For Want of a Toilet

Fiction - by Victoria Brun

All Ada wanted was a toilet. 

She paced along the top step in front of the university, her bustled skirt brushing against the marble. She silently cursed herself for drinking so much tea, lamented coming on the outing, and wondered how it could possibly take her father this long to retrieve a single book. She’d agreed to accompany him on this errand in the hopes that she would be introduced to some charming young men, but no one she’d encountered today had met either qualification. It seemed the students were on a brief break for the summer, and the professors were neither young nor particularly charming. 

She fidgeted with her dress coat, but what she really wanted to do was loosen her corset. It had been tolerable this morning, but now felt horrifically tight, suffocatingly constricting. 

She glanced at her cousin Cordelia who was standing a few feet away, looking poised in a green walking dress and watching Ada pacing with a baffled expression. 

“Is something wrong?” Cordelia asked.

Ada walked over to her cousin, not wanting to shout her predicament across the university’s front steps, although there was no one nearby to hear it. “I may have overindulged in the tea earlier,” she said.

“Oh,” Cordelia said, nodding in immediate understanding. “There must be a water closet in the university. Unsavory, I am sure. But if you must.” She shrugged.

“I can’t use that,” Ada protested. “That’s only for men.”

Cordelia frowned. “Aren’t there women who work here? Maids or something? What do they do?”

“Drink less tea, I suppose,” Ada said, although truly she thought they likely relieved themselves in the bushes or something unseemly like that—something she was certainly not willing to do, even if she somehow could manage it in this dress. She was, after all, a gentlewoman. Or she was supposed to be. She didn’t feel particularly ladylike at the moment. 

She glanced back at the university doors, willing her father to appear through them. “What is taking him so long?”

“I would not expect him so soon. If Uncle Tom found someone who can listen, he will talk for hours,” Cordelia said, which, while true, were not words Ada wanted to hear. 

She could not last hours. Furthermore, they had a half-hour carriage ride back home. The thought of the long, bumpy ride was not an appealing one.

“You look miserable, cousin,” Cordelia said. “Come, let’s find the water closet.”

“I can’t go in there,” Ada said, although Cordelia was already heading for the front door. 

“No one will see. I’ll stand guard,” Cordelia said. Her voice was calm, rational—but Ada could hear the trace of excitement seeping through. It was the same tone she used when getting Ada into trouble countless times when they were children.

Ada wanted to protest, but she was losing hope that she could make it back to her house, so she nodded and followed her cousin.

“This is exciting,” Cordelia said as she pushed open the front door and stepped into the university’s ornate entryway. 

Ada frowned. She thought it would be a feat to come up with a less fitting word than “exciting.” This must have shown on her face as Cordelia continued in a conspiratorial whisper, “Haven’t you wondered what the men’s toilets are like?” 

“No,” Ada said. “Never in my life.” 

Cordelia laughed at that, as if it were a joke. Ada shook her head. They wandered the halls for a few minutes, searching for the water closet. Their boots echoed off the tile and around the empty halls. Only one man passed them. Thankfully, Ada did not know him, so they mutually ignored each other. 

“Here it is,” Cordelia said, brightly as she stopped in front of the water closet door. It was a dark wooden door marked “WC.”

“Not so loud,” Ada said, looking up and down the hall to verify that it was empty. It was. “How do we know no one is in there?” 

Cordelia proceeded to knock on the door, making Ada wince. “Excuse me,” Cordelia called. “Is anyone in the water closet?” 

There was no response.

Smirking victoriously at Ada, Cordelia motioned grandly at the door.

Ada glanced up and down the hallway again. She hesitated. If they got caught, it would be the talk of the town.

“I’ll guard the door,” Cordelia said. “It will be fine. I promise.”

Ada nodded, took a breath to both steel her nerves and prepare for a horrifying odor, and pushed the door open.

The interior was not what she expected. 

“Um,” she said, as she held the door open and stared inside.

“What?” Cordelia said, eagerly peering over her shoulder. “Oh my!”

Ada found herself staring into what she assumed, based solely on stories, was a forest. She’d seen gardens and orchards, of course, but never anything like this. The trees were massive, and their canopies were thick and high above, so that only a trickle of light reached the forest floor. The floor was a sea of moss, brambles, ferns, and drooping blue flowers, which seemed to glow like tiny gas lamps in the dim light. The forest appeared endless, stretching in all directions as far as the eye could see. It was breathtakingly beautiful. 

It made absolutely no sense. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. She didn’t see how this place could fit inside the university, let alone within a single room. She thought it must be a trick of the eyes, an illusion. She tried to puzzle it out, her urgent need for a toilet momentarily forgotten. 

While she stood frozen, Cordelia squeezed past her. Without a trace of hesitation, Cordelia reached out and touched the nearest tree with a gloved hand. The tree was as wide as she was tall, and its bark was pale gray. It almost seemed to shimmer, like polished silver, in the faint light. 

“Incredible,” Cordelia said, stepping over a massive root and further into the forest. 

Ada edged forward. The mossy ground underfoot was soft, almost spongy. The air also felt different, cleaner perhaps. It smelled earthy. She let go of the door, and with a soft creak, it swung closed behind her. She touched a gloved hand to the smooth silver bark of the massive tree. Even through the kid leather of her gloves she could tell it was as smooth as glass. 

She glanced back at the door. It was set into a massive rock wall that was covered in vines and lichen. Water dripped down its face. The jagged rock appeared to be carved by nature alone and not by man. 

“This doesn’t seem possible,” Cordelia said, who was now standing several yards away among a cluster of sparkling blue flowers. “It’s too big. There seems to be no end to it.”

“More important, there is no toilet,” Ada said, because the wonder of the place was subsiding as her body reminded her of its pressing need.

“You can go behind a tree,” Cordelia said with a laugh. 

“In this dress?” Ada asked, motioning at the prominent bustle of her walking dress with one hand as she reached for the door with the other. She tried to turn the handle, but it did not budge. She tried again using both hands, but it did not give. “It won’t open.” 

“It’s locked?” Cordelia asked, gathering up her skirts, which had already collected some dirt and leaves, and hurrying to Ada’s side. 

“You try it,” Ada said, stepping aside. She tried to push down the panic rising inside her. “Maybe it’s just stuck.” Cordelia had always been the stronger one. 

Cordelia tried the handle, tried her shoulder against the door, and tried the handle again. “It’s locked,” she said.

“How?” Ada asked. 

“I don’t know,” Cordelia said. “Someone locked us in here?”

They exchanged a look. Suddenly, the forest seemed darker, ominous, perhaps even sinister. Ada swallowed, looking around. It was eerily quiet. There were no bird songs, no noise beyond the faint rustling of leaves. Ada knew there were no more wolves in England, but that thought brought her little comfort. She had the vague sense that something was out there. Watching them. She tried to push the thought away, telling herself she was being paranoid, but it clung to her. 

Cordelia pounded on the door. “Hello! Hello?” she yelled. “Can anyone hear us? We’re trapped in here! Let us out!” 

“This makes no sense,” Ada said, panic rising in her voice. She also still needed to use the toilet. She fidgeted with her too-tight coat. 

Cordelia turned to her, and Ada could see her own fear reflected in her cousin’s eyes. “What do we do?” Cordelia asked. 

“I don’t know,” Ada said.

“This is like a fairy tale,” Cordelia said. 

Ada did not appreciate that comparison. Fairy tales seldom had happy endings. She did not wish to be the woman who people told their children about to dissuade them from the impropriety of using the public water closet. But before she could respond, another voice did. 

“An apt conclusion,” came a voice from behind them, causing Ada to let out an unladylike squeak and Cordelia to gasp. They spun around and found themselves looking at a strange creature leaning against a nearby tree. 

She, which Ada presumed largely off the feminine voice, was clearly not human. Her silver eyes were too big for her sharp face, her ears too pointed, and her hair appeared to not be hair at all but vines, which were as white as bones and fell around her shoulders in a mess of tangled leaves. She wore a loose-fitting gray dress over breeches, but nothing on her mud-splattered bare feet.

Ada stared. Dread knotted in her stomach, temporarily blotting out her urge to pee. Her mind struggled to make sense of this inhuman creature before her. Fairy tales weren’t real. They were tales for children and fools. Yet. Yet. 

“Are you,” Cordelia started but then paused, sounding uncertain, which was an uncommon quality for her voice. “Are you a fae?”

“Did I not just indicate that?” the fae asked, pushing off the tree and standing to her full height, which was several inches taller than both of them. “Not very clever, are you?” She seemed amused, darkly amused, as if pleased by this insult. There was something sinister about her, something predatory to her gaze and her movements that made Ada’s heart race.

Every story she’d ever heard about the fae suddenly poured into her thoughts. Most were tales from her childhood, tales of cursed princesses, changeling children, and man-eating monsters. But now they were no longer simple morality tales for children but real stories of creatures that kidnapped, lied, and killed in retribution for minor insults, accidental slights, or poorly chosen words. 

Ada fruitlessly tried the door again, which the fae noticed and grinned at, revealing teeth that were long and sharp, like those of a cat’s. 

“Tug until your hands bleed. It won’t open,” the fae said, gesturing at the door with obvious glee. “Doesn’t open from this side.”

“Oh,” Ada said, her grip loosening on the handle. 

“How do we get back then?” Cordelia asked, apparently having a much higher estimation of this creature’s kindness than Ada did.

“Back?” the fae repeated, sound genuinely baffled. “Back to the boring human world? Why would you ever want to leave? You’re in Faerie. You belong to us now.”

Ada swallowed. Belong was not a word she was happy about. The only positive development was that she was now so scared that her brain was once again willing to ignore her bladder. 

“We need to get home,” Cordelia said. “Do you know a way?”

“You do not like Faerie?” the fae asked. Her eyes narrowed, and Ada sensed danger ahead, so she spoke up, choosing her words carefully.

“It is beautiful,” she said, “but we must get home, even if it is boring, as you said. Would you be able to tell us how to get home? You seem to be most knowledgeable and wise.” She figured a little flattery could not hurt. 

The fae studied them like they were a puzzle she was trying to solve, which was admittedly better than like a meal she was deciding whether to eat. Ada thought the flattery may have done some good.

“You could petition the Fairy Queen,” the fae said. “Ask for a Favor.” 

Ada and Cordelia exchanged a look. The way the fae had said the word favor made it sound like something sacred, something powerful. To Ada’s ears, it sounded dangerous. Besides, she could not imagine speaking with her own queen, Queen Victoria, let alone the Fairy Queen. 

“What if we just wait here?” Ada asked, trying to sound thoughtful and not like she was outright rejecting the fae’s idea. “We could wait for someone to open the door. Someone should open it eventually, right?” She knew that strategy would likely have her wet herself, but she found it preferable to going anywhere with this fae or asking favors of any queens, human or otherwise. 

Cordelia nodded. “That makes sense,” she said. 

The fae blinked, which made Ada realize that she had not blinked until this point. “I didn’t think your kind lived that long.” 

“What?” Ada asked.

“I thought your kind only lived fifty or so years,” the fae said.

Ada glanced at Cordelia, who looked as confused as she felt. “I don’t understand what that has to do with the door,” Ada said, her voice little more than a whisper. 

“That passage only opens to Faerie once every three-hundred years,” she said, gesturing at the door with long, thin fingers. “See how lucky you are to have made it here!” 

Ada’s desire to sob was almost as great as her desire to pee, which was suddenly back in full force. “Three-hundred years?” she repeated in horror, and the fae nodded smugly. 

“We’d like to talk to the queen then,” Cordelia said.

Ada still did not want to talk to the Fairy Queen, but she did not see an alternative, assuming the fae was not lying. 

The fae grinned, revealing her canines once again. “Follow me then. Follow me to the sidh. It is not far.” She turned and motioned for them to follow. 

Something about the fae’s glee made Ada think they were being led to something terrible—although perhaps she was misjudging the fae. Besides one insult, she had been cordial, and Ada had other pressing issues. 

“Does the, um, sidh have a water closet?” Ada asked, because if the answer was no and they only had outdoor privies or the like, she was going to pee behind one of these silver trees. 

The fae’s eyes narrowed in a way that made Ada think she may have insulted her. “Of course,” she said. “We are refined folk—more refined than you humans shitting in the streets. Now come.” She motioned again for them to follow as she set off down a narrow trail that Ada only recognized as a path because the fae was walking on it, so overgrown as it was. 

Ada clutched her skirts and followed, praying that their definitions of “not far” were in alignment.

The trail was difficult. She stumbled over rocks and roots and had to climb over a fallen tree. Brambles grabbed at her dress, as if trying to pull her off the trail. 

After only a few minutes of walking, the fae stopped abruptly, and Ada, who had her eyes fixed on the ground, nearly ran into her. 

“We’re here,” the fae said. “It is beautiful, yes?”

Confused, Ada peeked around the fae. In front of them, the forest cleared away to reveal a large mound of dirt, perhaps the size of a large house. Ada saw no sign of a queen or anything beautiful, but she decided that it was in her best interest to agree. “Yes?” she said.

The fae nodded and continued forward, leading them around the dirt mound, and as they walked, the mound seemed to shift, transforming from a barren hill into a massive castle unlike anything Ada had ever seen before. It ballooned out from its small base and towered over them—seeming in defiance of the laws of nature. It had countless spires, the tallest of which disappeared into the clouds. Ivy scaled the sheer walls, which were made of strange stone that shimmered like water. 

The fae led them to an ornate black door. She knocked once, and the door immediately swung open, revealing another fae. This one was dressed like a foot guard. He held a pike in one hand, and his face was carved into a scowl. 

“I’ve brought visitors for the Queen,” their guide said, gesturing at them with obvious mirth.

The other fae issued them each a glare so sharp that it made Ada want to flee into the forest. Cordelia, perhaps sensing this, took her hand, and Ada let herself be led inside the castle. 

Between her fear and her dire need to pee, Ada barely noticed anything about the castle’s interior as they followed their guide down a long hallway. Before she knew it, she was standing in a great hall filled with several dozen fae dressed in the wildest assortment of clothing she had ever seen. The simplest of their gowns would have outshined that of the young Queen Victoria. They sparkled like jewels in colors that Ada didn’t know existed. 

She supposed they had crashed some sort of daytime ball, although the beautifully dressed fae readily scattered to the sides of the room, watching with interest as Ada and Cordelia were led forward. 

In the front of the room was a golden throne, and in the throne lounged another fae. She looked young, barely more than a child. If she were human, Ada would have guessed that she was no older than fourteen. She wore a dress of black iridescent feathers that shimmered with all the colors in the world. Her vine-like hair, which reached the floor, was flowering with a sea of bright red trumpet flowers, matching the red of her eyes. 

When those eyes met hers, Ada had the sense that she was not just in the presence of a queen, but also of an apex predator. Her heart pounded in her chest and her need for the toilet became unbearable. 

Their fae guide bowed low before the throne. Cordelia executed a nervous curtsey, and Ada tried the best she could manage without causing an accidental leak, which was little more than a bob. 

“Humans?” the queen said in an intrigued tone as she sat up straighter on the throne. “What fun. How did you procure these humans?”  

“They came through the Forest Door,” the fae said. “They wish to ask for a Favor.” 

“A Favor,” the queen repeated, sounding amused, but there was an edge of something darker in her voice as well. Despite her youth, there seemed to be nothing innocent about her. 

Ada hesitantly nodded but found herself too scared to speak. Her stomach was clenched in fear. Her legs were clamped together. 

The queen propped her chin up on the back of one regal hand as she considered them. Her gaze was piercing. Ada swallowed. “I have not eaten a human in a very long time,” the queen said. “It is a delicacy.”

The cold knot of fear in Ada’s stomach turned to ice. Cordelia’s grip on her hand tightened, and their clasped hands trembled. 

“I will grant them each a Favor,” the fae queen continued, “and in return, I will eat them. That is fair, is it not?” 

“Most fair,” the other fae said with a grin that showed off her canines. There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd gathered on the periphery. 

“What favor do you seek?” the fae queen asked, her red eyes turned upon Cordelia first. The grip on Ada’s hand tightened painfully. 

“We wish to go home,” Cordelia said desperately. 

“Granted,” the queen said. “After you die, your bones will be taken back to the human world.”

“That’s not—” 

“I said I will grant you that Favor,” the queen said, her voice going so sharp, so cold, it seemed to sever the very air, and Cordelia flinched. “You may not bargain any further. Other human, what Favor do you seek?” 

Ada could not think with those inhuman eyes upon her. Her mind was frozen in terror, and she doubted that any request, any wording would get them out of here alive. Panic surged through her, and all she could think of was that she really needed to pee. 

“That we be allowed to use your nearest water closet posthaste,” she said.

Cordelia gave her a horrified look. 

“My water closet?” the queen repeated, sounding amused. “That is your request? You have come all this way for my water closet?” 

“Yes?” Ada whispered. Cordelia made a strangled noise and pulled at her hand. 

“Fine,” the queen said, grinning in a way that made Ada think of snakes. “Your Favor is granted.” She waved a slender hand at their guide. “Escort them to the water closet and then to the kitchens.”

“Yes, my Queen,” the fae said with another bow. She turned and motioned them to follow. Behind them Ada heard one of the brightly dressed fae ask the queen if she would be sharing the humans with her most loyal followers. Ada did not hear the answer. 

The fae led them up a flight of stairs, which was a challenge for Ada to traverse with her legs clenched. 

“Why did you ask for this?” Cordelia hissed in her ear as they neared the top of the stairs. “Of all the things?” 

“I don’t know,” Ada said. “I could not think!”

The fae stopped in front of a plain wooden door. She tapped it once. “Be quick,” she said. “I am growing hungry.” 

Ada did not need further encouragement. She shoved the door open, charging inside without even looking first. For a moment, she was horrified when she found herself in a long hallway, apparently devoid of any toilets or chamber pots. 

There was a joyful cry from behind her, and suddenly Cordelia’s arms were around her, hugging her. “We’re back,” she cried. “Oh, praise the Lord! How did you know that would work?”

Ada blinked, slowly realizing that they were back in the university. “I didn’t?” she said, turning around to look at the door. She caught a glimpse of the fae’s wide-eyed expression on the other side before the door swung closed. 

Before Ada could reflect on what had just happened, a sharp and indignant shout of “Ladies!” echoed down the hallway. The two ladies in question turn to find an elder gentleman with a bushy gray beard hurrying toward them. Ada recognized him as one of her father’s colleagues. “What were you doing in the toilets? Were you trying to spy on the men? This is truly unbelievable. Unbelievable! Wait until your father hears about this!” He waved his hands erratically as he spoke, as if he were too upset to know what to do with them. 

Ada, however, had more important matters to attend to. This man’s opinion, and even her father’s opinion, no longer seemed of great importance. She had traveled to another land, faced a fae queen, and survived, and moreover, her bladder was not waiting a moment longer.

She yanked open the door, verified it was indeed a water closet, and stormed in—making it just in time.