FD: Birth of a Wishing Heart

14. Bittersweet Memories

Adiscordia closed the door behind them. They were both so frail and thin. She'd have to fix that if she wanted a proper meal. The girl was young, fairly innocent. She could make for a good meal. The boy seemed to be older, more mature. He was her caretaker, suspicious of Adiscordia before having entered. He was probably around her age. He had a fascinating feel to him. He was innocent but found himself guilty. He was hyper-aware of the troubles around him. He was smart, she'd have to get rid of him before she tasted the girl. However...

Adiscordia thought for a moment. They loved each other. Love was weakness. She hated to love. Love was the same thing that made her send Grizelda away when she was the perfect sacrifice. Grizelda held innocence maintained through desperation, trials, and fire. Love was a monster beyond the curse. It offered promises it could never keep. She looked at the pair. She wanted them to know this.

Gretel gasped in wonder. Everything in the dining room was also made of sweets! The table was marbled chocolate. The chairs were strong peppermint with marshmallow seats. There were stringed licorice curtains. She couldn't help but look around in amazement.

Hansel, on the other hand, continued to take note of the exits. This may have been what was taking children. The chairs, flooring, and even lolly flowers, it was too much. Could Maud have made her intentions any more obvious? As he looked past her, he realized they weren't locked in, at least for now. He had to admit all of it smelled delicious, making his stomach and head beg him for a single bite.

"Please Sit down! What are your names?" Adiscordia asked. Gretel sat down cheerfully, her legs swinging slightly in excitement. Hansel glared at her from behind dark brown strands that could conceal his emotions. At times he longed for her blissful ignorance and joy. He could pretend at least, feign some stupidity. It would be better than rebelling and having to fight.

"My name is Hansel. This is my sister Gretel. Thank you so much for allowing us in Miss Maud."

"Oh! Simply Maud is fine!" Adiscordia replied with a smile. "Well Hansel, Gretel, The pie you saw on the window was for a friend of mine. She lives closer to town and I was going to make the journey tomorrow to give it to her. I don't at all mind you two joining me. I know the two of you are probably hungry so while I cook feel free to help yourselves to whichever treats you like. I can remake them- However, try not to destroy my furniture. Those take a while longer." She admitted heading to the kitchen.

Gretel squealed in delight reaching for a cookie-like art piece that hung on the walls. She grinned as she chewed eagerly. "Hansel eat something! Please! You haven't eaten anything good since two nights ago!" Hansel shut his eyes. Did she have to give Maud even more of their weaknesses?

"No furniture." He warned coming close to her and looking around for something to nibble on. The table caught his attention the first time he came in. The marble being so intricate, he had to remind himself of the warning. He came next to her with a quiet tone. "Gretel, she could be dangerous. Who builds a house like this, in the middle of a forest, unless they wanted to lure wanderers or children in?"

Gretel frowned at him. "You'll make a plan, You always do. I'm not going back to the forest until you eat something. If Maud was a monster, and we escaped before she hurt us only for you to fall from starvation in the forest what good would that do?" Defeated by the flattering comment and concern for his health he decided on a small chocolate statue.

He hadn't had chocolate in years. Within the first bite he could almost hear his mother's steps in the kitchen. He wanted to run to her. He wanted to get scolded for nibbling too much on the sweets she made. Only for her to praise him for his elaborate schemes to get her out of the kitchen. For a moment, the taste made him feel like he was there again, before the secrets, before the poverty, before the flames.