INT. MISTRESS’ HIDDEN LODGE - MORNING

Mal pulls back his hood and frees his thorns. “And no one knows about this place?”

Behind him enters a tall, broad man. King Labos, with golden eyes that look down at the place with disdain, keeps his hands locked behind him as a trained soldier does. His black mustache wiggles on his lips before he speaks. “Only I, my father, and the delivery boy we will be employing. Grandfather and his mistress already passed. It’s close enough to the castle but there are enough trees to hide it.” He smirks. “Only secrets lie here.”

Mal continues to walk around the room. On one of the shelves a small frame lays face down and Mal picks it up. The young woman’s portrait meets his eyes with no emotion on her beautiful face. Her skin is milky unlike that of King Labos and his kingdom, and in her lap sits a golden harp. Mal puts it down, unable to look at her any more. He turns back to King Labos. “It certainly is a good hiding place…for me and my children.”

“Of course,” King Labos booms, almost shaking dust loose into the air. “What do shades eat? Dead animals? Human flesh?” He waves his hand dismissively. “Enough criminals the world can do without.”

It’s difficult not to sneer at that but Mal accomplishes it. “We’re vegan.”

“Ah, even better.”

Mal moves further in to a furnished sitting room and stands over the fireplace, rolls his head back to the tapestry hanging over it. It has the image of a grand apple tree adorned by dulled red apples. “Will we be safe here until the curse takes effect?”

“Queen Iremena would never suspect you here. Her greatest ally harboring her greatest enemy? Absurd.”

Without turning back Mal replies as he takes the poker and nudges whatever remained of the logs, awakening a nest of baby spiders that disperse in all directions. “And why would her greatest ally harbor her greatest enemy?”

The prior confident voice of the king hums, quieting to a calculating, precise choice of words. “I am a king, first and foremost. I have a kingdom to protect, as small as it may be in comparison.” There’s a pause and his voice sounds closer, paces from Mal’s back. “The fairy said your curse would last a hundred years, that it may even be great enough to put the entire castle to sleep.”

When Mal straightens up and faces the king he finds King Labos baring down at him, eyes gleeful like a scheming child. Mal backs away until he hits the stone fireplace. The air in the room thickens making it harder for Mal to gulp it down. He cannot do anything but listen to King Labos as his hidden plans finally have a chance to burst out.

“When Queen Iremena and all her kingdom’s leaders are gone, I come in to provide support. Of course, I won’t force the people under my rule, as I’m sure they will want to wait for their true rulers. I and my bloodline will wait with them. Then, after those one hundred years pass, and it’s a descendent of mine that wakes the pitiful princess and then marries her, why, won’t that be the happiest of endings?”

Mal swallows bile down his dry throat. “Romantic indeed.”

King Labos chuckles and backs off. He resumes his more aloof and loud persona. “I am glad you see it that way. Now then, I’ll leave you to get acquainted with the place before your…children and other supplies arrive. Whatever you don’t like in here you can toss.” With an unfitting grin King Labos makes his exit, plunging Mal into silence.

Alone at last, Mal lets his face contort into a sneer as he dusts off his clothing. King Labos jumped on this opportunity seemingly since Mal gave his curse. How humans govern themselves is no longer Mal’s concern but to be used like this puts him in a bad mood. But there is nothing he can do, nor does he care about what happens once the princess falls under the curse. Mal’s mind is preoccupied with how he’ll survive the next ten years left to complete the curse, let alone think about what will come in the following hundred. Seventh told him this body was no longer human and therefore, not limited to a human lifespan. He’ll die when his time comes just like anyone or anything else on this land.

Feeling stifled, Mal goes to the closest window to pull back the old curtain but shrinks back. The blinding light strikes his eyes and he shuts the curtain with a scowl. “Ugh, too bright.”

“It’s what happens when you spend so much time in the dark,” a voice says behind him.

Startled, Mal spins around to see Fifth on light feet as if simply standing there disgusted her. At her side stands Seventh, her nose wrinkled as she peers around the room, arms tight against her body. The surprise falls and irritation takes its place as Mal responds, “You could’ve shown up earlier.”

Seventh, with her cautious hope, walks around the room to take account of what’s been left for them. “Well…King Labos is too…”

“Too much,” Fifth finishes. With the tips of her fingers she lifts up a book abandoned on a table and holds it at arm’s length. “And this place? Too little.”

“Nothing a little dusting can fix,” Seventh says. When she spots an empty vase her eyes light up. “And some plants! A vase here, and maybe hang a vine from the ceiling. And bigger windows!” At her words the window suddenly expands, the curtains vanishing altogether. Mal and Fifth shield their eyes from the sudden burst of sunlight.

The magic sets off a cloud of dust and Mal sneezes. He wipes his nose miserably. “The cleaning can wait. Are my children safe?”

In response, Fifth reaches under her skirt and after pulling out various items—a broom, snacks, multiple books—finally pulls out a dollhouse. It’s no bigger than a birdcage, two stories high with lilac walls and yellow accents. “Right here,” she says and sets it down on the floor. Carefully she pinches the doorknob and turns it to open the front door. Delighted little shades the size of coins start pouring out. The moment their bodies exit the dollhouse they pop into their usual size and they disperse, curiosity shining bright in their eyes.

Mal starts counting them off with a single pat on their head, saying, “Don’t go off too far!”

At the other end of the room Seventh continues her planning on her own. “Yes. Some sunflowers will do nicely here…and a pretty little succulent here…”

Fifth scoffs. “Flowers and succulents? No, what this child needs are books. Let’s fill this wall with bookshelves.” One wave and shelves pop out of a wall with bookends taking the shape of miniature spinning wheels.

“So he’ll end up lost in hills of books like your place? What he needs is fresh air! Flowers to greet him each morning!”

“His mind needs nurturing!” Fifth collects the books she had pulled out of her skirt and begins setting them up on a shelf. “Love poems for the heart. Adventures for the soul.” She wiggles her eyebrows as she puts away the last book. “A raunchy read for a fun night.”

“What’s here is fine,” Mals says. “Just magic up new curtains. What does any of the other stuff matter?”

Both Seventh and Fifth stare at him, aghast, as they exclaim in unison. “Other stuff?!”

“If you sit here in the dark you’ll become another dusty chair!” Fifth says.

Mal shrugs. “If I turn into a bed, even better.”

Seventh tries a kinder approach. “And what of your craft? New tapestries, doilies? You don’t even sound excited about spinning a new thread for a curtain!”

Mal hugs himself but quickly switches to cross his arms instead. “I’m just…I don’t know. I just want to lie in bed and not think about anything.”

The other two fairies share a look before Seventh comes to his side and gently rubs his back. “Are you tired, my Darling?

“Very much so…everything is too much. I dread every morning and dread every night. I’m unweaving.

Fifth lets out a sigh and likewise comforts Mal with soft pats on his shoulder. Then she gives Seventh a nod for her to commence. “If you are tired, my Darling, well, we’ll share a bit of our insight.” She clears her throat. “There are days I find myself stuck in the muck of misery. Weighed down, depressed, thinking: why is joy such a mystery?”

Fifth adds, “And days I can’t stand the world beyond my blanket. My favorite foods all taste so bland and I think: Am I living in a casket?”

“On those days…” Seventh laments.

“Those bad, ugly days…” Fifth bemoans.

“I tell myself…” Seventh makes a fist and when she unfurls her fingers a pretty pink carnation blooms into life. She offers it to Mal and says, “I’m a flower.”

Mal picks it up and twirls it by the stem. “A flower?”

Fifth gives Mal a quick inspection and clicks her tongue. “In the midst of winter, looks like.”

After sending Fifth a stern look she quickly regains her smile for Mal. “If being a person feels like too much, become the stem that holds a bud.”

After attempting to and failing to pinch Seventh, Fifth grins at Mal. “Every flower needs love and care and then I think: that much I can bare.”

Unable to keep looking at the beautiful flower Mal drops his hands. “What if I’m a weed?”

“Even weeds fight for their right to bloom,” Fifth says.

“Now, Darling Mal, what does a flower need to bloom?”

Mal huffs and gives in to the fairies’ game and answers, “Water?”

“Yes! Take a drink and take a shower!” Seventh gives Mal an encouraging wave to answer again.

“And light?”

With a wave of Fifth’s hand the boards on another window poof out of existence. “Opened windows on the hour.”

Mal’s face softens and answers a third time. “Dirt!”

Seventh grabs a broom and starts sweeping away dirt and trash. “Clean home that’s free of clunk.”

This time, Mal scrunches his brow as he offers, “And the worms?”

Fifth passes out dusters and rags to the shades, exclaiming, “That’s us that clear the junk!”

Flowers can’t bloom in the dark,” Seventh says. “And no flower is ever unloved. On days when being you feels too hard,” she takes hold of Mal’s hands to take the flower back again, “become the flower beloved.”

“The blossoms on a tree,” Fifth says.

“Dandelions on a weed,” Seventh says.

“Tulip whose color adorns,” Fifth says.

Seventh raises the pink flower and tucks it behind Mal’s ear. “And yes, the rose amongst its thorns.”

The fairies each take one of Mal’s hands and lead him to the sunshine beneath the window, saying, “Be the flower that blooms in the light. The one that won’t give up the fight.”

Seventh squeezes. “In the same way you’d love a flower, love yourself with that same power.”

Mal looks out into the small clearing outside this strange new home and breathes, feeling his roses sway with the warm air. A gentle breeze sifts through his thorns and he shivers slightly at the cool touch. Life in the mountains wasn’t difficult. In fact, it was easy. So much so that Mal didn’t know what to do with the time. Once the rush of revenge subsided, nothing he did brought out emotion. Spinning, dying, embroidering, he’d barely start when he grew tired of it and went to bed. Now, he can’t recall the last time he stood in the sun and just…be. For once his heart feels at ease and he basks in it. Except…this gnawing thought creeps forwards slowly. He has no lungs to fill, no skin to feel the warm sun. There has been no sign of a third rose growing to replace the one he lost. “But what if…” he says.

Fifth scowls. “What now? Spit it out!”

“What if I still can’t bloom?”

Again, the two fairies share a look and they puff up their chests with pleased grins. “Well, what do you think a gardener’s for?”

“An expert gardener.” Seventh says.

“A magical gardener.” Fifth adds.

“Some flowers need help and that’s fine too. I’ll love you enough for the two of us because I’ll never give up on you.”

At last a smile forms on Mal’s lips and he caresses the pink flower by his cheek. “Be a flower, huh?” He chuckles. “Shouldn’t be too hard with the literal flowers growing in me.”

Seventh gives him a warning look. “Those roses are you. Don’t forget, if those roses wither or you lose them, you’ll lose yourself.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Could have fooled me,” Fifth pipes in.

“Fine. I’ll clean and take whatever hand-me-downs you have. I wouldn’t sleep in this mess anyway.”

“That’s my Darling! Lose one more rose and I’m potting you.”

“Yes yes.”

Seven and Fifth split up, recruiting the shades along the way, to clean up different areas of the house. Mal turns back to the window and holds out a hand in the sunlight. “I’ll grow back my rose. Once my revenge is complete dozens more will grow.” He looks up at the sky with a taunting smirk. “Won’t that be wonderful, Phellious?”

END SCENE