yourself, Brilliante, and so you will perhaps guess what happened. Alas, my stepmother was a witch. And by witch I do not mean merely that she was shrill and cruel, though she was that, nor that she was a follower of the old ways. Rather I mean it in the most literal sense: she was a caster of spells and a great brewer of potions and poisons. She enchanted the house so that it cooks and cleans itself, which seemed delightful at first. She set wards around this stead so that none may find it but who were meant to be here.
Kerzen paused and gazed at Brilliante for a long moment, then continued. “In the beginning, she treated me well, and this farm prospered and we were happy, though I never liked the way she ordered my father about. Then, when I reached my first womanhood, she began to become suspicious and resentful, jealous of my father’s love of me. She banished me from the house, and made me do the most menial tasks around the farm. When this did not break my spirit, nor my father’s love, she became bitter. She could not kill me, because of the protection of my mother’s kiss. So she decided to kill my father and bewitch me.” A tear leaked from Kerzen’s pale blue eye.
“My father dearly loved mushroom pie. She prepared his dinner one night by hand, adding Death Caps to the pie. He died in agony that night, bestowing his dying kiss here.” Very seriously, she touched her right cheek.
“When he died,” Kerzen continued, “my stepmother howled with laughter, and cursed me, transforming me into a white mare and binding me to this place as one of the cattle of
her
farm. ‘Just
wait
,’ she cried, ‘just wait and see how long it actually takes for True Love’s first kiss to come riding over the hill!” Now tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Brilliante, moved by pity, and by some other passion, reached out to comfort the young woman, who held her hand up. “Brilliante, as she cackled away, crowing her victory over me and my father, she licked her fingers. The deadly mushrooms’ essence lingered there, and so, fittingly, she too died in agony.”
Now Kerzen gave a long, wet sigh. “And so, for the past two years, I have been imprisoned on my own homestead. Every night I transform back into a horse, and sleep in the barn. I am still banished from the house. I am still waiting, in my wedding dress, for True Love’s first kiss to set me free.” Suddenly, Kerzen’s eyes, still wet, flared with determination. She closed them, lifted her chin, and presented her mouth.
Brilliante looked at the beautiful young woman, and the love that had kindled in her heart roared into full flame. Leaning in to her, so that she could detect the smell of straw and tears, she joyfully bestowed upon Kerzen the kiss that would set her free. And many more besides.
That evening the two brides married in the country way, by plighting their troth and leaping hand in hand thrice over the broom that had belonged to Kerzen’s mother.
The witch’s curses broken, the two lovely young women retired to the enchanted cottage, where they spent their days in joy, their nights in bliss, and lived happily ever after.
Rose & Lily
A peek at another of K. D. West’s sapphic fairytales
Rose, Rose, Rose Red
Will I ever see thee wed?
I will marry at my will, sire,
At my will.
Sir Roland was a rare thing: a lord and knight beloved of his tenants and respected by his peers. The people of his valley loved him because he enforced the law with honor and justice, and kept the peace with an even, fair hand, raising his sword to none who did not deserve it. The knights and barons of the kingdom respected him because he was a formidable warrior and a strong voice at court for reason and compassion.
His three children were his pride: his eldest, Erec, who would succeed him, and who was his squire; Evain, who was studying to serve as the valley’s priest, and his youngest, Rose.
Sir Roland would never have said it, for he loved his sons dearly,
Kerzen paused and gazed at Brilliante for a long moment, then continued. “In the beginning, she treated me well, and this farm prospered and we were happy, though I never liked the way she ordered my father about. Then, when I reached my first womanhood, she began to become suspicious and resentful, jealous of my father’s love of me. She banished me from the house, and made me do the most menial tasks around the farm. When this did not break my spirit, nor my father’s love, she became bitter. She could not kill me, because of the protection of my mother’s kiss. So she decided to kill my father and bewitch me.” A tear leaked from Kerzen’s pale blue eye.
“My father dearly loved mushroom pie. She prepared his dinner one night by hand, adding Death Caps to the pie. He died in agony that night, bestowing his dying kiss here.” Very seriously, she touched her right cheek.
“When he died,” Kerzen continued, “my stepmother howled with laughter, and cursed me, transforming me into a white mare and binding me to this place as one of the cattle of
her
farm. ‘Just
wait
,’ she cried, ‘just wait and see how long it actually takes for True Love’s first kiss to come riding over the hill!” Now tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Brilliante, moved by pity, and by some other passion, reached out to comfort the young woman, who held her hand up. “Brilliante, as she cackled away, crowing her victory over me and my father, she licked her fingers. The deadly mushrooms’ essence lingered there, and so, fittingly, she too died in agony.”
Now Kerzen gave a long, wet sigh. “And so, for the past two years, I have been imprisoned on my own homestead. Every night I transform back into a horse, and sleep in the barn. I am still banished from the house. I am still waiting, in my wedding dress, for True Love’s first kiss to set me free.” Suddenly, Kerzen’s eyes, still wet, flared with determination. She closed them, lifted her chin, and presented her mouth.
Brilliante looked at the beautiful young woman, and the love that had kindled in her heart roared into full flame. Leaning in to her, so that she could detect the smell of straw and tears, she joyfully bestowed upon Kerzen the kiss that would set her free. And many more besides.
That evening the two brides married in the country way, by plighting their troth and leaping hand in hand thrice over the broom that had belonged to Kerzen’s mother.
The witch’s curses broken, the two lovely young women retired to the enchanted cottage, where they spent their days in joy, their nights in bliss, and lived happily ever after.
Rose & Lily
A peek at another of K. D. West’s sapphic fairytales
Rose, Rose, Rose Red
Will I ever see thee wed?
I will marry at my will, sire,
At my will.
Sir Roland was a rare thing: a lord and knight beloved of his tenants and respected by his peers. The people of his valley loved him because he enforced the law with honor and justice, and kept the peace with an even, fair hand, raising his sword to none who did not deserve it. The knights and barons of the kingdom respected him because he was a formidable warrior and a strong voice at court for reason and compassion.
His three children were his pride: his eldest, Erec, who would succeed him, and who was his squire; Evain, who was studying to serve as the valley’s priest, and his youngest, Rose.
Sir Roland would never have said it, for he loved his sons dearly,
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