Page 150 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

“No,” said Velveteen. “You can’t.”

“And why in the blessed Baum is that? I have the power. I have the connections. Why can’t I be the one who gets to go and get the girl, for once?”

“Because she told us she had a Princess in her world,” said Velveteen. “It wouldn’t be fair to her Carrabelle, you bursting in there and making Jack choose. She didn’t want to hurt any of us. She just wanted to stop hurting herself.”

Bit by bit, like a flower during a solar eclipse, the Princess began to wilt. She drooped, sagging where she stood, until even her hair managed to look miserable. “So that’s that, then,” she said. “Another happy ending missed and mourned. Sometimes I get damned tired of how heavy this story of mine can be, you know that? Sometimes I wish it would just stop pressing me flat as a damned pancake.”

“I know,” said Velveteen, stepping closer and hesitantly opening her arms.

The Princess all but fell into them, clinging as Velveteen guided her to the couch. Tag slid out of the way.

“I’ll be right back with the ice cream,” he said.

“You beautiful, beautiful boy,” said the Princess, resting her head on Velveteen’s shoulder. “I could have any beautiful boy in the world, and he’d be my prince, and my story would start ending. Why do fairy tales have to be like that?”

“Intentionally inaccurate recording by the Brothers Grimm and their contemporaries to minimize the roles of women and accentuate the roles of men, followed by generations of film adaptations that proved the fuel that became your story,” said Tag.

Velveteen and the Princess both turned to stare at him.

“What?” He shrugged. “I did my college degree in superhero studies and the influence of memetic narrative on the way magical heroes manifest. It required me to get half a history degree, to cover Jolly Roger, and half a folklore degree, to handle you. I can answer any question you have about magical heroes.”

“Here’s a question for you,” said the Princess. “Where’s my ice cream?”

“On it,” said Tag, and ducked out of the room.

“You don’t have to settle for your story,” said Velveteen. “Hell, you don’t have to settle for anything you don’t want to do. You’re so much better than any story could ever be. If you don’t like where it’s going, get that corporation you work for to put out a few new movies. Rewrite the parts of the narrative that don’t do what you need them to do. Look at me. My parents were awful people who sold me to the first corporation that came sniffing around. I was exploited, manipulated, gaslit, and then I spent my twenties thinking I was going to die a villain. I was not a success story in the making.”

“You were a hot buttered mess,” said the Princess.

Velveteen laughed. “A little mean, maybe, but accurate enough. I have a city. I have a career. I have a team. I didn’t think I was ever going to get a team again. I have people who watch my back, and part of that is down to you, Carrabelle. You saved Tag. You saved me. You are so much bigger than your story. And if Jack couldn’t love you enough to stay here, that’s not on you. It’s not her fault, even: she had her world to get back to, she had the people she’d loved long before she knew us. But if she’d been the right one for you, you know she would have found a way to stay.”

The Princess looked at her for several seconds, solemn, before she burst into tears and buried her face against Velveteen’s shoulder. Velveteen made a soft shushing noise and began to stroke her hair.

“It’s all right,” she said. “There are people here who love you. That feels enough like true love to me.”

The Princess sniffled. “You mind if I stay here a while?”

“We don’t have a guest room.”

“Sure you do.” The Princess lifted her head and smiled. “You just never looked for it the right way before.”

* * *

Three days after the Princess’s visit, Polychrome intercepted Velveteen in the middle of a midnight patrol. She floated in a corona of black light, so dark that it was almost like looking into the void, and when she popped into view, Velveteen shrieked and tripped, almost slamming face-first into the roof she’d been running along.

“Vel!” Polychrome squeaked in her own surprise, reaching out to catch and stabilize her teammate before she could finish falling. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you! I didn’t mean to—oh, this is already going badly.”

“This?” asked Velveteen, voice unsteady as she fought to get her voice back. “There’s a this? What does that even mean?”

“It means I really wanted the chance to talk to you for a minute,” said Polychrome. “Alone. And this was the best way I could think of to make that happen.”

“Okay, new house rule,” said Velveteen, as kindly as she could manage. “No ambushes just because you want to talk. Can we do that?”

“Sure,” said Polychrome. She drifted down to land on the edge of the roof. “No more ambushes.”

“Sounds perfect. So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Remember when we went to The Super Patriots, Inc. a few months ago?”