Mack Zack
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April 2022 Story - The Finger Curse (Chapter 9 - Final)
🕑 Added 2022-06-02 21:07:26 +0000 UTCAs they approached the castle that morning, Agnes was secretly worried about how she would break the spell. She wanted the witch to know she was confident in breaking it, but deep down she wracked her mind thinking about how to ask Lord Filmore to pull her finger. Surely, it would be simple being that they were engaged. That sealed the moment of true love, at least in Agnes’s eyes. But what if Lord Filmore did not pull her finger? He was as sophisticated as she was. Would he scoff? Laugh? Ignore the request? Think less of her? What could she say as an excuse? Worse yet, what if he called off the engagement…?
Agnes shook her head. That would be ridiculous. Who would break off an engagement because of a fart?
She nearly stopped dead in her tracks thinking about that.
Because not too long ago, she would have.
Funny how life goes.
They returned the servants’ horses, snuck through the hedge again, and arrived at the castle tired and worn. Thankfully, nobody had noticed their disappearance throughout the entire night.
Before parting ways at the foyer, Agnes sighed while removing her cloak and said, “Thank you again, Penelope. I could not have survived a night out in the city without you.”
Penelope was blushing again. She did that a lot, and Agnes said, “You are so shy, Pen. Learn to be more assertive. Take a compliment.”
That seemed to make things worse, as Penelope froze with terror and her face fully flushed red this time. Agnes scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Let me hurry back to bed before my parents notice.”
#
Agnes slept a while longer than normal, given how early she had woken up already. She thought she was dreaming because she heard Milly and Margaret trying to wake her up. Unlike Penelope, they had no sense of personal space or privacy, and had actually entered the princess’s chambers to nudge her awake.
“Miss?” Milly said. “You’ve been sleeping for a while.”
Margaret hissed at her. “Don’t say MISS. Are you dumb? She is ‘milady’.”
“Oh, right, right. Milady.”
Agnes woke up with a disheveled head of hair and a very sore look. “What are you two doing here? Where is Penelope?”
“She is feeling sick, mum—milady,” Milly said. “So, she sent for us to make sure you are all right.”
“I am perfectly all right. There is no need to be alarmed. I am the princess. I can sleep however long I want to. What is wrong with Penelope?”
Milly shrugged. “She is just feeling sick, milady.”
Margaret then whispered. “Love-sick, methinks. She is acting as such.”
The two servants giggled in such a way that gave Agnes a headache. Poor Penelope. Agnes was not very aware of the gossip circulating between the servants. She never wished to delve into such petty matters. In that regard, she admired Penelope for talking about other things when tending to her.
“Tell me when Lord Filmore arrives,” Agnes said. “He is to be expected today for more wedding planning.”
The maids bowed. “Yes, milady.”
“Now go away.”
Her bowels were filling up by the second once more. Mornings were always like that. But this time, she was all right with it knowing that today would be the last day of this dreaded curse. However, her stomach was in knots because of how nervous she was thinking about asking Lord Filmore to pull her finger. She then chuckled to herself. She wondered if this anxiety was similar to when he proposed to her.
After dinner that night, Agnes asked Lord Filmore to walk with her in the courtyard. It was a lovely evening after all, with all the stars out and a full moon. The perfect excuse for a night walk with just the two of them! Nobody would bother them. That was the main thing Agnes wanted to make sure.
Agnes also wanted to make sure the spell would break by purposely eating more food than usual throughout the day. It was a grotesque thought but she had to do it. She had to feel the discomfort and the swelling the moment Lord Filmore pulled her finger.
They walked arm-in-arm through the fields of lilacs, tulips, and dandelions. Lord Filmore talked himself off as always, while Agnes was wrought with anxiety about figuring out the best way to ask him. He kept rambling on and on, so she found it rude to interrupt him. Basic etiquette – never interrupt someone while they are speaking!
Lord Filmore sighed as they leaned over the railing overlooking a fountain below. “And that is how I learned to compose Bartov’s Sixth Movement at the age of 10.”
They stared off into the distance.
Finally…silence.
Agnes tapped the railing lightly. She had to bring it up now. She could not bear the weight of her windy bowels much longer. She found herself attempting to utter the first syllable but then holding back. But if this were true love, there should be no problem, right? Oh, how embarrassing it must be to break wind in front of one’s fiancé! The thought gripped Agnes with panic and fear. This would be as embarrassing as when Penelope heard her break wind. She would truly be vulnerable in front of Lord Filmore. But again, if this really were true love then it would not matter…would it?
Lord Filmore breathed in to speak again, but Agnes stole the opportunity away from him.
“L-Lord Filmore?” she asked, voice cracking.
“Yes?”
“There is something I wish for you to do.”
Lord Filmore raised a brow. “Yes?”
Princess Agnes had a ploy in mind, but then lost train of thought. She blanked, and then a million random thoughts raced through her mind. She could just tell him the truth. But then she never thought to ask the witch if that would still count. It had to be from true love, not because she forced him to do it. All this thinking in silence led Lord Filmore to clear his throat to break the awkward silence, so she then blurted out, “Will you do me the honor of pulling my finger?”
She offered her forefinger.
Lord Filmore stared down at it, then looked to her again. “Pardon me?”
“It is a sort of tradition…you see…” Agnes said, making up some fanciful lie. “Er. A jest. In. My. Uh. Family.”
Lord Filmore continued staring at it. Agnes closed her eyes for a moment, dreadfully embarrassed. There was no way he was going to fall for this. It was ridiculous. She cursed herself over and over in her head. If only she had not yelled at that old wo--
But then – he did it!
Agnes alighted. She could not wait to break wind and nearly forgotten how embarrassing it would have been to do so in front of him.
But…nothing happened.
The wind in her bowels was still stuck.
Lord Filmore cleared his throat again. He avoided her gaze, trying to mend the strained silence by moving on. “Well then. Now that that’s---”
“I apologize. I meant it to be the left finger! Yes.”
Maybe the witch played some final trick on her? Lord Filmore sighed heavily as if his patience were being tested. Agnes raised her left finger ever so demurely. He leaned forward and gave it a little tug. Agnes pursed her lips, wishing for the wind in her bowels to finally be let free.
Still - nothing happened.
“Any more fingers I should be aware of?” Lord Filmore said.
Agnes blanked. Surely, she did everything right. Unless she heard the spell incorrectly? But what other kind of true love could there be? True love was when two people loved each other. How much more complicated could it get? She fought tooth and nail to make sure she had Lord Filmore. The honorable Lord Filmore, with his refined legacy and high social status, with his…
Agnes’s heart sank.
The sudden realization dragged her so far down she felt as though she could faint.
How could she be so blind?
She was not in love with Lord Filmore.
She wanted Lord Filmore, of course, but in a way that filled a quota rather than a driving, sensual desire.
He must have noticed her distress, for he lifted her chin with a finger and said, “Milady? Are you alright?”
Agnes did not know what to say. For the first time in her life, she could say that she felt intense emotions – of love and friendship and…sex? But not for Lord Filmore. A certain person crossed her mind, but she denied it. She fought it. But something about it made sense. She wanted to run away from it.
“E-excuse me, my lord. I must…I must…”
Agnes never finished her statement. She picked up her dress and bolted. She dared not look back and she fled in a random direction, across the courtyard, around the entire castle, and when she saw the front gate she thought that fleeing the kingdom sounded like a good idea.
The city smells hit her again and she almost welcomed it fondly, because it reminded her of Penelope. She caught the curious attention of beggars as she sprinted down the streets. Her heels clattered and she made a mess picking up puddles but for once she did not care. She wanted to flee.
When she needed to catch her breath, she had no idea where she was, but for some reason it was okay. For the first time, she was content with not knowing where she was or what was going to happen next. She looked around at the street and it was alive with the commoners coming and going through various stories and taverns. The smell was still awful, but she noticed that people were still happy. She caught a man and a woman holding each other and snogging like mad in dark alleyway. They were barely visible in the candlelight. The man held up the woman’s leg and the woman moaned as he kissed her neck.
Agnes would normally look away at such distasteful behavior in public, but she continued looking…watching. They couple began moving rhythmically, and she realized what was happening. She flushed with arousal, and many intrusive thoughts about Penelope popped into her head. She shook them off and denied them, but maybe that was what brought those thoughts up in the first place.
She walked aimlessly down the street, inundated with all the lights and noise around her. She thought about when she broke wind in front of Penelope. It had felt so pleasing to finally let everything out. She was vulnerable in that moment, showing Penelope a base human function that she never let anyone else see or hear. There was a closeness in that.
Helplessly lost, Agnes started to panic, but also heaved with a great heaviness in her heart.
“Milady!”
Agnes swerved around at the voice.
Penelope stood there with her cloak on. Agnes could not find the right words to say. She was overwhelmed with so many conflicting emotions. Penelope shuddered, staring at Agnes. Agnes stared back, and the two seemed to understand what was unspoken between them.
Stammering, Agnes said, “H-how did you find me?”
Penelope said, “I know the city like the back of my hand, milady.”
She came closer. “I take it things did not go well with Lord Filmore?”
Agnes did not know what to say. She wanted to say a million things that she still struggled to comprehend and form into words. Penelope’s presence lifted Agnes’s spirits. She was shorter than Agnes, and so gentle and pretty and…
“N-no,” Agnes finally said. “They did not.”
“Did he find it embarrassing?” Penelope leaned closer to whisper. “You breaking wind?”
“No…actually…” Agnes’s heart raced to the point of it feeling as though she were going to faint. But she braved through it and looked directly in Penelope’s eyes. “In fact…nothing happened.”
“Nothing?”
“No. I am still cursed.”
Penelope sighed. “So…it is not true love then?”
Agnes shook her head. “No.”
“I am sorry to hear that, milady. Maybe…with some time…it will work out? Lord Filmore is concerned nonetheless about you. They have been searching the courtyards. We should return before they grow more concerned.”
“Where were you this morning?” Agnes then asked. She desperately wanted to change the subject.
Penelope stared, looking frightened. She looked away when she replied. “I was away. I was feeling ill.”
“Were you? I missed having you there this morning.”
“I am sorry, milady. I will make sure to wake you tomorrow morning.”
Agnes’s heart thumped loudly. She was entirely aware of her pulse, each one like an earthquake.
“Milady…we should really go back home.”
Penelope was about to turn around and lead the way when Agnes reached out and actually touched her hand – fingers running through hers. Penelope let out a small gasp and stared at their hands. Agnes’s blood rushed as she held on tight to Penelope’s cold small fingers. She could feel their heartbeats.
“Milady…?” Penelope whispered.
“I do not wish to go back,” Agnes said. “At least, not for now.”
“What? What do you mean? You must go back.”
“I do not. I do not want to marry Lord Filmore. I do not want to return to my bedchambers tonight. I want to take your hand and flee. I want to run with you and spend my time with you. It is a feeling I have been suppressing for God knows how long. But I can no longer deny it. I long for your touch when I need someone to comb my hair. I long for your voice when I ask for an opinion. I long for your presence when I feel alone.”
Penelope’s eyes widened. Agnes was worried. Maybe this would ruin everything. She was not sure about what her reaction would be but for the first time in her life, Agnes felt free. It felt divine to break etiquette and speak candidly, to spew one’s emotions.
“Milady…” Penelope whispered, face red and eyes wandering to see if anyone was paying attention.
“Let us run away together, Pen,” Agnes said, bringing herself closer to Penelope. Their bosoms were now touching, and they breathed on each other. Their noses touched and danced slowly around each other, until they finally kissed. Penelope made the kiss more intense and brought her arms around Agnes’s neck.
The world around them meant nothing, and neither did the world seem to care about them. They were two strangers alone together in the middle of a busy street.
“Oh,” Penelope then said, pulling back. “Milady…I…I must tell you something. It is very--”
But Agnes interrupted her. “And I you, Pen.”
She brought her mouth up close to Pen’s ear. “I love it when you pull my finger.”
Penelope gasped again. She was so shocked that Agnes again thought if maybe she crossed a line. She stared for what felt like an eternity at Agnes with wide eyes and her hand on her mouth.
“Pen?” Agnes asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Penelope breathed. “No, milady. Not at all. In fact…”
This time, she brought her mouth close to Agnes’s ear. Her voice was so soft that it made Agnes tingle with pleasure. “I love it when you break wind.”
Agnes brought up her forefinger. She gave a lopsided grin. “Let us see if this is true love.”
“Do you want me to pull your finger?”
“Yes, Pen. Please.”
Penelope blinked bashfully. “Really?”
Agnes moaned in her ear. “Please, Pen. I feel so uncomfortable.”
“Right here? Right now? In front of everyone?”
Agnes really needed to break wind, and spoke plainly now, not flirting. “Penelope, I have been holding this in for Lord Filmore. I am quite swollen.”
Penelope ran her hand on Agnes’s belly, as if admiring a pregnant belly. “Are you now?”
“Pen, please pull my finger. I beg you!”
For the first time since Agnes knew her, Penelope grinned devilishly. She gripped Agnes’s hand, tightening her grip, and then pulled her finger.
The End
