Happily Ever After

(This is another reason I should be allowed nowhere near one of these things. I did finally figure out where that line comes from by the way: Sherlock, when he refers to John's blog. Fitting, given my first post - I quite agree with him on my account. But this is what happens when I think about characters and have absolutely nothing to do with this. So I throw it up here. My apologies...)

There are people oh so terribly, terribly bad, dear. They've no hope for redemption - no chance for cure. They bathe in blood and feed on flesh and have no skin upon their bones. Monsters they are, recognisable on sight and something that walks in the darkest, evillest nights.

Oh Darling...haven't you ever heard of villains before?

Come, sit down. let me tell you a faery story.

Oh, this isn't going to be a happy one, dear - in fact, it ends rather horribly.

Don't cry, darling - it's still about a princess. There's still going to be a prince, and the dragon, and the evil witch, and the unfair advantage - but there won't be a happily ever after.

Are you surprised?

It started in castle, in a perfect little world. All was marble pedestals, and nothing went wrong.The family was happy, the subjects content, the realm rich, and the little princess played in her tower with her dolls and her china.

You like that? You would, darling...

She enjoyed looking out of her tower window - she could see for miles around. She could see everything.

And all was pretty and perfect. All was spring and summer and never any winter.

So is every faerytale, is it not? Oh, but Darling, we've only just begun.

Like every little princess, she grew older. She outgrew her dolls and her china was all smashed.

she grew older, and her family broke apart. She grew older, and a pall fell on the kingdom and the subject fell ill and scorned the realm's ruler. She grew older, and the marble cracked and became tarnished clay.

She grew older - but no one else did. She changed, but all around her stayed the same. She looked out the window and saw her games end - saw the truth.

But on every tower there is a door. And that door is always locked. And hers was no different.

No, the story doesn't end there, Darling - the prince hasn't come yet.

The princess was content to stay for a little bit. Content to curtain the window and cover the pedestals until all looked right. Content to ignore what she had seen for the security and familiarity of her rooms and life.

But she couldn't ignore it forever. No one ever could. And so she left.

She pushed over the pedestals and she smashed the clay and she uncovered the window and stood in it.

And she fell. She jumped. She flew to the ground.

Oh, Darling, this is a faerystory - does the princess ever die?

I did say there wasn't a happily ever after, didn't I...

She walked away from the fall, dear. She lived.

But the Princess died. Someone so perfect and innocent could never survive it, and she killed the princess.

No prince would rescue her from that tower - she was too young, too dull, too sheltered... A Prince had better things to be doing, and no one else would free her. So she killed the princess and ran away. She killed the princess and she survived.

She was broken and scarred and wounded and she could never heal - but she walked away; and darling, isn't that all that matters?

And she walked through the world on its level now. And she saw all of the other marble pedestals, and she saw all of the other content subjects, and she saw all of the other girls in their perfect towers....

And she wondered what was so wrong.

She had grown older and all had gone wrong. And she had grown older and no one else had - so upon whose shoulder rested the fault?

And she hated the rest of the world. She screamed at it - but no one heard her in their perfect realms or towers.

So she tried to bring them down.

And, Darling, the Prince came for those princesses, and he came for those realms - and she hated him.

Have you ever fought, Darling? Have you ever grappled for a gun, or wrestled with a knife, or partook of a dinner that might cost you your life? Oh, Darling - it's a delicate dance.

It's deadly and burning and doomed to end badly - and she played it. She played it again and again and again - desperate to pull one of the perfect towers down - to break one of the marble pedestals.

But she never could.

It was a gambling game, dear - and she got the wrong hand.

It was never going to end well. And she knew this from the start. It was why she killed the princess, so the little girl would never see the mess that led to the inevitable final fall.

It was like some sad joke of a story - like some joke that would get better at the last moment. Someone would leap out and announce that of course she would win, just this once - but no one ever did.

She dug her own grave, darling. and she dug it of her own free will. But she was never buried in it.

She's meant to be forgotten, ignored - shamed until she's a thing of myth and legend.

But you can never blame her. You can never say she did it for fun, that she delighted in the chaos she wrecked - in the lives she destroyed.

You never saw the tears she cried at night, saw the blood she vainly scrubbed off her fingers as if rubbing them raw would make any difference. You never saw the ghosts that surrounded her bed at night, reminding her of every time she'd fail and taunting her with the end that awaited her. You never felt the ache in her heart every time she turned away from her ruin....

She is the monster, you say? She bathes in blood, you say? She hunts at night, you say?

Oh, but darling, you don't know villains.

Oh, Darling, they're just the same as anyone else - simply more broken and more scarred. They're the ones that smile when everyone's looking and scream when they're alone. they're the ones that lash out at others and are tearing themselves apart inside. They're the ones in the silence that hurt to drown out their pain. Their the ones in the crowd that draw attention to feel alive.

And that is the worst monster, darling: the one you can become.

Because you are her, aren't you? Sitting in your tower, surrounded by your marble pedestals, hoping that you'll never grow older to have to face the real world....

Perhaps one day you'll jump, perhaps one day the Prince will ride up - but you won't truly know. Either way, the Princess must day. She always has - she always will. In the end, the Villain and the Princess are the same things. One will die quicker, and the other will linger - but they both follow the same path.

So don't fear the beasts in the dark, dear. Fear the people in your life. They might be more monstrous than ever could I be in the darkest, evillest forest, Darling....

For the Evil Queens are the Princesses that were never saved.