Guard your throne, guard your heart. Lest they be stolen.

“Once upon a time…” The old goblin began, spinning stories like a crawling spider did webs, knitting together strands of words like they were nothing more than netting. “There was a sly fox with fur as orange as fire, her eyes as dazzling as the sky with a summer sun. She lived in the forest amongst other creatures of similar ilk, betwixt faeries and goblins and pixies that she ran with. The little fox ached to be better than them, to show off just how cunning and clever she could be.”

The wetnurse tenderly bounced the Faerie child on her rough knee, rocking in the creaking chair with legs that sank back and forth with ease. “But the beautiful raven wanted to rule over them all, with his mighty wings of night and beady eyes. The raven could fly as far and high as it wished, for its wings were made of the finest feathers one could find.”

The raven shifter Prince remained quiet as his own creature came into the tale, entering in finery as he did for all the reveals his father threw.

“But the fox longed for a pair of its own. She wanted to taste the wind and savour the skies as the raven did.” The hobgoblin claimed, imagining how wonderful it would to sprout wings and fly.

The boy laughed at that, a mirthless sound. He found no joy in things that weren’t true, even if he could spit lies himself. “Foxes don’t fly, Thistle.”

But the crone simply smiled a toothless smile.

“This one did.”