ACT II: EPILOGUE
The museum of Pantoland is well kept now. It has to be - people swarm to it these days. They love seeing the relics of the First Golden Age, and the twenty year break in the line has merely become part of the story of the new King and Queen. The old picture from Mrs Trellis' dream still hangs, nicely dusted, on one end of the great hall, but nowadays it is dwarfed by the mural on the other wall. It shows the palace in the background, freshly buffed and gleaming. Peacocks strut. Roses bloom. Every luminescant pebble lining the pathway glimmers in the sunshine. In the foreground are three girls, three boys, neatly arranged into couples. An older couple stand to the right. The man appears to be in Mayoral robes, although his gold chain and top hat are missing. His face is flushed and he is visibly sweating. In his top right hand pocket is a white hankerchief. You can just make out the monogram: P.N. His arm is around the ample waist of a buxom, middle aged, hirsuite woman in fuchia. Her strawberry blonde hair is piled on top of her head, and fastened with a large pink bow. There are diamontes on her hiking boots. Her smile is impossibly wide.
To the left are an odd looking couple - a well built, shaggy youth clutches the hand of a curvaceous older woman with cherry lips and a silver streak in her ebony hair. Both are in white. He grins at the portrait painter. She rests her head on the youth's shoulder gratefully.
The couple in the centre are in violet and gold. Crowns shine on their heads. The man could be seen as dressed a little eccentricly to the untrained eye, but anybody in Pantoland can tell you that his skimpy hotpants and thigh length high heeled boots merely indicate that he is of Royal birth. They are locked in a passionate kiss.
Above them reads a Banner: Ladie Snappdragon (Wytch), Lord Treliss, Queene Gretel, King, Duchese Naiz, Duke Naiz (Ex-Mayor Rtrd) - Thee Tripel Royal Wedding. The grand Book of Tales rests nearby, full of old stories. The ink is still fresh and crisp on the last story to be written in it so far. It begins with the abduction of a baby prince by a wicked witch, and of the birth of twins into poverty. It ends with the words "Happily Ever After".
But there are pages yet to be filled in the book. Hundreds of them, blank and waiting for a new tale for me to tell.
Well let them wait. This Pantomime is over.
Come with me. One last time.
The fence around the Western Woods has been torn down. The people of the town come and go there as they please, and nobody ever gets lost anymore. It is quite a pleasant forest, in fact, and suprisingly small. One can walk from one end of it to the other in less than an hour. In fact, a large young man strides confidently through the dappled early morning green of it now. He is Lord of these woods and he is coming home. He can see the cottage by now already, and he has barely left town. The old cottage, in its hidden glade, has also been destroyed at its owner's insistance, and a new house built elsewhere. A sensible one, the Witch had stipulated, out of bricks. With big, light windows and doors without locks. Where the fire was clean and her dreams free from dark memories.
She dreams now, in a large double bed in her attic bedroom. The sound of the door downstairs wakes her.
"Still asleep, Briar Rose?"
Nettlewart stirred dozily in her bed as her husband poked his head through the trapdoor.
"I'm awake now."
"Pity." Hansel perched on the corner of the bed. "I would have given you a wake-up kiss."
"Wouldn't work. I'm not a Princess and you're not a Prince."
"We're Lord and Lady. Won't that do?" He smiled, and gave Nettlewart a kiss on the forehead. "I got the milk."
"I see."
"Although I warn you, it's Daisy's. So it might taste a little bit of Scotch." He dipped his finger into the pail of milk and licked it, then smacked his lips thoughtfully. "Yep. I definately wouldn't try to operate any heavy machinery for a couple of hours after your tea this morning."
Nettlewart smiled. "So how was your shopping trip?"
"Hectic," replied Hansel, "I never imagined your natural magic be so in demand. That red headed little girl said thankyou ever so much for the basket of goodies, her Granny wolfed them down, Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard is bare... again, oh, and I was cornered by Mrs Grizzle. It's her kids' birthday party on Saturday and she wondered whether you might be able to whip up a couple of hundred Victoria Sponges."
"No problem," said the Witch. And she meant it. Once her mother's dark powers had been destroyed, she had begun to find a new joy in what nature had given her. Where she had been an incompetant Wicked Witch, she was excelling in White Witchcraft. She had become revered instead of feared. People came to her with their problems - admittedly they were mainly cake related problems, but Nettlewart was proud to solve them nontheless.
"I popped into the palace too," continued Hansel, "Mum and Percy say hello. Mum's taken up knitting. Percy's taken up holding her wool for her."
"How's the Bo... how's His Majesty?"
"He's fine. Nervous, but fine." Hansel grinned excitedly. "Gretel's bump is starting to show."
"Has he thought of any names yet?"
They're thinking Valiant if it's a boy, Bluebell if it's a girl"
Nettlewart sighed. "I meant for himself."
"Oh! No, I think he's happily settled on The King. I suppose you must get used to having no name."
Nettlewart nodded stoicly.
"Do you want some tea, then?" asked Hansel.
"I'll make a cup when I get up," Nettlewart answered.
Hansel moved from his perch on the corner of the bed and sat down next to his wife.
"I was going to make a pot. For both of us to share."
Nettlewart blinked. Sharing tea? What a strange idea. But then, he was her husband. That's the kind of thing that couples do.
"Yes. A pot of tea for us to share."
"All right."
Hansel picked up the milk and went to go downstairs. Nettlewart watched him.
"I love you," she said.
Hansel put the bucket on the floor and ran over to his wife and kissed her and kissed her and kissed her.
The End.