"—be so heartless!" Sixth was saying, gesturing a hand broadly. He nearly hit Cruelty in the face as she appeared.
She took three steps back, biting down on the indignant irritation she felt welling up inside her, and looked between Sixth and Odile. "What in heaven's name," she said, keeping her voice calm and cool, "is going on here?"
"Lady Cruelty." Odile turned cold, dark eyes on her in, if not appeal, expectation that Cruelty would take her side over Sixth's. And as she hadn't nearly smacked Cruelty, she was in fact in the lead there. "This man has toyed with my affections."
"I have toyed with nothing!" Sixth protested, waving his hands in front of him as if he could brush the accusations away. "Your love for me was through no doing of mine, and my rejection of same is no fault of mine but simply devotion to lady Odette!"
"Your devotion is to one side of a coin," Odile said. "Your devotion is to a creature that has not been allowed to maintain its humanity. You look only at what stands in front of the mirror and not its reflection, what stands on the ground and not its cast shadow, and so you are half blind."
Sixth took a step toward her. His pose was almost defeated, his gestures not angry but pleading. "My Lady Odile, if I were to love you, I'd love a shadow and not what cast it, a reflection and not what stands before it. You are not the reality, and even if she has been transformed, I have as well, and have never fully regained my humanity. Release me from your demands of me, and accept my love for another."
"Oh good lord," Cruelty said. "Is now really the time? We have a few bigger problems than your love lives."
Their expressions, as they tore their gaze from each other and looked at her, were equally blank.
"Love comes where it comes, and has always been the greatest power over us," Sixth said, almost confused by her protest. "Even one such as yourself should know that love undoes the plot of every villain, and overcomes every ill. Those who do not have it crave it, and those who have it wish to keep it."
"Love changes the outcast to the accepted," Odile said. "Love creates connections, and builds new identities for those who have no true selves. It creates homes, places to dwell. A child who is unloved by her parents must find a lover to care for her instead; an undesired lover could return home to the loving parents who miss her. A child with neither is nothing, a wretch."
"Love lifts us up where we belong," Cruelty said, and rolled her eyes as they relaxed at her sudden apparent understanding. "Please. My tale has little to do with love. Perhaps that's why Beauty's remembered best as the untainted sleeping maiden, not the raped mother who must return to marry the man who raped her."
"But she isn't remembered that way only. True love's kiss—"
"Still less appealing a story than her as the lure, isn't it?"
"It doesn't have to be that way," Sixth said. "If there were a compelling alternative, she wouldn't always return to this form. That's why true love's kiss has been given significance."
"Oh, yes," Cruelty said. "But her story's too well known to fully change. You two, however, perhaps you're such small, insignificant stories that you could be changed. Perhaps you, Sixth Son, could become more than the one who always came last even in your sister's affections." It was his sister, after all, who had only made enough shirts for five of her brothers, hadn't finished the last, and chose her youngest brother to get that incomplete shirt and incomplete transformation. "Perhaps you, Odile, could gain love in Odette's place even though you're nothing more than her mimic. And if you can find anyone willing to tell those tales to people who care to believe them, be my guest and change your destiny."
Both fell silent, pale and hurt.
"There. No more arguing now," Cruelty said. "Now, if you'll excuse me…?"
She didn't wait to be excused, just turned and headed toward the stair with a broad stride, ignoring their irritated and defeated stares. A sense of restlessness moved within her, settling thick in her throat and stomach as she went, and feeling that way only bothered her the more. She wasn't wrong; everything she'd said had been the simple truth, and the two of them—three of them, really, for all that Odette wasn't here to speak her part—were simply too romantic and unrealistic. Not an uncommon trait, especially around here, but they were the ones who'd had an inappropriate reaction to the situation, not her.
But she couldn't quell that sensation in her stomach regardless. It churned inside her with a thick, nauseating feeling as she opened the door to Talia's room, and wasn't particularly relieved when she saw Talia, still beautifully asleep on the bed, with the Cat sprawled on her chest and halfway across her face. For a moment, she almost seemed like a mundane sleeper with any cat, undignified and human, and that thought turned the nausea to a bitter bile.
"Rise and shine," Cruelty said, and clapped her hands.
Talia, of course, didn't snap awake. The Cat didn't either, though his ears twitched upright. But Talia's image popped into being with her hair rumpled and the top of her nightgown wet, as if the Cat's drooling there penetrated even her self-image. The Cat slowly stretched with a whining yawn, giving off the impression of an incredibly fat loaf of bread with four completely straight limbs sticking out of it before he relaxed into a normal cat position again and lifted his head to give her a baleful look.
"Cruelty," Talia said, and smoothed down her hair with her fingers, as if embarrassed to be caught with her projection in such a disheveled state. "How did things… go?"
"With our incredibly ballsy recasting and attempt to influence another Archetype's story?" Cruelty sank onto the bed next to them, shoving the Cat to try to settle in next to Talia in her usual parody of affection. The Cat resisted, shoving his butt against Cruelty's shoulder so she'd have to actively strain against him to do what she'd intended. That would have been too embarrassing for words, so she rolled onto her side with a huff instead to make room for all of them. "It didn't go badly. Martin didn't vomit on seeing the Beast, so I suppose that's promising all around."
Talia leaned over her own body to try to look Cruelty in the face, eyes glittering with delight. It really was no wonder she was known as Sleeping Beauty, Cruelty thought idly. When she was at repose, there was nothing to her except her good looks, but when she was awake and excited, the light in her eyes made her a very different sort of beauty. "Do you think it'll work?" she asked. "Will they fall in love?"
"Slow down there, Princess," Cruelty said, rolling her eyes. "I said he wasn't completely overcome with horror, but neither of them were happy about it. You've got one who's exhausted, completely out of his depth, stuck in a situation that he doesn't belong in and feeling utterly trapped, and then you've got Martin. It certainly wasn't love at first sight. It was more polite resignation at first sight for both of them. Acceptance of an unpleasant fate."
"Yes, but do you think it could happen?"
"Lots of things could happen," Cruelty said. She shrugged her free shoulder. "The world could end first. All I did was put him in the role. We'll see if it can adapt to fit him or not. Maybe they'll spend a year playing chaste chess in a platonic and genial relationship. Maybe it won't happen because he's not what's supposed to be in the story, and maybe Beast simply won't appeal to him. You can't force love. I was informed downstairs that you can't possibly control where it occurs."
Talia's brows furrowed. "Downstairs?"
"Never mind," Cruelty sighed, and flicked her fingers. "Some drama. Apparently Sixth and Von Rothbart's girls haven't been kept occupied enough, so they invented their own love triangle."
"Should I intervene?"
"I pray that you do not," Cruelty said. "You're such a romantic, you'll probably get distracted from your whole plan trying to resolve things for them. I can already imagine your confusion when the sky came down on your heads as you played flower girl to whatever unfortunate union resulted."
Talia looked at her for a long moment, still crouched at her own bedside and gazing at Cruelty past her own sleeping body. "Do you really view me that way? Am I really such a silly, distractible girl?"
"Why not? You are one, and surely you take after your parents," Cruelty said dismissively.
"Ah yes," Talia said. Her tone was soft, incredibly soft, and there was something about it that made Cruelty's eyes narrow in sudden caution; she sounded dangerous. "My parents. Do you want to talk about them again? I think we'd better, Cruelty."
Cruelty sat up slowly and scoffed. "I don't see why," she said. "They're long gone, lost to time, and they were petty, shallow people who raised a petty, shallow daughter."
"Did they, though?" Talia said. She was clearly angry, but her voice didn't rise this time, and though her eyes were sharp and bright with anger rather than excitement, she seemed almost to grow calmer in her anger. "Even if they were unwise in their choice of who to invite and accidentally or deliberately snubbed you, you're the one who's acted out her grudge against the then-infant child. And you're the one who is continuing to carry on with it. Is that petty or is it not? Is it a deep understanding of the situation, or is it shallow?"
"I am what I am," Cruelty said.
They stared at each other for a few long moments, and Talia was the first to back down—or, rather, to let it go. She had no defeat, no guilt, no surrender in her expression, but she broke eye contact and let out a sigh.
"We've got other things to deal with," she said. "We can save the cattiness for later."
Cruelty felt her irritation rise again at that response. Talia was pretending to be the bigger person, a snub. But she had to swallow it; it was a no-win situation. She let out a slow breath, pushed red hair behind a shoulder, and managed a smile. "I'm sure we will."
The Cat let out a huge sigh. "You call it cattiness, but there's no way a cat would behave that way," he said with dignity, despite the obvious lie. "There is a lot of talking going on, and a lot of posturing. But you two are missing the most important thing here."
"Sorry, Tim," Cruelty said, and petted his side.
The Cat's tail lashed. "Tom," he said, though when they'd switched places, only heaven knew. "And it's not that."
"It's not petting?" Beauty said. "Are you hungry?"
"You're useless," the Cat said, and rolled onto his back, paws curled over his stomach. Cruelty, fairly sure it was a trap, lifted her hand. "Worse than humans, always repeating yourselves. Talia recklessly touching anything sharp and not moving from where she is. Cruelty stubborn and unchanging, acting like everyone around her is both clever and stupid, unable to decide which."
Cruelty, a little stung by the accusation partially because she could find no fault in it, huffed a breath. "Oh, are we fighting now too? Talia and I just finished our own fight, so I'll thank you not to start a new one."
"I'm not reckless," Talia protested.
"You are," the Cat said, and stretched, toes splaying. "We're not fighting. I'm only speaking the truth, as all cats do."
"Yes, cats are definitely known for that," Cruelty said sarcastically.
"We are when it comes to our people," the Cat said.
Talia blinked slowly. "Are we your people…?"
"I'm here, aren't I? You're my people for now," the Cat said. He rolled to his feet, belly swaying, and started making biscuits on Talia's stomach. Her image winced a little at the roll of claws. "Until I leave or change my mind, you're my people. But useless ones."
"What would constitute useful to your mind?" Cruelty asked, still acerbic. "I assure you, we can operate a can opener as well as any. Well, I can, anyway. Beauty here just makes a tolerable cat bed, soft as she is."
"Don't you bring me into that," the Cat said. "You know, when two things are opposites, they can't become one. They can't when they're too similar, either. Maybe two things can never become one."
Talia's image gnawed at her lower lip. "Are you saying that Cruelty and I can't really form an alliance, whether we agree or disagree with each other, because of how we are?"
"No," the Cat said, in a tone of strained patience. "It's like Tim and myself."
"What, pray tell, is like Tim and yourself?" Cruelty asked.
"Archetypes and human beings. The creative force and the created. A world of tales and tired tropes and a world of harsh reality," the Cat said. "Tim and I are both the Cat, but never the same time. We're brothers, but we can never meet. One is alive and one is dead. You can't tell the difference between us, but there's only ever one of us at a time. Being dead isn't the same as being gone. It's just another way to live. But it means we can't share how we live. We're helpless to it."
Cruelty snorted indelicately. "You've never lacked any power, you terrible thing," she said. "You're both a folk tale and science."
"Science?" Talia asked.
"Schrödinger's cat," Cruelty said. "It's a scientific theory about provable reality. Say you know that a cat is in a box—"
"I would like to be in a box," the Cat sighed.
"But the cat could be either alive or dead," Cruelty said. "You don't know until you open the box. Because of this, in the terms of provable reality, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead, and it only becomes living or dead once you open the box. The Cat manages not to be tied to belief in a Tale the way we are because he somehow managed to get the King of Cats folktale made into a well-known scientific theorem."
"Lucky you," Talia said. "But here you are with us, and alive, so—"
"Am I?" the Cat asked. "Tim is dead, and Tom is alive. Eventually, Tom will be dead and Tim will be alive. But here's the riddle: Tom and Tim look exactly alike. How do you know that I'm Tom?"
Talia blinked. "Well… you told us."
"What if I lied?"
Cruelty said, "Either way, you're a cat."
"That's right," the Cat said. "That much has already been observed. Alive or dead, I'm a cat. I'm an Archetype, and I'm a scientific theorem, and I am also a cat; cats will be believed in by humans as something strange and magic until the end of time. Even if your world explodes, I'll live on. And die on. Simultaneously."
"But you're here," Talia said. "You even brought Cruelty here. You can't just be bragging right now. You have to believe that our plan could possibly work."
"It might," the Cat said. "Right now, the plan's not finished. So, it's not observed. Anyway, I just brought her here because I felt like it."
Talia's brows were furrowing further and further. "So it's simultaneously working and not working, and we won't know which until we… know?"
"Don't let him confuse you," Cruelty said, and tweaked the Cat's tail. "It's about how much effort is put into it. Believe me, you don't have to know whether a cat's alive or dead to try to nurture it; put out food and water and all the rest. If you leave it alone in its box, you'll certainly kill it."
"Cruelty's threatening me," the Cat whined at Talia.
Talia shook her head, her image's hair flying. "I feel you're trying to prompt us into something, but I don't know what," she said plaintively. "Tom, please."
"Am I Tom?"
"I'll trust you to be Tom if you say you're Tom!"
"Hm," the Cat said. Then, "You're making this plan all around humans, but you don't know anything about their world."
Talia and Cruelty stared at him for a few moments, and then Cruelty laughed. Of course. That was a simple enough matter. It was something she'd already known. She'd seen humans all this time and knew how unlikely this plan was to succeed. Talia was all fired up only because she didn't.
"He's right. You'd kill the plan for sure," Cruelty said.
"I didn't say that," the Cat said. "Cruelty, you're terrible. Talia, pet me."
"Then… if I see what they're like," Talia said, ignoring the request she couldn't grant, "I could perhaps nurture the plan better?"
"I didn't say that either…"
"But you meant it, I'm sure of it," Talia said, and fixed her gaze on Cruelty. "Cruelty, take me there."
Cruelty let out a startled laugh. "In what, a gurney, just roll you along the sidewalk?"
Talia let out a huff. Her eyes were doing that bright thing again, intense. Cruelty suddenly got the feeling like Talia wasn't going to let this go, and that she'd have to capitulate to her. Certainly, being better informed would help Talia plan better. Even if she stuck to the current plan exactly, she'd at least have a better idea of what she was in for. But Cruelty didn't want to capitulate, either. She felt, somehow, that the fiery gaze in front of her was still innocent, that Talia's determination and fire was based on not understanding how the real world worked. The idea of seeing that go out, while its own kind of temptation, felt bitter, made her uncomfortable, made her want to squirm.
"You're a fairy, aren't you?" Talia said. "You have all sorts of powers. Use them for this."
"That's not really my way," Cruelty pointed out. "I'm more of a 'use powers against' type of fairy."
"Imagine using them against our fate, then," Talia said. She reached to Cruelty's arm, passed her hand through it like she wanted to grab on. It felt like nothing at all. Her body was breathing fast, mouth parted.
"Beauty, sweetheart—"
"Use them for me," Talia said, and something in Cruelty, which should resist even harder at that, seemed to crumple.