FREE USE in a Fantasy World

Ava skipped down the painted world of backstage, feeling light as a feather.

She was early in returning to the World Theater, but she hadn’t been able to sleep.

To think! She’d be helping with the Queen of Dawn’s new performance! She’d been up before dawn, and the theater was still mostly closed.

Of course, not to her, with the help of a quick lockpick. Karl had insisted she learn, calling it every reporter’s best tool.

Besides! She was an actress now. She got to be here.

Only a few stagehands were about, working on the sets for the big performance that night. A royal performance!

Apparently, the king of New Larrin was going to be attending, along with most of the nobility. How amazing!

She had to thank Marilyn for getting her a part in such a momentous event. Whatever happened would be the story of the decade!

She reached the starlet’s dressing room soon enough, but when she was about to knock, she heard a gasp and a whisper.

Instantly she stopped, her pointed ears perking up. She tilted her head, keen senses detecting soft murmurs from within.

Her reporter’s instinct guiding her, Ava moved closer, her steps as silent as leaves falling in a forest.

At the door, she sidled close, and peeked through the crack.

In the glow of the lamps, before her vanity and in a loose robe and nothing more, Marilyn sat with a young stagehand.

He was cute in that boy next door way, a simple workman’s smock unable to fully mask the firmness of his build, his face handsome with short, curly brown hair. Some of which Marilyn brushed back with a gentle touch.

The two held hands, he stroking hers as she touched his cheek, tilting his head.

They leaned in, and lips met with a tenderness that made Ava’s heart ache with emotion.

They broke apart, Marilyn’s expression pained. "You have to go," she said.

"Another minute," he whispered, stroking her hand.

"Evin..."

"Marilyn, please..."

"I can’t," she whispered, turning her head.

Evin hesitated, but rose at last. He leaned in, kissing her again, lingering long, and then reluctantly they broke apart.

Ava sighed dreamily, then realized he was coming towards her.

She quickly stepped back as he opened the door, head bowed, so focused on his own troubles he never noticed the elf standing in the shadows.

Ava watched him go, and stepped through the open door.

Marilyn sat at the vanity, her chin in her palm, her eyes staring at her reflection. The gemstone in her necklace glowed fitfully, casting her face in its light.

"Congratulations!" Ava chirped.

Marilyn whirled to her feet with a gasp, clutching the table as she faced Ava, a hand over her pounding heart. "You... what... how much did you see?"

"Everything! Oh, he is so sexy! No wonder you have him on the side!"

Marilyn stared at her like a hunted rabbit, but finally her face fell. "I see," she said, her voice low. Defeated.

She turned and picked up a bottle of wine that had been resting on the vanity. Her hand shook as she poured herself a glass. "So, you saw that."

"Yeah! I never knew hand holding could have so much emotion in it. It was amazing!"

Marilyn picked up the glass and drank the wine in a single go. She exhaled hotly, slamming the glass down and turning to Ava. "So," she said. "I suppose now you’ll tell Iago..."

"I mean, I’ll tell everyone in next week’s edition!" Ava said brightly. "This’ll get the front page of the Morning Wood for sure!"

Marilyn stared at the bubbly elf. "What? But... you... didn’t you spend the evening with Iago?"

"Oh, yeah. That. Have you noticed he’s got a really tiny dick?" Ava said.

A smile ghosted across Marilyn’s face. "I have," she said.

The Queen of Dawn leaned back against the rim of her vanity, eyeing Ava with a new look, appraising her. "Did he make you read the script?"

"Yep! It was really wordy and kinda dumb to be honest," Ava said.

"It’s because he was originally a poet," Marilyn said. "And even then, not a good one."

"Wow," Ava said. "From poet to playwright!"

Marilyn’s sardonic smile hovered on her lips. "Yes. And he does love his stories. Shall I tell you the first one he shared with me?"

"Is it good?" Ava said.

"We’ll see," Marilyn said as she sat down on her chair once more, dangling the wineglass from her fingertips. "You see, not so long ago, there was a young poet who loved to spend time by the sea. And one day, he came across a siren, innocent in the ways of the world. And when she spoke to the young man, he told her so many flatteries. He praised her hair and her figure. Her voice and her charms. She soaked it in, delighting in the ways he composed poems to her beauty, though they were never very good."

"They weren’t?" Ava said.

"Few things are in retrospect," Marilyn observed, her hand moving to brush her necklace, only to flinch away as the stone glowed hotly in its setting. "But she believed him when he told her he loved her. That he would do anything for her. And he brought her... a gift..."

"A gift? What was it?" Ava said eagerly.

Marilyn’s lifted her eyes, and Ava rocked back at the stormy light in those lovely blues. "Betrayal," Marilyn said, her voice a hiss.

"Wow," Ava breathed. "That’s a terrible gift!"

Marilyn smiled again. "Yes. It was. Was the play he had you read up in the tower similar to that?"

"Um... No. It was about a milk maid and a king and... I dunno. A royal sceptre or something? I forget," Ava giggled. "It was honestly kind of boring."

"Oh, I don’t know," Marilyn said, her voice a soft hum of delight as she eyed the curvy young elf. "I think people would have enjoyed watching it."

"You think?" Ava beamed.

"I do. Ava? Are elves... immune to magic?"

"Oh no!" Ava said. "We’re absolutely soaked in it! Magic’s our bread and butter. And sometimes tarts too! We’re not immune. In fact, fertility and erotic spells have a big effect on us. Apparently, elves can be super breedable! But lesser enchantments are like... someone with super alcohol tolerance drinking half a glass of wine. It doesn’t really affect us as much."

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