Scarecrow Stories: Grasping Desire Part III

Continued from Scarecrow Stories: Grasping Desire Part II
“So what did Oleander say next?”
It seemed Queen Rose had started to garner the reputation as a storyteller in Flea Bag’s absence. According to the raven-woman with the nice dress she was destroying the novelty of, Flea Bag felt that he had told a story he shouldn’t have and was trying to “pick up the pieces”, whatever that meant. When questioned further the feathered woman added Flea Bag never wanted mention of The Gardener or her partner again, the emotional trauma would be the least of the consequences. Rose told the woman how cryptic sounding her words were, complimented the dress she wore, reminded her to diversify her wardrobe more, and then left. She still hadn’t seen Flea Bag, not even in his room (although she sent Francois to check for her; she didn’t want any misconceptions about a Queen visiting a man’s quarters alone).
Rose plopped down on the couch, noting to herself Fletcher’s good taste in “regular spots”. The cushions were almost as soft as her bedroom mattress. When her light-as-a-feather hair finally came to rest beside her, she continued her story.
“Thank you. I know it’s difficult for most of the Lost to talk about their durance, but I assure you all of this screening is for your own safety. One final question, I promise, and then you can go.”
“Th-thank you, King Oleander.” Young Rose was exhausted.
“What do you plan to do here? You know we can keep you safe, but what will you do in return?”
Young Rose had never thought about it. In three days of “freedom” all she wanted was more. More freedom. She wondered if she would have to leave the freehold to get it. She just wanted control over her life, and to help others control their own.
“Then seize it.” Rose hadn’t realized it, but she’d been thinking out loud, and Oleander had heard. “Seek the Courts. There you will find the ability to raise your status and garner influence over the goings-on around the freehold. I dare say you would make a fine addition to my own, the Autumn Court.”
Young Rose certainly understood Fear, but part of taking true control is knowing all of your options and picking the best. Young Rose had never been able to pick anything before, which only made her more scared exploring this “courtroom” Oleander was always complaining about going to. For now, she told herself, Autumn would be her favorite option.
The purple sundress waiting for her in her new room was soft and comfortable, but more tight than Rose had hoped. Years of being wrapped up in her own vines left her with a bad case of claustrophobia, and the outfit was a little too snug around her stomach. She’d be fine, though. She had convinced herself as much.
The courtroom felt like a breath of fresh air for Young Rose. It was large but enclosed, so she didn’t have to worry about The Gardener peering down at her from above. All of the people here were so beautiful, so unique! There was a group sitting at a table close to her: a furred woman who looked like an alley-cat, a slender bald woman with pale skin and rings around her eyes, and an old man wearing a silver crown, the latter of which perked up at the sight of her.
“Come here, friend, you’re new. Your name?”
“R-r-Rose, sir.”
“You can call me Frost. I lead the Winter Court here.”
Rose’s interest must have been obvious, since Frost paused only for a second before continuing. “We are the Court of Sorrow. We believe the study of how to conceal our magical nature from the Gentry will protect us should they come looking.”
Rose nodded awkwardly. She understood Sorrow. Sorrow filled her when she thought of the life she would never have, the life of a normal human being. She felt Sorrow when she thought of all the Plants left in the Garden. Sadly though, she had spent her life stuck in one spot; she didn’t want to spend the rest of it hiding. She wanted to embrace her new world. The Winter Court was not for her.
Next was the Summer Court. A group of them led by a man with antlers dressed like the forest (I now know it was camouflage) was going to lead a group of them in a jog for exercise. After he left with the group, the one left behind doing paperwork was another deer.
“Oh, hello! You must be one of the new ones out from the Hedge. I’m Kent....”
“Rose..” The flower was shocked to find out she wasn’t the only one fresh from Faerie.
“Can I help you? Are, are you interested in joining the Summer Court?”
“I’d like to at least know what it is first, if you wouldn’t mind.” The young Rose found it hard to give the woman in front of her eye contact. She still wasn’t used to talking again.
“Certainly. It’s a tough decision for most of the Lost to make.”
“Most? It wasn’t difficult for you, Miss Kent?”
“Kent will suffice. When General Eden and I first met with the Court of Wrath, we immediately joined. We protect the Lost from the dangers of magic, and we take a lot of pride in it.”
Wrath? Rose was angry at the monster that had kidnapped her and turned her into something no one was supposed to be, and protecting others was something she wanted to accomplish by joining the Courts. She thought if she joined, she could take over the paperwork from Kent, since Kent seemed miffed she was stuck inside. Young Rose was still conflicted. She was angry at the Gentry, but she didn’t feel particularly touched by the fires of Wrath. The hope of a bright future and control over her own life quelled any rage she felt. The Summer Court was not for her either.
Then she saw them. The Autumn Court. Oleander had described them to her. The proud, stalwart ogre with his purple skin and thick stubby horns. The banshee with her ghostly beauty with red eyes contrasting her pale white skin and light blue hair. The tough suited man with silver hair and metal fists. She felt a connection to them she could not explain. As she made her way towards them while trying to not bump into anyone in the crowded room, she felt a hand pull her aside.
“Come with me.”
She trusted the voice. She didn’t know why.
It was a man wearing thick sunglasses over his eyes, with jet black hair and a sword on his hip. Scars on his Mask were covered up by matching yellow tattoos which glowed right in front of her.
“Don’t join the Autumn Court.”
“W-why?”
“Because I might not be there to pick up the pieces when it all comes crashing down.”
“What are you talking about? You, you have no right to tell me what to do!” Rose was frightened, but she had already escaped Arcadia and she wasn’t about to be slave to someone else’s demands anytime soon.
“I HAVE EVERY RIGHT! You think you understand Fear? Creating Fear is taking power from those too weak to hold onto it. That’s not what you want, is it?” The man was confusingly desperate in his plea.
Young Rose was scared. Very scared. The man was gripping her wrist too tightly; she could feel it irritating her skin. He wouldn’t let go. If this is what Fear meant, she wanted no part in it anymore. She wanted to share any power she gained, not leave others the same way The Gardener did. She didn’t understand that Autumn stood for using your own fears to push yourself to understand whatever it is that scares you. She certainly didn’t even understand why the man in front of her was being so mean. She never would. Tears formed in her eyes when King Oleander came up behind them and started yelling.
“FELIX! Unhand her immediately! What is wrong with you?”
The man called Felix let go of young Rose’s wrist He still looked mad, but now with himself. He marched out the door of the freehold, the light washing in blinding Rose. When her eyes adjusted Oleander was still there with a stranger at his side.
“Miss Rose, I don’t know what got into Felix. We’ve had disagreements in the past, but I’ve never seen him so aggressive! I hope this doesn’t.... Ohp! Where are my manners? Miss Rose Prescott, I would like you to meet our other newest member of Cresthaven, Mr. Vanil Dior!”
The man of wax before her reminded her of everything she didn’t feel anymore: confident, fearless, in control.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Rose. I was just on my way to meet the Spring Court. Oleander tells me I would be a good fit there. Care to join me?”
Outreaching his hand seemed practiced to Rose. The burns on his hands were surprisingly soft to the touch, and the tattoo of a rose losing its petals on his wrist almost seemed to radiate when Rose got near it. Before Rose could snap out of her introspection on the man, he tucked his arm around hers, locking their elbows together. She felt like she was being escorted to a ball. She liked the feeling. She felt important.
“Have you thought about joining a Court, miss?” He smelled nice, too.
“I’ve kind of been trying to figure it all out. Nothing seems to fit for me.” She was blushing.
“Then perhaps the Antler Crown could help. Their King should be on the throne.”
He was. There before them, shining in the light from across the freehold, was King Warmetal. Made of solid gold with pearls for pupils, a silver tongue, and gem-studded knuckles, he’d be terrifying if it weren’t for his friendly smile.
“Two new recruits. This day treats me well.” His voice was as soft as the metal he was made of.
“My apologies, sire, but Miss Rose here hasn’t chosen a Court yet.” Rose appreciated Mr. Dior’s remark.
“She will. It’s already in her heart. No matter, I will still explain myself. We of Spring are the Court of Desire. We seek happiness. It’s simple. We want all Fae-kind to live their lives doing whatever makes them happiest, and we do our best to make that possible. Horrible things were done to us to get us here. It doesn’t mean we have to continue living horrible lives of Sorrow, Fear, or Wrath.” King Warmetal’s smile only got wider as he swelled with pride, his mantle made of elk’s horn embedded into his forearms in the form of embellishments on his gold matching the crown made of antler atop his head.
Young Rose had made her decision. She knew what she wanted. She was ready to take control.
Category:Fiction