The Princess, the Witch and the Pirate

Black Knight

Olivia laid in bed looking up at the peeling blue ceiling in the dark. She twirled a strand of hair, eyes glazed. Ansa laid on her side observing her champion through the veil of night. The girl was aglow with fascination and curiosity, lovely in bloom. It broke Ansa's heart a little, and for the child inside herself who never knew such bliss.

"Olivia?"

"Yeah?" She spoke dreamily distracted.

"Never mind." 

Olivia kept fidgeting, smiling, thinking only of the dark prince. Of his mouth on hers, the taste of cigarettes and sweet. She felt giddy. She fell asleep, arms akimbo.

The following morning, Olivia looked for Serge and found his alcove empty. 

"He left," said Olivia, flatly, eyes wounded.

Ansa put a hand on her shoulder. "Come. Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make us breakfast."

"Should I get your brother?"

The three stood about the kitchen island eating eggs and toast and jam, drinking coffee. Baffi enjoyed her very own plate at the center.

"I can't believe you let a pest sleep in your quarters," said the prince, incredulous.

"She's not a pest. She's my friend," said Ansa, stroking the rodent's back gently with one finger.

"And you allow this?" asked Salvatore, looking at the champion.

"She's cute. I like her whiskers."

"Shall I grow out my whiskers?"

"No. Don't. You're perfect as you are." Olivia held his gaze a moment before shying away, saying, "So... I was wondering, if you're not busy would you..."

Ansa dropped a butter knife with a clank. "Sorry," she said, masking jealousy.

"Would you like to go to the pier in town this evening?"

"Are you asking me out on a date again?" teased the pirate.

"It was you who asked me!"

"I don't believe you." The two looked at one another, grinning.

Ansa sat on the bed, pretending to read, watching Olivia fret and whirl about their room. "Have her wear a dress," her brother had whispered in her ear as he'd left them that morning, adding, "I'll only think of you," making her sear.

Shirts, jeans, and socks strewn all over rumpled sheets, the cluttered desk, chair, and all over the chaise. "Why can't I find a single pair of matching socks? This is ridiculous!"

"I'll lend you a dress." Ansa peered over her book, gritting her teeth, wishing to stop the inevitable.

"A dress! You think he'll like that?"

"Yes. He would."

Ansa watched from the parlor window, clutching the sheer curtain in her fist as her brother revved the engine and drove away.

Ansa watched from the parlor window as the headlights to her brother's car neared. She watched him open the passenger door and offer his hand to the girl in white linen.

She watched the girl lean her back against the door casually and at ease, face up to him smiling. The man gesticulated and talked while the girl giggled, more woman than child.

Olivia relaxed against the car door listening to Salvatore who was summing up another of his fantastical tales; despicably sly, impossibly handsome.

"...and that's why," before he could finish, Olivia was already laughing. "I do not recommend walking on a barrel upstream from a toothpaste factory."