A grand, twisting structure loomed in the distance. Not a castle so much as the idea of one. Stretching, bending, folding into itself like a fever dream made of marble and mood swings. Perfect. Utterly, unapologetically me.
"That," I said, chest puffed with pride, "is my castle."
Annie squinted. "Your castle looks… drunk."
I barked a laugh. "Fair."
"Does it always look like that?"
"No," I said, lips curving slow. "It shifts with my mood."
Her eyes snapped to me, sharp. "So it could look normal?"
"It could," I allowed, smirking. "But where's the fun in that?"
She pressed her lips together, swallowing a remark I knew would sting. Saints, I loved that restraint almost as much as I hated it.
"Some say it reflects me," I teased.
Her unimpressed stare was a blade to the ribs. "Oh, that checks out."
I nudged her shoulder. "You wound me."
She shook her head, smiling despite herself. Still glowing, still captivated by the world below. I couldn't stop watching her. Not even when the Ferris wheel began its slow descent, creaking gently as it carried us down.
"So," I drawled, stretching out beside her, "do you love my chaos yet?"
She glanced at me, smirk tugging at her mouth. "I think I could get used to it."
The castle shivered. Not violently. Not chaotically. Warmly. I felt it in my bones. So did she. She turned back to the sight, brows drawn, as if she'd heard the realm exhale.
And before I could stop myself, I said it. Soft. Honest. Dangerous. "It's not just my castle."
Her gaze snapped to mine, and I held it. Light tan against hers. "It's our home."
The realm pulsed, humming through the air like it agreed. Like it had waited for me to say it. For her to hear it. My grin faltered, just a fraction. Oh. I'd really done it now. For one impossible moment, there was no past, no pain, no politics. Just us. Floating high above it all. By the time the Ferris wheel delivered us back to earth, I was smiling in a way I hadn't in centuries, soft, unguarded. And it was her fault. Entirely her fault. As our feet touched the ground, the carnival swallowed us again. Flashing lights, laughter, magic in every direction. It should have been my element. But I barely noticed. Because Annie, bathed in golden glow, didn't just belong here. She fit. Like the realm had always been waiting for her.
Then she spotted the toy shop. Darted toward it like a spark catching flame. I followed at a lazy pace, grin tugging. The place brimmed with wonder: floating trinkets, chattering gadgets, glowing music boxes.
"Want to go in, little Annie?" I asked, voice warm.
She didn't answer. Just slipped inside. I followed, hands in my pockets, watching her brush fingers across toys she never took. Enchanted… but hesitant. Like she wasn't sure she was allowed to want.
My grin faded. "Anything you want," I told her. No tease this time. No game. She didn't look at me. Just kept searching. Past a dancing elephant. A blinking doll. Stacks of floating blocks. All shimmering. All wrong. Until, there. A simple cloth doll, tucked between marvels. No enchantment. No trick. Just real. She reached out, almost reverent, and held it to her chest. I didn't speak. Didn't dare. Just watched her claim something wholly hers. Not for anyone else. Not to survive. For her.
She turned, quiet but sure. "I'll take this one."
I nodded, smirk nowhere in sight. "Wise choice." My hand landed on her shoulder, gentle. "Simple things are often the most important." A flick of my fingers, a coin into the shopkeeper's hand, and it was done. Outside, she still clutched the doll like it might vanish.
"You know," I murmured, softer than I meant to, "sometimes magic isn't in the spectacle. It's in finding something that feels… right."
She traced the crooked stitching, eyes down. "Yeah. I think I get that."
And gods help me, I believed her. The carnival swirled loud around us, but her gaze drifted higher, toward the people, if you could call them that. Silver-skinned figures gliding. A horned woman laughing with her winged companion. A marble man moving like time bent for him alone. Annie didn't flinch. Didn't gape. Just watched, curious. Calm. Most mortals shrank before my realm. She absorbed it. Met it head-on. Fairies darted by, glitter dust trailing. Her lips parted. Not in awe. In appreciation. I leaned close, amused. "What do you think of them? All my odd little creatures?"
"They're different," she said softly. "But not frightening. It's a lot but not too much."
I smiled. "No. Just… unique." We walked on. My hands in pockets. Hers clutching the doll. I caught her looking up at the fairies again, watching them twirl, dance, free.
"You like them?" I asked.
She hesitated, then: "They're… dancing. Like they don't have to worry about anything."
My steps slowed. Simple words. Heavy truth. Freedom. She could see it. Want it. And gods, it struck me where I lived. "You could fly, you know," I said quietly. "This is my realm. Anything's possible."
She turned to me, unreadable. "Maybe later."
I stopped. Let her look at me, really look.
"Annie," I said, voice low, stripped of performance. "You are free. You hear me? I may have claimed you so the others can't, but you don't belong to me. Not like that. I will never own you. Never control you. With me, you are safe. And free."
Her lips parted, breath catching, but she didn't speak. We passed the carousel, its creatures gleaming under lights. The air smelled of sugar and childhood. And I watched her. Not performing. Not surviving. Just being. I just hope that she could finally believe it. Maybe she could finally be free.