Of Fairytales and Magic by Emma Hamm

Chapter 26

Freya came back to herself in small spurts of magic. A flicker of memory behind her eyes, and a small touch of emotion that brushed against her mind like an eel in murky waters.

She was alive.

She was Freya of Woolwich.

She was the Autumn Thief.

The magic that burned inside her had lived inside a thousand beings before her, and would live inside a thousand more. It whispered that they would do great things together, and it couldn’t wait for her to wake up so they could move forward into the future.

But waking was hard. She wanted to stay in this dazed state between awareness and sleep. Freya enjoyed feeling as though the world had stopped for a little. No people looked to her for answers or placed responsibility on her shoulders. She could float here and relax for a little while.

She hoped, at least.

Someone was talking to her, though. Someone that wasn’t in her mind, and it certainly wasn’t the creature that had made her.

No, not made her. Death hadn’t given her anything other than permission to be a more powerful version of herself. He had given her the gift of letting go of her past. She could see the future so much more clearly now that her history wasn’t holding her down.

Strangely, her memory had felt like thick cords tying her down to the ground. She’d cut a few of them herself, but there were hundreds and some were so thick a pair of scissors could do nothing to release her from their grasp.

Death had snipped all those ties. He’d released her from the terrible burden of her own making and as such, she could fly.

Gods, she could fly. All that power in her chest made her want to disappear into realms far beyond the fae. She suddenly knew there were more places to visit. More people to meet and more creatures who had no idea who or what she was. The possibilities were endless when she had become a creature with no limitations.

This was what the fae meant when they said nothing was impossible. Power and magic sparked at her fingertips, and unspoken desires filtered through her thoughts. If she wanted, she should take. If she desired, then she should love.

Patience, that old version of herself whispered.

And though the voice was quiet, it was still there. Death hadn’t lied. She still had the memories from her old life, but it was almost as if she were two people now. Two severed halves, one that lived in the realm of the living, and one of the dead.

That voice was right, however. She needed to have some patience or she would lose herself. She’d disappear into the magic and would never come out again, even though the temptation was nearly too great to ignore.

Though the appeal was strong, she fought against it. Freya battled through her own worst desires all the way to the surface of her mind. It was a bit like slogging through thigh high mud. Every step, every movement, pulled at her consciousness. It tried to yank her back to that quiet place where she dreamt of all the terrible things she could do.

But not today.

Today she would quiet those thoughts. And the moment she thought that was the moment she blinked her eyes open as a new person. As the Autumn Thief.

The first thing she noticed was that her dress had changed. She remembered falling asleep in that grave wearing a skin tight dress made of blood and liquid. Now, she wore a ball gown made of every color of autumn leaves. They trailed down the tight corset and into a full skirt that burned with bright crimson and brilliant orange.

Ruby encrusted rings covered her fingers, although there was one that was obviously missing. Said hands rested on the arms of a blackened throne. The seat appeared to have burned a long time ago, but the wood remained. No matter how hard the person had tried to destroy this throne, it had prevailed.

Though she couldn’t move her hands from it.

Freya cleared her throat, testing out the sound to see if it was new. Not really, although perhaps the deep tones of her voice had a little more power to them now. They were vaguely more intimidating than she remembered them being.

She peered down at her chest and noted more rubies on her skin there, decorating her neck in a ring of gemstones. Someone had placed her body here and dressed her in finery like she never could have seen before. And how lovely was it? She wore more worth than she’d ever seen in her entire life combined.

Then she shifted again, and she realized those weren’t gemstones at all. They were scales. Crimson scales that dotted across her body and shimmered in the light.

“Freya?”

Right, there had been a voice. Someone had spoken with her through the veil of her magic, though she hadn’t remembered who it was. Her memories were still foggy at best. She should have taken more time in that quiet place in her mind so she could play through all the memories that she’d forgotten. Or... Perhaps it was that the memories were dulled. Not forgotten.

What was the right way to think about it?

“Freya, my love, if you’re awake, please look at me.”

That voice made all the tension in her body ease. She could relax when that person was talking, though she didn’t know why or how.

Why was looking up so difficult? Her eyes wanted to feast on the changes that her body must have undergone. After all, she was one of the fae now. Even Esther had gotten a tail from being here for so long. How far did those crimson scales go? Was she covered?

But that other voice, the old voice of her own, whispered to look up. That the best thing imaginable was waiting for her to look up and see him again. That her heart was going to soar the moment she took the time to look.

So she did.

A man stood in front of her with dark hair and eyes that swirled like silver moonbeams. He stared at her with an expression of loss and hope, though she couldn’t imagine why. Did she know him? She must. Her entire being lit up the moment her eyes caught upon his form, but she didn’t remember... Yes, she did.

Love bloomed inside her like a rose unfurling its petals. She remembered every wonderful moment that had happened between the two of them. She remembered their adventures, their discoveries, and every tooth pulling moment where she fought against her own feelings. And then the moment she fell in love. The moment when everything changed, and she finally gave in to an impossible future.

“Eldridge,” she breathed. His name was the spell that broke the remaining control over her body. She felt a shudder run through her entire spine, shaking her shoulders and entire torso. “Oh my god, Eldridge. What happened?”

“You survived,” he replied. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you did it, Freya. You survived.”

All the rest of the details flooded into her mind. She was sitting on a throne in the center of the Stronghold. No, maybe not the center. But she knew where she was. Her back was to the three heads that had opened into doors where she had been tested. Weighed. Measured.

This throne was the same one that many Autumn Thieves had sat upon before. It meant that the gods had accepted her, and it meant the home itself would now bend to her will.

Eldridge knelt before her, his hands hovering over her knees like he was afraid to touch her. Maybe he was. Arrow stood behind Eldridge on his back feet, wringing his paws with worry and stains on his fine clothing.

“What happened to Arrow?” she asked. Her voice was hoarse, as if she hadn’t used it in a very long time. “He doesn’t like it when his clothing is dirty.”

“Death threw us out of the glen very soon after you left with him. Arrow thought it would be a smart idea to fight against the handmaidens while they hauled us out of that place.” Eldridge’s lips quirked at the memory. “You would have been very proud of him. He was quite impressive.”

“Terrifying,” Arrow corrected. “I was terrifying. And I think when this is all over with, you should make me an honorary guard.”

Freya chuckled, though the sound felt strange in her mouth. Like she’d never done it before. And, she supposed, in this new version of herself, she hadn’t.

Again, she tried lifting her hands from the throne, but couldn’t quite pull them away from the burned wood. And something was on her head. It didn’t move when she shifted, but the weight was distracting.

“Eldridge,” she asked. “Can you help me?”

“Of course, my love.” He moved slowly and with purpose. He reached for whatever was on top of her head and removed it. The weight had made her mind feel foggy. Without it, she could feel the horror when he set a crown of thorns down on the floor.

What a horrible crown. What a horrible title to be put upon her head and yet, she was relieved that this was all over with. Or, perhaps, that she knew for certain the power was now hers.

Eldridge sank down between her legs. Setting his hands on hers, he pried her fingers one by one from the throne.

Her digits were stiff with disuse and ached when she brought them to her chest. But the moment her magic realized she was in pain, all that angry hurt disappeared.

“Ah,” she muttered. “That will be useful to not feel pain for very long.”

Eldridge reached for her hands again and squeezed them in his own. “Are you back to yourself, yet? Or do you need more time?”

“I’m back to myself. Or at least, as much myself as I’m going to get.” She hoped, at least. Freya’s gut feared that she would miss the parts of herself who were no longer with her, but perhaps that was an irrational fear. How could she miss something she didn’t remember having?

“Good.” He lunged forward so fast she barely saw him move.

Eldridge cupped the back of her neck with his hand and dragged her lips to his. He devoured her lips and tongue like a starving man. She wrapped her arms around him and sank into the only arms she’d ever want to be held in.

She trembled in his warm embrace. His arms were a haven she never wanted to leave, because she felt like herself when he was wrapped around her. Even through the fog of power and magic, she knew who she was when Eldridge kissed her.

Freya. His wife. His love.

He kissed all her doubts and fear away until there was nothing left but a Freya she recognized, although one that wasn’t entirely the same. And when they drew back for breath, she looked up at him with stars in her eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered. “All of you. In this life and all the others. I did not know what I would do if I had to live knowing that you would not wake again.”

“You don’t have to live with that.” Freya pressed her fingers to his lips, gently tracing the bow at the top. “Never, my love. Never.”

Arrow cleared his throat, interrupting their reunion. “This is all well and good, but I would very much like to get out of this place without vomiting. So if you two don’t mind, perhaps Freya can do that thing the Stronghold does and we might get out of here?”

“Thing?” She furrowed her brows, a question in her eyes as she stared at Eldridge.

“Ah, right.” He leaned back a little and slid his hand from her neck to her shoulder. “The Stronghold is yours now, and this house is the lifeblood of the court. If you want to open it to the goblins, then it will do so. If you want a portal to get out of here for good, then the house will remain dormant again. You should be able to feel it. The building is an extension of you, in a way, but also alive on its own.”

“So I can ask the house to do things?” she clarified.

“It can do a lot more than that.” He grinned, a sharp-toothed grin. “Whatever you want, Freya.”

She had no idea what she wanted. A house was just a house.

But as she reached out with her mind, she found another presence waiting for her. The house was ready to help her. In fact, it seemed like it had been waiting for a long time for her to reach out and ask for its assistance. That was all it ever wanted.

Deep beneath that desire to serve, Freya could feel how sad it was. How lonely the house had been with all these empty rooms and halls. It had hoped, maybe, she would stay. But the house could see now that she had a husband and a family. And those were far more important than a silly old building.

“Can we have a portal, Freya?” Arrow asked. “I’d like to get home.”

“Um.” She blinked a few times before meeting Eldridge’s gaze.

He looked like he already knew what she was going to say, and he didn’t mind in the slightest. Her Goblin King had always been a transient man to begin with, and he wouldn’t mind traveling to his old home more often.

“I will get a portal for you, Arrow. But before you go home, would you mind letting my parents and sister know that I’d like them to join us in the Stronghold?” She grinned up at Eldridge, and it felt like their life was about to start. Even though they’d already been living for such a long time.

“You want to what?” Arrow barked back at her before he controlled himself. Sighing, the goblin dog held his head in his hands and shook his head. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to live here.”

She let her magic bathe the room. She told the house to clean itself and ready as many rooms as possible for a wedding of the grandest standards. And the house jumped with glee, the rafters shaking with its happiness, before a sudden swell of power cleared the room of debris and leaves. The house was perhaps a little too zealous in its excitement, because the magic did sweep Arrow onto all fours before he stood again and straightened his jacket.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll go get them and bring them here. It can’t be worse than the Goblin King’s palace, I suppose.”

Laughing, Freya reached for her King again as a portal opened beside Arrow.

The goblin dog huffed, but before he hopped through, he said, “I’m glad you’re back, Freya. We both missed you terribly.”

“I adore you, Arrow!” she shouted as he left, then looked back to her Goblin King. “We have at least an hour before they all arrive.”

Eldridge gathered her up into his arms and lifted her from the throne. “Then hopefully your Stronghold has readied our room, my love.”