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It has been true knowledge that forever Faerie Tales of old bring us great stories of hope. They preach moral lessons, romance, violence, and the deepest well of human emotion. Many carry temptation, and the darker side of things. Of course, all tales are open to their own brand of interpretation. And keeping that in mind, we pass now to the Broken, Twisted Tale of Hansel and Gretel. It may not be as sweet as you remember it to be.

Chapter One: A Starving Home

The problem with being raised on a poor farm is that one was always at mercy of the seasons. If drought or flood hit the land, then no crops would grow. No money would be made, and no food would be set upon the table. Of course, this leads to empty stomachs and a sour disposition.

Gretel was raised in such a place. The daughter of her father's first wife, their small family had lost the addition of their mother when a sweeping plague of wet lung spread across the country. Though his small daughter had survived, the man soon found that a single pair of hands to do the required planting, and to mind his child, was not enough.

After the customary mourning period had passed, he quickly sought himself a new wife, Laudia. Chosen due to the harshness of the circumstances, his new bride brought a coffer of coins and two cows as her dowry. It was not a match based on personality or any sort of kind feeling. Rather, it was a convenient solution to both their losses. And with her, she brought her own daughter, only a year younger than Gretel.

It was clear early on at this arrangement, that Gretel was not particularly liked by her step-mother. The woman's own child was lazy and forced Gretel to work doubly hard at the tasks they were given to avoid the nightly beatings.

Now that is not to say that the step-mother was 'evil' in a historical sense of these tales and step-mothers. She was merely hard working and stern minded. The laziness was no excuse to get a chore done, and with Gretel being the oldest of the pair, it was pushed upon her to assume the responsibility of the daily chores. Thus, she became the scapegoat at Brianna's poor tasks.

Our story picks up some seven years after this merger occurred. Gretel is but twelve summers old, her golden hair and wide blue eyes awkward on a face that promised beauty in the coming years. Famine had once more scorched the fields into fallow and grain was becoming increasing short. As time passed, with no hope of rain to sooth the parched earth, Laudia turned to her husband one night and discussed their options.

"We have too many mouths to feed, husband. At the rate of two growing children, and sustaining ourselves, the food will be gone well before the summer ends." Listening to his wife, the farmer replied, "Then what are we to do? Neither is old enough to marry. We have no dowry even if they were. No merchant or farmer would take them in as laborer or worker, their own stores are short."

As they both fell into silence, Laudia finally voiced the thought that had been stirring in her mind all day. "We must send Gretel into the mountains and the forest. In the morning, we will tell her to gather us blueberries. And that she may not return home until her basket is full."

Protesting a moment, the farmer responded, "There are no blueberries that would survive in this weather. To send her on such an errand, she would surely lose her way and be lost to the wilderness."

Non-phased, his wife pressed on. "If she does find them, think of the money we would gain. Just a single basket would surely feed us all for a month. And if she does not return, then our own stores will last. My own daughter does not eat nearly as much as your own."

Unable to argue with those words, the farmer finally relented. Though he certainly had a father's affection for the child, if she did not leave, then they would all die of starvation. And if she did happen to find the precious berries, then they could be spared another month of waiting for the rains to fall.

With the situation decided, the pair rolled over and were quickly off to sleep.


Unbeknownst to this scheming pair, darling Gretel had awoken shortly before their conversation. Thirsty, and in want of a drink of water, she had crawled out of the bed shared by Brianna and crept her way quietly to the door. As she heard their conversation, her skin, tanned by the days pulling weeds and doing chores beneath the harsh sun, paled greatly.

If she went alone into the forest, she would certainly lose her way. Such trips were always done in the presence of her father, whom knew the secrets of the woods that would tell him which way was home again. Filled with pain at the betrayal, and anxiety of the trip, she went to the single window of her room and pulled open the sashes.

As the cool air of the night permeated the room, she felt herself calming. She was a smart girl, and ever resourceful. It was then that an idea fell upon her. Taking a swift look at her sleeping sister, she gathered up her traveling smock and took their small stool to the window. Climbing up and out, she spent the next hour filling the pockets with as many small rocks as she could find and carry.

Satisfied with herself, once the pockets were full, she climbed back inside. Closing the sashes again, she stored her smock away for morning and eased herself back into bed.

Even with a plan in mind, however, the poor girl was plagued with nightmares. Wolfs and bears, and all sorts of creatures threatened her. It was a restless night indeed.


The next morning, as they had discussed, Laudia demanded that her step-daughter take a basket into the forest and fill it with blueberries. Without even giving the child a chance to break her fast, she pushed a basket with a single measly crust of bread and the mold rind of last week's cheese into the girl's arms. Then, telling her to get dressed, she would be leaving before the sun had even fully colored the sky.

Once in her smock, and with a slightly teary kiss on her father's cheek, she started up the winding trail into the mountains.


It took Gretel an hour to walk the path to its end before the trodden dirt broke into wild, though dry, grass and brush. Taking a deep breath, she stuck her fingers into her pockets and withdrew a small handful of pebbles. Every so many steps, she would drop one along her path as a marker of where she had come from. Soon she was meandering in no direction particular. It was soon, and rather quickly, apparent that she had gotten herself deeply lost among the trees.

Finally, sometime around the mid-day, Gretel sat upon a tree stump and pulled out her small meal. It would not have been enough to even last the day, and it was with painful protesting of her stomach that she chewed each bite as long as possible in an effort to trick her stomach into thinking there was more food than she was really eating.

With her basket empty, and nothing more to eat, she finally sunk her face into her hands and began weeping. Her step-mother had been right. She would never find what she had been sent in for and would surly die of hunger if the beasts in the night did not rend her first. Sniffling, she got up to brush out her skirts. Wiping the tears from her face, it was then that she saw a hint of color in the corner of her eyes.

Turning, she could not believe herself. As if by magic, a lush bush grew a few paces on, hidden by thorns and brambles. Walking closer, she found her luck to be doubly blessed. It was laden down, branches drooping almost to the ground, in large plump blueberries. Taking up her basket, she let out a great shout of laughter and fought her way through the thorns.

Many scratches later, and with a few tears in her skirt, she made it to her prize. With so much fruit, she knew she could easily fill her stomach as well as the basket. Plucking one, she did not believe her fortune. As it rolled across her tongue, she bit into it to find it sweet and juicy. Her fingers and lips were quickly stained a violet tone as she indulged in one of the best meals she had eaten in weeks.

After satisfying her own hunger, she quickly filled her basket. Even with blueberries threatening to pour over the rim, the plan still looked full and inviting. Smiling, she quickly made her way back to the fallen log she had used for lunch and began following her stone trail back to her home.


Not only was everyone astonished to see a happy Gretel as they sat down to their evening meal, but she had returned, indeed, with a basket full of the best blueberries they had ever seen. After putting aside enough to make a decent pie, Laudia jarred the remaining fruit for the farmer to take into town and sell at the market. Perhaps, even, he could travel a few days to their Lord's estate. Surely the man would pay handsomely for such a lavish treat in this weather.

Happy with his daughter, and quite glad that he did not have to live with that on his conscious, he pushed the guilt of his attempt out of his mind. They all lived quite happily off of Gretel's fortune. For a time..


Now it came to pass, that the Lord had paid enough to them to last not one month, but six. However, seeing that her own daughter was growing into a rather unattractive woman in both looks and personality, she convinced the farmer to put aside a hefty sum for her own daughter's dowry. She, of course, reminded the man of the money she had brought to him upon her own marriage. Unable to ague with the woman, he conceded.

As the months changed the season from summer into fall, the gold soon ran out, and the luck of rain never appeared. With the first frost having fallen upon the ground in a frenzy of crystals, the woman once more pressed her husband with the very real fact that they would all starve in the coming months. Arguing that he had done that to his daughter once, and would not do so again, Laudia was relentless. After another failed argument to dip into the dowry money, of which Laudia adamantly refused, the farmer was once again forced to agree that his daughter would return to the forests. This time it would be in the futile search of strawberries.

Having once more overheard the conversation, the growing length and scarcity of the meals cluing her into the fact that what had happened before may repeat itself, Gretel bit her lip in panic. The rocks she could gather, that was no problem, but strawberries after first frost would be impossible. With a heavy heart, she waited until her parents' snores told her they were asleep. And this night, instead of going now to her bed, she once more opened the window and snuck out into the darkness.

Filling her smock with rocks was doubly hard now. Her fingers were cold and frozen once the work was done, and she happily crawled into her room and shut the shades tight. Crawling into bed with Brianna, she rolled over to traverse the planes of restless sleep once more.


In the morning, she was once more given no opportunity to break her fast. Handed the basket, and told to dress, she tried without success to argue that strawberries would not be found. With her words falling on deaf ears, she took her measly meal and set out.

As history repeated itself, she made her way into the forest and began to leave the stones in her path. She wandered for hours, here and there, without much hope that luck would be upon her once again. However, to her amazement, she did indeed happen upon a patch of wild strawberries shortly after her mid-day meal.

As before, they were ripe and juicy, having been protected by the frost by thick rambling ivy. After eating her fill, she filled her basket and went skipping her way home, humming a merry tune into the air.

The astonished faces upon her arrival were even more so than they had been the last time. With a trip to the local Lord filling their pockets with enough coin to last the winter, the small family settled down for the snowy months to come.


As lucky as Gretel had been, it was with equal unluckiness that the spring brought rain. At first, it was welcomed after the parch of the previous year, but it soon became apparent that the sun would be nothing but a fond memory. The seeds sown into the fields quickly rotted, and the grasses the cows fed upon drowned. Once more, the step-mother found the mouths too many, and her step-daughter would have to be sent away again.

This time for good...

With the two trips bringing them luck, the local villagers had begun coming to them for an arranged marriage between one of their daughters. Of course, even with the power of the dowry backing her own child, the fathers soon saw the working ethic and budding beauty of the girl named Gretel. Brianna was rude, despite her mother's admonishments, and sent the fathers quickly asking for Gretel's hand.

Not wanting her own blood to be shunned, she decided to kill two birds with one stone. After another long argument with her husband, it was agreed that they would send Gretel out in the morning. She was to fetch peaches, and not return home until they were found. Now, knowing that two such endeavors had actually been successful, Laudia wondered how the girl managed to find home after discovering what she had been sent for.

Pulling her daughter to the side before the pair went off to bed, she asked Brianna what she knew of it. Her daughter responded with an explanation of a dream she thought she had had. "I dreamt that Gretel opened the window, though the night was quite chilly. She snuck out the window and into the darkness. When I arose to see why she had gone, thinking she was sneaking off to trade kisses with a boy, I instead found her picking at the ground like a hen after feed. She was collecting small rocks, and sticking them into her pockets."

After this description, and a search of the said smock, Laudia did indeed find the remnants of a few pebbles that had not been emptied out. With a plan in mind, she plotted against her step-daughter.

The next day, Laudia made a trip to the village, apparently to see if there was any seed left to plant once it dried up and how expensive it would be. Upon her return home, she immediately fell into a tale of woe. "There are bandits traveling the countryside. They sneak into homes in the dead of night through any unlatched doors or windows. They murder everyone inside, and steal what they might. What horrid times we live in that even those desperate cannot be safe from such devilry. Indeed I will not feel safe in this home until every window is barred and every door has a lock."

At her insistence, the farmer indeed spent the rest of the day driving nails through wooden planks. An extra special barrier was created over the window in the girl's room. "I would not live with myself if they got a hold on our precious daughters." It was all the motivation the farmer needed.

Once barred in, Gretel had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her intuition told her something was not right. That night, as Brianna fell asleep beside her, she slipped out of bed to listen at the door.

"Tomorrow morning we will send her out once again. If luck shines upon us once more, then we will have no worries of the months ahead. Your daughter is truly a gift." Heart sinking, Gretel knew that whatever impossible task she was sent upon this time, she would have no stones to lead her home again. With a heavy heart, she slid back to bed and into sleep.


"You are to fill this basket with peaches, Gretel. And you may not return home until that is done."

All of her hopes fell with that statement. Peaches would not even have begun to blossom yet, this early in the spring. With a heavy heart, and a kiss upon her father's cheek, she took up her basket. Knowing all to well that he would not see his Gretel again, he made sure that she had a decent meal this time. A half loaf of bread, a few thick slices of cheese, and even a small bottle of wine. Basket in hand, Gretel once more began up the path into the forest beyond.

As she came to the end of the trail, all hope of finding enough rocks along the way to help her travel crumbled. Most had been lodged in mud or were too large to be ideal. Not only that, but once she had begun into the forest, the rocks seemed to disappear altogether into grass.

It was again, at this point, that the young girl fell upon her ingenuity. Pulling out her loaf of bread, she broke it into bits, spreading the crumbs on the ground as she walked. After many hours of wandering, she sat to once again take in her mid-day fast. Tears coursed down her cheeks and woe turned the soft cheese into paste in her mouth. Eating only a small bit, she decided to ration the food. If she could survive the night, perhaps then she would wander enough to find her way back into civilization. When she stood, at the end of her meal, she turned to continue in the way she had been going.

A few more hours of walking, and she found herself in a dead end of thick brambles. Turning about, she began back the way she had been. However, retracing her steps for a few long minutes, her trail began to thin. Not only had the soggy ground turned the bread into almost non-recognizable crumbs, but there were birds now along the path picking at what she had scattered.

With a cry of agony, she realized that she was now truly lost. There was no path home. Even worse than that, she had spent nearly half of her bread on the birds, and eaten another quarter for her meal. It was wasted upon the birds for no reason at all.

Chapter Two: A Lost Hunter

The king was totally, irrevocably, impossibly lost.

The day had started out well enough. The rain had stopped and the sun whispered out from between puffy white clouds. The air was crisp and clean. And best of all, the mud left a plethora of tracks for the hunting party to follow.

Hansel mused silently as he led his horse through the winding trees. It had been his enthusiasm that was to fault. Having just turned eighteen, he was itching to stretch his legs away from the stiff formality of his title. Not that he was in any way displeased with his lot in life. Rather, it was the opposite. He loved his station as heir. The ability to order the most grand of lords on a trivial task, to walk about and have every whim catered to. Even, in these times of strife, to have a table laden with fat geese and custard puddings. Not to mention the fact that every skirt he crossed was always willing for a romp.

As that thought filled his mind, it led to another, and then another, until the gasping image of a very naked serving maid filled his mind. She had stoked the testosterone last night with her pants and squeals as he rutted her mercilessly along one of the service hallways. It was that feisty redhead last night that had his blood pumping so hotly this morning when the boar cut in front of them.

He, naturally, had been the first to spot the creature and kick his horse into action. As they crashed through the underbrush, the creature let out a screech of fear and surprise. It was only after he had fallen the beast, and was in the process of removing his arrows before cleaning the carcass, that he realized he was alone. Not only that, but he had been so attentive in the chase, that he did not know which direction they had gone in.

There was not a single bit of his wood craft or lore he could use to get home. He supposed that he could get his bearings roughly and travel in a general direction until he hit some sort of civilization, but until that point he could be spending days traveling through the forest. It all depended on where this boar had led him. In this moment, Hansel direly wished that he had listened more when given instruction. But, up until this point, he had always had someone trained in this do it for him. At this moment, he could not even remember if moss grew on the south side of trees or the north. Or was that the west?
Irritated, he took a good deal of frustration out of the dead animal, cutting and cleaning it with a fierce gusto as if punishment for daring to get him lost. Once he was satisfied with his work, Hansel pulled some rope out of his pack and latched the boar onto the back of his horse. Making sure to carry his sword on his hip, he began his trek through the foliage.

After many long hours of this, the sky began to turn pink. With a deep sigh, he began the process of gathering wood to set up a small camp. Of course, most of his things were not being carried by his own mount. He had someone to do that for him. Butchering a hank of pork off of his kill, he set up a crude spit and began roasting it. It soon became apparent that he was really no good at this and let out a long string of curses.


The day was beginning to turn into night and her frantic wanderings had found Gretel no closer to either the trail home or a basket of peaches. Feeling quite abject and miserable, it took her a while to realize that the sudden pangs in her stomach were being induced by the smell of roasting pork. Her mouth watered at the scent and her hopes leapt a bit. Perhaps someone lived near by that would be willing to share a bit, or even possibly point her in a direction out of this place.

The stretching shadows had begun to play tricks on her mind and her steps hastened toward her perceived goal. It never crossed her mind, as innocent as she was, that perhaps the aroma came from someone in the forest she would rather not meet.

A crack in the underbrush was the first alert that he was not alone. Thinking it some sort of predator, perhaps drawn to the smell of the horse and his morning kiss, he got to his feet quickly with hand on his sword.

Instead of a wolf, it was a gangly child in tattered clothes that walked into his circle of firelight. She was covered in filth, yet he could still tell that her skin was a darkened bronze from working the fields despite the lack of winter sun. The girl was gaunt, the harsh lines of hunger accentuating her delicate features. Her blue eyes peered at him with shock and apprehension, no less surprised to see him than he was to see her.

As Gretel stepped from the forest, she did not expect to see such a handsome man. Not only in feature, but in clothes as well. His skin was much paler than her own, though by his fine thread, she had no doubt he was a lord's son. And, he was tall. Inches over six feet with a frame that had not fully filled out to the man he had yet become. His eyes were a dusky green, mixed with flakes of golden brown. Sandy hair was streaked with platinum, cut in a shaggy manner that forced as much of it to fall partially in his eyes as it did to wisp around his head.

Blushing, Gretel clasped her hands tightly to the basket, her heart fluttering. With a heavy swallow, she bit her lip then spoke, tentatively. "Sir... would you mind sparing some food for the night? I was sent up here to forage and I have gotten horribly lost."

Surprised, Hansel nodded then motioned to the fire. "Go ahead. There is plenty." He watched as she took a seat then set her basket on the ground next to her. With a soft yelp, she suddenly took up the spit and began turning. "You had it sitting too long on one side. It was beginning to burn."

Taking his own seat once more, he happily let her take over the chore. "What is in the basket?" Gretel looked to him and smiled shyly. "A little bit of cheese and some bread, and half of a small bottle of wine. You may have them if you like." Hansel nodded and held his hand out, fully expecting the girl to offer it. At least the peasant folk knew their betters. Even if not by name or title. When she stood and gave it to him, she did it with a rigid formality, as though the basket were a prized possession and not just a few scraps to add to dinner.

They fell into silence as he pulled out the meager offering. Slicing the bread, he laid the slabs of cheese on top. Then, as soon as the pork was done, he cut off thick hunks and placed them upon the cheese. Handing Gretel one such slice of bread, the prince quickly devoured the remaining bits and drained off the bottle of wine.

Once again, they fell into silence. She did not know what to say, and he did not think that he needed to say anything. As the night grew on, she cleaned up the rest of the pork and wrapped it in cloth, then curled up on her side and watched the flames. Soon, the child was asleep.

With a deep sigh, Hansel stretched out on the dirt himself, though the protection of his cloak was much better than Gretel's tattered rags. As his mind floated once more to the buxom red head, he drifted off into gentle sleep.

Chapter Three: A Song in the Night

Unbeknownst to the sleeping pair, they were not the only souls in this part of the forest. Miles away stood a house. It would not be so odd if someone were to picture it as a quaint log cabin. But no, this was a cottage. And before one could even brush that off as a common feature in the backdrop of tall pines and oaks, it was a cottage made entirely of sweets.

The walls were crafted of tan gingerbread held together by icing tinted the barest shade of pink. The roof was made of swirls of sugar in all colors imaginable, much like the old fashioned lollipops sold by the traveling fairs. The small cobblestone drive that invited one to the door was a tantalizing swirl of red and white peppermints. The quaint chimney, also constructed of gingerbread puffed out little bits of smoke, smelling faintly of caramel or chocolate depending upon the direction of the wind.

It was in the lovely little house, a child's fantasy, little would one guess that the occupant of such a home be anything but. The old crone was hunched over a boiling cauldron. Her wooden spoon stirred faithfully within a deep pool of red liquid. Every so often, she would hobble to her table to pick up one ingredient or another. This would be sprinkled into the mix, a puff of multicolored smoke released with each addition.

Every once and a while, her long, hooked nose would lean down near the surface of the slowly boiling concoction and she would take a deep breath. In one such pass, breathing in the fumes, her head suddenly shot upright. "I smell child..." Her voice was crackly and old, somewhere between the scratching of tree branches upon windows and the crinkle of fallen leaves in autumn.

As she sniffed around the air a bit more, she let out a soft snort and moved to a shelf along the far wall of the large kitchen. She lifted up a single vial that glowed softly with a pale azure tone. Uncorking it, she walked back to her cauldron. Leaning over slowly, the hag allowed three precious drops of it drip into the liquid. As it puffed, a deep violet cloud arose. It snaked through the room, a haunting melody chimed through the air. The wisp coiled up the chimney, and in moments, spread across the country side in a lovely haunting tune.


At the small campsite, Gretel's dreams were suddenly filled with warmth. She felt the calming presence of her mother rocking her gently. The scent of a fragrance she always had about her, long forgotten to a mind that had lost her seven years previous, filled her nose. Her mother's voice, soft and soothing, sang her a lullaby. She was safe and loved. "Come, Darling... Come with me.. I have so much to show you.." The voice was soft and soothing in her ears. In her sleep, Gretel's small form rose and her eyes opened. A haze filled the blue orbs, turning them an opaque purple. Then, in a deep trance, she took one step into the forest, then another.

Hansel, on the other hand, did not hear the urging voice the same as Gretel. It was a mere humming in his ears. An annoyance that had him swatting at invisible flies. When Gretel took her first step into the trees, it was the crackle of her steps that awoke him.

Sitting up, the prince blinked the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and rubbed them. As he glanced to the peasant child, he saw her covered in a nimbus of violet swirls. Jumping to his feet, he drew his sword, unaccustomed to dealing with witchcraft. As Gretel's steps took her further and further from the campfire, Hansel's conscience chose that moment to rear its head. Though he was admittedly spoiled beyond belief, he did have the noble sense to know that magic trickery used in his kingdom would always harm his people. And, whether he liked it or not, without people to rule, he would have no kingdom.

Walking up to the girl, he tried to do all in his power to wake her from her daze. Shouting, blocking her, and even trying restraint, though he did it from afar with the flat of his sword. There was no way he would touch that enchanted cloud. When nothing worked, he resigned himself to following. And so the pair made their way to that enchanted house of sweets.


As the old crone waited, she anxiously hobbled around her kitchen. It had been far too long since she had tasted the flesh of a child. Too much time had passed since she felt the rush of youthful exuberance, since she had stared at herself young and beautiful within the long mirror of her room. She hoped the child would be a girl. They lasted longer and the magic was much more potent.

When the door finally swung open, she was gladdened and dismayed to see that it was indeed a young girl. Her bones stuck out sharply, however, and the gaunt of malnutrition touched her features. She would need to fatten the child up first, revitalize her health before baking her up in a pie.

What she did not expect, was the tall young man that followed the girl to the door, sword out and ready. With a frightful cackle, she dipped her fingers into the bubbling potion that still glowed with the violet aura surrounding Gretel. Moving closer to the prince, her voice rasped out, "Come in, come in dear boy. It is cold outside and you will become ill." Slowly, she moved closer to the portal, her long nails dripping on the floor. Once near enough, she rose her hand and shook it at Hansel. As the ooze landed on his skin, it shimmered. Hansel suddenly felt himself immobilized. He stood as still as a statue as the old hag chortled out her glee.

He was much older than her typical prey, but she was never one to turn down a meal. Also, the boy was filled out much more. He would make a better meal than the girl at present. Walking over, she poked him with a single long fingernail. "Just a little for you. Not much fattening up needed here." Giggling with childish glee, the witch reveled in her trap. "Two little birdies almost ready for the pie."


One week. That is how long Hansel had been locked up within the cage that swung in the crone's kitchen. While he did nothing but sit all day, the hag tempted him with morsels and treats. He had refused to eat anything until the witch had threatened to chop of little Gretel's fingers and toes one by one while he watched. Not wanting to cause the girl any more strife than she already had, he eventually complied.

Gretel, on the other hand, had been put to the task of cleaning the cottage. The witch also took great delight in having her small morsel cook and bake the things that she would use to fatten up Hansel.

It was Gretel's ingenuity once more that saved them both from a fate in the oven. As Hansel was fed, he would place the food into his mouth and eat only so much as was required to survive. The rest he would knock down into the crevice between a work bench and the wall. Every night, after the snores of the witch reverberated around the cottage, Gretel would sneak off of her little pallet by the large wood oven and collect the bits. Tossing them into the fire, they burned up quickly without a trace.

The witch, however, was quite upset. Peering at Hansel with her poor eyes, almost filmed over in a layer of murky white, she spent a good deal of time each morning pinching and poking to see if he had fattened up any. Of course, with their ruse, he did not. Gretel, though, underwent a dramatic change. With some good food in her stomach, she regained her color.

Late at night she would sit next to Hansel and tell him stories of her home, the farm, and the wild requests her mother had made of her. At these tales, he had become enraged, promising her that when they got out of this current predicament he would ensure that she would never be sent into the forest like that again. Filled with a warm glow at his words, she smiled. It was clear to Gretel that talking to this handsome man made her feel funny inside. Then and there, she decided that she would marry him some day. Surely he would take her away from this life. And when they were all grown up, they would be able to live Happily Ever After.

Hansel, in turn, told her of some of his tales of being a boy. Teasing the hunting hounds, begging his father for a horse that later reared up and tossed him. All the while, he was cautious to keep the fact that he was the heir away from her. He built up his tales as though he were just another lord. After being cooped up in a cage with only Gretel as his companion, his prejudice of the girl faded away. He found her mind quick and intelligent, and he did not want their closeness to be aborted by the knowledge of who he really was. For the first time in his life, Hansel pretended to not be a prince.


There was a single flaw in their plan. The witch was a very impatient creature. After two weeks without any changes for the better, rather Hansel seemed to be getting skinnier; she finally decided to cook him up anyway. Sweeping into the kitchen like a vulture, she called for Gretel. "Stoke the fire high and hot. I am done waiting for the boy!"

Horrified, Gretel stood there dumbfounded. A hard 'swap' of a wooden spoon quickly had her moving. Sending Hansel a guilty look, she began the process of collecting firewood. Meanwhile, the witch hummed a tune off-key while rolling out what promised to be an enormous pie crust.

As she made her passes, Gretel's eyes often wandered to the large key that hung from the crone's waist. It was the only thing to open the cage. If they were lucky, or perhaps fast enough, maybe she could snatch it. If Hansel got away free, she would feel much better.

After the dough was kneaded, the crafty witch looked upon Gretel. She had grown more vibrant and stronger. At the end of her patience she decided to eat them both and called out to the girl. "Darling, is the oven hot enough yet? Crawl inside and tell me if it is good."

Gretel, suddenly realizing her peril, went to the oven door and opened it, the heat from the flames wafting into the air. Scrambling and scraping, she tried to get in. Or so she made it appear. "I cannot get in. How should I do it?" Infuriated, the crone went to the oven herself. "It is easy.. see?" As the hag stuck her own head in to show the child, Gretel suddenly let out a great push and the witch fell in. Snatching up the key from her waist, she quickly slammed the door shut and latched it tight.

As the old woman screamed and kicked against the door, Gretel quickly freed Hansel. With a shout of joy, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of that dangerously decorated trap of confection and back into the relative safety of the forest.

A loud cry went up and then a sudden explosion occurred behind them. Smoke of all colors poured heavy and thick into the air, filling it. Picking up Gretel, Hansel swung her around in a wide circle then placed her back on her feet. He kissed her on the top of the head and grinned. "Smart girl!"

She merely beamed back up at him, her cheeks flush from the excitement and the kiss branded upon her skin. As Hansel took her hand once more, they made their way into the woods.


The fabulous thing about explosions, especially magical ones, is that they attract a lot of attention. With the King's only son missing in the forest for onwards of a fortnight, the trees were almost saturated with searchers.

And that was who eventually found the pair. The soldier spotted them first, letting out a shout followed by the blowing of a hunting horn. "I've found him! It's the Prince! The Prince!"

At this, Hansel sped up his pace, a very confused Gretel in tow. The Prince? Whose prince? The thoughts sped through her mind. Shortly they were surrounded by a hearty group of men, each making a fuss over him. As Gretel was separated, she suddenly realized that he was THE Prince. Blushing furiously, she mentally traced each conversation she had spoken with him. She had been honest and frank, and he must have thought her a horrible country bumpkin. Not to mention that he must have been bored to tears, or would have been if there had been anyone else around to speak with.

However, true to his promise, he had made sure to see her well taken care of. As his soldiers returned her to her home, they announced to her astonished step-mother and her father quite clearly that she was now the warden of one of the more local Lords. That all right they may have had to her in ties, would now be severed. Blinking tears, she saw the pain in her father's eyes, but could not help but feel it was a just reward for agreeing to nothing less than her own murder. The Prince made sure that a large dowry was placed on her and also had a decent sum sent over in personal money for her use.

The last image she saw of Hansel before she was carted off was one she cherished in the years to come. He had been freshly shaved and was clean. His clothes were of fine cloth and in that moment, she knew that he had not been more handsome. With a final parting smile, the heir of the kingdom rode away to reenter his life. With a new perspective and maturity, he intended to take on the role that was dealt to him. However, in the coming years, the image of a gangly blonde haired child that had saved his life slowly faded from memory.


Four years had passed. Her new life was not only filled with riches, but also with the struggle of her education and upbringing. Placed in the care of one Lord Georgio, she soon found herself embraced into a loving home. His wife, Helena, had given him many fine sons, but had not been blessed by a daughter. With the addition of Gretel into her home, the Lady had taken to her as if she had been her own blood. She had not felt kindness or genuine good feeling from a parental model since the passing of her mother and she soaked it up. Happiness flowed through her, and she dreamed every night of the handsome prince she had rescued, and when he would return for her.

His sons had taken to her as a sister, and with her age, grew the beauty that had been promised. Now at sixteen, her golden hair had taken on a soft wave that made it flow and curl around her face. Her blue eyes had taken on a soft hint of purple, more indigo now. Bronzed skin slowly paled to a soft creamy complexion that complimented her coloring. The long legs that had made her look so awkward had given her a graceful height, stopping her at five and a half feet. In a striking resemblance to her mother, her curves filled in gently, adding a more womanly appearance to her form, though she was still on the cusp of childhood. Offers had been made on her hand, and Georgio could barely keep up.

To her, no one was right. She found herself comparing every man to Hansel and found them all wanting. The hair was not the right shade, the eyes too green or too brown. With each offer, she calmly gave denial. And because they loved her so much, they granted her that pittance. She still had many years to grow and bloom, and eventually she would find a man suiting enough for her.

Of course, fate was not so kind. One dark night, the rain had been pouring down rather viciously. Lightening thrashed the air and the tangent feel of ozone left the little hairs standing stiff across the skin.
It was in this weather that this family with its new foundling sat. Gretel listened intently to an oral recounting of the land's history as she practiced her needlework. Suddenly, the door to the hall banged open and a stooped woman clutching a gnarled oaken staff hobbled in. Her black eyes almost glowed with a wrathful vengeance as she made her way in. Those same eyes trimmed on Gretel almost instantly and the crone took a deep, long sniff of the air. "YOU!"

Appalled, Gretel did not know what to do. The hag's raspy voice filled the air once more. "MURDERER!" The witch screeched, "For the death of my sister, you will pay!" Her voice rose then, in a sing song chorus that echoed through the air:

As you broke my heart in 'twain,
Will Love forever be you bane.
No matter far or travels go;
True Love shall always be your woe.
Those around you love or hate;
May your curse aggravate.
May you cause lovers dread;
The curse is laid, so it is said.

At the dismayed cries of those present, the guards quickly came in and killed the creature where she stood. They killed her too late. The curse had been planted and the death of the witch would not stop it. Forever, she would be denied love. Forever she would cause those in love to be filled with hate, for those who do not love to be filled with passion. With one swift move, the crone had withered the rose before it had been able to stretch its petals to become what it was.

What hurt the most were not the sudden dark eyes of those around her, but the realization that she and her prince would never be together.

Chapter Four: The Best of a Worst Situation

The years passed, another four summers come and gone, as well as the death of the old king. Unable to be near those she loved, she was eventually moved into her own house on the estate. Her adopted family loved her from afar. They wept over her and rallied every magician, sorcerer, or being of magical property they could find to end the curse. The closest they ever came was the cryptic response of a particularly old seer.

"To Love and Hate are the same. The curse shall end when she is Loved and Hated in unison. "

This of course caused confusion. How could one love her and hate her at the same time? When around her, the curse caused all of the love to be washed out by hate, all of the hate to be washed out by love. The two emotions could not simultaneously exist.

After the initial grief had passed, Gretel found that her curse, though it might deny her true happiness, could perhaps bring it to others. Soon, couples and young lovers would visit her. If the pair turned to each other in loathing, they had a strong bond that would never be broken. When the pair turned on each other in amorous, passionate affection, one or even both were not in love, but rather had secret despises of the other person. If nothing happened, then the emotions were superficial and no love would ever come out of the match.

Eventually people took the reactions as a way of match-making. People would not wed if Gretel's curse did not pass the test. It became known as the 'Lover's Curse' over time, and people traveled from far and wide to see if they could exceed. This was especially popular with the more romantic young women. It hurt Gretel to watch other people's happiness, but she felt that she lived, in a way, through them all.


Marianne, the Duchess of Veryn twirled in the frothy confection of lace and tissue thin satin that composed her wedding gown. The bodice cupped her torso tightly and the corset pushed up her breasts almost to the point of indecent. Frowning, she tugged at the fabric, trying to pull it up higher. After hours of arguing with the dressmaker over the revealing style, she had decided to tuck a blue lace kerchief into the plunging cleavage to keep it modest. Even though it may be the height of fashion here in Symonnia, she did not want every male ogling her.

Sighing, she twisted and turned at the administration of the seamstress. They were in the process of attaching blue ribbons to the gown and had decided that it was best to do it while she was still in it to 'see how they draped'. Frowning at her image, Marianne absently twirled a curl of her crimson hair around her finger. Her freckles were back again. A soft dotting of pale brown dots that dappled across the bridge of her nose and along her creamy shoulders. It did not matter how little sun she got, as soon as those golden rays touched her skin, she turned spotted.

Hansel had once called the 'adorable'. She had almost pushed him into the fountain they sat by.

Getting impatient, her green eyes sparked as she tapped her foot on the small pedestal she stood upon. She wanted to leave soon. Hansel had promised her that they would visit the proprietor of the 'Lover's Curse'. From the moment she had heard of this rumor, she truly wanted to see if it could tell. Not only that, but she was left with a curious notation that her fiancée was not nearly enamored of her as he had professed. Though theirs was still a political match of sorts, it had been founded in a true affection for one another. First cousin to the current King of Veryn, she would tie the lands together in the absence of any female children he might have had.

With a rapid shot of measurements and lengths, the seamstress finally voiced the words she wanted to hear. "You may now change, Duchess." She could not get out of that gown fast enough.


"I think this is silly, Marianne. How would talking to a woman whom is cursed to be alone for the rest of her life possibly bring us any closer together?" Hansel's rich voice rose in protest.

"If it is silly, then there is no harm to it. We will simply have an enjoyable ride across the countryside." Marianne's mellow alto countered her betrothed. "And I think it will be interesting to see. I do have a fascination for magic."

At that, Hansel grunted softly. She certainly did. Gifted at the young age with a fae godparent, she had been spoiled on the stuff. It had also taken a bit of a long talk to get her attentive watchdog to calm enough to allow the wedding. For a faerie, Ravynth was a rather tall and imposing fellow. His child books had raised him on the impression that they were small with butterfly wings. They forgot to mention that they could change their size at will and his fiancées faerie godfather stood at a massive six foot four. That extra inch over Hansel was forever a sore point that Ravynth enjoyed to rub in.

With a deep sigh, Hansel pushed his thoughts away from that rather moody pixie and back to the current situation. They were headed to the Georgio estate. Something about that name brought up the fleeting image of a child with dark blue eyes. Of course his experience in the forest had never fully been forgotten, but with the passing of the years it had become unimportant.

For the remainder of the ride, the two sat in companionable silence.

Chapter Five: An Ill-Fated Meeting

Gretel had been warned that the King was coming. She even knew that this return was not the fantasized reunion she had pictured through her adolescence, but the confirmation of the match between himself and his fiancée. It still hurt.

Taking a deep breath, she dressed with care. For some reason, she did not want him to see her. She did not want there to be a chance of recognition. Taking her veil, she draped it over her head. They would see a ghostly image of a woman in mourning garbed in black, hidden in black. And if the King was in for a lifetime of joy, he and his bride to be would certainly go for each other's throats.

A slight whispering at her front door alerted her to the fact that it was time. Sitting herself on her chair, she smoothed her skirts around her and waited. A few soldiers filtered in from the King's own guard. It had been long discovered that those brought near her would have to be removed rather quickly. Those guards that were her own eventually drew emotion to her and became useless. She could deal with the pity from complete strangers, or the indifference.

"The High Lord, King Hansel of Symonnia and his fiancée, the Duchess Marianne of Veryn."

This was the moment. She held her breath as the walked in. His arm was politely out, the Duchess' hand resting on his elbow. The King had grown older and her eyes drank him, noting the small changes: the breadth of his shoulders, the muscle that had filled in through battle and exercise. He was still gorgeous. Her own heart fluttered softly and her stomach clenched in pain, knowing that he would never be hers. That this moment would be the closest to that reality she would see in her lifetime.

His companion was beautiful. The Duchess' hair had been allowed to fall in free curls to her hips, small white and blue flowers woven into to compliment the deep blue of her gown. Even if she had not been cursed, she felt as though she would pale and wither next to the vibrant beauty at his side. She was a petite woman, and short. Her head fell inches short of his shoulder; a cherished doll to treat and protect all of his life.

Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile to her lips. Though they could not see, it would reflect in her voice. "Please, approach me."


As Hansel guided her forward, he was not quite sure what to suspect. Though he had heard of curses that affected their targets, he had never heard of one that affected even those around them. It was powerful magic, indeed, if it was true. Stopping on the threshold of her influence, denoted upon the floor by a chalk mark upon the stones, he smiled at Marianne then stepped across.

At first, Marianne felt an odd wave. A slight tingling sensation that sent chills down her spine. Then, disappointingly, nothing. No anger, no hate, not even a bit of sadness. She could be standing next to a stranger for all she knew.

Hansel, on the other hand, had a reaction most shocking. "Disgusting filthy bitch! Get her out of my sight now!" Hate poured from him in almost audible waves. They were not directed at Marianne. They were directed at the covered woman before them. "Guards, seize her!"

At the first words uttered from the King, Gretel had felt a keen pain slice into her heart. A breath later, she realized that the gaze was not directed at the woman on his side, but to her. Scrambling out of her chair, she moved backwards as fast as possible. She did not know which was worse, having him look at her with such eyes, or having him look at another woman such a way. "Bitch!" The King's voice rose once again, and Gretel swallowed harshly. She had moved well out of the influence range, yet he was still being affected. "I want you to chain that enchantress." Finally, with two commands issued by their liege lord, and the woman well back from where he should have been influenced, the guards stepped forward, seizing her.


It took dragging the struggling woman away to the other side of the estate for the odd emotional overload to wear off. Hansel stood dazed, unsure of what had just happened. His mind still rolled and boiled with discontent, but at least he was not shouting for her to be hanged.

Marianne had boldly turned to him after the incident and told him the wedding was off. He saw the tears shimmering in her eyes and when he tried to consol her, she had merely smiled. "It is not your irrational anger at the stranger that I am upset about, but my own lack of any emotion. I clearly do not love you, and something with that girl has riled a passion that you might want to investigate." Petting his arm affectionately, she kissed him on the cheek. Then, taking her own entourage, she left the Georgio estate back for Veryn.

Lord Georgio himself was the one to go to the King once tale of what had happened reached him. "Highness, I do not know what happened. All I know is that my daughter, the one you gave me, has been cursed foul. Why you think she did this intentionally, I do not know." It was those words that brought up long-forgotten memories of those years past. "The girl I charged you with.. The Gretel founding?" Hansel posed the question to the man.

"Yes, your Highness. My daughter, Gretel. She saved your life once. I doubt she has the heart to intentionally harm anyone." Hansel heard the man's words. Somewhere in his rational mind, he comprehended them, yet the dark rage still frazzled at the edges.

"Regardless, she just caused the abolishment of a treaty. This curse of her that she has been passing off as a gift is harmful. She will be incurred into my castle until I have decided what to do with her." For some reason, the idea of traveling away from her, even with the aversion, felt wrong. Hansel needed to keep her close at hand.

"She will be in my care, Georgio. If we cannot find a solution to this problem, she will be executed. She may be far more dangerous than either of us can fathom." At the dreaded word 'execution', Georgio paled. His body stiffened and he bowed formally. "As his Majesty commands. I ask that you give us a few minutes before you depart to draft her a few letters saying goodbye. It is the only way we can communicate without triggering the magic."

Nodding, Hansel acquiesced. Then, turning on his boot heel, he walked away to prepare for the trip home.

Chapter Six: The Castle and Imprisonment

The trip to the castle was miserable. Gretel had not been given anything but a small sack of personal belongings. Within it held the precious letters written to her by her own loved ones. She had not had a chance to read them yet and she hoped that they would provide some solace in this darkened time. These items were taken from her the moment they reached the grounds, presumably to be placed where ever she would end up staying.

The first order of business was to get his advisors working on a treaty negation that did not involve tying their lands together. Now that the wedding was off, he had to be sure that it would not be perceived as having been a forced sham.

The second order of business involved the girl herself. He had Gretel brought into his own personal chambers, the guards warned that they were to remove her once he clearly expressed so. As she was escorted in, Hansel felt a sneer touching his lips. That cold anger began to bubble once more. "Come now, dear. You have just successfully chased away my bride. At least let me see your face.." His words were cold and biting, any politeness chased away.

With shaking fingers, she slid the pins out of her hair that held the veil in place. Pulling the lace into her hands, she crumpled it between her fingers. Gretel kept her eyes trained on the floor, tracing a particularly intricate pattern upon the carpet.

Despite his loathing, Hansel let out a woosh of appreciative breath as she removed her covering. She was gorgeous. The small hint of the child he remembered had certainly not prepared him quite for this. He paced forward, stopping within inches of her. Sliding his fingers into her hair, he marveled for a moment at the silky texture of the gold through his hand before gathering a fistful and jerking her head back sharply. Tears sputtered in the corners of her eyes as she looked up at him, wide and more than a little afraid. He felt a momentary thrill of satisfaction at that and growled softly.

"Now then, my little cursed witchling. You are rather pretty. Tell me, and tell me true.. did you enchant my Marianne? Did you contrive this all as a ruse to entrap me?" Gretel swallowed. Despite the harsh planes of his face, he was still handsome. Mixed with his words, the tears trickled more. This was all wrong. Every adolescent fantasy was being destroyed by the very interaction she was having here. Indeed, she was beginning to understand 'broke my heart in 'twain'.

"No, your highness.. I have cast no spells upon you." Her response only resulted in a harsher tug. "Oh, but have you not? Your siren's call.." Hansel's free hand traveled down the front of her gown and across her breast. In response, Gretel's face turned pink. "In your maiden's blush.." Hansel's voice was cutting. In a jarring move, his fingers tore the front from her bodice, exposing her breasts to the air. "And carved from beauty's perfection." His hand latched onto her breast, stroking it in a lover's caress before he took it up painfully. "And did you hope to enflame me to the throne?" His voice lowered to the barest of a whisper as he leaned in close to her ear.

Beyond embarrassment, and enraged now herself, her body stiffened. Though magic was the driving for behind her punishment, she would not allow herself to be treated that way. "I would rather enflame a dog."

That statement, partially due to the stunning bite she returned and partially due to the humor, shocked him enough that he let her go and pushed her away. "Place her in the dungeon. See that she is in low enough that her whispers will not taint my ears." Smiling at her maliciously, Hansel took a step back as the guards came forward. Holding the torn fabric to herself while using the veil as a shield, Gretel exited with all of the grace she could muster, her back ramrod straight. As she moved away, Hansel let his gaze run appreciatively over. Love or Hate was hardly ever a pause for Lust.


Locked away in a dank cell far below the earth, Gretel allowed the tears to come. They fell in heart-wrenching sobs upon the cold stone. Wrapping her veil around herself in the way of a shawl, she rocked back and forth gently. It was cold and damp. Curled up on her little cot, she wondered just how many people had met their fate down here. Would she be locked up and forgotten?

It was not fair! The only reason why she had gotten cursed to begin with was because she saved Hansel's life. She had not told him to come, had not intended that such a horrid reaction would occur. Her heart ached deep in her chest. Why did he even react so violently towards her anyway?

He did not know who she was; he had not seen her face. So why such deep and intense hatred? Even now, she could feel an odd connection with him, a strange animosity that lingered in the air. Could it perhaps be that her own emotions had perpetuated this? Even though others felt hatred around her, she did not feel it towards them. Did the curse measure her own feelings for that person and send them back at her? If that was so.. then perhaps she did 'enchant' the King.

She was at fault.


In his own chambers above, Hansel paced the floor. Dismissing all of his guards, he allowed his own frustration and musings vent. He had clearly felt the moment she had been moved out of range so that the spell no longer gripped him. With the wash of relief, came a deep well of disgust at his own actions. The lust, however, still remained.

That she was still gorgeous was clear in his mind; the dark hue of her eyes, just a bit large for her face, the silkiness of her hair. Rubbing his fingers together now he could still catch a memory of its feel. She had smelled nice, too. A faint mix of jasmine and rose.

After the treaty had been worked out, he had asked about his new and unusual prisoner. Gretel.. the peasant girl that had saved him eight years ago. It had been confirmed by the records. He had also discovered that the curse she had been plied with was a result of her successful shove.

Yet, she was still dangerous. Sighing, he poured himself a goblet of wine. Slumping into a chair he began to drink. Drink until he could sleep, or come up with a solution.


The darkness outside of her cell was disturbed by a rattle. Half-asleep, Gretel sat upright, clinging the lace to herself tightly. Her eyes peered into the black shadows intently, waiting. "Please... no rats."

The rattle sounded again before the loud squeak of a door on its hinges. A splash of faintly yellow light seeped in from beyond, leaking around a tall form holding a ring of keys. As the man walked down the sparse hall, he stopped outside Gretel's cell.
"Your Majesty!" Gretel gasped loudly as the King himself stuck the key in and turned the lock. His eyes were slightly glazed and half hooded. He smiled at her coldly then strode inside. "Get up." The command was sharp and followed by the latching of his large fingers about her arm.

He pulled her out of the cell and back towards the door. Lifting the lamp he had set there, he began to walk quickly. It was all she could do just to keep up and prevent from stumbling.

Finding a hidden latch behind a painting, he pulled a section of the wall open and yanked her in behind. From then on, their path was a winding trail of stairs and passageways. A loud grating sound permeated the air as he finally opened another wall section and they stepped through.

Into his personal chambers.

He blew out the lamp and set it to the side. Then, drawing her into the center of the room, he stopped and whirled her to face him. "Now let me look at you."

Gretel glanced at him suspiciously. By the high sheen in his eyes, she could only guess that he was very intoxicated. Her thought was solidified as he walked to a table and poured two large goblets of wine. Hansel brought one to her then took a deep draft of his own. "Drink it." Swallowing, she did as he asked, feeling a gentle heat pool into her stomach.

"Now, what do you suppose I do with you? Hm?" Hansel looked at her, eyes traveling her frame. Despite the way he had been treating her, she felt a flush of an entirely different sort of heat splash through her. Unable to meet his gaze, she looked away. "I am not sure, your Majesty. But, perhaps, you would allow me to be sent home."

At that, he chuckled darkly. "I do not think so. You are far too dangerous to be let alone." She shuffled a bit awkwardly from one foot to the other. "Drink your wine." His voice clearly stated that he wanted no argument. Lifting the cup to her lips, she drained its contents, handing the empty goblet back to him. "There. I drank it all."

He took it from her fingers and set it to the side, finishing his own and placing the empty goblets together. "It is a pity, you know, that you were born so low. You are lovely enough that I could marry you off to one of our enemies and be done with you." Her breath hitched slightly at his words, knowing that by just saying it he perhaps might do exactly that.

"No? I would think you would be happy to get married. Is that not the goal most girls strive for?" Hansel stepped close to her. She took a slight step away, not quite sure what was going on here. His fingers reached out and he grasped a lock of hair, tugging on it as he wrapped the long strand around his palm. "So soft." She swallowed, daring to look up and meet his eyes.

His lips suddenly crushed down on hers. Yelping in surprise, he took that opportunity to thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth, arms crushing around her tightly. She felt her breasts pressed flat against the hard planes of his chest and her hands at her sides went to his stomach, trying to push him away.

The kiss was hard and hot. Tears trickled down her face. This was not what she wanted. This was not how their first kiss was supposed to be. His lips left her own, trailing kisses down the side of her neck. Much stronger than she, her feeble attempts to shove away went unnoticed.

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