Page 85 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

“It’s a funny thing, being the bad guy,” said the Princess. “Just about nobody does it on purpose. They do it slowly, and accidentally, and with all the best of intentions. You love her?”

“I’ve never loved anyone else.”

“You’re sure pushing your way back into her life when she’s scared and confused and trying to figure out how all this fits together is the best plan?” The Princess paused as a large, overly ornate tray of scones, cream, and tiny jam pots was delivered to the table. Meeting Aaron’s eyes, she said, “Braver thing to do might be leaving her alone.”

“Because look how well that worked out for the both of us last time.” Aaron didn’t look away. “I’m not going to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. I doubt I could if I was planning to try. But I’m not giving her up again unless she’s the one who tells me to go. And if you have a problem with that, ma’am, you can stick it sideways up your own ass.”

The Princess blinked before giving a small, startled laugh. “Where was this Aaron before everything went wrong?”

“The usual,” he said. “Late-night talk shows and corporate brainwashing sessions.”

“I suppose that’s true.” The Princess picked up a scone, loading it carefully with jam and cream before she said, “The rabbits will let you in if you want to go and see her. There’s a to-go bag for the two of you at the counter.”

Aaron was gone almost before she was finished speaking. He did not, she noted with frustrated amusement, say goodbye.

“All right, you two,” she murmured to her scone. “Figure it the fuck out. There’s a lot of hearts at stake here.”

Her thoughts were full of glass coffins and poisoned apples, and the scone tasted like ashes in her mouth.

VELVETEEN vs. Doctor Darwin

“Now, sweetheart, are you sure?” The Princess raised her hands pleadingly. “I promise you, you’re not a burden at all. I enjoy having the company. Jack can’t be here all the time, and it’s nice to come home to a coherent conversation that isn’t with a woodland creature.”

The ring-tailed lemur that was engaged in dusting the window ledges made a deep-throated chittering noise. The Princess ignored it. Sometimes that was the only way to survive her household staff.

“I promised you could stay here as long as you wanted, and you know I don’t take back my promises. It’s bad for my story.”

“I know, and honestly, your hospitality has been a lifesaver in every possible sense of the word,” said Velveteen, taking the Princess’s hands in her own. She squeezed them lightly as she continued, “I needed time. I needed a place where I could rest and recover and not need to worry about reporters popping out from behind every hedge. I needed a friend, and Cara, you have been the best friend I could ever have asked for. Seriously. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. And if I don’t get out of this glitter-encrusted nightmare castle, I am going to start animating the topiary and making them fight each other out of sheer boredom.”

“You already do that.”

“Yeah, but up until now, I’ve been willing to stop.” Velveteen let go and took and step back, spreading her arms. “I’ve been on bed rest for a month. I’ve put back on most of the weight I lost, I’m in better shape than I’ve been in years, and the tabloids aren’t trying to sneak in the back door anymore. If I don’t go home now, it won’t be because I’m in recovery, it’ll be because I’m in hiding. Plus if I don’t go home now, I’m giving it even chances that Torrey declares that she’s allowed to annex my bedroom for the glory of the British Empire, and then I have to sleep in the garage.”

“Sometimes I wonder how much that girl makes up about her original world, since she knows we can’t contradict her, and uses it to just get away with whatever she damn well wants to do.”

“Probably a lot,” said Velveteen amiably. “Just wait. Sooner or later some cosmic entity with the power to grant our deepest desires will come along and recreate it, and then we’ll all wind up shoved into corsets and attending services at the Church of Epona.”

The Princess shuddered. “I surely hope not. I have no idea what the fairy tales in an alternate reality that alternate would look like, and I’d rather not be completely rewritten for someone else’s amusement. But we’re getting off the topic, honey, you’ve just gotten your strength back. Can’t you give it one more week? I’ll even throw in theme park passes for all three of you. All three of you and Aaron, if you insist.”

“That would be a lot of fun, but really, I just want to go home.” Velveteen shrugged. “I miss my toys.”

The Princess sighed.

Velveteen was looking much better. It helped that she was wearing a new costume, following the same basic design as her old one, but tailored by the rats and raccoons to fit her properly, and without the bloodstains and holes. Night Shift had done an incredible job with her care: between skilled nursing and the ambient magic of the Crystal Glitter Unicorn Cloud Castle, only someone who’d seen her before her disappearance and subsequent convalescence was likely to notice the thin edge of hesitation in her movements, the new slope of her hips and belly. Some people would probably think she’d simply started following the “no carbs, ever” diet that so many superheroines swore by.

The Princess, who loved her, knew better. But it was that same love that was telling her this was a losing battle. Keeping Vel caged when she didn’t want to be had never been in anyone’s power, not really. Not The Super Patriots, Inc.’s, not Aaron Frank’s, and certainly not the Princess’s.

“Will you at least promise me you’ll take it easy for a little while?” she asked plaintively. “No arch-villains, no team-ups, no big super fights. Just you, getting back into the swing of things, patrolling Portland and stopping muggers from doing anything they’ll regret later.”

Sensing victory, Velveteen nodded like one of her bobble-head toys, almost knocking her headband askew. “I don’t think Torrey or Yelena will be letting me patrol alone for at least a month, and you know Jory is still doing sweeps of Portland. If anything, I’m going to a city with an excess of superheroic options. I probably won’t find much more than petty crime for weeks.”

“Your lips to the universe’s ears, honey. I just don’t want to see you getting hurt before your big press conference.”

Velveteen grimaced. “I was hoping you’d forget about that.”

“There’s still talk of legislation, taking steps to make sure that what happened with Supermodel and the rest never happens again. They’re going to want you to testify, because you’re the face of this thing, whether you like it or not. That means you owe it to yourself and to our entire community to be ready. There are worst-case scenarios here that make what Marketing tried to do to you look like a kiddy ride. A press conference is the start. It lets you get in front of the story, lets you say ‘this is what happened and this is why’ before somebody else gets to start setting the narrative. Take it from me,” the Princess smiled wryly, “controlling the narrative is more important than you know.”

“I’ll be there,” said Velveteen. “But right now, I just want to go home.”