AN: This was a birthday present I promised Mirror of Words a year ago (I am awful, I am so sorry). It took such a ridiculously long time because I wasn't sure how to approach the MaryGarry-centred dynamic. I had so many ideas that ranged from cotton candy fluffy to tear-your-heart-out angst and so little time it was impossible to finish this until now.

I decided to dabble in a little of everything and instead of making it a one-shot, let it breath as a two-part story. I hope this makes up for the super long wait and the two birthdays I missed, friend :3 Happy reading!

Cygnet

Act I

She took slow, delicate steps in the darkness, her bare feet brushing softly against the marble floor. A strange feeling bloomed as she continued down the corridor, one hand pressed against the wall for support, the other tightening its grip around the sharpened palette knife. Her temples started hurting. The restlessness in her chest wouldn't settle.

A light in the far distance glowed faintly. The beautiful girl gasped and quickened her pace, her heart racing, her pulsing headache growing fierce. She stopped still at the sight that greeted her at the end of the corridor, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Ib!" The younger version of herself grasped the tiny hands of her companion, cerulean eyes and smile bright with excitement. "We're finally getting out!"

"No." The older girl whispered, recognising the scene quickly. "S-stop."

Young Mary swivelled on her feet to examine the large mural glowing bright, its colours vivid and almost blinding in intensity. She admired her father's work, the sheer beauty of it almost made her tear. Utterly enchanted, she paid no heed to Ib's quiet contemplation.

"Please..." The palette knife dropped to the floor. Older Mary fell to her hands and knees, shaking her head fervently. Frozen on the spot, her body refused to obey her. She could only watch helplessly as Ib stepped forward and placed both her hands on her friend's shoulders.

She tensed at the soft incoming words, having them haunt her the past several years.

"Don't."

"You'll have a great time, Mary." Resting her head in the crook between the girl's shoulder blades, she trembled slightly. "You'll meet so many great people and you won't be so lonely anymore."

The other child stared, not entirely understanding. "Ib?"

The adult besides them let out a single sob, clamping her mouth shut with both her hands.

"Please live well." Bright red eyes looked up, a sad but serene smile gracing her lips. "Goodbye, Mary."

Her eyes widened as Ib pushed her across the frame, her tiny body betraying her strength. Blinding white light spilled into the darkness, surrounding the single child, and then she was gone.

-x-

She awoke with a gasp, tears blurring her vision. Mary rolled over, shivering, burrowing further into her covers. She lay still for the longest time but sleep wouldn't take her. The girl sighed and rubbed her eyes, feeling far more exhausted than normal. She had only managed to fall asleep at 1 AM, insomnia quickly befriending her these days. Glancing towards her desk, she huffed at the time illuminated in red.

Her nightstand clock read 4.05 AM.

And so it starts. She hated those dreams. Even though she had nightmares throughout the year, the single most important event would continuously replay and plague her summers, especially the few days before her anniversary. And what Mary hated most was the fact that she would probably get very little sleep now that they've woken her up. She wanted nothing more than to sleep for a hundred years.

There was no way she was getting up at this ridiculous hour. The teenager gave another long sigh and simply lay on her back, staring at the ceiling in resignation. It was going to be a long week.

-x-

The sweltering heat of August was almost too much to bear out on the streets, and there was no better way to spend the day and cheer herself up than being cooped up in her favourite bookstore. She much prefer the cold to the heat. It was comforting and familiar.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Mary squealed in delight as she read through her favourite passages of her favourite book again, reliving the magic of the words. There was something about fairy tales that made her so fond of them. She paid no attention to the footsteps approaching her, gave no mind to the long legs in front of her.

The gentlemen sighed and crossed his arms. Or as best as he could with one full of books.

"The whole purpose of this place is to give old books a new loving home. And here you are, casually re-reading and re-reading and re-reading and refusing to let them go. You're scaring away customers. At least buy them back from your mother."

She leafed the next page. "I'm broke."

She finally glanced up from her book to grin at his mildly irritated expression, his lavender hair and pink red face painting a pretty (and) amusing picture for her. He gave another long sigh and his one free hand on his hip like an old lady.

She suddenly imagined him in a fluffy night dress and cap, biting her lips to stop the sudden laughter from bubbling out.

"Then stop spending excessively on sweets. And ice-cream. And cake."

"But it's hot," she whined, "You spend the entire day in this air-con, you wouldn't know what it's like out there."

He crouched down beside her to place back the books on the shelf she was leaning on, the real reason he came over. "I wasn't complaining about you staying here, just… at help me out every once in a while. Earn some pocket money. We're severely understaffed as it is."

She glanced at him and almost did a double-take when she say how worn out he was. Was he not sleeping well? It wasn't in her to ask after him, so she did as she usually did: mercilessly tease him.

"Well it's kind of funny seeing you run around like the white rabbit muttering about how you'll soon be late for everything."

"Learn the ropes, Mary." He pretended not to hear her, not taking her bait, although he self-consciously brushed his waistcoat with his thumb. "Your mother will probably pass this shop down to you when she's too old to run around and hoard books like her glory days."

"I'll tell Mother you said that."

He straightened immediately. "You wouldn't dare, kid."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I'm sixteen, Garry, you should drop the kid by now."

"And you should drop that sassy attitude of yours."

"You love my sassy attitude."

He made a disgusted face and jokingly gagged, "I'm really not into jailbait, thank you very much."

She crossed her arms and frowned. Garry looked back at her and chuckled, patting her head gently before moving off towards the stairs to continue his work. Her frown melted away and she followed him like a lost puppy, arms hugging her current reading material to her chest.

"I hope you clear up that mess of books you made later."

"Do you hate me that much?"

"Of course not, you're my dear friend."

She covered her face with the book as his rich laughter rang through the shop. She could feel her ears burning in embarrassment and a small, silly smile decorating her face. They both knew that he knew how to push her buttons.

-x-

No matter how much she tried to hide it, he could sense something was off.

And so it begins.

It was that time of the summer, around Early August, when the gloomy cloud that seemed to hang over Mary's head no matter how much he would try to help shake it off. Garry sighed and stretched on his chair behind the front desk, trying to work out the kinks in his back. It was only the late morning and yet he was already yawning in exhaustion.

"I-Is everything okay, sir?"

He sat up properly and nodded at the only other worker in the second-hand bookshop, Carla, who was clutching a pile of books herself. "I'm fine, Carla." He managed to stifle a yawn but she still looked unconvinced. He gave her a charming smile instead and opted to adjust his rolled up shirt sleeves. "Have you finished with the inventory I asked you to do?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the price checks?"

"Mm-hm."

"Excellent." Garry turned to look at the vase that decorated the counter with six red roses and delicately stroked one of the petals. "Have you seen Mary by the way?"

"I think I spotted her around the children's corner."

"Typical. Most of the customers are gone at this time but could you keep an eye on the front desk for me, Carla?" The young woman nodded and brushed back short brown hair. "Good, good. Thanks, dear."

She headed off to continue with her work, a little more pink than before. Garry made his way across the labyrinth of the shop, heading towards the back where the children story books were.

He spotted his target curled up on one of the beanie bags, completely immersed in the book and smiled gently at the sight. The light from the windows behind the girl danced along the incredibly long golden hair she likes to keep loose, almost reminding him of the fuzzy yellow coats of little ducklings.

Garry grinned, figuring out a new challenge for her.

"Aren't you a little old for those kinds of books now?"

"Why not?" she easily replied, not even sparing him a glance. "Even when all hope seems lost, even when it appears like all their sacrifices were in vain, a miracle happens. A puppet turns into a real boy, and instead of dissolving into foam and ceasing to exist, a mermaid turns into an ethereal daughter of air. Even if it's bittersweet, they all live happily ever after, something much more fun than the bleak harshness of reality."

"I thought you finished your emo period a few years back."

"I didn't—!" she quickly snapped her book shut, face flushed, quickly scanning left and right for any passing eavesdroppers. "Garry, you promised never to—" He couldn't stop laughing at her panicked reaction, sitting down next to her for a quick break, careful not to disturb the tresses that spilled onto the floor. She scowled. "First you call me kid and now you call me old. What the hell do you want from me, seaweed head?"

"Language, my darling. I would like you to help around, but failing that, you could probably help me by picking up after yourself. And maybe not let your hair down." He gave a pointed glance at the number of volumes scattered on the floor, courtesy of her carelessness. "Besides, aren't you bored of these same old stories?"

"Not really, they're classics for a reason."

"Still, why don't you make one of your own?"

"…My own…?" Her eyes widened in wonder.

"Make your own stories. Get a notebook, scribble down ideas and use that big head of yours to write down the next bestseller."

She blushed hard. "My head is not big!"

"I didn't say it wasn't full of wonder and imagination." She blushed even harder. "You can be the princess, the wicked witch of the East or even the paladin if you want. Or create a witchy, paladin princess… whatever makes it interesting, I suppose. Find inspiration in your own adventures, or in the least expected places and grow from there. Who knows, maybe one day you'll even beat me."

Her expression darkened and she sat up on her knees, refusing to break eye contact with him. "And when will you let me read your new book, Garry?"

He turned away and smirked. "Never, if I can help it."

"But you showed Carla—"

"Because she's not out to get me."

Viciously twisting her hair and yanking it into a giant bun, Mary harrumphed and shoved her book into his chest. She crossed her arms and stormed off, probably to try and pry his assistant away from the desk for brunch. "Still not fair!" she shouted back.

"Hang in there, kid!" He gave a long, suffering sigh and gathered the scattered books, grumbling about how he hated picking up after her.

-x-

Garry was quite proud of himself, if he wanted to be honest.

The girl took his challenge and kept mostly to herself at the back of the shop, keeping Carla company while she worked. He was free to deal with customers without having to worry about her messing around with the books or her continually plummeting mood. Besides, his younger assistant was more patient with the girl than he was.

And he was free to work on his next big title.

Garry was successful enough as an author, enough to feed himself and keep a bit of pocket money, but he still had to work hard if he wanted to continue with his career. The man looked around the mostly empty shop and grinned, taking out his red ring notebook to continue planning. The coast was clear and there was no sign of—

"Garbear!"

He screamed, jumping out of his seat. Following the ringing laughter, he swivelled in place to glare at the girl who had the audacity to sneak up behind him. She still couldn't stop giggling at his reaction, bursting into another round when she tried to control herself.

"What do you want, Goldilocks? I haven't seen you since the other day."

She gave him one of her more delightful smiles and walked around, plopping her dainty self onto the front desk. "I've been thinking—"

"Oh no." he sarcastically drawled.

She carried on as if she didn't hear him. "Maybe you're the wolf in my fairy tale."

He gave her a blank look and closed his notebook, resigned to the fact it just wasn't going to be a productive evening now.

"I really hope not. Your mother wouldn't approve of you hanging around a fiend to all grandmothers and muddy backyard animals."

"But when you get mad you do the huffing and puffing thing perfectly, and you like to bother innocent little girls like myself."

Garry pinched the bridge of his nose, the action giving her a glimpse of his usually covered left eye. "I don't think—"

"—Exactly."

"Stop."

"Payback!"

He almost growled and exhaled sharply in frustration before stopping abruptly, realising her point. He took a slow, deep breath and watched her smug, pretty face break into another wide grin. "Happy?"

"Yeap!"

He turned away and pouted. "I'd really rather not be the villain. Why can't I be someone nice?"

"Like the fairy godmother?"

"That could… work." He smiled and nodded, tapping on his smooth chin with one finger, "I would grant the wishes of the hearts and make beautiful dreams come true."

"Not to mention you definitely like lady clothes."

"You can borrow my dresses, sir." Carla helpfully added, as she emerged from the backroom, setting another volley of snarky banter and ringing laughter.

-x-

Although she was busy with her new project, the dreams wouldn't stop visiting her at night, increasing in both frequency and intensity. Mary would watch, helpless, as Ib pushed her into the frame before she woke up in cold sweat, guilt and grief welling up inside her.

She hadn't realised that Garry had already gone ahead. She didn't know whether Ib knew what she was doing, sacrificing herself like that. She hadn't realised the implications when she met the little girl and the older man, what it meant for two to leave one person behind.

In other dreams, she and Ib lived happily together as sisters. They were happy with her parents, content by simply being together. She flinched as she remembered what she did to Garry in those dreams to make sure she got to leave. She couldn't believe she would something so awful and manipulative in the past, but she knew she could have. Desperation did terrible things to a person.

There were worst dreams still, and she would pale as she recalled what Ib and Garry did to her, how they…

Shifting around under her covers, Mary shivered badly. She liked the cold but she didn't like being cold. She tucked herself into a little ball and sighed, hugging herself, trying to find some measure of comfort on her own. There was no way she was talking to her guardian about this, though she longed for some company to share her pain with…

His face flashed through her mind.

She shook her head, perishing the thought immediately.

Mary would go over the sequence of events over and over in the quiet of the night, imagining all the different combination of events. And yet it wouldn't change the fact she pushed the two of them into the toy box they escaped from before she could find them. That they left her room alone and headed straight for the exit. That Garry went first, she caught up and Ib was forced into a decision.

And she blamed herself every time for not pulling the girl with her into the mural.

-x-

Mary paused at the entrance, stunned by the sight that greeted her by the front desk. Garry glanced up from his position next to the roses to give her an apologetic look. The smug woman next to him drummed her fingers on the wood and hummed, visibly amused by Mary's stunned expression.

"Got you, dearest."

"Mother." She bowed politely, not forgetting her manners. "What are you doing here?"

"Well this is my shop." She grinned at the little girl's flinch. "I needed to talk to Garry and you seem to be avoiding me at home. Honestly, why go through so much effort? Going out without breakfast, coming back only after dinner. I haven't had a chance to hear your answer, and Garry told me you've been coming here a lot lately."

She shot him a look and he shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee.

"So here I am, killing two birds with one stone."

Mary shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't decided."

"That's cutting it a bit close, isn't it? It's already August and school starts in September."

She grinded her teeth to avoid giving back a biting answer, her expression darkening.

Tucking back a stray black curl behind her ear, Wilma Graham turned to her trusted manager, motioning to the back room. She was a tall woman, towering over even Garry at her full height, not including her high heels. Even he was intimidated by her. The man nodded as she made her way and gave the younger girl a soft look that only his lone eye could muster.

It'll be okay, Mary.

She really didn't want to make that decision any time soon, no matter how important it was. She hated being backed into a corner, and yet that was exactly what her mother was doing.

Mary hated being pushed.

-x-

The young woman was glad it was a slow day at the bookstore, and customers had yet to come in. She couldn't have imagined how to deal with the fuming daughter of the second-hand bookshop owner then, loud and emotional, pacing holes into the carpets as she vented.

"It's not like it'll make a difference if I leave or stay, Carla." She sucked her teeth and hooked her thumbs around the straps of her denim overall shorts, messenger bag still slung low on her hips instead of the backroom where she liked to keep it. "Family matters that she won't tell me about… she probably just wants to go book hunting again, so why does she need to take me along?"

The woman in question smiled and shrugged, proceeding with her task of re-arranging the window display, trying to bring out as much beauty as she could in the editions that Garry had hand-picked himself.

"She thinks she's giving me a choice but we both know that that's a lie. She's just saying it so she'll feel good about herself. It's not like she's going to deal with me whether I'm in a boarding school in Europe or living in our old house here, so I really don't see the point in moving. I can take care of myself, Garry can check up on me, and if I need some girl advice, I can always come to you, right Carla?"

Trying not to give definitive answers or encourage her further, she hummed in acknowledgement instead. Carla was only a few years older than Mary herself, and though she liked the girl well enough, she avoided trouble with a passion.

"Then again… none of you really care about me…" Her hands stilled at the suddenly soft voice. "All my mother sees are her books, all you see is Garry and all Garry sees is the mess I keep leaving behind. Just like the ugly little duckling, no one would mind if I just disappeared."

Carla turned, about to retort when another voice beat her to it.

"That's not true."

The girl rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "You sure, dearest Garbear? You say it time and time again that you hate cleaning up my mess. If I was gone, there would be no mess to clean."

He groaned, running a hand through his lavender locks. "Look, you're obviously not in the best of moods so let's just stop being dramatic and—"

"I'm being dramatic?"

"I think you're being ridiculous, kid."

"Stop calling me, kid!"

"Stop yelling in my shop." The slap echoed through the room as the horrified occupants watched. Mother and daughter stood still and stared at each other, the latter slowly bringing a hand up to nurse her hurt cheek. Carla looked around wildly, thankful for once for the lack of customers anywhere in sight.

Garry rubbed the back of his neck and felt the need to look away, unable to interfere in their family matters.

"Get over yourself and stop involving people who aren't concerned. I gave you a choice and now you're throwing it back in my face? What nonsense are you spouting? Why do you think I want to bring you along to Europe? Stop being so difficult and—"

Mary took a step back and raced out the door.

-x-

It rained in the evening.

She still hadn't returned by then.

Garry sighed and looked out the shop windows, a woman with her red umbrella outside briefly catching his eye. He shook his head and returned to his notebook, but trying to focus was near to impossible when he was this worried about her. Being separated from Mary and not knowing where she was usually ended up with bad things.

He quickly shook his head again, closed his notebook and stood up to take a breather, walking around the desk to reverently attend to the still fresh red roses. They seem to be doing well and Garry sighed once more. It was almost insane that such a trivial matter brought him comfort, but he tried not to question his mental state too many times to preserve what was left of it.

Like when his employer took a liking to keeping roses on the front desk after Mary arrived into their lives. Or how she would give him vague glances when there was a batch of books concerning art or artists. It left him mildly concerned, but nothing ever came of it. Even if he had questions, Garry felt like the window to ask had closed long ago.

A thunder rumbled in the sky and it seemed to rain even harder.

The restless twinges of concern came back and intrinsically Garry knew he wasn't the only one.

Wilma Graham had finished up her business and quickly left, but the constant checking of her phone betrayed her otherwise cool façade. She was a proud woman who didn't care much for people, but her adopted daughter's good opinion meant the world to her, even if she did a poor job of showing it.

Carla's doe-eyed glances towards entrance every few minutes had started grating on Garry's nerves hours ago, but he couldn't blame her. What Mary said, and what he had unintentionally heard, had stung. He knew it was the hurt feelings and probably sleep deprivation talking, but did Carla? His head jerked up as the door chimed and he smiled politely at the old man who came to take shelter from the storm, inwardly disappointed. Carla went to greet him and Garry went back to his thoughts. He suppressed a groan as he realised he had been mimicking her and tore his eyes away from the door.

The downpour made things even more depressing. He just hoped the storm wouldn't whisk away the girl to somewhere he couldn't reach her.

He went back behind his desk and opened his notebook again. He simply stared at the page for a full minute, his mind swirling with thoughts of whether he was supposed to be Toto, the Good Witch of the North or the Wizard who gave faith through trickery. The man turned to the ornament beside him and moved the rose vase half an inch to the left, before moving it back half an inch to the right, tapping his pen against his notebook anxiously. His thoughts were a mess since she left.

-x-

She didn't come back to the shop at all.

Carla was still painfully shy as she bid him farewell for the night, but still asked him to update her about Mary when there was any news. Garry could only mutely nod, touched by her concern. Whatever Mary said was from hurt feelings, as there was no way that none of them didn't care for her.

He took a step back as he finished locking up and jumped when his cell phone rung. Fumbling through his bag, he frowned as he finally found it. Seeing the caller ID gave him no peace and he hesitantly took the call.

"Ma'am—"

"Have you seen, Mary?"

His stomach dropped and he suddenly found it hard to breath. "What—"

"She hasn't come home." Garry glanced at his own watch and blanched. It had been over fifteen hours since she took off. "Garry, she hasn't come home, she hasn't answered my calls, what if…" the normally regal and strong voice cracked towards the end and he swallowed thickly. A migraine was already forming at the back of his head. "What if—"

He double-checked the locks and started running before he responded. "I'll find her."

"Garry—"

"—I'll find your daughter."

"It's been so difficult approaching her lately. I thought she'd be excited to travel and explore the world with me. Did I read her wrong? Did I misinterpret the subtext? How could I call myself her mother after today… Garry…" he spun around the corner, almost slipping on the wet gravel. "Garry, what if—"

"We—" he panted into the phone, rapidly losing his breath. He ran a list of places to search for in his mind, heading for the closest destination. "We can't think like that. I'll find your daughter. I'll bring her home."

-x-

The girl sat on the grassy embankment, watching the artificial lights of the city and streetlamps shine in the river below. She arrived back in town a few hours ago, but she didn't feel like going home then and certainly not now.

Travelling back and forth all the way to the art gallery had taken her hours, but she had plenty of time after she stormed out. She tried again, but no matter how long she walked around, no matter how much she stared and pleaded the paintings of her old family, they refused to let her into their world time and time again.

How many years had it been now? How many times had she tried this?

Mary had never felt so alone.

Again, she tried to spot any differences within their frames, find anything that even hinted the presence of a foreign little girl in their otherwise static world. Again, she found nothing. The fate of her first friend remaining a mystery.

She had never felt so inadequate.

Footsteps and heavy breathing signalled the approach of another person, but Mary paid no mind to them, having spotted the seaweed bouncing on top of their lavender hair from a distance away. She turned away from the person as they panted and plopped down next to her, a bit of distance between them, visibly out of breath.

"Did you run all the way here?"

"Most of the way, yeah." He tried gulping him as much air as he could, lying back on the wet grass to catch his breath, surprisingly uncaring about his clothes for once. "Why… Why didn't your phone? Your mother and I tried to call you all day."

"My battery died."

He frowned at the thought of being unable to contact her. Did she even realised how worried they were about her? "Then why didn't you go home? It's too late for polite young girls to be out at night."

Her bottom lip quivered and she was glad for the semi-darkness. "There you go berating me like a child again."

"You don't react very well to me being nice to you, so I have to be a little harsher than I would normally like to be. Besides, if you analyse my behaviour like you analyse your book characters, I only call you kid when you're acting like one."

"Sorry." Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

He turned to her, oddly silent for a moment. "You're sorry? Where are the witty comebacks, the never ending sarcasm?"

"I thought I was a polite young girl."

Garry laughed out loud, glad that at least some of her spirit was coming back. "You can be whatever you want to be, Mary. Just please be yourself."

She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on her knees, staring straight ahead, refusing to meet his eye. He wondered how long she had been out here considering how badly she shivered. "Being myself isn't good enough."

He didn't know how to react.

"What?"

"I don't have a lot of friends. People at school here barely like me, they won't like me in Europe. I'm a bother to everyone who knows me. I'm nothing but a mess, leaving nothing good behind me."

They were both silent for the longest time. Garry stretched out his legs and yawned, shifting in the grass for a more comfortable position in all the dampness.

It was a marvellous night. The night crickets chirped and the almost sluggish gurgle of the river water were making her sleepy, a feeling of calmness washing over her. She remembered the days back in middle school when she and Garry laid on the grass after school and watched the sunset, when babysitting was somehow part of his duties as manager of her mother's shop.

"Mary, look at me."

He made no attempts to move from his position, so she had to turn her head, cerulean eyes peeking out from underneath her fringe. Garry may appear laidback to a stranger, but his face as illuminated by the streetlamps was serious.

"You are a fantastic human being. You're curious, ridiculously stubborn and incredibly clever."

He finally got up, placing one hand on her shoulder, the other supporting him on the ground. Her face flushed and the bun she wrapped her long hair in bounced as she looked to the ground. He took in a deep breath for courage.

"You love poetry even if you get embarrassed by it, so I'm going to be super sappy and poetic right now. You're a work of art—" he squeezed her shoulder at the sudden panic in her eyes, "but you're nowhere near completion. You, me, your mom, Carla, everyone… we are all a work in progress. We'll need time and effort to grow into the beautiful masterpieces we're meant to be, but until then, don't dismiss your growth as worthless."

He paused at her sniffling, placing his arm around her shoulders as she slowly fell sideward onto him. Hugging her to his chest, he smiled and patted her head.

"I promise you're enough, so don't feel that way about yourself again. Every bit of you matters… okay? Please just live well." The air was filled with a keen wailing sound and Garry softly chuckled, used to her antics. "C'mon, people passing by are going to get the wrong idea. Cheer up."

He held her, soothingly stroking her hair, patting her shoulder affectionately. She cried into his already wet shirt, letting out all her frustrations onto his chest, hands gripping the material tight. They both knew that he knew how to push her buttons, and she was never more thankful. Until she was finally calm enough for him to walk her home, she held him tight, feeling her loneliness disappear bit by bit and replaced with the warm feeling in her chest.

AN: To be clear, I didn't like the fan-made Ib: Sacrifice ending on YouTube because there are many inconsistencies that don't make sense to me. But that's a discussion for another day. You'll see what kind of ending I went with later. And so it begins. I've wanted to try writing a Mary/Garry story in the past and now I have an excuse huehuehue. Btw, did you get all the storybook and fairy tale references? Some were super subtle, some were super obvious, lol. There were 10 in total, tell me how many you spotted ;)

Act II will be posted tomorrow if all goes well. Do tell me your thoughts, what you liked, what you didn't like or any other opinion that you may have in a review. Take care!