Faeid (1) "I think that people who can't believe in faeries aren't worth knowing. I just think that alternate realities make you a good writer. If your work is any more than one dimension, you believe in faeries." —Tori Amos Of all the minor creatures of mythology the fairies are the most beautiful, the most numerous, the most memorable in literature. —Andrew Lang This is a work of fiction. All the characters in it, human and otherwise, are imaginary, excepting only certain of the fairy folk, whom it might be unwise to offend by casting doubts on their existence. Or lack thereof. —Neil Gaiman Faeid (Fay-d)—Humans or Faeries that bridge the gap between the races that were together long ago. Introduction Twenty-three. Can you believe it? I'm twenty-three years old. How much have I been through in twenty-three years? Okay, allow me to first name the cases in which I came close to death. 1. Incarceration 2. Beheading 3. Ritual sacrifice (cult of wannabe Aztecs. Don't ask. Please. Lets just say that it was something about Mictlantecuhtli, the Aztec lord of the dead, and leave it at that.) 4. Shooting 5. Shooting 6. Shooting Notice the three shootings at the end. Well, actually, that six right there isn't all of them, but it's the most important. But anyway, about the shootings. What is it with guns these days? Okay, the usual justification for shooting someone is self-defense. But why where you carrying a gun in the first place, you dumbass? I guess you're probably wondering, 'what line of work does this woman do so that she is constantly almost getting pieces of her body severed?' Elven. Okay, let me say that again for those of you who don't understand. E-L-V-E-N. Well, that's not exactly my job, you know, but I'll explain that in a minute. I am an elf. Yeah, you know, creatures normally perceived by ignorant humans as people who are tiny with little beards and pointed shoes and pointed hats. Ha ha. You're all sooo funny. What do I do? I investigate anything that threatens the grand existence of the Elven community or my kingdom. Therefore, I am here. Still alive, and kicking. Kicking ass. Oh, and part of Elven royalty. Oh, and, uh, mixed with Pixie. Again, don't ask. Anyway, so, as long as there are threats against my relatives and the rest of the faery community (reminder for those tuning in at home: the 'ae' added to 'faery' is French, okay?), then I'm here to add protection. Along with others that are chosen. Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean that I'm weak. I do have my flaws, though. Rule one—don't let problems get in your line of work. Especially love. Chapter 1 If you see a faery ring in a field of grass, Very lightly step around, tiptoe as you pass. Shut up, Loren. Shut up now, please. You're giving me a headache, Loren. A huge headache. "What is this? Freaking ring-around-the-rosy, Eressea?" Bite me, you asshole. I panted. "Don't joke about that, Loren. You know that ring-around-the-rosy is a chant about death." Training. One of the worst things to ever do in one hundred degree weather. Even if it is guarded by a glamour so people don't unexpectedly enter. Loren and I were standing at a grassy park next to a pond somewhere in the human place of California. Whatever. It was the closest spirit portal to go through between the physical plane and the astral plane. I could feel sweat beading my brow as I stood there barefoot, in fighting stance, waiting for Loren to attack me. Strands of hair were falling into my face, and I resisted the urge to push them back. Focus, Eressea, chica, focus. Watch his feet. Make sure there are no sudden movements against you. Circle slowly. Keep the staff steady. That's it, girl. There you go. I watched Loren's feet, my eyes occasionally darting to his, watching him, making sure that I knew right when he was going to attack. I saw the barest movement of his eyes. A flickering. There's the bait girl. Be ready. He struck, going for what looked like a jab into my stomach, but before he would hit my midsection, he would bring the staff upward to hit my jaw. No way, Soldier of Royalty. I swirled away, making it so that I did kind of like one of those twirls in ballet, but it was really so that the staff would barely miss my stomach, and then I ducked, rolling to the grass, and I tried to kick Loren's kneecap quickly, but he was too fast. He twirled the staff, and it hit my leg. Um. Ow. I gritted my teeth, and jumped up, grabbing my staff in the right position. Keep your shoulders relaxed, dammit. Concentrate. You let him hit you because you didn't concentrate. He wasn't worried about hitting you, but just blocking himself. Worry about blocking yourself, not about hitting him. I was panting lightly, watching Loren through my hair like a hawk. But my shoulders and hands were getting tired. We'd been training for damned near two hours, and I could now feel the sweat dripping from my forehead. Loren faltered slightly, watching me carefully. "Gods, Eressea, are you getting tired? What would you do if someone attacked you?" I threw down my staff, and glared at Loren. I should mention now that Loren is arrogant, beautiful, daring, and he obviously cared about me. Ooh, pity on me. See, I was considered ugly by Elven standards. I didn't look like the rest of them. So, they all thought I was ugly. One way to get me out of Elven territory was by making me a warrior. Pumping me up so I was a fighting machine—thanks for asking. Do I know what I look like? Do I care? Okay, okay. Let me share with you what is considered Elven ugliness. Blue hair, green eyes. Yes, blue hair. Well, actually, it's more sky colored blue with even darker streaks in it. And the green eyes—we wont move there, okay? And I was shorter than the rest of those in royalty. Yeah, about five inches shorter. Normally any Pixie offspring would have green hair or something like that. You'll have to excuse me. I don't understand much about genetics, so I couldn't explain it to you. So, not many people would talk to me. Life is unfair, isn't it? I looked at Loren. Typical elf. Tall, silver hair, strong, silver eyes. Not my type, if that's what you're wondering. He had this sort of triumphant look on his face. Yes, well, excuse me. I sat down on the grass by the pond, and looked at the water, tugging out the ponytail holder in my hair, and pushing my blue hair back from my face. I pulled out a handkerchief that I had in the pocket of my black, silk pants, and lightly dabbed my face and my neck, wiping away the sweat. Loren came over, and stood right in front of me. Feet planted apart, breathing hard, and giving that typical arrogant stare. "We're not done yet, Blue Hair." I looked up at him. Okay. Not done? Before he could say another thing, I very casually made my hand into a fist. Typical reaction for me when they call me Blue Hair. But I did something unexpected. I retracted my arm, and punched forward. Right into his crotch. Awww. Poor Loren. I bet you that was the worst blow in all his twenty-five years. He gave me a stunned look, and fell right next to me, giving a pained expression, and grabbing his…uh…self to lessen the pain. Without looking at him, I said, "Now we're done, Loren." "That was uncalled for, Eressea." Loren's voice was filled with physical pain. I looked at him then, arching what I knew was a dark blue eyebrow. "Was it? Wasn't it you who taught me to never let your guard down?" "Didn't I also teach you never below the belt unless necessary?" I rolled my eyes. "Well, this was necessary. I didn't feel like fighting anymore." Loren stood up. Oh, I should mention that he stood up painfully. Well, he should be glad that I didn't hit there with the staff. Otherwise some things would have to be removed, and he would no longer be of any use as a future consort. "You can't just stop, Eressea. Especially if this was a real situation." "Well it wasn't. I've been in real situations, dammit. I've almost died in my share of them. I got out just fine." Loren crossed his arms. "Arrogance isn't a good thing when it comes to fighting. With that last blow to your stomach, you did well by blocking me. But you were way too arrogant with the fact that you weren't paying attention to my movement when you came to kick my knee. You need to be ready for anything, Princess Eressea." At my glare, he added, "Yes, princess. You may be a warrior, but you still have royal blood. No matter what, if anything happened to you, you would still be Royal. If you died in battle, those fighting alongside you will be punished for not protecting you." I looked away. "I know that." "If you know that, then you know what you have to do." I glared at him from under the sheet of light blue hair. "I told you that I don't want to train, Soldier of Royalty." Loren looked at me for a moment, probably stunned that I had used his formal name since this was training day, he was my guard, and we were good friends—uh—normally, at least. All of a sudden he threw his staff out into the lake. Beyond the bounds of the glamour. The glamour I was keeping up. I gasped at the sudden shock wave that went through my mind because the glamour shattered. And we were outside. In plain view. An ugly girl with blue hair and fierce green eyes, and a guy so beautiful it made your heart stop. I glared at Loren. "You know what, Soldier of Royalty, you try keeping up a glamour and fighting at the same time." Loren didn't smile. "Glamours aren't my job, Eressea." Oops. Pounding headache. It doesn't feel at all good when you're trying to conceal a huge surrounding area and something like someone's staff goes and shatters it. Pisses me off. And it makes you feel kind of like you'd been drinking the night before, went to bed, and woke up with a huge hangover. I rubbed my temples. "I don't care what your job is. All I'm saying is that you try fighting and keeping up a glamour." "Princess, showing a weakness is also never a good thing." My head snapped up. "I don't give a shit. Stop giving me lectures on arrogance and weakness. I. Don't. Care. And stop calling me princess while you're at it. You know and I know that the one night fling my mother had with a pixie was not intended to get her with child." He stepped forward, and I stood up quickly. He reached for my shoulder, but stopped himself. "Eressea, you are a princess. No matter your father. Within the elven kingdom, all children are precious. Despite one's illegitimacy." I stared at him. I knew that my eyes where fiercely green. "I want to go home now, Loren. Please." Loren looked at me, his eyes softening. "Okay, Eressea. I'll take you home." ~~~~~~~~~~ "Well, Princess Eressea Glora of the Royal Aratar Elves of the Kingdom Ela-Ishtel. Pleased to finally lay eyes upon you." I closed my eyes temporarily at the voice I heard at my back. I'd personally never met him. But he had met with my mother and stepfather, and I'd heard their conversations in the garden. What were those conversations constantly consisting of? Death, blood, war. Actually, I think that Lord Avanthar might have an addiction to all three of those things. Gasp! Maybe he's a vampire! Okay, okay, okay. So I'm cutting it a bit close, aren't I? I disliked him already. I turned around. Lord Avanthar had black hair to go with his pitch black eyes. He was very broad, and tall. Muscular, obviously, from many battles. Of course, he would be in battles. He had a slight scar on his eyebrow, which was now raised fatuously. Not that he wasn't handsome, mind you. He was. But more along the lines of too dangerous to handle. At least in my book. Lord Avanthar was around twenty-five, I think. Maybe twenty-four. Faery time, of course. All of the ages that I know are by the fae time standards. Which, by the way, are much slower than humans. It's like that because we don't live on the same plane as humans. But one parallel. Twenty-five years could very well be two hundred and fifty years human time—give or take, of course. So, in applying that to Lord Avanthar, Loren, and me, we're old, aren't we? In human years, I mean. Damn… But Lord Avanthar's young age in this fae time standard didn't change his obvious look of great authority and importance. Well, of course he would be. Lord Avanthar was a dark elf. There weren't any actual royalty in the kingdom ruled by dark elves. There were just people of great importance who decided on the good of the people or the kingdom. Avanthar, therefore, would be considered equivalent to royalty but not exactly royalty. Not like in Ela-Ishtel. Fancy that. I nodded regally, closing the book that I'd just been reading. "Lord Avanthar Den-Hirion of the Kingdom Draelond. I can't say that it's pleasant to see you." He smiled slowly, as if expecting my answer. "Well, Princess Eressea, I'm quite surprised that you give such a negative remark to someone whom you've never met before." His voice was getting to me. It was like silk. It seemed to roll over your body. Kind of like that feeling you get when you're running down a deep slope on a hill or something. Men with that type of voice can't be good for you. Not even Loren has that type of voice. In a way, I kind of wish he did. Then I wouldn't be as uncomfortable as I was with stupid Lord Avanthar. I yawned and stretched slightly, flexing my fingers. "Lord Avanthar, to what do I owe this unpleasant meeting?" "Before I answer, your Highness, I must ask how you are doing. It is only polite to do so, and I know that it must be terribly difficult to go out amongst…well, humans, you know." Wow. Lord Avanthar. Was he prejudice? Awww. Big, bad dark elf Lord Avanthar had a prejudice weakness. How completely uncute. Is that even a word? "Yes. Amongst the humans. What is your grudge against them, my lord?" Lord Avanthar blinked rapidly. I don't think that he expected the question. Well, what did he expect me to say? 'Yes, the world is run by those DAMNED DIRTY APES!' Jeez. Get real. "Well, no, I mean…well, I just—I uh…" I leaned forward in interest. I noticed something. I was hoping that I'd maybe imagined it or something, but there it was. The great and devious Lord Avanthar was nervous. Put him out of his misery. Now. "Lord Avanthar, is that sweat?" He looked up at me in surprise. "Pardon me, your Highness? Sweat? Did you say sweat?" I quickly reached out, and ran my finger along his forehead before he drew back sharply. "It is sweat. Why on earth are you nervous?" Lord Avanthar straightened. Oops. Ladies and gents, I think I just hit a pressure point. He laughed arrogantly. Well staged, Lord Avanthar. Point for you. "Of course I'm not nervous. I don't get nervous." "Your bodily secretions betrayed you." "No they didn't. I ran from the river bank here." "You weren't sweating when you came in." "Yes, I was." "No, you weren't." "Maybe you just weren't looking hard enough." "Well, maybe because it was non-existent." "Your Highness…" "Yes…?" I let my voice trail off. We'd been giving excuses back and forth, and Lord Avanthar was getting on my nerves. Hmm. Maybe I'm just picky that way, you know? "I didn't come here to argue with you." I crossed my arms. "Then why, Lord Avanthar Den-Hirion, did you come here?" He straightened arrogantly. "I've come to ask your consent to be my consort," he replied. I blinked rapidly, looking at him. It was then that I did something very childish. I let out a scream so loud that it echoed through the walls of the castle, and then I fainted. Chapter 2 Every time a child says, “I don’t believe in fairies” there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. James Matthew (Peter Pan, Act 1) Well, apparently I was on a cold floor. Felt like stone actually. With someone touching my hand. I slowly opened my eyes. Lord Avanthar was kneeling next to me. I looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, and then rolled away, saying, "Get the hell away from me!" This was ridiculous. I was a warrior. And Lord Avanthar had reduced me to nothing but a screaming child. Needless to say, Avanthar looked stunned. Not that I blame him. It wasn't every day that a girl screams when a perfectly gorgeous guy asks her to marry him—Elf or no.
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