Without warning, the door is kicked in and two men walk in, swords drawn. One is tall, thin, and his arms are covered in some kind of raised designs. The other is short, fat, and balding. When he smiles, he is missing teeth. Since this is such a small cottage, there are no places to hide. They gave us no warning before busting into the house. It’s not like I could say “Excuse me, sir, can you please look the other way while I hide?”
The tall man glares at the elderly woman, who looks as frightened as I feel. “Please, sir, I have done nothing wrong. This woman just burst into my house a few hours ago. I didn’t know where she came from until seconds before you arrived.” Her voice is frantic.
He crosses the room to her.
“Please no, don’t do this, I swear I didn’t know,” she pleads. He takes her arm, just above the elbow, forcing her to stand.
Rising from my chair I say, “It’s not her fault, she’s telling the truth. I just arrived. Don’t punish her for my presence.”
The fat man comes to my side, grabbing my arm and jerking me toward the open door as he says, “You can save your honeyed words for the king, for it is him who determines who’s lying and who’s telling the truth.”
They force both of us into the back of the sleigh they arrived on. The depth of the snow doesn’t allow for passage of much else. They leave our feet free but bind our wrists, thankfully, leaving our heads uncovered.
* * *
Hours later, we’re still bumping along in the sleigh. The men who captured us talk amongst themselves. I’ve been trying to get the elderly woman to talk. She’s clearly mad at me, avoiding my glance the best she can. I keep my voice low, not wanting the men to hear our conversation.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why they’re after me.” I don’t know how I can convince her. This may be my dream, but I’m terrified of what may come next.
Before this, I’ve had some really vivid dreams, but I don’t recall ever feeling the bumps of traveling along a snow-covered path, the pain of a rope digging into my wrists, or the biting cold of a snowy day.
“Thank fuck that wolf alerted us to her presence. I knew giving him our scraps would pay off some day,” the tall one states.
“You really think this broad is the one? She looks smaller than I imagined,” his buddy replies. “Course, since a wolf gave us her description, I guess everything would be giant to him.” He snickers.
The first one sees me watching them and says, “Hush, Ralph, the cargo has ears.” He gestures to me and the old woman, who is still watching the scenery pass by. If I wasn’t so scared, I’d be paying more attention to how beautiful the surrounding landscape is, all covered in snow.
* * *
The old woman and I have been looking around us as we’ve been traveling. But as soon as the mountain comes into focus, it’s all I can look at. The closer we get, the bigger it grows, until the sleigh stops at its base.
Both men come around the side of the sleigh and the woman struggles with her captor. I don’t see the point, as both men are larger than me. They’re going to wrestle us where they want us to go, regardless of what I want.
When the old woman looks at me, shocked at my acquiescence, I gently shake my head. Her eyes grow wide, then appear indignant before she seems to accept our fate.
“Really, Ralph, what do you think the king is going to do with her?”
“That’s really none of our business, now is it, Joe?” He glances at me before cackling and saying, “We’re just the muscle.”
We’re both dragged toward the base of the mountain. I don’t see an entrance, and each of us has a thug grabbing our upper arms tighter than necessary. The old woman will not stop arguing with the men as they walk us up to the stone base. One of them reaches out and presses his hand on the rock, the surface slightly sinking in at his touch. A moment later, a door pops open and they force us through it, torches along the walls light our way.
“Just wait until they meet the king.” The tall one chuckles. It really should be illegal to be a bad guy with a sinister chuckle. How more cliché can you be? We continue to make our way down the dimly lit hallway.
Finally, we stop in front of a short man with white hair and spectacles. He reminds me of the Cogsworth character in Disney’s cartoon Beauty and the Beast I watched growing up. “Please state your name and purpose.” He patiently waits, looking at our captors, waiting for them to give a response as to why they have come here with two women bound at the wrists.
“We’ve come back with the woman the wolf told the king about, the one he demanded we find and bring back immediately,” the fat one responds, pushing me toward the man.
“And how do you intend to prove she is the one the wolf told us about?” Cogsworth asks. “Seems to me you could have just brought anyone and claim she’s the one to collect the reward.” They’re offering a reward for me? I just got here. This dream just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
The tall one coughs twice before answering, “That’s why we’ve got the old woman. Everyone knows the wolf is always hanging around the old woman’s house.” Apparently, I’m just the unlucky fool who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. If the wolf is always near the cottage, I guess it was inevitable that I would meet him moving in that direction in my travels along the stream.
“I see… Just wait here while I confirm with His Majesty where he would like you to deposit… our new visitors.”
Neither me nor the old woman say anything during this exchange. My nostrils flare with anger, but I have a feeling I need to hold my tongue until we’re able to meet with this supposed king.
He leaves the four of us in the hallway before returning sometime later with additional men. After handing our captors a single leather pouch that jingles when it exchanges hands, he sends away the two men who brought us.
They immediately untie our hands when the thugs’ backs are turned. “I truly am sorry for how you were treated, miss. Unfortunately, not everyone who answers to the king has manners,” he says. My wrists now free of the rough rope, I rub them to bring feeling back to the area.
* * *
Eventually, they take me to a room that is way more heavily ornamented than the dungeon I expected. It’s ornately furnished, and has a washstand, I think it’s called, so I take the opportunity to clean the dirt and other debris off my face and hands. I didn’t get the chance to do so at the cottage.
It feels like hours have passed, but has probably been less than an hour, when a man comes to my room. He is nicely dressed, but not in what I would expect a king to wear. “I’m surprised they have stooped to sending spies into our land.” Spy? They? Who is they? What the hell kind of crazy kingdom have I dreamed up? God, I hope they don’t decide to go all “off with her head” on me. “But really, I’m more surprised that I didn’t think of them doing this sooner. I really am very proud our network of spies is so loyal to our king.
“And really? Sending someone as inconspicuous as you is what I would expect.” The strange man continues to drone on for who knows how long. I’m so far in my head trying to figure a way out of this that I’ve tuned him out. I tune back in when he asks, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Pausing, I consider my options. If I immediately deny I’m a spy, they won’t believe me. If I don’t answer at all, they will probably also not believe me. In the meantime, he’s staring at me with his arms crossed and tapping his foot impatiently.
“Are you in the habit of giving your prisoners their own bedchambers? Should I expect a maid to come in and help me dress?” I ask instead of anything smart I should have answered. And really, who brings a prisoner to a room that looks like this?
He surprises me when he chokes back a laugh. I can tell he was going to laugh because he makes an odd snorting sound and his eyes are crinkled at the corners in mirth. Also, he’s biting both lips to hold it in. “Spy indeed,” he says as he turns to leave the room.
“Excuse me,” I start, and he turns back around to face me. “What did you do with the older woman I was brought here with?”
His answering smile sets me slightly at ease. “Why, sent her back home, of course.” He pulls the door shut behind him when he exits.
I’m left wondering how long I’m to be left in this room, when minutes later, a woman enters carrying one of the most beautiful gowns I’ve ever seen. The dress is yellow, with gold threads throughout, which accent the flowers embroidered on the surface. “Hello, miss, I’m here to help you get changed to meet His Highness.” Her eyes are downcast the entire time she speaks. Is she terrified of me?
Taking a step closer to her, I dip down to catch her eyes and smile. “Hi, my name is Callie. What’s yours?”
She moves to the wardrobe, opens one of the doors, and carefully hangs the dress from the top, leaving the door open before crossing the room to me. “If you could, please hold your arms up,” she says, demonstrating by moving her arms above her head.
“Why do I need to change clothes?”
She slowly appraises my pajamas and I feel my cheeks flush. “Your clothes aren’t proper attire,” she says slowly, quietly.
I decide to humor her and do what she asks. She carefully pulls my pajama top over my head, and I am immediately grateful I fell asleep with my bra on. Even in this dream world, I’d hate for my breasts to be bouncing around in front of this stranger.
She drops my top on the floor at her feet before placing her hands on the waistband of my pants. She looks up at me, a questioning look on her face. It takes me a second to understand what she’s asking me with her gaze. I nod and she carefully helps me out of my pants. “What are these?” she fingers my bra strap, then the waistband of my panties.
“My bra and panties?”
“Bra and panties,” she repeats slowly. “Yes... Where did you get these? I’ve seen nothing like this. Is it some kind of corset?” Confused, I just nod my head.
She moves over to the wardrobe, opens the door that isn’t holding the dress up, and digs through before coming back to me with things I recognize only from movies. She pokes and prods me into position as she gets me situated with the old-fashioned undergarments.
Then she walks back to the wardrobe, fingers the fabric of the dress, and carefully takes it down, brings it over to me and adds, “Up,” with a jerk of her chin, indicating my arms.
Immediately, I lift both arms, carefully bending forward to help her get the dress over my head. She is considerably shorter than I am and my height with my arms in the air makes the motion difficult for her. I have to awkwardly bend forward to get my upper body through the dress.
It becomes difficult to breathe as she laces up the stays in the back of the dress. Then she helps me into some very uncomfortable shoes. When she’s finished, she has me sit in a chair near the vanity and starts messing with my hair.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Why, getting you ready for dinner with His Highness, ma’am,” she gives me a funny questioning look. “You have such beautiful blonde hair,” she replies as she brushes through it.
“Thank you.” I smile at her in the mirror’s reflection. “What’s he like?” As long as I’m here in this strange dream world, I might as well get some details for what to expect.
“The king?”
“No, the doorman,” I quip. She hasn’t said more than a few words to me since I’ve been here and it’s grating on my nerves to be left to my own thoughts for so long in this strange place. When she finishes with my hair, she applies makeup to my face.
“Whatever happens, do whatever he says. It will not go well for you if you disobey the king’s orders.” She finishes my makeup and puts the things away. She quickly moves toward the door, opens it, and starts to leave.
“Wait! I never got your name.” It seems trivial now, but I just want to know this small woman’s name.
“Someone will be up to get you shortly. Don’t wrinkle your dress.” She closes the door behind her.
I stand and run my hands carefully over the dress. Looking at myself in the mirror, I think I look beautiful in these old-fashioned clothes. What confuses me is why I would dream up such clothes. Swooshing the skirt back and forth, I’m startled when someone else opens the door and peeks their head into the room.
“Are you ready, miss?” he asks.
Nodding my head, I make my way over to the door. I turn back to look around so I can remember every part of the beautiful room I got ready for dinner in. He closes the door behind me before holding his arm out for me to hold on to his elbow as we make our way through the strange palace in the mountain.
* * *
Magnificent. That’s the only word I can think of to describe the ornate furnishings in the rest of the palace. As we walk, I look around at the beautiful carvings, paintings, furniture, and everything surrounding me. As all good things must come to an end, we eventually stop at a set of double doors.
He removes my hand from the crook of his arm before opening one of the doors. Inside, I see we’ve arrived at the dining room. The table is set for only two and my stomach does a somersault when I remember I am supposed to be having dinner with the king I was warned about a short time ago.
The man turns to me. “His Majesty will be here shortly. Please take a seat.” He pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit. It feels odd to have someone push in my chair for me, but he does and then leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
Subconsciously, I bite my fingernails, nervously waiting for the king to get here. When the door slams open, I jump in my seat. Immediately trying to stand and turn around, instead I trip over my long skirt and start to fall. The newcomer steps forward and catches me around the waist from behind before I’m able to hit the ground.
Warmth. Warmth is what I feel while the arm remains around me. The warmth makes me squirm, uncomfortable that the arm is still there. I feel warm breath on the back of my neck, and did whoever this is just smell me?
“Excuse me,” I say, getting my feet under me and straightening into a standing position. My back directly presses into this person’s front, and I feel the same warmth on my back now surrounding me. The arm grips my waist tighter before releasing me.
Slowly, I turn around and look up, up, up to his face, which is half covered in scars. They cover his cheek and wrap around his eye and up to his forehead. There is also a scar on his forehead that looks like he was cut with a blade at some time.
While he’s not wearing a crown, his presence oozes power and strength. His hair is long and reminds me of images I’ve seen of Vikings. When he smiles down at me, the dimples that appear make the butterflies in my stomach go crazy. He motions to my chair and again I sit and he pushes me back in.
Dinner is quiet and awkward. I stare down at my plate to avoid saying something stupid, to avoid staring at his scars. From the corner of my eye, I see he does the same thing, but he has a scowl on his face. I’m not sure what I could have done in the short time I’ve been in this dream world to make him so angry. Maybe it’s not me, maybe it’s the pressure of running this country? This world? I don’t want to ask how large his domain is. I don’t dare ask how he got his scars.
When we’ve finished our dinner, he stands and storms out of the dining hall.
“Well, hello to you, too, Mr. Beast,” I mutter, inhaling the deepest breath I can with this damn corset and letting it out slowly. Well, that was both the quietest and most uncomfortable dinner I’ve ever had in my life.
Standing, I decide to attempt making my way back to the room I was in before dinner. When I get to the door, the same man who brought me down here opens it and extends his arm to me in the same way as earlier. I smile at him and take his proffered arm, walking with him back to my room.
The same woman from earlier comes in but this time, she doesn’t speak, only motions with her eyes and body to get me back into my pajamas, which have been washed and dried in the time we’ve been at dinner. After she leaves, I climb into the large bed and fall blissfully asleep.