Lavinia gasped. She looked around frantically but then she paused. She was sure of where she was, but she did not want to be here. Not at all. She knew enough. She tried to sit up, but she had been tied to the bed. She tried to pull her wrists out of the ropes but it was fruitless.

This was the gorgeous bedroom she had described in her story. The same silk sheets in indigo. The room was white, with spirals of gold in soft brushstrokes. The bedpost and canopy were wisps of gold and white net. A closet was on the left and a sitting love chair on her right. 

She was stuck in her story, but that shouldn’t be possible, right? This was all in her mind, she was just having a very, very vivid dream. She had to be dreaming. 

Lavinia pulled against the restraints again but they didn’t break. She pulled hard and grimaced as the rope chafed her skin. She didn’t even know what she would do if she did get out, but she just wanted to have her mobility. If it was somehow, really her story, she would rather not live in it. 

As much as she loved and cherished her story, her only means of escape, but she did not want to live in the tragic world of myth and monsters she had created. She didn’t, couldn’t question how or why she wasn’t so surprised that she had ended up in her story.

The sound of footsteps made her reckless for some reason. She wildly started to pull and twist but the ropes didn’t loosen. Lavinia didn’t want to cry in front of them, even as the tears threatened to spill. Her wrists burned as she continued to pull. She closed her eyes when the door opened. 

“Stop.” The voice held pure command, not an inch of emotion. Lavinia stopped and stared up at Silas Auberjonis, fourth of the Auberjonis brothers. His sun-tanned skin, black hair, black tunic, and pants. He was just how she would imagine him. 

“Silas Auberjonis,” Lavinia whispered. 

Silas went rigid, “How is it that you know of me?” His voice was like steel. 

“How is it that you know of me?” Lavinia asked.

“That doesn’t matter. Answer me first.” Silas edged closer.

“This isn’t supposed to be possible, you only exist in my head!” She struggled against the bonds again, her breaths becoming shorter.

Silas noticed and awkwardly pulled back. “How do you know of us?”

“I don’t know, you only existed in my head,” Lavinia replied through gritted teeth. “I don’t know.”

“But you do know things. A lot of things. And spirits help you if you don’t answer our questions.” Silas glared at her. 

Lavinia shuddered under his intense glare 

“Silas, enough.” Maximilian was exactly as she had imagined him. Short black hair, angular face, pale skin. Skin so pale it was nearly white. Max wore a deep shade of blue, like the color of the night sky. She nearly gaped at him. 

“May I come closer to you, to untie you?” She didn’t know what to do other than nod. Max was nearly as tall as the bed. He sat beside her to untie it. His face shifted to one of alarm at the state of her wrists. Lavinia had the grace to feel embarrassed. 

She winced as he untied the ropes. After he moved away, she sat up and glared at her bleeding wrists. 

“Don’t take Silas’s threat to heart. We only need your help to heal our brother, after that, you are free to go back to your realm.” Max’s eyes were blazing. “You know the fate of our world, and of us, don’t you? So please help us, Fantasy.”

“My name is not Fantasy,” Lavinia replied. 

“Don’t give us your real name. It will only trap you here. I don’t think you would prefer it over yours.” Max said. 

“What do you want of me?” Lavinia didn’t know what to do anymore.

“To see the consequences of your cruelty, and to fix it before it is too late,” Silas said.

“Caspian said it was already too late.” Lavinia still heard his voice, loud and clear. 

“Caspian is afraid to hope. But you can be our hope, Fantasy.” Mac cut in before Silas could say anything. “There are clothes in the armoire. Please change into something. Refresh yourself if you need to. You will meet someone who desperately needs you.”

---

Max watched Fantasy. How he burned with curiosity to know her true name. She was very pretty. Long black hair flowing to her waist. Gleaming brown eyes, and a tan that said she had spent her fair share of time in gardens, or in battlefields if her stories had any truth to them.

He hadn’t believed the witch until her body had started to materialize in front of them. It felt terrible, but it was for Valentine. And Max Auberjonis was willing to do a lot for his family. 

As they reached the door to Valentine’s chambers, Max resisted the urge to put a hand on Silas’s shoulder. Silas had been affected by Valentine’s curse the most. It was bad enough that he couldn’t even meet Val, due to his guilt. 

“Come.” Max opened the door to Val’s chambers for Fantasy. The old chambers had faded wallpaper and worn-out carpets after years of use. Max turned to Fantasy. Her eyes had a shadow to them. It hit Max that she had never actually seen what Val’s suffering looked like. Her hands fisted, which she hid in the folds of her skirts. 

“Is he asleep?” She whispered her voice heavy with pain. 

“Yes.” He replied quietly.

In truth, it was hard for everyone to see Valentine like this. Max’s cheerful, happy brother didn’t deserve this, not one bit. It should have been anyone but him. Max walked to the windows, opening them. The smell of blood and various different medicinal herbs was suffocating. Val started to shift and groan as the light poured in.

Fantasy walked to the foot of the bed, her face still haunted. “I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t know we are real. You have no need to apologize.” He was scared to touch her as if she would disappear the second he touched her. 

Val gasped and grunted. “Max?”

Max rushed to his side. “I’m here.” He pasted a smile on his face, only for Val’s sake. “Look at who’s here.” He turned to Fantasy and beckoned her over. 

Fantasy had a soft smile on her face. “Hello Valentine Auberjonis.”

“Fantasy?” Val’s face lit up, despite how sick he looked. “It’s truly her, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s me.” Her face had somehow turned serene and calm. In the folk tales, Fantasy was a healer, someone with smiles and assurance for all. Maybe she really was the myth. 

“You are real! I told them but they never believed me.” He looked so happy. Val had always believed in the myths, even more so after the curse. 

Max moved so she could sit on the bed. She took Val’s hand in hers. Her fingernails had been bitten down to the quick. She squeezed his hand and Max felt a strange twitch. “You will be alright now.”