Authors: Cameron Dokey
"She's been sleeping in the heart of the forest almost forever.
Longer than the memory of any man alive, save his, says Grandfather. All that time, she's been waiting for someone to come along and bring her true love's kiss.
"Grand-pere says that many men have tried to find the Sleeping Beauty, and all have failed. He says this is because they're like my brother Valiant. Handsome, strong, and brave, even reasonably intelligent. But nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary. But Grand-pere says the princess who sleeps in the heart of the Forest is so special she could never love an ordinary man. Therefore, the one who awakens her with must be someone special also."
'And your grandfather thinks you're the one," I said.
"Actually," Ironheart confessed. "He's not my grandfather.
He's my great-grandfather. Or maybe it's great-great. I can never remember. He really is incredibly old."
"But he's certain you're the one to break the spell," I insisted, at which Ironheart made a face.
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"It is kind of far-fetched, isn't it? You don't have to tell me. I know."
"I didn't mean that."
"Well, I wouldn't blame you if you had," he said, his tone philosophical. "I know I'm not like most other princes. I've always known it. But Grand-pere says that's what makes me the right one for this quest. He says being different is my strong point."
"What do you think?"
He fell silent again, gazing into the fire. While he was busy saying nothing, I busied myself watching the way the light played across his face. It was a good face, better than I'd originally given it credit for. Ordinary at first glance, but on second glance, far from ordinary.
On second glance, you noticed the stubbornness of the chin—a contrast to a mouth that, even when straight and serious, looked as if it was just waiting for its chance to smile. The cheekbones were determined, high and wide, but there was just a hint of sadness around those evergreen eyes. A face shaped by both love and adversity, I thought. But where neither held sway. They were balanced, point to point.
Once more, I was reminded of Oswald. For it came to me suddenly that this was how he might have looked, had his life contained the bedrocks I'd so recently learned he thought they lacked: Compassion. Acceptance. Love.
T think I must believe I'm different," Ironheart said at last.
"That I can be the one to break the spell. I've never really wanted to be like my brother, much as I love him. At the very least, I must want to find out whether or not what Grand-pere says is true. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come."
"That's a good answer," I said. At which he looked at me and smiled.
"And that's a very nice answer. Thank you, Aurore. But what about you? What brings you to the Forest?"
I hesitated, suddenly fearful that he would think me a coward.
"I guess you could say that I ran away from home."
"Oh,." he said, and I could sense him hesitating, trying to decide whether or not to say more. "That must have been a difficult decision," he continued after a moment. "You don't strike me as someone who runs from her problems."
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"I'm not, or at least not under ordinary circumstances," I said, more than a little grateful that this was his response. "But the circumstances were far from ordinary, so I did what I thought was best."
"In that case, I'm sure it was," said Ironheart. "What will you do now?"
I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again. The truth, which I didn't particularly care to admit, was that I simply didn't know. Just getting to la Foret had seemed so huge, I hadn't really thought much about what would happen after I arrived. I guess I thought it would become obvious once I got here.
"I'm not sure," I said at last. "At the time I set out, just getting here seemed like enough."
"Why don't you come with me?"
For one dazzling moment, I actually considered it. Now that I'd gotten used to his presence, I had to admit it was nice not to be alone. But I knew I couldn't do it. I had no idea what I would encounter in la Foret. What fulfilling my destiny truly held in store. How could I go with Ironheart, possibly put him in great danger, when I hadn't even been willing to bring my horse along?
"I thought a quest was a thing you had to do by yourself," I hedged, not quite ready to say no outright.
"Not necessarily," he said. "Jason had the Argonauts."
"I'm not so sure that's such a great example," I commented.
"Considering the way things turned out.
"Well—" He pondered for a moment, and suddenly I could see the lines of mischief deepen on either side of his mouth.
"Hercules had the Labors."
I gave a snort of laughter. He was clever, I had to admit.
"That's not the same thing and you know it."
"Well if you don't want to go you can just say so," Ironheart said, his tone growing offended. "Believe me, I've heard the word no before."
"I didn't say no," I said. "I just didn't say yes, either. And stop trying to twist my words around and confuse me and trick me into going."
“I don't trick," he replied, his voice huffy. "I wheedle and cajole.
Occasionally I manipulate, but I'm always very sneaky about it, so you wouldn't know it was happening until it was far too late."
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In spite of myself, my lips twitched. "Thanks for the warning."
"Not at all."
We stared into the fire for a moment.
"I ran away because things were happening," I finally said quietly. "Horrible things, calamitous things. Things which could—
would—have destroyed everything I loved. They were all my fault, all because of me. Coming to la Foret was the only way I could think of to make them stop."
"I probably shouldn't say this," Ironheart said. "But don't you think that's a bit egotistical, Aurore? In my experience, things happen for reasons, that's true enough. But very few of them actually have to do with us even when we feel as if they do."
"You don't know anything about me!" I cried. "There are things inside me, Ironheart—spells. Cast upon me from almost the moment of my birth. One dark, the other light. One seeking my destruction, the other my salvation. They're the things that almost tore my people apart."
"And you as well, I think," Ironheart said quietly. "But the fact that you carry them inside you doesn't mean they are you, Aurore. Or that you're responsible for them."
"What difference does that make?" I asked, suddenly as tired as I could ever remember being.'! carry them with me wherever I go. That makes them mine."
"A great deal, I should think," he answered. "Do you have no will of your own? You say you know what the spells want—your destruction or your salvation. But what about what you want, Aurore?"
"I don't know what I want," I whispered, for suddenly, horribly, I realized it was true.'! don't know. I have never known."
"Then come with me until you do," he said simply. "Let the journey be a quest for us both."
All of a sudden, I wanted to say yes. Wanted it so much, I feared to say it, lest it be the same as taking the coward's way out.
"Let me sleep on it," I said. "I'll give you my answer in the morning."
"Fair enough."
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At that, Ironheart got to his feet. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I do have food. Grand-pere supervised my packing."
"Why didn't you just bring him along?"
“I would have," Ironheart acknowledged cheerfully as he retrieved his knapsack from beneath the window and carried it to the cottage's only table. "But he said he was too old. And furthermore that going into the Forest was my destiny, while his was to wait as he had always done. He said he'd been doing it so long he'd pretty much perfected the technique."
There was a pause. "I'll bet it drives your brother crazy when you do that," I finally said.
"When I do what?" he asked, but I could see the smile lurking around his mouth like a cat after a bird.
"Refuse to take offense when one is offered." I got to my feet, pulled my knife from its sheath, then strolled to the table and picked up a loaf of bread. Holding it against my chest, I began to slice. "I'm surprised he didn't name you Ironwill."
He began to hack at a hunk of cheese. "I suppose he might have, if it hadn't already been taken. That's what the people call Grand-pere, because he's lived so long. They say it's his will alone that's kept him alive for all these years. You'd like him, Aurore. He teases the same way you do, and he's quick-witted, just like you are."
"Don't," I said, as I finished slicing the bread and set down the loaf. "I said I'd think about it and I will. There's no need to wheedle. I keep my word."
"That was not a wheedle. It was an observation," said Ironheart."When I wheedle, my voice gets kind of high and whiney. It's impossible to mistake a wheedle for anything else."
By now I was trying so hard not to laugh it was making my stomach hurt. It felt good, I realized suddenly.
"Are you always this impossible?"
Ironheart nodded cheerfully. "Almost always. It's better when I'm asleep. Unless I snore."
"You snore and I'm stuffing your cloak in your mouth."
He grinned. I grinned back. And suddenly, it came to me that I did know what I wanted, or at least a part of it. At least for now. I wanted more moments like this. Wanted a thing I had never really had, but hadn't missed until now.
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A friend.
Even so, it wasn't until the middle of the night that I well and truly made up my mind. The hail had turned to a steady drumming of rain upon the roof not long after we'd eaten our cold supper, stirred up the fire, and spread our cloaks before it to dry. Then we'd parcelled out the blankets from the bed. I stayed in it, while Ironheart settled with his back to the fireplace.
But in spite of the weariness which seemed to come from nowhere, rising up to fill me like liquid in a cup, I could not sleep.
The uncertainty of the next day had cast a pall over my rest. And not me alone, for, time and again, I heard Ironheart stir at his place by the fire.
"How did you know?" I said at last. I couldn't see him where he lay on the far side of the fireplace, and so I spoke to the embers' glow. "How did you know that this quest was the right thing to do?"
He answered at once, and I could tell by his voice that he'd been pondering this very question for a very long time. "It's hard to explain," he said, his voice as quiet as mine. "I guess because, even more than Grand-pere's words, I felt the truth of it inside me. I hate to sound all epic and swashbuckling, but this is what I was meant to do. It's the thing that I was born for, Aurore."
I felt my whole body relax then, the tension and uncertainty streaming out of it. Hadn't I described my desire to discover life outside the palace walls in exactly the same way? And wasn't it that same desire which, for better or worse, had brought me here, to Ironheart and la Foret?
Who was to say going with him wasn't my destiny, just as his had been to ask me? That our destinies weren't entwined?
"All right," I said. "I'll go."
"I'm glad," he answered.
After that, we both slept peacefully for the rest of the night and dreamed of nothing at all.
After the storm, it had turned cold during the night. So cold that the entire Forest seemed covered in a single sheet of ice when we opened the door of the cottage the next morning. It shimmered in the morning sun like spun sugar on a child's 82
birthday cake, snapping and crackling as we walked upon it. Even the leaves and branches were covered in a thin sheet of ice.
Throughout la Foret, nothing stirred. There was not a single sound, save for the ones Ironheart and I made ourselves.
After breakfasting, we tidied the cottage, determined to leave it as much as we had found it as possible. Ironheart folded blankets while I swept the hearth and brought in fresh wood for the fire. I still hadn't solved the mystery of the hearth rug, but I had resolved not to think about it. We shouldered our packs, put on our cloaks, and stepped out the front door, closing it firmly behind us.
"How will we know which way to go?" Ironheart asked.
"That's easy enough," I said. "We continue on past the cottage."
"How do you know?”
"It only stands to reason," I said, as I began to circle around to the right of the cottage. The crunch of ice beneath my feet sounded like broken panes of glass. "I came upon it not long after I'd entered la Foret. Therefore, the cottage must be on its outskirts and the heart of the Forest must be beyond it. That means, this way."
"Urn . . . Aurore?"
I was squinting straight ahead, trying to see through the sudden dazzle of the sun. "What?"
"You might want to—that is, I hate to contradict you, but—"
I brushed tears from my cheeks. The glare had become so great, it was making my eyes water. "What?" I said again.
In answer, Ironheart simply stopped walking. And that was when I realized that we hadn't moved at all. Or that the cottage had moved right along with us, which would perhaps be a more precise way of describing it. For in spite of the fact that we'd taken enough steps to carry us clear along one side, as soon as I stopped walking too, I found myself standing by the front door.