"I will give my life for this child," she replies in one world. "By my love or by my flesh and blood."
"So be it," the fairy replies. "You will keep your word."
And in one version of that world, she proves the fairy's fears wrong. She loves her hedgehog, thumb-high, surly pine child with all her heart. The child grows knowing it is wanted and loved. It grows knowing it always has a home, that it belongs.
In another version of that world, Rosamund fails. On the evening she gives up, the fairy finds her. "You promised," it says. In that world, the fairy takes her flesh and blood for the child, crafts it a body that will belong. And Rosamund becomes a soft pine doll, waiting to be loved, waiting to be real.
In this world, in either version, the child grows up happy and belonging.
In another world, the fairy's ancient grief stabs Rosamund deeper than her pride. "Where are these children?" she asks, horrified.
"Many are long-dead," the fairy replies.
"But not all. Take me to them."
"Is that your wish?" the fairy asks.
In one version of this world, the fairy brings her to a household with a prickly, hedgehog daughter. The girl's mother cries, "How can I love her if I cannot hold her?"
"You were given a gift!" Rosamund roars in this world. "Give her to me if you are too cowardly to love her."
Rosamund takes the daughter and gently holds the girl's hands. "You deserve so much more than you've received."
"Are there more?" Rosamund asks the fairy once the girl has fallen asleep.
"You haven't even had this child for one night."
"How can I let those children wait? None of them deserve such pain."
In another version of this world, the fairy refuses. "You do not know what you ask."
"And you don't know what you've begun," Rosamund replies. She leads a crusade to find the fae children, to save them.
She lavishes the children with praise and love, but the story becomes twisted. Such brave children they are, daring to live despite such odd lives.
The thumb-high child will never find a spouse, and yet he remains so cheerful. What an inspiration he is.
In another world, Rosamund says, "Let me prove it to you."
"How?" the fairy challenges.
Rosamund does not hesitate. "Marry me. Let me prove I can love the strange and fae. Let me prove my love is stronger than daydreams and gossip. When you believe me, we will make a child together however you wish."
In one version of this world, the fae says, "No. Choose another wish."
"No," Rosamund replies. And the two remain locked in stalemate and the story never ends.
In another version of this world, the fae sighs. "Is that your wish?"
"No. My wish is unchanged, but I am willing to wait for your approval. I wait for bread to rise and rain to fall. Waiting on you for a child will be no hardship."
"And if I never approve?"
And in this version, Rosamund and the fae are wed. Rosamund's friends and family harry her with concern. Her meager wealth dwindles as fewer are willing to buy the bread she bakes for fear of her spouse's enchantments.
"Do you regret this yet?" the fairy asks.
"When I was cold last week, you draped a cloak of cobwebs around my shoulders and I stopped shivering. How could I regret such kindness?"
After a long period without rain and the village drives them both out, the fairy asks again, "do you regret this yet?"
"When we had too little to drink, you collected the dew from every blade of grass around our home so we did not thirst. How could I regret such clever diligence?"
And when Rosamund falls deeply ill after too many nights sleeping exposed to every chilled breeze, the fairy presses its cool brow to her burning one and asks, "how do you not regret this yet?"
Rosamund weakly brushes her fingertips along the fairy's cheek. "You're crying for me. How can I possibly regret being loved by you? I told you my love is greater than hardship."
"This is not how these stories go," the fairy argues.
"I'm human," Rosamund says with a cough. "I twisted it."
In one version of this world where the fairy said "yes" to Rosamund's proposal, she dies, and the fairy collects another regret.
In another version, it carries Rosamund home beneath the hill and heals her. Then, together, they make and raise a child.
And that child is deeply, unconditionally loved.
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