Wrong Answer

A Maven Fairy Godmother Fractured Fairy Tale featuring an older son

Photo by thomas RICHARD on Unsplash

Maven, a tired fairy godmother, trudged through the woods on an overgrown path. She'd made her gossamer clothing look like rough homespun, brown and tattered as the leaf mold beneath her shoes. She looked as old and tired as she was, not just a reverse glamour.

She'd been turning goose girls into princesses and giving spunky children good advice with a bit of magic all day. She needed a break. She could poof to her pod for a nap, or to the Twilight Lounge for a libation…not beer, unfortunately, but for now, just some peace and quiet suited her best.

She felt her wand vibrate in the pocket of her gossamer, signaling a wish to be granted soon.

The work is never done.

She heard fast hoofbeats against the soft forest floor as a clanking man approached her, his mount sweating. A knight in full armor had been on the road for far too long for his poor steed, and perhaps the steed wanted to make a wish.

The horse looked at her with weary eyes, and she shook her head sadly.

I don't kill people, she thought to it, knowing that animals understood more than they let on. She thought of the horse rearing up and throwing the rider, but the horse shook its head, too tired, and the knight, too good a rider.

“You there,” the knight shouted, unnecessarily loud in the quiet forest. “Where has the Princess Vivienne been taken by the dragon? I must rescue her!”

“Your pardon, milord,” Maven quavered. She fingered her wand to read the knight's character, but found nothing that the horse had not shown her. “Could you spare a sip of water for an old woman?”

“If you don't know, I shall be on my way.” The knight kicked the horse, leaving yet another mark in its hide.

“Wait, Sir Knight,” Maven called. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and hid it behind the folds of her skirt.

The knight jerked back on the horse's reins. “What? Don't waste my time, hag.”

Maven smiled the smile of dangerous dragons. “The palace of the Dragon Prince H.R. is on this road, perhaps five leagues from here, on the left. You can’t miss it. Look for the princess there.”

As far as she knew, both Princess Vivienne and H.R. were at home, whether receiving visitors or not. She doubted that H.R. would allow his wife to be ‘rescued’ by such a lout. Nor would Vivienne go with him.

With no word of thanks or even acknowledgment, the knight spurred his horse again.

Maven sent a spell of energy and pain relief to the horse, doing what she could to make it comfortable. She also spoke to the forest itself, asking it to put as many branches, logs, carrion eaters, and any other obstacles as possible in the knight's path.

In a few moments, she heard a high-pitched shriek, followed by a ponderous crash that quaked the ground.

Not satisfied, she sent another spell to make the knight’s armor heavy and rusty. That was much more fun than making glass slippers and pumpkin conveyances.

She continued to trudge but with a lighter step, cheered up. Maybe the knight would learn respect.

In a few minutes, the horse limped back to her, a bit of twinkle in its eye, but favoring its foreleg.

May I carry you somewhere, Madam Fairy? The horse thought to her. I am grateful for your assistance.

Thank you, but no. You are injured. Maven looked at the leg, not sure what was best to do for it, and not wanting to injure it further. She poofed to the saddle. However, I can carry you somewhere.

She swung her wand around them both, three times, building a spiral of energy and calculating mass and distance. With a word, they both vanished, poofing to reappear at the crystalline palace of Dragon Prince H.R.

A footman awaited them, as she had also sent a magical word ahead.

“Please tend to this horse,” she instructed, “and see to his left foreleg.”

The footman nodded and led the horse toward the stable.

Maven walked up to the large gate, which immediately opened for her. She would send H.R. out to have a word with the knight, and then have the palace cook brew a cup of coffee. Perhaps Vivienne would have some juicy gossip.

She put her wand back in her pocket. Maybe the next time, the knight would have the right answer.