A Fractured Fairy Tale, Part One

Y lived with her boyfriend Lord N in a castle high above the peasants and paupers of the kingdom. Her long beautiful hair and big brown eyes captivated many from afar. She had the fineries of the world at her fingertips but real love was not among them. J had met her in passing one day as she came down from the castle to do some shopping and see how the common people lived. He was struck by her remoteness and slight melancholy. She bought many fine items for her castle from him, mainly because there was something in him she found appealing. He helped her find things to her liking and took them back to her castle for her. She offered him a tall glass of lemonade as a thank you for his efforts and he politely accepted. They chatted about things and she was struck by his melancholy as well. There was something deep and hidden about both of them, and each could sense it in the other. No one messes with a lord's lady, though, you know what I'm saying?

She continued her weekly trip into the town, making sure that he would be there when she came down. She looked forward to his visits to her castle with her items in tow, and there talks about the sadness each of them felt. She offered to make him dinner, but he declined, more out of fear of the Lord N than from disinterest. She assured him that N was away, fighting wars in far away lands and wouldnt return until Monday at the earliest. He reluctantly agreed to stay, although he knew deep down it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

They continued their weekly routine for sometime, always ending with a lingering sense of an unspoken something between them as they said goodbye. Trudging home the many miles to his small hut on the outskirts of town, J would stop at a local watering hole to think things through. His mug of ale emptied many times over, he would wonder if what he was doing was truly wrong or if he was just befriending another lonely soul such as himself. J had lost his one true love, L, some months ago to the Unbelievable Serpent Consumption. He would ponder her absence and tell the proprietor to play songs sung in a minor key by balladers such as Greg the Drunk or Ryan The Lout, and even sometimes Mark The Haunted, troubadors who truly got at what was eating J alive. As he would trudge over dales and hills home in the late night light of the moon, he would often sing their ballads loud and off pitch. More than once animals arose from their slumber angry and would try to attack J as he keened from deep within. He had the cuts and teethmarks to prove it. But he arose each day and went back to his stall, looking forward longingly to his next encounter with Y.

Their visits continued and once she even snuck away to meet him at his watering hole of choice, totally unannounced. Everyone mistook them for lovers, and he didn't mind the confusion. He was at odds with himself because he was still in mourning and knew he wouldn't be over L for a long time, but he deeply wanted to spend all the time he could with Y. But she was a lord's lady. And he was a mere merchant, no one important or of any note. Y also shared the same name as L's mother. Funnily enough, Lord N had the same name as L's father, and J was accutely aware of the irony there within.
It was as if the hands of fate were playing a cruel game with his heart, and he didn't know the rules. He had been cheated on before, and never wanted to do that to someone else, even if he was a distant and possesive Lord.

After her surpise visit to his watering hole, she asked to see where he lived. He told her it was dangerous for a fine lady such as herself to walk through the woods so late at night, but she told hime not to worry, for she was a grown woman and could fend for herself. Lord N was away fighting another battle and she could do as she pleased. He reluctantly allowed her to follow him back to his small rent stabilized hut, and they sat talking of gossip from within the town on his tiny thatched futon. They spoke of the troubles of Baron von Lovechops, a famed poet and novelist in the village, one given to excessive drinking and wild proclamations about such and such a dead writer. He was deaf in one ear and had accused many of being the cause for his drunkness, even J once. He felt it an honor to even be recognized by such a famed lunatic, and politely agreed that he was the root of the Baron's trouble. The Baron then asked him if he could borrow some money for another drink. J took this as a sign of the Baron's affection towards J. He lent him the silver neccesary.
He had never been repaid. It was The Baron's way.


As J was relaying this story Y kissed him on the lips.
He felt something he hadn't felt in months. Pleasure. Excitement. Tingling. They embraced for a moment or ten, before J guiltily stopped and told Y that what they were doing was wrong. He told her she should go back to her castle and wait for Lord N, who would probably be bringing her fancy fineries from his war mongering abroad, and maybe even tickets to see Radiohead. Neither of them made a move for the door, and finally J spoke.

'I shall walk you back to your castle.'

'You are mightily filled with ale, dear sir,' she said.

'That is true. Perhaps I should pee first.'

'Good idea.'

He took care of the matter at hand and then took her by the hand and walked her out his door into the windy night. Lit by moonlight they walked the many miles back to the castle under the cover of night and finally they arrived at the draw bridge of her castle.

'The Lord isn't back yet. You could sleep on our couch and in the morning go back to the village.'

He declined. She insisted. After a lengthy discussion on the matter he agreed. Plus he really had to pee again.