So, the king did as he was instructed and we know well the result. Three lovely daughters who were named princesses and heirs to the throne. As such, let us again return to the present time, at least the time in which the monarch is visiting the witch in our tale. Gets confusing doesn't it, you should try being in my shoes. Anyway, here we go.
Gerard crosses the threshold much the same as he did before, only now, he is much older. It's simply surreal, things lay out now as they once did, as though no time has passed at all. If it weren't for the cracking and creaking of his bones, he would swear he stepped back in time. He finds himself a seat provided and sits.
His chair groans from the stress placed upon it while taking issue with the witch's chair, proclaiming this weight to far exceed its paltry one. The witch's chair begs to differ and wonders if it knows what true weight feels like, but for us it is of no consequence. So, we will leave them be and return to the proper players.
"Things have not worked out the way you planned them," Maggie speaks as she sips her beverage.
"No," Gerard admits, as he folds his hands on the table.
"Ah well," Maggie returns as she stares through the rising steam of her hot beverage. "Such is the way these things unfold."
Gerard can't but agree with her, but he still has a matter to be dealt with. Only thing is, he doesn't quite know how to broach the subject.
"Have some of my brew," Maggie offers as she snaps her fingers and makes a second cup appear out of nowhere, dip into the cauldron and make its way to the seated king. "It will put the color back in your cheeks."
Gerard stares at the steaming concoction that sits directly in front of him. He picks it up and gives it a sniff. It smells foul, but he doesn't dare insult his hostess. So, he takes a sip. It tastes as bad as it smells, but he summons his reserves and swallows while he tolerates the burning temperature that slides down his throat.
"What do you think?" Maggie inquires as she sets her cup down.
"It's, it's…" Gerard stammers, but ceases all together as a shade of green pastes his face.
Maggie sips her own. "Ah well, you have to have the right kind of stomach for it," she concedes as she swallows. "So then, dear king, what problem has brought you to my door? A problem, I might add, which is most peculiar as I have been unable to divine it?"
Gerard swallows hard. "I have a problem with one of my daughters," he informs her and sets his cup as far from his person as he can.
"Do tell," Maggie responds as she sets her cup down, directing all her attention to her guest.
Gerard is uncertain how to begin as nothing seems clear at the moment. "The problem is with Amelia," he starts as he puts the pieces together.
"Ah, the fiery, red haired vixen," Maggie remarks as she nods.
"How did you know?" Gerard asks as he's never seen her near his castle.
"I'm a witch," Maggie states matter-of-factly. "I know these things."
Gerard nods. "Last evening, she declared I was not her father," he continues and scoots closer to the table.
"What's wrong with that?" Maggie asks and rests her head on her hand. "After all you aren't, not really."
"But she shouldn't know that!" Gerard shouts, completely forgetting himself as he stands from his chair, knocking it to the floor.
Maggie stares at him. The king's sudden outburst causes her to pause and think the matter over. She can see something behind his eyes and she doesn't like it. "What did you do, your majesty?" she queries, flashing him a suspicious eye.
Gerard takes a breath, reaches down and resets his chair, which he then sits upon. "I did as you instructed," he begins as he folds his hands on the table. "I chose three of my most trusted vassals, who each had their own family, and I instructed them to lie with one of my maidservants in the dark, so that they would not know it wasn't me."
"Discretion may not have been the wisest course of action," Maggie interrupts the explanation as she taps her finger on the table.
Gerard nods, there's no arguing with her logic.
Maggie twists her chin. "Oftentimes it is best to let such things see sufficient light," she starts in and absently scratches the table. "So that they do not cast too dark a shadow."
Again, Gerard nods. "Would that I could change events, as they have unfolded," he waxes poetic and gives a weak smile.
"Such pretty words," Maggie praises him and rubs her thumb against her cheek.
"They're from a poem I memorized," Gerard admits and waves away the unwarranted praise.
"Yes well, it's very pretty," Maggie offers and shifts in her seat. "Now, shall we carry on?"
Gerard nods.