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Not even me, I think.

Their next attempt at keeping Gruoch from the title—if it was such an attempt—was to marry her off as quickly as possible. Then, when she became duchess, at least there would be a duke as well, who presumably would not share her unpleasant proclivities and might raise objections before they went too far. As soon as Gruoch came of age, a marriage was arranged for her with a rather unprepossessing nobleman, notable primarily for his interest in antique spittoons. The newlyweds largely ignored each other. They did, however, manage to produce one son, who was given the traditional name Lulach in defiance of modern fashion.

Alas again, because within a few years’ time, the duke, the duchess, and their son-in-law all perished within weeks of each other when a plague swept across the land. Since Lulach was far too young for the responsibility, Gruoch assumed the title of duchess. And her six much younger siblings, having no other living relatives, were left in her care.

Which made all of them pretty fucking miserable.

Gruoch was not the most tender of caretakers. Now that her desires were allowed to run rampant, she spent far more of her time building deathtraps and luring strangers to the castle than she did seeing to the needs of the children. When she did pay attention to them, it was mostly to berate them for their incompetence, inattentiveness, and ingratitude. Being raised in such a manner left them almost as peculiar and obsessive as Gruoch herself, although none of them chose murder as the subject of their fixation.

Or perhaps the whole family was just inherently obsessive. Nature or nurture, who’s to say?

In any case, things went on in this unpleasant but largely consistent manner for quite some time, until a fairy came along and decided to start screwing around with everything.

The first one to encounter the fairy was…

Hm. This presents a slight problem, storywise. I’d already begun experimenting with names and nicknames back then, adopting and discarding them in search of something that fit, but at the time I wasn’t going by the name I’ve adopted now. For simplicity’s sake, though, let’s keep using Jules.

In addition, as a child I felt uncomfortable when referred to as “she,” and later in life I found out that being called “he” had much the same effect. Since at the current point in the overarching narrative I haven’t yet decided on a more appropriate term, that leaves me with no especially good options to use at the moment. So we will have to do without for now, and struggle along as best we can.

Back to it, then.

The first one to encounter the fairy was Jules, who was twelve years old and not yet beset by the emotional turmoil of early adolescence. To avoid Gruoch, Jules spent a great deal of time outside trying to spot as many different wildflowers as possible; there was endless enchantment to be found in the colors and patterns of beautiful things.

One fine summer morning while out and about, Jules grew thirsty and stopped to draw water from a well some miles distant from the castle. As soon as the bucket reached the top, Jules was given a sudden start by a woman’s voice.

“Excuse me, little one,” the stranger croaked in a dry rasp, “but I am sorely in need of a drink, and I beg you to let me partake of the cool, clear water you have drawn.”

Jules turned to see an elderly woman dressed in ragged clothes. Her white hair was long and uncombed, and her shoes were so worn that her toes poked out of the holes.

“Of course,” Jules responded, and held out the ladle so she could drink.

As soon as the old woman had taken a sip, she transformed into a beautiful creature with large dark eyes, butterfly wings, and a flowing mane of lilac hair.

“Surprise! I have secretly been a magic fairy all along,” she announced with giddy glee. “This is my first trip to the human realm, and I have decided to seek out good children so I can reward them with magical gifts. In return for your politeness, I will bestow one such upon you. What do you most delight in, human child?”

“Oh, I love flowers!” Jules promptly divulged.

“Then that will be your gift. From now on, flowers shall spring up wherever you go. Since you are my first beneficiary, I’ll throw in a special bonus gift. Jewels shall issue forth from your mouth as well.”

Note the difference in the way the two gifts are worded. The first one included some very unfortunate verbiage. “Wherever you go” turned out to be far too specific. The flowers grew wherever Jules went, whether or not they were wanted.

That would cause some problems later on.

At the time, however, the child was delighted, and skipped home leaving a trail of blossoms behind. Upon arriving at the castle, Jules made use of the second part of the gift and spat out a large emerald, only to discover that it felt like choking on barbed wire.

Only a little later that same day, Gruoch noticed that something strange was going on. The flowers were a bit of a giveaway. The duchess found them bursting forth in bizarre places, tangling up the gears of her deadly devices and adding festive color to chambers she’d designed to be grim and off-putting. Well before the sun reached its zenith, she followed the floral trail to its end and found Jules toying with the emerald. Snatching the gem from the child’s hands, she demanded to know what was going on.

“I’d best work quickly, afore the fairy goes away,” she concluded once Jules had raspily related the encounter. “I can already see the great benefits this gift will hae for mah murderous plans. And two children who vomit gemstones would be even better! Why, if I had such funds at mah disposal, I could build any number of fatal traps.” With this in mind, she went to talk to the oldest of her younger siblings, Yudit.

Yudit had just turned thirteen, and was very, very angry, as so many are at that age. She was angry with Gruoch. Angry with the rest of her family. Angry with the world. Angry with herself. So when Gruoch came by to tell Yudit to seek out the fairy at the well, the response was not what the duchess had hoped.

“I won’t!” Yudit screeched, kicking the wall and injuring her big toe. “You can’t make me!”

Gruoch was both irritated and perplexed. “I most certainly can. And I will. Dinnae ye want tae puke up emeralds like Jules?”

“Jules is a nob-weed,” Yudit snarled as she nursed her foot. “And fairies are nob-weeds. You’re the biggest nob-weed of all. I’m going to stay in my room and write poetry about how dumb everyone is. Ahem. Stuff falls apart; the middle bit cannot hold. / Inanity is loosed upon this girl—”

“Ye go and git yerself a magic gift, young lady!” Gruoch yelled. “Richt now!”