a feast of friends and foes [open]

[Queen Annette]

The ceiling sparkled as if it were painted in glitter, gossamer streams of a golden-amber glow casting itself onto every surround surface. The room was bathed in warmth and light, bright, so that no shadow may linger there. Emerald leaves that seemed to, to sparkle, hung from the ceilings and walls. Trees with their trunks grown into one another with their branches intertwined made up the building. Had it not been for the bright green grass and the beds of flowers which sprouted from it, one’s senses could’ve been fooled to believe they were inside. Outside, the court was barren, blanketed in snow and the atmosphere whipping with a chilling wind. Within the confines of the Seelie palace, they were safe from such elements.

A boiled goose, untouched, sat in the middle of a brilliant cornucopia of colors and textures. Different foods of all human influences set upon silver plates covered a long oaken table. Piping hot was the dishes, and yet there was no one to partake.

A group of pixies was gathered to the left of the throne, their delicate fingers plucking at instruments of both medieval and modern times. They played their lofty, hybrid hymns of old and new music, the enchanting tones filling the room as some within the band danced, while others merely played, but all did so with gusto.

Two large statues, living marble lions that flanked both sides of the throne yawned lazily. Between the two lions was the Queen, her blood red gown a stark contrast to the pure white of the lions. She held in her hand a golden goblet, decorated in gems that could’ve been mistaken for her fingernails, as they held the same shimmering hue of ruby red.

She was startlingly beautiful, a thin face with wide, dark eyes. A porcelain figurine, a giant-sized child’s play thing, was what she appeared to be. Yet she personally, was not childlike in her beauty, but still she appeared very youthful; suspended in animation for hundreds of years. She sipped from her cup and flashed a satisfied grin. ”Call to my court, let them partake in this feast you all have generously prepared.”

A pixie scampered towards the exit, presumably to call the court to her side. In a few moments, the nimbus, the sidhe, the garlangers of her court, those who sought acceptance would arrive.

The scene was joyous, as if it were an illustration from a children’s picture book, but the plot of this book was yet to be uncovered.

[Fia]

She had never been suited for the cold. Rather than to brave the harsher climate, Fia preferred to hide away in the Seelie Palace during the winter season. The faerie could always been found hiding away in the deeper corners of the impossible large building where not even the barest trace of the winter chill could be found.

Today, however, Fia found herself in the Royal Gardens near the center of the Palace. She rested on a bed of impossible green grass, shaded by a willow tree from the magical sunlight that radiated from the ceiling. Here in the garden, both deciduous and coniferous trees managed to coexist and flowers remain in forever in bloom all year round through courtly magic of the shining throng.

Though it was called a garden, the Royal Garden itself was more like a miniature forest. So large, dense, and vast the landscape was, one could easily get lost in its space. Birds chirped and the flutter of wings could be heard at regular intervals and they flew from tree to tree. A small stream flowed through the garden and one often saw bright flashes of light reflecting off the scales of the fish swimming there.

From her light nap, Fia noticed a pixie fly overhead. She lazily watched as he moved towards his kind dancing nearby. After a flurry of chatters and flaps of wings, the group scattered, likely to help spread the message carried by the first one.

When she is spotted, the messenger flied towards her, beating on translucent butterfly wings. Before he could open his mouth, Fia sat up.

“So the Queen beckons, does she?” she said idly, reaching over to where her mantel lay and lightly traced the coiled lines of the sleeping cobra. The pixie nodded and impatiently tapped his foot in the air before quickly departing. Shrugging to herself, Fia lightly shook her mantel awake.

“Come on, Giacinta,” Fia said before extending her right arm. The cobra lifts her head with the same lazy mannerism as her bonded fey before she lethargically slithers up to Fia’s shoulders only to fall asleep there. Fia had always thought her bonded likely was a cat in her former life, given Giacinta's decidedly un-snakelike temperament.

With a yawn and a stretch, Fia got up and dusted the fallen grass from her jeans and black tank top. She then walked barefoot through the forest and opens the marble doors that separate the garden from the rest of the palace. After a few minutes, she found herself in the throne room.

And there she would stand, breaking the illusion of the room's children’s book-like illustration in her bare feet and modern street clothes. Though less intense than it once was, there was an almost sidhe-like aura to the nimbus that seemed to make her direct conflict with her magical surroundings. It was like she was constantly, wordlessly, changing the realism of her environment and denying it of its existence. Though beautiful in her own way, hers was more restrained and human compared to the queen’s luminescent perfection.

With her arms crossed at her chest and crooked smile tugging her lips, Fia looked to her Queen. “Guess I’m the first one to arrive,”she said bluntly, skipping all formalities as per her usual graceless way.

[Queen Annette]

The music that played was not loud enough to drown out the sound of the foyer doors being opened. The large marble doors creaked with age that numbered in the hundreds of years, it was truly a miracle that the doors hadn’t rotted through or their hinges rusted into dust. Yet that was the magic of the Seelie Court, anything was possible through the Shining Throng’s brilliance. Through the doorway emerged a faerie who was unlike the majority of the creatures here. Though the fae dressed like a human garlanger, her blood was thick enough to be considered a nimbus. It was an affliction that most could cover up with the right amount of glamour and the proper clothing, yet this female didn’t seem to care. And this both intrigued and annoyed the queen.

The lion to the left of Annette lifted its head curiously, tilting its massive cranium to the side as it studied the nimbus as if judging it to be worthy pray. The second lion was less presumptuous, as it looked to Annette, prompting the queen to stroke the marble canvas of the guardian beast that was oddly warm, as if it were a living being.

The queen placed her goblet on the tray table alongside her throne, sitting up in her chair and straightening out her silken gown incase it had become wrinkled from her time sitting. Her eyes locked onto the nimbus as she strode, without any sort of elegance towards the throne. A red eyebrow arched upwards in contempt, as now the other lion- now having noticed the ignorance of the approaching nimbus- looked to Annette, waiting for a command.

The words fell upon the queen’s ears and were painfully dull to hear, even still she responded. ”It seems that way.” Her arched eyebrow fell as she tilted her head in a way similar to how the lion had before, and with wide eyes she asked in a sweet voice, ”Do formal titles not befit you? Or shall you have me guess?”

[Folie]

"Folie- Folie is here! Folie has not forgotten! Have you forgotten? Silly ones, of course you've- FIA!"

And then there was a crazy white Faerie launching himself across the gap between them to fling himself onto Fia in a joyful embrace.

Folie had been doing something that involved plumbers and mushrooms and princesses who were fucking turtles, or maybe they didn't want to be fucking turtles, but there was kidnapping involved anyway, and he figured that date-rape drugs might be involved too, because who would want to fuck a turtle? And he wasn't sure if the whole thing had been a round of really good drugs or a video game.

But anyway, he'd been doing that, and then suddenly he'd seen the silver mirror-portal of Alanor, and he'd leapt through with a joyful cry. Because really, who wouldn't want to go back to Alanor, when so many things had happened there both fair and foul and wonderful? So he'd leapt through, and yes, it was Alanor! Alanor, his beloved Alanor, and he'd written his name on the Mounds the way he had myriad times before, and said hello-lo to the bright little green moth that came to greet him.

There had been a pixie then, after he'd passed through Exordium and into the Seelie Court, and it had called him here. He'd been just in time to hear the short conversation, but any plans he might have had to participate in it beyond his initial comment were soundly derailed by the dear, familiar, beloved face.

Folie was, as per usual, dressed in white; specifically, an adorable little white skirt he'd found somewhere, and a flowing poet's shirt that draped down over his hands and left some of his pale chest on display. It wasn't a particularly noteworthy style, aside from the gender ambiguity, but the bright glow from beneath his skin certainly proved true to his Sidhe blood.

[Fia]

As she strolled closer to where her Queen sat, Fia made note of the music played here and enjoyed the seamless integration of archaic and modern instruments incorporated into the pixies’ symphony. The song and its composition mirrored this magical land of Alanor, she thought. After all this was a realm where magical beings congregated from all various timelines and places. Alanor itself was a conglomerate of the entities that existed in its lands, shifting and contorting to suit the fancies and whims of the fey. Courts seemed to miraculously appear only to disappear in the mists once more, often forgotten in the new generation of faeries. History of past kings and queens became myths in the matter of years and legends themselves seemed to slowly dissipate until they were only told in the rustling of leaves and wispy echoes in the deepest of caverns.

Even so, one could say this land itself had a mind—a beating heart of its own. Alanor would continue to exist even when haphazardly discarded by its denizens. The song of the pixies seemed to hint at this characteristic of the realm: in the landscape of the melody one found a sweet, chimera-like quality to the tune. No matter how it shifted and change, Alanor would remain the paradise of the faeries, it seemed to say. And Fia, young as she was for her kind, was aware of Alanor’s phantasmal nature, having experienced the undulations and distortions of the realm at some of its most extreme. She had been dwelling alone in the skeletal remains of the a mountain court once known as Ataraxia before Alanor had changed once more, swallowing her former home back into its deep mists.

And now she was here, in the courts of the Seelie headed by a Queen who ruled with such a grace and a poise as if she had been ruling the court for centuries or even millenniums. And perhaps Annette had—perhaps it was Fia who as a newcomer to Alanor and not the ethereal sidhe before her. Even so, she was not one for conformity. Having been raised half feral in the human world, Fia had nurtured within herself a rebellious streak that perhaps would always make her feel slightly alienated and never completely integrate with the world around her. Perhaps, in another century or two, Fia would become the type of brazen hermit similar to the one who had raised her.

And so, when she turned to regard the primly and properly dressed Annette, there was a look of almost sagacious longevity in her tricolored eyes. It was as if Fia was cutting through the courtly decorum presented to her and searching for something beyond it—a hint of character, a testament of the Queen's worth. The nimbus took the closest seat to Annette, taking no heed of the rules of proper seating arrangements. Propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her overlapped hands, Fia regarded the queen with an amused smirk. By then her mantel had settled on the table and promptly fell asleep once more.

Formal titles are merely self-indulging pretexts” Fia replied loftily before shrugging her shoulders. “Personally, I say to hell with them.

Before she could say more, the nimbus was caught off balance when Folie launched himself into her arms. Stumbling under his sudden weight, and cursing the fact she had been so self-involved as to not notice him frolicking in, Fia struggled slightly, trying her best to redistribute the weight of the chair before they could topple over. Though she managed to keep them from falling, she couldn’t hide her annoyance with the tiny sidhe now sitting in her lap. He had ruined her cool, devil-may-care air after all. Despite her protestations and blatant disregard for conventional appearances, Fia was just as narcissistic as any sidhe.

“Good to see you too, Folie,” she says drolly, patting the silver sidhe on the head. Turning to Annette, Fia then grinned, “Seeing how he’s ruined my plans for you to guess, I suppose I’ll reiterate: I’m Fia. Had a few titles and court positions here and there, but they mean nothing now.

[Queen Annette]

Annette had existed long in this Alanor, her time on the throne wasn’t nearly close to a majority of her stay here, yet she felt like an old monarch. Actions, weighty decisions, and time spent lording over the Seelie Court had changed the once whimsical muse into the Red Queen. Who would have known that the carefree lady, the one of whom they called inspiration, would one day rule over a kingdom of such treachery and deceit. The history of Alanor was blurred indeed, but so was every bit of history that flowed through this place. Though Annette had a vague idea of her former life, what she had once been was largely muddled, but that didn’t matter. She was Queen of the Seelie, Princess of Blood and Striae, Mistress of Slight Illusion. The formalities of faerie might have been a self-indulging pretext, but now that was who each fae was, and it was all they had.

The second faerie who entered was a sidhe, his pure white glean a tell-tale sign of his purity. His words, his tone fell upon her ears and immediately she classified him as a bit “off”. The oldest of fae who didn’t fade into obscurity were either supremely arrogant or insane. She suspected he was of the latter proportion, and though that unnerved her slightly, she silently filed him away under the category of “harmless”, despite the fact that she knew he could probably inject a bit of discord into any given situation.

Granted, the sidhe showed blatant disrespect towards Annette, but she had to laugh. It wasn’t the planned disrespect that the nimbus showed, but rather a situation where he didn’t truly understand the magnitude of his actions. Thus when the queen laughed it was audible, and she addressed the male, ”Welcome to my court, Prince Folie, I trust you will partake in the feast I have provided for you.”

And though the Queen’s words reflected nothing but happiness, it was merely a façade she often wore. The days where the queen was truly happy were long gone, and now only momentary satisfaction tempered her fury. Folie had amused Annette in a way that a jester would, not only with his nonsensical blabbering but with the discomfort he obviously caused the Asiatic fae. It seemed the rogue did have some cares and though pleasing the monarch didn’t seem to be one of them, she was curious as to what else pushed the nimbus’s buttons.

Normally, Striae would have ripped at the girl’s kneecaps, forcing the lesser blooded faerie to bow, but in this situation Reticent Fury felt there was something to gain in testing this girl. ”No titles in my court, dear, and that is all that matters to me.” With a sweeping motion she snatched up her goblet, the wine sweet and tangy on her palette. She held up her goblet as if to toast to Fia, ”Fia and Folie.” She said with admiration, ”Dance for me, together, both of you. Will you?” Her voice was sweet, as if she had longed to see them dance. She appealed more to Folie with her eyes; something told her he would love to dance wildly about while the music played.

[Folie]

His eyes, white from lid to lid, went wide at the request. Dancing? To dance? He was being asked to dance?

Well then, by golly, he'd show her that he could dance!

Leaping once more to his feet, he spun around three and a half times - spotting properly, of course, so that he didn't get dizzy - and then screeched to a halt because the lovely lady had asked that he dance with Fia. He'd like to dance with Fia. Dancing with different people was fun!

Bouncing back to the chair that the nimbus was sitting upon, he clasped his hands pleadingly in front of his chest.

"Dance with me, Fia? Please? Pretty, pretty please? It'll be a lot of fun, I promise! We'll dance and the stars will sing and maybe it'll be like in the movies where everything falls away and we're dancing in the stars! I'd like that. It'd be a whole lot of fun, don't you think? I'd like that a lot. Will you dance with me?" That bright red lip promptly stuck out just a little way in a pleading pout, though the expression was ruined by the fact that he couldn't quite hold completely still. He bounced a little in place, wiggling to the music with the boundless enthusiasm of a puppy.

Folie was actually a very good dancer. The issue was always whether or not the music in his head matched up with what was actually being played.

[Fia]

At Annette’s words, Fia merely smirked and crossed her arms across her chest. It seemed that the courtly intrigue had begun sooner than she expected and she now found herself playing against the Queen of the Seelie Court. It was an interesting way to mark the end of her days as a hermit, she thought idly to herself.

“So you say in the same breath as you use them,” the nimbus said languidly, referring back to when the Queen had called the startling white sidhe a Prince. Challenging those of higher status had been one of the things she had been known for in the past and she brashly continued the sport. Had she not the skill nor the temperament to back up her mockery, the nimbus would have been dead decades ago.

When she heard the Queen ask for her to dance with Folie and Folie’s eagerness to, Fia’s smug expression remained fixed to her face. The only hint of her irritation could be seen in the way her crossed arms had tightened across her chest and the involuntary twitch of her brow. As fond as she was of Folie, the nimbus refused to be categorized as a court jester. In her younger years, Fia would have violently exploded at the Queen’s suggestion with her trademark fiery temper. Though that same anger boiled within the prideful faerie, she had learned to control it to an extent.

“As fun as that sounds, I would really hate to leave you out of the festivities,” she replied, her voice rising to match the same cloying sweetness of the Queen’s. Turning to Folie, she said, without any intention of leaving her seat, Don’t you think she should dance with us? What a great welcoming party it would be, the faerie Queen inducing her court into buffoonery.

[Queen Annette]

Annette was pleased with Folie’s reaction; the fae reacted just as she had hoped, with eagerness. Though Folie’s eagerness to dance had little to do with pleasing the queen and more to do with his own innate desire, Annette was satisfied nonetheless with the sidhe. Folie’s presence in her court would be most welcomed, she decided. As for Fia, she was not so sure, the feisty femme fatale displayed such unfounded defiance that in early days would’ve have prompted many a monarchs to punish her. However, the Red Queen was no such ruler, and her punishment was doled out only in the most extreme cases. Annette was the Fae of Reticent Fury, anger flowed through her but it was tempered by her wit, and calm mind. However, when her Fury ripped through the Seelie, it came in the form of magic and blood, not words.

”It seems Fia has declined your offer, my dear Folie. But do not worry as there are plenty to dance with.” Annette gestured to several of the pixies who were gathered at the far end of the foyer. They had undoubtedly heard her words, and almost immediately heeded them. Like a swarm they surrounded Folie. Three of them; two tiny-only two feet tall-, one male and one female with insect-like wings, and another almost five and a half feet tall with feathered wings, took to dancing. The tiny faerie giggled, fluttering about as the larger one took Folie’s hand. Music began to play and delightedly the trio began to dance, enticing Folie to do the same.

Annette’s gaze turned back to Fia, her expression no longer warm and satisfied. Her gaze was troubled, cold and quizzical as she studied the haughty nimbus who addressed her as if she was no more than a common human. She leaned forward, the lions stirred as if to move with her but when she didn’t stand, they settled back in place. ”Your blatant disregard for our customs, for manners, troubles me, Lady Fia. Our titles may not mean much to you, but to Alanor they define you.”

She sat back in the throne but continued to study Fia, ”What has caused you to look so unfavorably upon me and my court? Explain so that I may make amends.” Annette had no intention of pandering to any demands Fia made, but in truth, the queen didn’t believe Fia’s disrespect stemmed from anything reasonable. In fact, Annette imagined Fia’s own insecurities drove the nimbus to insolence.

[Fia]

”And so has the Queen,” Fia said with an amused chuckled, more to herself than anyone in particular. Despite her lazy retort, Fia watched as the pixies swarm around the sidhe with an almost nostalgic fondness, recalling the last time she and Folie had met. She absentmindedly wondered what it would be like to live as long as he and the other sidhe had. The decades between their last meeting must have felt like minutes passing to the much older faerie. Where she sat, her worldview drastically altered from before, he seemed exactly the same. Such were the characteristics of the immortal faerie, she thought to herself. Who knew how she would turn out when she got to be his age—if she ever managed to live that long. She surely didn’t.

When she felt Annette’s gaze focus on her, Fia turned back and stared back at the Seelie Queen with a similar expression as she had before. She searched and tried to gauge the strength of character of the one before her. The quiet intensity of the nimbus’ gaze seemed to belie something hidden beneath her otherwise boisterous, impulsive veneer. Perhaps it was the quality that had once, in a past that no longer mattered anymore, entitled her as an Eloquent Intellect. Or maybe it was simply her fiery determination that had allowed her, a half feral child from the rural mountains of Taiwan, to be admitted in one of the top international schools of law. Whatever it was, it slowly receded when she blinked and leaned back into her chair.

”I don’t look down on you,” she said bluntly, running her hand through wild copper-colored, dyed hair. “Nor do I look up at you. I’m not interested in being a sycophant and I’ve dealt with enough half-senile sidhe and their strict adherence to customs to be sick of their bullshit. Titles? I’ve gotten plenty over the years of living in Alanor and more than once I’ve pried them off the dead bodies of haughty bitches like you. But they don’t make me nor do I make it a habit of allowing them to define me.”

She shrugged, before allowing her expression to soften slightly. ”But don’t worry your pretty little head over it. I like the Seelie Court and I’m not interested in challenging your dominion unless you give me a reason to.” She paused for a moment before she grinned cheekily, “Despite being a haughty bitch, I kinda like you already.”

[Folie]

Folie, crazy bastard that he was, appeared to be completely and utterly oblivious to the sparks flying between the two females as they dueled with words and attitudes and actions. He gave Fia a saddened look, lower lip trembling in obvious disappointment as his eyes began to shine even further with gathering tears. Almost, he almost pulled her up anyway, tugged her with him to dance, maybe even taking the Queen with, but before he could put any of that into action he was swarmed by pixies. Two of them were shorter than him, while the other was half a foot taller, and he took their hands almost shyly.

He threw a final, almost defiant look at Fia, because the sillysilly Nimbus was obviously going to regret turning down the chance to dance with them. Then he allowed himself to be tugged out into the cleared dance area, spinning around and around with the trio before beginning an old, complicated group dance with them. His bare feet flashed along the floor, entire body balanced on the balls of his feet as he spun and twisted, hair flaring out and about him as he moved.

Despite his apparent obliviousness to the whole encounter, he kept one pointed ear turned toward the table at all times. Fia knew, Fia remembered, and he wouldn't allow his Fia to be harmed. Unless she deserved it.

[Queen Annette]

The queen listened to Fia speak. The words the nimbus spoke were ones of ignorance and irrationality. Fia’s distaste for authority, for faerie culture was more of a fad than an actual belief. The rebellious streak that ran through Fia was there for a reason no less fashionable than the streaks of copper that ran through her hair. She enjoyed being the rebel rouser, but her words also echoed another sentiment; she lacked the courage of her convictions. Fia would fight and bicker, but in the end she hadn’t the heart, the dedication, or the will to rule a court. She hadn’t the abilities necessary to change anything she criticized. Annette, Cel, and those like them were rulers, Fia was a critic, a whiner, and though it annoyed Annette, it also made struck a chord with her. She felt sorry for Fia.

Annette placed a hand upon the head of one of the lions and absentmindedly stroked the marble. Her gaze fell to the beast that appeared to be reveling in the attention, despite being made of solid rock. She spoke without returning her gaze to the nimbus, ”There is a difference between sycophancy and reverence, Fia. I don’t expect you to pander, but I do ask for respect.” She lifted her hand from the lion and shifted her weight, crossing her legs as she took another sip from her goblet.

”And in any court but this one, the words you have spoken would normally be thought of as a threat. For if you’ve pried such titles from dead hands before, then you must intend on doing so again.” She placed the goblet back down and sat up, standing for the first time since she had first called her court. At full height she was taller than almost any woman and in the heels she wore, she would be taller than almost any man. The queen was extraordinarily leggy and though her dress fell to her ankles, the slit in it allowed a good look at her form.

The two lions moved in front of her as she descended from the throne. She made her way towards the crowd of dancing faerie, yet her head was turned to Fia, ”Alas, I know that is not your intent. And though I might be a bitch, you certainly are no picnic, either.”

She looked away and stepped forward, entering the group of dancing fae. She dismissed all of the garlangers and extended her hand to Folie, she was much larger than the little man but would allow him to lead nonetheless. She glanced back to Fia, ”Beware though; you have yet to see the extent of my bitchiness.” She gave Fia a cheeky grin that almost mimicked her own, before turning to Folie and preparing for what would undoubtedly be an interesting dance.

[Fia]

During their exchange, Fia’s mantel had finally awoken from her slumber. The black cobra listened to her bonded argue over semantics with the Queen of the Seelie Court as per the usual brash faerie’s nature. Bored, and used to such conversations, Giacinta remained coiled the only hints of her awakened state was the sound of whisper-soft tapping against the fine silk tablecloth of the banquet call and the annoyance felt by the cobra conveyed through their empathic bond.

Fia, of course, barely paid any attention to her mantel. Once more her anger swirled within her and irritation seemed to leak less out of her actual body and more her almost palpable graceless aura. For all her supposed newfound wisdom gained in the last few decades, she had yet to fully grasp herself, to achieve the supposed sage-like enlightenment that her Sifu preached and her old title implied she bore. For she was still the same conflicted, angry nimbus as before, only less directly violent and more bitterly sarcastic.

At, Annette’s words, Fia merely shrugged indifferently. The Queen’s words were expected of one of her position and of a sidhe entitled and privileged of the customs and conventions of the court. Why should she, a faerie with barely enough blood to be constituted of a nimbus, try fighting for the scraps thrown to her by the sidhe?

“We’ll see what happens,” she replied loftily standing up as well. Waving to Folie, the brash nimbus then turned back to the Queen and grinned. “Of course I’m no picnic, I’m more a drunken bar fight kinda girl.”

Picking up her mantel and setting Giacinta on her shoulders, Fia took one glance back at the Queen now making her way to Folie. With a look of almost longing—perhaps she should have swallowed her stubborn pride and danced with the pure white sidhe—the nimbus left the glittering throne room, allowing the place to regain its fairy tale, ethereal atmosphere.

[Eoghan]

His akin had called to him, the puppets and the footstools of the Queen had been tasked with assembling the court. Eoghan had no use for such faerie. Long ago the young garlanger had been given the opportunity to live within the palace, work as these faerie did, for nothing in return aside from a chance to bask in the feint glow of the sidhe. Naturally, he had declined, even as a youth the upstart pixie had never envisioned himself pandering to any being, even if it was the royal sidhe. Certainly Eoghan respected the royal court and the monarch, but never would he play servant to them. He would soon die. So when he was called by the servant garlangers he was met with judgmental glares from all of them, the servants who judged him for being a fool. He was too good to accept him role, they thought, and for the most part they were right. But Eoghan didn’t think any garlanger needed to accept their role as lesser faerie. After all, the only reason garlangers existed was because somewhere along the line a sidhe decided another non-faerie was good enough to share the same bed.

Eoghan passed the copper-headed female as she left the throne room, taking note of her but not truly examining her further. A small group had assembled before the queen, and almost immediately his eyes passed over the crimson goddess who called herself queen of the Seelie.

The pixie realized that he would be mistaken for a servant if he did not speak up, as it was not likely Annette differentiated between the pixies that cleaned her castle and cooked her food. Long strides carried him to her where she stood, alongside a second sidhe. He bowed to her, low so to denote that he was much lower than the sidhe blood that coursed through her veins, ”I am Eoghan, Pixie Garlanger and Seeker of the Seelie Court. It is a pleasure to have audience with you, my queen.”

[Queen Annette]

Annette turned to the garlanger that had entered. It was rare for a lesser faerie to approach a sidhe queen, especially in the presence of other sidhe. But Annette had learned that the sidhe who did speak up were often worthy of at least some recognition, and thus she turned to face him with a curious face.

He was handsome, that was undeniable, and his body was tall and gifted with the lithe any sidhe would possess. His flesh was pale similar to hers, but it did not shimmer with any sort of luminance. The emerald green tendrils which cascaded from his head reminded her of nature, an exact opposite of her own true red hair. She licked her ruby red lips as he stepped forward, she held out her hand, daintily touching his chin. Slowly, she helped him rise to his feet.

They stood at almost eye level and she examined him with her rose budded eyes with a curious ferocity, a hunger that was almost vampiric in nature. She grinned, he was easier on the eyes than the spitfire nimbus, Fia and he was already proving to be easier to deal with. So she spoke, low tones almost erotic in the way she spoke but still dignified, as a governess always should be, ”Welcome Eoghan, Seeker of the Seelie. Please, drink and eat your fill.”

She let go of him and stepped back, examining him from a distance now. Her words came again, this time they were less flattering in nature. ”You are a garlanger, Eoghan.” No title preceded his name; a nimbus would at least hold the title “Lady” or “Lord, but this lowly garlanger held neither. ”You have no magic, nor do you possess sidhe beauty, and surely none will heed your advice. Your skill must be with the blade, is it not?” Annette smiled wickedly; she had intentionally trapped the sidhe. If he answered no he would be dismissed, if he answered yes he would have to display his prowess, either way she would uncover his true worth.