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Villager: Ander

Ander was born in Salem in the late 1600s. She had been born able to do… unusual things. She paid it no mind until the day when her mother died of a disease, leaving her and her two sisters with only their father. Ander learned how to cook, and took after the house in her mother’s place. There was no time to mourn, not when her family’s bellies needed filling. She learned to grow her own food, sew her own clothing, and she excelled at all of it. She was wonderful, and her father was proud. He often said she would make some lucky man a wonderful wife. But, alas, Ander never liked men. And from afar, she admired the princess. Once her father caught her, and snapped her out of it. After that, her father no longer acted as though he cared for her. He openly expressed his dislike for her. But when he tried to kill her, everything went wrong.

Ander was cowering, waiting for the blow that she was sure would be her end, but it never came. She heard a choking sound above her, and found that her father was suffocating. On pure air. She knew how to save him. But this was where she chose the path that she would go on the rest of her life. She just let him die. She wept crocodile tears for him to the authorities, and real ones when they took away her sisters. She was old enough, though, she could care for herself. So she was left that way, sobbing in her front yard, until the next morning. She got up from where she kneeled, and went inside to cook breakfast. For five days, she just went about her days, numb.

Then, by some miracle, she realized that despite not watering them for almost a week, her crops were the biggest she’d ever seen. She took some to market, where they sold for more money than she had ever seen in her life. As she grew, she continued this business. “Here comes Ole’ Ander,” The townspeople would say, and then run over one another to try to get the biggest head of lettuce or the juiciest tomato. One day, the king himself decided to visit her. To see how she was able to make her crops grow so well. He hid himself, and then he saw – it was magic. She was making them grow before his very eyes by singing to them. He only had one thought, in that moment. Only one kind of person could do magic, after all. A witch.

Ander was taken to a prison while the jury decided what to do with her. But it wasn’t all bad. Because the princess had taken a liking to her. Every day, for two years, the princess came down to see her. Every day, they would talk about nothing and everything. Once they kissed. That had been the best day in Ander’s life. but nothing good could last, and finally, the jury decided to burn her at the stake. Ander begged the princess to let her out, to run away with her. But the princess refused. Ander’s heart broke. The princess left after that, and when Ander drank the water that had been left for her, she knew what had happened. Then she passed out.

Ander awoke tied to a stake. Some of the townspeople were crying. Others were angry. “Burn the witch!” Shouted the mob. The executioner lit the pyre beneath her. In Ander’s dying moments, she looked right in the princess’s eyes. And then she burned to ash.

The princess sobbed, and went to spread the ashes of her lost love. She buried them in the castle garden, because Ander had always loved the plants there. And when the princess looked up, she saw her. She saw Ander, now a glistening spirit, and she leapt forward to embrace her. Ander smiled sadly as the princess just passed right through her. The princess cried as she apologized, and Ander said that it was all okay.

Every day, the princess came to visit. One day, Ander saw her come up with tears on her cheeks. This was what she had been waiting for. “My mother is deathly ill,” the princess explained, “and I fear she’s not long on this earth.” Ander cooed and comforted, and then she set her plan into motion. She willed her ashes to turn to seeds with her magic. She told the princess that the flowers that grew from them would cure her mother. “Grind them into a fine dust, and put them in your mother’s tea,” Ander instructed. “Name them after me, would you? The townspeople always called me oleander.”

The princess did as told, and when she brought the queen her morning tea, she was so very proud of herself. She watched as her mother sipped, and she smiled. She left the room soon after, and when the poor maid came in, she was horrified. The queen had red blood dripping from her mouth, sick was spattered across the floor, and she was dead. The princess cried, and ran to the garden. “You told me the flowers would cure her!” The princess shouted, “You lied to me! What did you do?” Ander looked the princess right in the eyes with a small smile. “Of course I did. You took my life, princess. So I will take the ones of all you care about.” The princess fell to her knees, shaking with sobs. From that day on, all that she loved was taken from her. But Ander never hurt her. No, she only watched over her. Protected her from harm, like some sick mockery of a guardian angel. And it remains like that to this day.
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“I love you. You killed me, but I love you. I will always love you. Because at the end of the day, If love hurts, then you must love me with all your heart to do what you have done.”