Chapter Text
It had been four weeks since the trip to Daleville.
Anne had her stitches removed and was released from the hospital sector after a week. The woman actually did cartwheels once she was off bedrest and without stitches in her side. Marcy and Sasha watched and they both ended up on the ground with laughter.
But three weeks passed with Anne, Marcy, and Sasha spending as much time as possible together. And every second was incredible now that there was no underlying layer of tension. Anne showed them everything she wanted to; new buildings, new installments, new things she was simply proud of. Marcy soaked it all up like a sponge and while Sasha wasn’t as excited and enthusiastic she still complemented everything with sincerity.
Anne was leading them down the hallway to her room, of which they hadn’t seen in their many weeks together. Marcy was ecstatic to see the royal suite since it was one of the few places in the castle she’d been prohibited from entering while working for Andrias. The halls were illuminated brightly by the white sunlight; marble walls and floors shining in the natural light. As they walked, Marcy saw murals painted on the walls; scenes and history depicted in paintings covered the hallway. The polished floor had intricate patterns engraved in it, glistening and sparkling symbols preserved on the glittering tile floor.
“Alright, here we are,” Anne said, stopping at the large double doors.
They were made from polished, white wood. A blue gem was painted on the door, and in golden cursive the words ‘Her Highness’ were painted on it. The handle was silver which mixed well with the other colors. Anne pushed the door open and walked inside. Marcy and Sasha followed, but Marcy froze in the entryway.
Anne’s room was massive. Like, absolutely massive. There was a king sized bed to the left with a veiled canopy hanging overtop, two wooden desks; one white, one brown; a large dresser, a white vanity desk with a mirror. Even a whole set of two couches, two armchairs, small side tables, and a polished coffee table near the foot of her bed. A balcony on the far side of the room, and two doors to the right, leading to the closet and bathroom respectively.
“Oh my fucking god,” Sasha said, mouth agape.
“I know. It’s so big,” Anne chuckled sheepishly. “I tried telling Olivia it was too much, but she insisted.”
“I think you could fit an entire house in here,” said Sasha, slowly spinning around to take it all in.
“Probably. I have way more room than I have any clue what to do with. Sometimes I just lay on the floor,” Anne said with a shrug. “But yup, this is my room. It’s got the massive bed, two separate desks, a living room set in a bedroom, a bathroom and closet, dresser, nightstand, balcony, and room service. Basically the whole bag of royal luxuries fit for a queen.”
“Room service?” Marcy echoed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Yeah, if I just pull this here rope,” Anne walked over to a thick rope by her wall to their left, strung up from the ceiling. Marcy followed it up to a pulley and lever system that disappeared into the high ceiling.
“Then it calls someone to my room. Whether to send a letter, have them get someone for me, or to bring me food, it doesn’t matter. I typically don’t use it much, though, since I have two perfectly functioning legs that I plan to use for as long as possible,” said Anne. “But, they’re not being paid to stand around and twiddle their thumbs. Best to give them something to do.”
“Bro, imagine the sleepovers we could have,” said Sasha in disbelief.
“We could jump on the bed and never hit our heads on the ceiling,” gasped Marcy.
“Glad you love my room too,” Anne smiled.
“This is incredible,” Sasha said, dramatically flopping onto one of the plush, cushioned couches. “I don’t think I want to leave.”
“Sasha, this isn’t your room,” Marcy said with the roll of her eyes.
“But it’s so cool,” whined Sasha, Anne and Marcy laughing.
“Actually, I have a reason why I brought you two here. Not just to flex my sweet room accommodations,” said Anne, sitting down at her vanity.
“Alright, what is it?” asked Marcy, sitting down on the couch after bullying Sasha to move over and give her room. Though with the way Anne said it, Marcy felt sudden deja vu back when Anne forced them to get better outfits.
“I think it’s pretty imperative you both get hair cuts,” Anne started.
“Yup,” Sasha agreed, running her fingers through her incredibly long ponytail that she draped over her shoulder like a Disney princess. If she’d let Marcy braid it, she’d look almost exactly like Rapunzel.
“That’s fair,” Marcy nodded. In truth Marcy was fairly certain she had an overgrown mullet by now. Or maybe just long hair, but the last time she’d had long hair was when she was six. Her parents had to get it cut after a bubble gum accident and the short style just stuck. However, she refused to show how long her hair had gotten by putting it up in ponytails or braids she then hid in a hood or her shirt. Nothing too obvious but also practical.
“Oh, good. Now I don’t feel so bad about locking you in here,” Anne said happily with a smile.
“You what?” Sasha deadpanned.
“I’m cutting your hair,” Anne stated proudly.
“Uhhh….”
“Are you sure there isn’t someone else who can do it? Someone… professional maybe?”
Marcy and Sasha nervously shuffled. They trusted Anne… it’s just… she had an actual shit-eating grin on her face when she announced it and that was very unnerving to see when you get your haircut. Anne merely waved her hand, but that big, cheeky grin stayed on. Marcy had a sneaking suspicion Anne was going to be getting payback after all the times they’d cut her hair.
“Well hey now. I’ll have you know I am a professional. After all, I’ve been cutting my own hair for the past five years,” Anne said, flipping her ponytail to prove her point.
“Uh… we’ll, I guess I'll give it a go,” Sasha said, slowly and cautiously.
“That’s the spirit!” Anne clapped. She then stood up from her seat. “Just think of this as another trust exercise! You are trusting me to cut your hair. And don’t be too scared: it’ll always grow back if I do a real shitty job. Which I won’t!”
Anne then ran to one of the doors attached to her room.
“I’m going to get the stuff. Sasha, you can take a seat on the stool,” Anne said. She then disappeared into the room.
Sasha gave Marcy a nervous look before standing up and walking over to the stool. They sat in silence together, hearing Anne rifle around in the supposed bathroom.
“Alright, I can’t find any scissors,” Anne called from the room. Marcy briefly wondered if they’d been spared. But then she saw Anne walk out with a sword in its sheath and her stomach dropped. (Marcy, for half a second of clear thinking, questioned why Anne had a sword in her bathroom.)
“So I’m gonna quite literally Mulan chop your hair,” she finished. Marcy saw Sasha gulp and she clenched her hands. The poor girl looked ready to faint. She had actual beads of sweat trickling down the side of her face as she watched Anne with paranoid fear.
“Is there any chance I can back out?” Sasha meekly asked.
Anne faked offense, dramatically slapping a hand over her chest.
“Sasha Waybright, do you not trust me to cut your hair?” Anne gasped.
“No, I don’t trust the sword you’re using to cut my hair,” Sasha stated.
“Awe, well, I won’t be using the sword the whole time,” said Anne.
“You won’t?” Marcy tilted her head. A tiny spark of hope burned in her chest. Maybe she’d get to keep her head after all.
“No, of course not. I can’t use a sword close to the scalp,” Anne chuckled. She then pulled something out from her belt and slammed it on the vanity desk. “That’s why I’ll use my dagger.”
If this had been under any other circumstances Marcy would’ve admired the blade. The entire hilt of the knife formed the body of a detailed dragonfly: the silver wings spread out, the handle was the body and the tail formed the pommel, both of which a deep blue. Two, bright blue gemstones in the eyes and the blade was a thick, sharp silver metal. But this wasn’t ideal circumstances so instead, Marcy focused on Anne and Sasha.
Anne set to work, taking a blanket and wrapping around Sasha’s shoulders.
“Alright. How short do you want it?” Anne asked, unsheathing the sword.
“Uh… whole ponytail gone and just whatever you think is best. But I swear if you make me look like a fucking a Karen I will stab you,” said Sasha. Anne and Marcy laughed.
“You got it,” Anne set the sheath down then took Sasha’s ponytail in her hand.
Sasha squeezed her eyes up and tensed her shoulders. Flipping the hair so it wasn’t in the path of the sword, Anne pulled it away so as to not endanger Sasha’s head. With one stroke of the blade Sasha’s ponytail had been sliced off. For a couple seconds Marcy wasn’t sure if it’d even cut through. The hair still clung tight before Anne pulled the severed rope’s worth of hair away.
“Holy shit my head feels so much lighter,” Sasha said, blinking her eyes open after a few seconds. Anne tossed the long wad of hair away in a nearby trash can.
“I’m not going to lie, you looked like Rapunzel,” Anne laughed. She then sheathed the sword and grabbed her dagger.
Marcy watched in fascination as Anne even out the sides. While Marcy had very little practice with hair cutting —it being one of the few things she wasn’t particularly interested in— she was amazed by how much skill Anne had. She did say that she’d been cutting her own hair this whole time. And by the looks of her undercut she’d done an incredible job at it.
It took around forty-five minutes for Anne to be finished and by the end Sasha had been given a pixie undercut. Short on all sides up to the ear where she had some blonde scruff left over. Anne removed the blanket and grabbed a broom, sweeping away the excess blonde hair left on the floor. There was also a lot of it due to how much hair Sasha had on her head.
“Oh my god,” gasped Sasha, feeling her hair and combing her fingers through the short locks, some small fragments of hair raining down because of it. “My head feels so fucking light now. It’s no longer weighed down by hair, this is awesome. I’m never growing my hair out again. Fuck you mom and you ‘girls should have long hair’ , bullshit, this is awesome.”
Marcy laughed as Sasha looked in the mirror. The blonde ran a hand through her short, choppy hair and grinned.
“Oh, this I like,” she said.
“See, Sasha? I told you I was good at this,” Anne teased.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” Sasha laughed.
“Alright Marbles, you’re up,” Anne then looked at her. Marcy got up and traded spots with Sasha. Anne put the blanket around her.
“So what do you want, Mar-Mar?” Anne asked.
“Same thing I had when we were thirteen. It’s kinda sentimental,” said Marcy.
“Gotcha,” Anne said.
Marcy felt a tug on her ponytail then the sound of sliced hairs followed by instant relief. Anne grabbed her dragonfly dagger then cleaned up, just like with Sasha. She shaved off some excess and gave Marcy some layers with added volume. She also adds a bit of an undercut on the back due to the thickness of Marcy’s hair. They were done within fifteen minutes, Anne taking the broom again and sweeping up their mess.
“Take a look,” Anne gestured to the mirror on her vanity.
Slowly, Marcy looked into the mirror. Staring back was a thirteen year old still full of life, love, and hope. Not weighed down by guilt and fear. Just a carefree kid looking for her next adventure with her two best friends. But unlike thirteen-year-old-Marcy, her friends did care about her; her wants, her needs, and her interests. They made sure to remind her of that every day.
She smiled. No more mullet for Marcy.
“I love it. Thanks, Anne,” Marcy smiled.
“Yeah, this is amazing,” grinned Sasha.
“No problem,” Anne said. “I’m just glad you two have haircuts now. Your hair was getting atrociously long.”
“Yeah. Kinda hard to cut your hair while out in the wild,” Sasha chuckled.
“You guys stayed in the castle for seven weeks before Daleville. And four more after. You’ve been here for nearly three months. Why didn’t you cut your hair then?” asked Anne, resting her arms on the broom.
Marcy opened her mouth to answer, but she paused. Why did they wait so long? They spent seven weeks doing pretty much nothing yet it never occurred to them once that they could cut their hair? Guess the idea just fell to the back of their minds.
“I-I guess it just slipped our minds,” Marcy said with a laugh. She scratched the back of her head, tiny bits of hair falling from her scalp after the cut. She’d need to take a shower later to get rid of it all. “We did have a lot more important things to think about.”
“Well I guess the only thing that matters now is that you did cut your hair and it’s all fine now,” shrugged Anne, though she too smiled.
“Sooo, can we jump on your bed now like we’re seven-year-olds?” Sasha asked.
“Hell yeah,” Anne grinned, dropping her broom.
All three grinned and laughed like idiots as they climbed onto the massive bed and started bouncing.