Alice POV

As they walked back, Alice was too tired to really notice much of anything, not their surroundings nor the passage of time. All she really remembered afterward were the princess’s gentle hands guiding her and her voice speaking softly and indistinctly through the dark. Returning to the cottage was a welcome relief, even as disoriented as she was, warm and safe. As she and the princess came through the door, the princess still supporting Alice’s stiff and unsteady body, the house creaked softly, and Alice didn’t think she imagined that the sound was happy and content.

“Alright, alright. We are back, sit down, and I will start the fire.” As she spoke, the princess tucked the blanket around Alice, ushering her to sit in the armchair by the fireplace after she was fully cocooned by the purple and green quilt. It was warm and soft. The princess started to step away, turning towards the fire, when Alice started to giggle uncontrollably, startling her enough to jump and turn to look at Alice with wide eyes.

“Burrito!” Alice chortled, and kept laughing, harder and harder. She had just been wrapped up in a blanket burrito by the main character of her favorite story. She had been rescued by a princess in shining… well, not armor. Shining hair? Her hair was shiny. But now her hero was wrapping her in a burrito in a magical cottage. None of this made any sense at all.

“Burrito hero… hahaha… a magic burrito.”

The burrito hero in question was staring blankly at Alice, clearly wondering if she had gone completely mad. But wasn’t it Alice who was the burrito here, really? The princess was more of a burrito maker. Like a chef, but with blankets and frozen transmigrators. Transmigrators who people in town thought was an alien, or at the very least a weirdo.

“I’m a crazy, magic, alien burrito!” piped Alice, laughing harder, tears forming in her eyes. “A frozen, microwaveable magic burrito!”

This was too much for the princess, who came back to Alice and felt her forehead, probing with magic for damage she had missed.

“That tickles!”

“Shhhhh. You are in shock, I think. You have to settle down, or else you might start hyperventilating.” The princess had a strangled sort of look on her face, like she was torn between laughing and crying and shouting in frustration. “Let me start the fire and stay calm. I’ll make your… oldberry tea.”

That struck Alice as even more hilarious than the blanket burrito.

“Hahahahaha, the main character doesn’t know! The burrito maker doesn’t know what elderberries are,” Alice was cackling now, breaths coming in sobs. As she kept laughing, she forgot what exactly had been so funny, and was starting to feel concerned about herself as well in a distant sort of way. This really was strange behavior for her. She rarely laughed, much less maniacally. And wasn’t there something she shouldn’t tell the princess? A secret? What was she babbling for, anyway? It was like she was drunk, laughing and saying nonsense. And if she was saying nonsense, she might also say something she shouldn’t.

At this sobering thought, Alice stopped talking, but she couldn’t help the slightly hysterical giggles that kept breaking free. She honestly could not remember what her secrets were, but they were definitely important. Important enough to scare her into something closer to calm, even if her body was still in shock.

By the time Alice had come to this conclusion and was giggling only intermittently, the princess had finished making the fire. Standing up triumphantly, she turned to the armchair, looking at Alice with an inordinate amount of pride. After a pause, Alice realized she was waiting for… praise?

“Good- good job,” she got out, breathily, still fighting back the laughter-sobs that seemed caught permanently in her chest.

Preening a bit, the princess went to get a kettle and set about making the promised tea. Alice’s eyes fell closed, then opened, watching the princess bustle around the cottage. Sighing, Alice felt regret well up in her heart. This cottage was the princess’s, and so was the safety it promised. By running into town early, Alice had almost certainly increased the risk to Princess Aurum’s life. She really should come clean and explain, even if the princess didn’t believe her. Then maybe she could help her stay on the right path in the story – maybe even on a better path than in the story – to ensure safety and victory against the witch.

Before she could finish that thought, though, Alice had fallen dead asleep.

Aurum POV

When Aurum turned around with a mug of steaming tea in hand, she saw Alice slumped on the chair, head lolling and her hair in disarray. The laughter had stopped a while ago, much to Aurum’s relief, but it looked as though everything had worn out the strange woman completely. Not that Aurum could blame her.

“Alien… burrito,” Aurum murmured to herself, settling with the mug of tea – elderberry tea – at the kitchen table. The fire was flickering softly, the cottage filled with a sense of relief and lingering concern. Although Aurum still didn’t know exactly what it was in this house that was sentient, it was clear it cared for the burrito woman very much.

Now that said burrito – and really, what was a burrito – was safe and asleep and clearly unharmed, if a bit magic-drunk, Aurum could focus on the darker aspects of the day. It was clear something had attacked Alice, something powerful. And it was clear that whoever or whatever it was had used cold magic, draining Alice of life and withering the plants around her. Anything bold enough to do so in the middle of a well-traveled road was almost certainly a minion of the witch. And it was almost certainly looking for Aurum. Although she was quite warm, with the tea steaming in the mug between her hands and the fire crackling warmly, Aurum shivered.

It was bad enough that the witch had gotten so close to finding her today, but now Alice had been harmed as collateral. Alice, the bizarre but clearly kind woman who had so recently saved Aurum. Who was lying shell-shocked in her own home, still wounded and recovering.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Aurum, not sure if she spoke to the house or to the sleeping Alice. But the house answered, the fire sparking as though in reprimand for her apology. Aurum sighed and looked into the clear, purplish tea at her faint, blurry reflection.

Maybe I should leave. But… I would almost certainly die. Immediately. And the witch would still be free. Heart heavy, Aurum shook her head. It was unconscionable to her for her to stay without Alice knowing the danger she was bringing to her doorstep.  She needed to tell the truth, or at least, she wanted to. And if Alice kicked her out, well, then she could at least ask for supplies and guidance to somewhere else safe. Maybe.

The fire flared, almost approvingly.

“Well, I’m glad you like the idea. I’m not sure it’s the best plan, really.” She sighed again. “I have to consider the kingdom as a whole. I can’t put her before everyone, just as I can’t put myself before anyone. That’s – that’s what father would say.”

A disgruntled creak from the cottage. The fire flared, and almost went out.

“I don’t have a choice!” snapped Aurum, lowering her voice when Alice startled in her sleep. “I have to be strong.”

Really, though, for all her brave words, Aurum just felt lost. She had never been quite so alone, so without counsel from her family or her friends. Things she had lost because of the witch. And now the weight not only of her own survival but also of the entire kingdom’s, weighed on her shoulders. Should she really put the well-being of one woman ahead of that of the empire? Shouldn’t she be using Alice to survive, however she could, so she could save everyone?

“I really, really don’t know what to do.” Aurum blinked back tears, angry at herself and at the witch and angry at the world. Angry at her family for forgetting her, for abandoning her, even if it wasn’t truly their fault. Angry that she had to make hard, cruel choices on her own.

A long time later, she shook her head, trying to clear it. The burrito woman was still asleep, snoring quietly, arm now flung to the side from under the quilt. The firelight glinted like gold and bronze off her curled hair, casting soft shadows on her face and making her look much calmer and at peace than Aurum had yet seen her.

Discomfited, conflicted, and feeling so very lonely, Aurum crept quietly into the bedroom to gather pillows and blankets, then set herself up on the small rug by the fire. Had there always been a rug there? Or perhaps the cottage had put it there, somehow. Curling up in her new sleeping spot, prepared to jump up should Alice suffer any more ill effects from the magic, she fell into an uneasy sleep.