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The air was dimly lit in the fortune teller's tent, as Velvetine removed her crystal ball from below the table, shining it in preparation for the children to come. After all, it was the circus, and she could have used a break from tarot cards. The cards themselves were not pleased, but they understood, as many children began to file in, one by one. As they sat down, Velvetine adjusted her costume, and stared down at them from her pillowed platform, waiting for the children to entice her with a question. Ah, there was a hand in the air, eagerly waving. Her finger pointed to the child, whose hair was a bright red under a yellowed cap, and she beckoned him to ask.

“I want to hear a story, something that really happened!” he beamed, the plush duckling in his arms squeaking as he cuddled the toy. Velvetine felt her lips break into a smile, and the tent became hushed, as she obliged him with a simple tale. “If that is what you wish.”

“Once, there was a great kingdom, full of people and full of light. There were two women, both powerful in their own rights, who sought each others hearts. But, such a love was not to be. For there was a powerful foe in the kingdom, a demon called Mephiste.” Her arms wove out, the mist behind her seeping in as she watched their eyes grow wide. “This kingdom soon lost its potential knight to an errant ward's slander, caused by Mephiste. And so the fallen knight began to study, deeply, to become a ward of the heavenly sort. This fallen knight turned nun's name was Ciel, and was of the purest soul, never wanting for anything other than to be devoted to her truest love, the princess Rosamund.”

A hand waved, and Velvetine gestured for the child to speak. “So...these two girls were in love?”

With a nod, Velvetine replied. “Oh, more than just 'in love'. It was the deepest, most pure of loves, and it is what compelled Ciel to come to her princess' aid, when trouble befell. Mephiste wanted to take Rosamund as his bride, to father darkness and ruin in the kingdom.Her father sent out a letter to Ciel, asking her to take up her knight's mantle once more to save Rosamund. Ciel was stalwart in her efforts and dusted her armor off, long unused since her self-inflicted banishment.”

The children gasped, and Velvetine continued, thick mist forming around her, colors swirling behind her as she spoke, adding to the effect of the story. “Ciel fought her way to the castle, past many dangers and past many enemies that Maphiste had conjured, until she reached the throne room, where Mephiste had yet to force Rosamund into his bidding. Seeing her beloved tied up, Ciel rushed forward in her gleaming armor, waging war with the one who had caused Rosamund so much pain, and the kingdom so much heartbreak. But Mephiste was much more clever and cunning, and had prepared an alternative form for Ciel to fight.”

“Once she had slain the enemy, Ciel moved to assist Rosamund, to find Mephiste preparing to take what he could not have—her beloved's heart. Selflessly, she pushed her princess out of the way, taking the thorny, cursed dagger that had been meant for Rosamund into her own heart. A cry rose out, and as Rosamund made her way to Ciel's side, the purity in Ciel's heart banished Mephiste's influence, and as the princess held her knight, she discovered that Ciel's body was already cold with death.”

Several cries rang out, and a chime rang in the distance, signaling time to close. A collective groan arose from the children, and they stood, stretching. Several of them began to talk amongst themselves, and it was only a matter of minutes before one child came to the conclusion, “It never happened. It was just a story, after all.” Velvetine's eyes sparkled mischievously in the background, watching as the children exited, before going to her personal cabinet, and taking out two objects. One was a signet ring, inscribed with a name time had nearly forgotten, and the other was a twist of hair, a pure white lock intertwined with a ruby red one. “Sometimes stories are simply histories that time has forgotten pieces of,” she mused to herself, closing the curtains to her tent quietly.