Let me tell you a story...

A fairy-tale influenced short story...

It was a sunny spring afternoon in Toronto, and four dogs played around the park. Two smaller mutts, a sibling pair named Hansel and Gretel, wrestled under the watchful gaze of a wise old king shepherd. The fourth, a white-grey wolfhound, sat guarding their dark haired mistress as she rested against a tree, absent-mindedly tossing a dark red apple in the air and catching it again with one hand. Her free hand slipped into the pocket of her scarlet leather coat and pulled out a lighter with which she lit the cigarette held between her red-painted lips. A little boy wandered into the park, he was fair and freckled, with white blond hair and glassy blue eyes. He knelt next to the lady, upwind from the smoke, and smiled sweetly.  She raised a brow, and the wolfhound stared.

“And who might you be, little one?” She asked, annoyed, she wasn’t waiting for this kid.

“You can call me Lucien.” Came the sweet reply.

“Well, hi Lucien. Do you mind playing somewhere else? I’m kinda waiting for someone...”

“What’s your name?” It was as if the boy hadn’t even heard her, and the lady just sighed, taking another puff before she spoke again.

“If you must, call me Zoey. Now shoo.”

“Hm... I’ll call you that, if you really want me to. But it’s not your name, is it?” Zoey blinked slowly, stunned and having issues processing the strange child’s words. In her silence, he just continued. “Tell me a story, a new one that no one’s heard before.”

“A... story?” Zoey finally managed to croak out, eyeing the boy suspiciously. Well... maybe she could scare him away with her story. “Heh, you want a story kid? Alright, fine. I’ll tell you a really special one that only I know...

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who had no name. She had a mother named Catherine, and a father named James, and a big brother named Dorian. But James and Catherine never, ever said their daughter’s name. They called her many things: Princess, Precious, Angel, but that was all.

One day, when their little girl was a month away from her fourteenth birthday, Catherine called an old man to their house. The old man came with a pure white canvas, on which the little girl was secretly asked to write one word.  Her own name. Never having heard such a thing in her life, she took up the old man’s brush and wrote the first word that came to her mind.  Later that day, she posed for the old man and he drew a beautiful portrait of her over the word.

After the old man died that night, James took his daughter aside and begged her to never reveal the word hidden beneath the paint. To anyone. Confused, but trusting, the girl swore and the word remained a secret kept only between the painting and its subject. Her most precious secret.

On that little girl’s fourteenth birthday, something miraculous occurred. The girl in the portrait aged. Previously there was the painted figure of a child, now there was an identically dressed young woman in the center of the canvas.

There was one other, miniscule change to the portrait. A small gold chain around the child’s neck had held a small, closed locket. On the young woman, a silver chain held a heart pendant, across which was written, in a childish calligraphy, one word.

‘Destiny.’“ 

When Zoey finished her story, she was disappointed to find that instead of being troubled, Lucien seemed eager for her to continue.

“What happened next?” The child urged, wide eyed and almost trembling with excitement, so Zoey took another couple of drags from her cigarette and dropped the apple she’d been fiddling with between the wolfhound’s paws as she continued.

“What happened next? Well you see, Dorian was a jealous boy. When his sister was treated so specially, with her own magical portrait, he took it badly. But Dorian was special to. He could make people do things, terrible things if he wanted to. And he did. 

One night when James came home, he was angry. He didn’t know why. He didn’t understand his urge to find his gun. He tried to stop his finger from pulling the trigger. He willed the bullet to miss his wife’s heart. He failed. Heartbroken, he didn’t try to stop his arm when it pointed the gun to his own head.

Dorian was happy. He had his revenge. The spoiled little prince made it look like his heart was as shattered as his poor sister’s. Such a good little actor, he convinced everyone near him. Until, a year later, his little sister did something desperate. She missed her parents terribly, and her brother was cold and distant. She was lonely and scared and the cool metal of the knife was comforting as it split her veins.

When Dorian’s reaction was to beat her and berate her for stealing attention instead of calling her an ambulance, the butler began to suspect things were wrong. He spoke to the maid; she spoke to the gardener, who spoke to the chef, whose brother was a detective. The more people spoke, the more Dorian became cold and rude, until the day came when the detective wanted to speak with him.

Because that day, Dorian disappeared and his sister went to the hospital...”  She trailed off, finishing her cigarette and flicking away the butt, just as the king shepherd came to sit at her feet, leaving Hansel and Gretel to wrestle on their own.

“You messed up that last part.” Lucien piped up. “The girl wouldn’t have done that do herself. So tell me what really happened.”

“You’re a sharp one, aren’t you?” Zoey sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Alright... I’ll tell you what really happened then...

When the girl with no name was fifteen years old, her big brother turned on her. His voice rang in her head, and as much as she tried to ignore the cruel taunts, they shook her fragile heart. She felt her finger grasp the handle of the knife. She saw her pale arm stretch flat in front of her. She whimpered at the feel of the metal slicing her vein. She cried when it began on the second arm. 

Dorian was happy. All smiles as he stood at the door and watched. But his smile quickly fell away when the maid came running. He played his part, dialling the ambulance and looking concerned, at least until he slipped away and disappeared. The maid and butler bandaged their mistress' arms to slow the blood. The girl was grateful, and afraid, clinging desperately to consciousness. 

The workers began to bicker. They knew that the paramedics would ask for an identity. But they didn't know the girl's name. With a heavy sigh, she herself began to wonder what they would answer. Suddenly she pictured a sweet little sight. She saw herself as a small child, chasing a little black kitten across the garden and calling after it. She smiled, remembering the sweet little feline's soft fur, and she struggled to remember what her father had named the cat. Finally, with a breathy, weak voice, the girl whispered to the maid, and told them to use that name.”

“What was it?” The boy interrupted.

“That’s not part of this story, never you mind about that.”

“Fine...” The child sulked, before he perked up yet again. “Tell me more; what happened after the ambulance took her away?” The king shepherd growled, a low, warning sound from deep in his chest.

“Sebastian.” Zoey said the name softly, and the growl ceased. “She was in the hospital for two years, she didn’t have another real adventure until after that.”

“Really? What happened after?”

“Well... After two years in a hospital, the last thing anyone would have wanted was to be bed ridden. But after so long of being so sheltered, a crazy run through the snowy woods in nothing but a night gown is just no good. Struggling to recover from an annoying fever, she had little to do but reflect on that frigid night...

She'd been comfortably bundled in her bed, peacefully dreaming for the first night in years. Silently, a man snuck in. With all the stealth of a professional, he stood over the sleeping teenager and drew a silenced gun. He couldn't miss. She was right there and sound asleep. He didn't miss. The bullet drilled into her skull... and it hurt. 

She woke with a scream and the man, understandably freaked out, ran. She followed him into the woods, barely noticing the bullet that fell from her head a few minutes later. She ran through the snow and trees until the cold finally made her collapse against a fallen tree's stump.

There she had a strange, fevered dream. She saw the old painter; a fatherly smile on his ragged face. He told her so many strange things. The painting was the heart of all. Her heart. Her life. In it was kept her name. The true one. The one which held power over her. The painting also held the only key to her death.

Destroy the name. Destroy the Immortal."

“Destroy the name, destroy the immortal?” The child echoed, smiling a little. “That’s interesting. But don’t immortals always have really sad lives anyway?”

“Not this one.” Zoey answered, with a fond smile to the two canines at her side.

“She lived with seven other people who worked in her house.”

“Really? They were her friends? Will you tell me about them?”

“Well...” Zoey paused, glancing at the king shepherd, who seemed to nod. “Alright then, I’ll tell you about them all. First, the maid, her name was Arielle. She had beautiful red hair and loved to sing, which was good since her mistress liked to sneak around and listen to Arielle sing as she worked. Of course, there was a chef too, a man named Dimitri. He was very sweet and funny and told the girl lots of stories about her parents, since he’d been good friends with James all their lives.

There was the odd lady, Minna, who lived in the tower of the mansion. She was very beautiful, with black hair and white skin. Minna worked as the family’s secretary ever since the girl could remember, and she’d always looked exactly the same too, not that anyone really gave that much thought anymore.”

“Was she a vampire?” Lucien asked, grinning like a child given treats.

“Maybe she was.” Zoey replied, giggling at the thought.

“Did the girl have a body guard to protect her from the vampires?”

“Well, not from vampires, but yes, she did.”  She continued with a fond look and

tone. “His name was Sebastian, and he was a great man. Sweet and strong, he kept all of the girl’s secrets and acted like her father. He protected but never crowded her, watched closely but never hindered her work. Yes, he really was the perfect man for the job.

He wasn’t her only security either; there was a lady in charge of the whole property’s security. Her name was Meiling, and she had a very special relationship to the butler, Alfred. Those two had a sweet, secret love. They denied it for a long, long time, but I think that in the end, they ended up happily together.”

“That’s nice.” Lucien said, not sounds all that interested in the romance, though he did continue the topic with his next question. “Did the girl ever have love?”

“Oh yes, she certainly did. She met a very nice girl, Aurora, and they were very happy together for a few years. But Dorian found out and he was angry that his sister had someone, so he paid people to kill the girl’s lover. The accident they caused didn’t kill Aurora, but it did put her in a coma, and broke the girl’s heart.

A year later though, the girl met someone else, a young man named Darien. Her nasty brother found out about that lover too though, and he didn’t like it anymore than before. Darien was a strong fighter, but when he lost an eye defending himself and his girl, he decided to leave and the girl never saw him again.” Zoey paused, biting her scarlet lip and petting the wolfhound’s ears until Lucien spoke up.

“Couldn’t Dorian let his little sister be happy?”

“It doesn’t seem like he could, does it? He’s an evil man, he always was...”

“Did the girl ever find someone that her brother couldn’t take away?” Oddly, this time the child did seem very interested in that possibility of romance.

“Yes.” Zoey answered as the wolfhound sat up and she wrapped an arm around his neck. “Eric, the seventh person in her house actually. He was her mechanic, and dear friend. There never was a kinder or more handsome man, not in her eyes at least...” She laughed as the canine licked her cheek, wagging his tail happily at the praise.

Lucien laughed to, and as he got to his feet he seemed to grow. In barely a minute there stood a young man where the child had been. He cast a great shadow over the girl and her companions, his angel’s wings stretching widely. Both canines jumped up, baring fangs and growling, now on either side of their lady, but she simply smiled and set a hand on each of their heads to calm them.

“So like you, to use a false name, Lucifer.” Perhaps she should have been more nervous, but instead she stood up and looked up into his eyes. “Will you grant my favour? Kill Dorian.”

The angel just smiled his mysterious smile for a moment, considering the question. Eventually, he nodded and spoke, his voice deeper and resonant. “You understand the price of such a request?”

“Yes.” With her word, the angel’s wings began to beat, and his voice rang out louder than before, shaking the park itself.

“Destiny’s life, for Dorian’s death.” When his feet left the ground, the girl faltered, a silver chain she wore snapped and fell to the ground in a cloud of dust. Where the dogs had been, there now stood two men, Sebastian starring after the angel with a scowl, and the other with Zoey held against his chest.  She leaned against him, her pale hand clutching his shirt tightly.

“... What did he mean?” The man’s voice was low, and his tone both agitated and concerned.

“Take me home, Eric...” Zoey replied, brushing off his question with a shrug, as she did with any similar questions in the following days.

A week passed, and a day came when Zoey woke with the sun and quietly made her way into the mansion’s second tower. At the very top was a locked bedroom where thick dust covered the princess-like trappings inside.  Zoey held a small white key with which she unlocked the heavy door, and then she made her way to the four-poster bed and sat on the old mattress, across from a beautiful portrait. After moments of bearing her gaze, the paint began to fade until a single word remained on the snow white canvas.

“Goodbye Destiny.” She whispered as that word slowly faded away.