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He sat her upon the unsupported mattress and faced her cross-legged on the bare floor.  The zealous reverence in his eyes made the dingy bed with its sleeping-bag blankets on par with alabaster pedestals carved with angels.

She sat still and silent, hands clasped in her lap and eyes staring into the unfocused distance.  Even when he got up and arranged dresses and frills around her, tributes spread like flowers, she did not move.

He sat again to stare at her like a miner seeing the sun; hesitant, wondering, pained yet pleased.  "You're my angel," he said.  "I've always wanted one, so I could leave.  You're going to take me out of here, and you'll never leave me, just like I'll never leave you.  Right?"

He paused and then continued as if she had spoken.

"The other angels left me.  I wasn't good enough.  Or they weren't strong enough.  Just like mother.  She didn't want to leave but she did, just like all the ones after her.  Her hair and your hair and their hair spreads like feathers in the wind and they all fly away.  That's why I did it, you see?  Without feathers, you can't fly.  I know these aren't the same," he gestured to the wigs, "But they're pretty.  They're almost as good.  And now you'll stay just like we want.  You don't mind, right?"

She did not move.  He grinned widely and bobbed his head.

"Good!  That's good."  He crept forward and kissed her softly on the mouth, running his hand over her smooth scalp.  He moved to sit beside her and rolled up his sleeve.
"I saved your feathers.  See?"

Her hair, once long and glistening red and brown, now lay in a braided coil like a gauntlet around his left arm.

"Now you'll never fly without me.  We'll be together forever.  Principe and Larimara.  Sun-king and snow-princess.  Just like the stories; happy ever after.  Happy happy forever after."

Her teeth clenched.