There she was, out in the front yard again. Pulling the curtain away from the window, Archibald couldn’t help but watch as the peasant ushered her wares – several chickens – in past his manor’s gates.

She comes on a biweekly basis now. He had long ago surpassed the need for more chickens, but the opportunity to see her again was well worth it. After all, his cook was creative enough that he could surely come up with more chicken dishes to serve.

Archibald had been told by his staff that her name was Gwendolyn, and he felt that it was so perfect. Every time he said it, in his head or out loud, it sounded like music in the room. Upon noticing that none of his staff had gone out to pay her, he came to a decision, and left the room.

Outside, she was roaming around, unsure of where to go or where to leave the chickens. She was almost always accosted by the maid, butler, or gardener upon arrival, so this situation was a bit unusual.

“Excuse me, miss?” She turned around at the sound of Archibald’s voice, and a noticeable blush came to her face. He smiled; she was even more beautiful up close. “I’m afraid most of my staff is on vacation. I apologize for the delay.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, and then she took her leave, needing to deliver more chickens down the lane.

Having enjoyed her presence so much, Archibald told his staff to let him greet her personally. Her smile had been enchanting, and her blue dress had moved in great of her emotions. He knew he had to see such beauty up close again.

Each visit, their chats grew longer, and eventually, she began visiting more and more frequently. She started coming by once a week, then twice, and she was now coming three days a week. He waited in anxious anticipation for her each day, thinking up new things to tell her and questions to ask her. If he could get her to smile or laugh, then those visits were well worth his time.

Archibald looked in the mirror on a Wednesday morning, straightening his coat and top hat. She should be coming soon, his Gwendolyn, and he wanted to look his best for her visit.

Out of the corner of left eye, his monocle highlighted her approaching figure. Ah! Just in time. He trotted out to greet her, and led her around back to sit by his manor’s pool.

“My precious Gwendolyn,” he started, taking her paws into his claws. Her blue eyes gleamed with anticipation, and he noticed that her silvery blue fur was particularly shiny today. “The sun illuminates your beauty so well.”

He smiled, and she indulged him by returning the smile. “I love you so much, dear. Will you be mine?”

She gasped, and withdrew her paws. He was puzzled. What had he done wrong?

“But Archibald, we couldn’t!” She seemed on the verge of tears, and it tore at his heart. “Someone of your standing can’t be with someone like me. Your family’s reputation would crumble at just the thought of us speaking. I just, I couldn’t do that to you.”

That was the problem? He chuckled, amused that she was upset over a matter he deemed minor, but he wasn’t going to let that deter him. “I don’t care about any of those things! I love you and want to be with you. Whatever it takes.”

She looked doubtful, so he pressed on. “I know our town’s society is oppressive, but we can run off and be together. We’ll pick someplace good, where they won’t bother us."

“Please, Gwendolyn, say you will. I love you so much, and I can’t bear the thought of not being with you.”

She asked a few questions, but eventually gave in, and they began plotting how they’d run away. Gwendolyn had heard from other peasants of a wise, powerful lady that had mystical powers. Surely she would be able to help them. They would go see her together, that very night. With that decided, Archibald bid her farewell, and went back inside to wait for night to come.

Bong! Bong! Bong! The first strikes of midnight on the town’s bell rang out loudly, and covered the sounds of two lovers escaping into the night. They rushed down the road, hoping not to meet any late-night travelers. The woman supposedly lived on the outskirts of town, about a mile away from Archibald’s manor.

With their nerves jumping, they felt like no time had passed at all before they saw the woman’s house come into view. Archibald sniffed in distaste; it was really a hut and he was doubtful about why someone who was supposedly wise and powerful would be so poor, but Gwendolyn seemed to believe this woman could help. For her, he would be willing to try anything.

They approached the door, her paws clutching his right claw, and he reached out to knock on the door. It cracked open almost instantly, and he was surprised to see a hunched over elderly woman. Her feathers were graying and her beak was cracked. Archibald was wary, but when she ushered them in, he took the invitation, holding Gwendolyn close to him as they entered the hut.

Once inside, Archibald and Gwendolyn related their tale to the woman, who nodded sagely at points. “So, you see, we need to find a way to escape from society’s pressures, so we can live and love in peace. Can you help us?” Archibald concluded.

The woman cackled, a harsh, ragged sound that hung heavily in the air. “Look at you! A peasant and a lord. ‘Escape society,’ you say? There is no way to do so! Your love can never be.”

Gwendolyn bent over sobbing, and Archibald shook his head in frustration. “No!” Archibald slammed on the table in front of him in denial, causing the hut to shake. “I don’t believe that! Please, there must be something you can do for us!”

Gwendolyn’s cries were shaking her body, so Archibald put an arm over her shoulder in an attempt to calm her. In doing so, he had neglected the old woman’s presence for a moment, and didn’t notice when she brandished a knife…

When they woke up, Archibald realized they must have been dragged from the hut. They were lying out in a forest, but he could hear other voices drifting through the air. So they must be close to the road or town, he noted.

He rolled over, and realized that Gwendolyn was now just stirring. But her beautiful silver-blue fur had dulled to a muted green. As she sat up, he noticed that there was a large rip in the back of her dress, and dry blood was clinging to her fur and clothes. He ran a hand tenderly over the area; no wound had been left.

“Are we… dead?” Gwendolyn asked softly. He looked up in her eyes, which had now faded into gray pools.

“Dead?” he scoffed. The very idea of it! “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She reached a hand over to his chest. “Look, the fabric is ripped and there is blood down your vest, but there is no wound. If we were alive, shouldn’t there be a gash in your chest, or at least a scar?”

He looked down, and sure enough, the rip in his vest was a mirror image to the one on her back. It looked like he had been attacked, but other than the torn clothing and blood, there was no other indicator of being stabbed. While looking down, he also noted that his feathers had dulled as well. His once rich, red-brown feathers were now green.

This hadn’t been what he was expecting, but all the same… “We can live together now,” he smiled, and she raised an eyebrow. “Okay, okay!” he laughed. “So we’re dead, but that means no one can bother us now.”

He put a claw underneath her chin and raised her face to meet his. “We can make it work. I know we can. You and me, for the rest of time.”

But there are two sides to every story...

credit Peach Rah overlay, User not found: risp profile, twocents story