the next day, she was a pirate from a ship that sailed through the clouds.

With Mr. Fitzwilliam, they built a tree house behind the caretaker's small stone cottage. Ever since then, Emory and Henry would come every morning and spend the rest of the day with Eliza. They'd enjoy Mrs. Fitzwilliam's meatloaf, and if they were clean enough, she'd let them join them in the kitchen.

With them, he wasn't a prince. He was whomever he wanted to be that day: a wizard nemesis of the witch; the merman captured by the sky pirate; or the fire demon vanquished by the winter fairy.

His footsteps faltered as he neared the cottage. Pushing his hands in his pockets, he took a deep breath and let it out with a bitter smile.

Eliza didn't have the chance to join him and Henry in many of their other adventures. Her illness came without warning and took her away swiftly. He still remembered the day they were told they couldn't visit the Fitzwilliams for a while. They sat waiting in front of their window, hoping Eliza would appear and help sneak them out as the sky pirate or the vigilante thief named Prospero. It never happened.

She joined the angels up in heaven, Mrs. Fitzwilliam had told them. For a pair of five-year-old boys, it was baffling. It took them some time to realize what happened.

A sad smile curved his lips as he passed the dilapidated tree house. During his last visit, he offered to have it taken down for their safety. Mr. Fitzwilliam said he'd do it himself, but Emory knew it would stay here as long as the Fitzwilliams were around.

He looked up and studied the rotten floorboards above. A few fallen pieces were carefully placed against the tree trunk, never to be disposed.

His memories of Henry and Eliza poking their heads out of the little window of their tree house vanished at the sound of laughter from inside the cottage. His smile froze on his lips when he recognized Lucy's laugh.

"Was she not in the kitchen?" he wondered aloud as he trudged toward the back door that led to the kitchen, only to stop and run to hide behind the tree when it swung open.

"There were more yesterday, but I think the foxes got to them," Lucy was saying. "I hope they're enough for your pies, Mrs. Fitzwilliam."

"They are more than enough, dear," the old woman's voice replied. "Be careful on your way back."

"I will. Please say goodbye to Mr. Fitzwilliam for me. Tell him it was rude of him to fall asleep halfway through my story!"

Emory waited as the pair said their goodbyes and Lucy's footsteps against the snow became distant. When he was certain, he walked out of his hiding place and knocked on the kitchen door.