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Lettie Hatter, for all she's known as being the pretty girl at Cesari’s Bakery, has her head on quite straight, thank you very much. She knows how to avoid those magic-folk and has the sense to not wander into oncoming wars and what have you.
Her older sister, Sophie, was not born with such gifts.
Since the bombs fell, almost two weeks ago, Lettie had been certain that her sister was dead.
Now, with a cream-colored envelope in her hand that bears Sophie's distinct handwriting, Lettie isn't so sure.
She's been fiddling with it for the best part of an hour now, trying to muster up the nerve to look inside.
Lettie misses her sister, misses her desperately. She wishes on occasion that they'd come to the bakery together, or that she still lived in the hat shop, or just something. She hopes that whatever is in the envelope won't tell her that Sophie ran off because of her, or worse, that she's dead.
But to know she needs to look and so she opens the envelope.
The stationary inside is very nice. It's thick and matches the envelope for color, with a deckle edge flecked with red watercolor. The penmanship, done in Sophie's best handwriting, is done in a deep maroon ink that somehow also glitters gold in the light.
Lettie has never seen such expensive looking writing supplies, except when the Mayor held up his official order to send all their troops off.
The letter itself is dated three days after the bombs fell.
Her sister is still alive.
Lettie nearly cries.
The rest of the letter is a far cry than what she would have expected also. It reads:
“Dear Lettie—
I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you aren't hurt at all. I myself am in fine condition, you have no reason to worry.
I would have written sooner, but everything started happening at the same blasted time. You were right about being wary of wizards, by the way. When I went home that night I was cursed by the Witch of the Waste.
There's a lot of things I need to tell you. I'm back in the Hat Shop now, even though it says ‘florist's’ on the windows. Come by as soon as possible, please.
I love you.
Sophie.”
Lettie reads it.
She reads it again.
Then she goes and finds the woman who runs Cesari's and tells her that she's taking tomorrow off, please.
She arrives at the Hat Shop, which does indeed now say “Florist's”. On every side, it is surrounded by buildings that got burned down. Somehow it survived.
To Lettie, this seems improbable and unlikely.
The shop itself looks livelier than it did as a hat shop. Flowers of every kind spill out against the door, the windows, the window boxes.
Lettie marches round the side of the shop, where the back door to the house is, and knocks.
Her sister, when she opens the door, is more beautiful than Lettie has ever seen her.
There is a fair bit of screaming, and they end up sprawled across the floor, wrapped together and giggling like schoolgirls.
Her hair is white. Why is her hair white? And when did she cut it short? Lettie has never seen it fall above her shoulderblades.
Sophie stands, helps her up, and Lettie suddenly realizes what's the most different about her sister.
The woman in front of her is confident, and easily comfortable in her own skin. She hugs Lettie now that they're both standing and then closes the door and invites her in.
The house has changed, too.
It's impeccably clean, of course, but there's new wallpaper and a different trim color and the things scattered around as a sign of being lived in are strange.
A child's pair of shoes; a man's coat that looks like it costs more than Lettie makes in a year; a dog bowl.
It's like she's stepped into the life of a stranger.
Sophie has never in all her life shown interest in a man. She certainly doesn't do well around children or animals. And heavens, what kind of flower shop pays well enough for someone to afford that kind of coat?
Her confusion must show on her face because Sophie laughs (at least that's the same) and tells her, “It's an awfully long story.”
She leads her to the lounge and waits until Lettie is settled by the fire before whisking off to make tea.
“It's so wonderful to know you're alright, I worried Cesari’s got hit,” says Sophie as she bustles back over with a teapot and plate of scones.
“We managed to avoid it, somehow,” Lettie says. “Sophie, what happened to you? What's going on? The Witch of the Waste?”
“Slow down,” says Sophie gently, and pushes a scone into her hand. (Raspberry, Lettie’s favorite.)
“You wrote me that you'd been cursed!” Lettie exclaims suddenly, some of the furious worry she's been carrying around for so long finally lifting. “And now we're together again and you're all different!”
Sophie opens her mouth in something like shock when a different voice speaks instead.
“And cursed she was, and different she now is. You're Lettie Hatter, Miss?”
The voice is altogether pleasing to the ear— deep and melodious and gentle. When she turns around, she sees that the man it belongs to is equally pleasing to the eye (shiny black hair, bright blue eyes, dressed simply but elegantly).
“I– yes,” says Lettie.
Sophie regains control of the conversation.
“You,” she says to the man, “pour tea. Lettie, I need you to take a deep breath and promise to have an open mind.”
The tall man sweeps past Lettie and sets himself with no lack of elegance next to Sophie. He follows her instructions without a word, and seems to know exactly how Sophie likes her tea.
“What am I to have an open mind about?” Lettie asks, feeling like she's gone mad.
Sophie smiles wryly. “You remember how you told me I was lucky that the wizard I met wasn't Howl?”
“Yes,” says Lettie, with a sinking feeling that she knows where the conversation is going and that she will not like it.
“He was,” the man offers. “Would you like milk or sugar, Miss Hatter?”
“Um, no,” says Lettie, and takes her teacup. “What do you mean, he was.”
Sophie sighs. “I'm botching this explanation. I met him—” she elbows the man in the side— “in an alley. He saved me and brought me to you. The Witch of the Waste wasn't fond of that, cursed me to be old, I went out into the Waste, found Howl's castle, broke in, and began as their cleaning lady.”
“WHAT!” Lettie shrieks.
The man (the WIZARD HOWL, Sophie, what have you gotten yourself into) smiles.
“She was a phenomenal cleaning lady,” he adds cheerfully.
Lettie has never been particularly brave, per say.
However.
Her older sister, her best friend— had been basically kidnapped by the Wizard Howl, and Lettie refuses to leave this house without having gained justice for her. Especially if he's eaten her heart.
All of that is running through her head as she closes the gap between them, picks the wizard up by his collar, and punches him in the jaw as hard as she can.
Then, realizing the gravity of what she'd done, she stands and stares.
Howl, from where he'd fallen back on the couch, starts to laugh. Sophie buries her face in her hands and murmurs to herself about how she knew this would happen.
“Hatter girls and their tempers, apparently,” says Howl between peals of laughter. “Who'd have thought.”
“Lettie, dear,” Sophie starts and then trails off as a young boy pokes his head downstairs with a shaggy little dog at his heels. She changes course. “Howl, go upstairs. Get cleaned up and mind your apprentice.”
He follows her orders with little bravado and leads the little boy back up the stairs again.
Lettie has just about had it.
“Sophie, what is going on here?”
“He does not love you, he does not have a heart,” Lettie insists.
“I stuck it back inside him, he had better have a heart,” Sophie fires back.
“Well, how do you know he loves you?”
“Lettie,” says Sophie, endlessly patient. “He gave me his heart. He let me put it back inside him. He did a bunch of rather foolish things to try and keep me safe, because apparently he couldn't stop being a coward after the bombs had dropped.”
“Oh,” says Lettie.
“The heart eating is a rumor, love. I still have mine, anyway.”
“Does he make you happy?” Lettie asks. That's the most important thing. Sophie deserves to be happy.
“Yes,” says Sophie, with the tiniest, fondest little smile. Lettie believes her.
“Then we'll have a proper introduction when he comes back downstairs.”