#fae Emma

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "The Belle Dame Emma"

This short MC fic was my @cssns21 entry, and I tried my hand at a fae version of Emma and a knight version of Killian with it. It took a fair amount of inspiration from the classic Keats poem "La Belle Dame sans Merci", the lines at beginning and end of the chapters are from the poem, as well as from my desire to explore the Dark Swan idea from a different angle, with more of Emma's fighting back against those tendencies as we saw at first. At any rate, as I am going back through my @cssns contributions, I was excited to find this one next. I hope you will enjoy this if you didn't see it back then, and even if you did, maybe you will enjoy it again...

Summary: Legend has it that the fae woman in the meadow will ensnare any who dare enter her domain, but the knight who chances a meeting can tell there is more to the story than superstition and gossip has allowed. The path to the truth and redemption may be fraught with dangers - to the both of them - but is it not the sworn duty of a true knight to help any who may be in need?

**Thanks a million once more to @caught-in-the-filter who made the gorgeous cover art for this fic! I absolutely love it! **

{Also available on AO3, if that is your preference}

by: @snowbellewells

Part One

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful - a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

Some folks say that she was always malevolent. Born to beguile and lure the unworthy to their doom. The fae, after all, were not to be trifled with, and those who dared do so learned their lesson at high cost.

The whispers around the fog-wisped edges of her meadow haunt, the word spoken as warning with anxious glances over the shoulder, was that her beauty was matched only by her fury. That she was possessed with a thirst to punish those who would be lured by her fair form and bewitching song. Those who were wise came to skirt wide around those fallow fields in that sparsely populated corner of the kingdom, for it was said that even those of stoutest resolve and pure intentions found this powerful nymph - be it by her face alone or some magic she wielded to draw them into her web - nigh impossible to resist.

Some retellings of her legend had her thrown from the sparkling court of the fair folk for her cruel and deviant nature. Others claimed she possessed more power and magic than any single faery had before her, and it had simply been too much - bending her better nature into madness. Still other storytellers would paint her more as a tragic sacrifice. The Fae Folk must have one who punished those unworthy of their own kind, as well as the humans who got too close to discovering their kingdom’s gates or who would dare to upset the fragile balance of peace between the two species - who might dare to think themselves equal to, and attempt to win the heart of, a faery. She was simply the one chosen to mete out these judgements. A Guardian and a Gatekeeper, as it were.

And though there is often a grain of truth to any rumor, very rarely do such stories paint their characters as they truly are. Not in full. And the ballad of awe and fear told of the beautiful, but deadly, lady Emma - La Belle Dame Sans Merci - was just such a tale. The whispers bore fragments of reality, but could not explain it all. Though she was not blameless, she was not completely lost. Perhaps there only needed to be some small spark of light, some reason for her to look within for any shred of mercy she might still possess.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The wind rushed across his forehead, lifting the strands of his dark hair from his heated skin pleasantly and ruffling his steed’s mane before dancing on to bend the grasses along the quiet roadside and tug at the leaves on nearby trees. It was a pleasant morning to be about, though the way seemed strangely untraveled since his turn-off at the last crossroad. Killian Jones, knight-at-arms, found he didn’t truly mind the peacefulness and lack of fellow travelers, enjoying the sounds of breeze and birdsong and mulling his own thoughts. Though adventure, daring battle, and quests of honor made his blood pound with vigor, causing excitement to tingle in his nerve endings and a sense of fulfillment in being where he was needed and doing what he must flooded his being, he could admit if only to himself on this placid afternoon, that he sometimes still wondered if there was more.

He certainly did not wish to change his profession. He would never be happy as a blacksmith, farmer, or tradesman; anything so mundane, necessary as those roles were, would never satisfy him for long. And yet, he had begun to feel the weight of many battles, the lives he had held in his hands, and the blood he could sometimes still see behind closed eyelids, had begun to haunt him. If there was always another fight, another enemy to vanquish, more violence and death and Darkness, were they making any difference? Was a glimmer of the light they fought for shining through, or were they merely treading water, waiting to be subsumed?

It was what had brought him to this quiet roadside meadow alone, rather than back on the high road with his fellows, moving on to the next castle and the next foe they needed to vanquish. He had called out that he would rejoin them further down the road; it was not unusual for one of them to split off on some personal venture from time to time. It was a life of constant movement, never truly being at ease or settling anywhere, and yet it made sense that sometimes one would need to pause, linger, and think for a moment where it was still and inviting enough to do so.

Killian knew he had traveled in this corner of the kingdom before - though it had been some time back. He did not remember the way this road had curved and twined, becoming narrowed and more removed from the larger surroundings as it followed a trickling brook along its way. The sounds of the village some miles back now, of other travelers whom he had not seen for some time, even the rustling of leaves and grasses and the twittering of the birds seemed to fade. A stillness encircled him such as he had never experienced before. It might have been unnerving if he had not been seeking quiet and peace to think, answers for the questions that troubled him. His mount danced fitfully on occasion, tossing his shaggy black head as if ill at ease, but Killian found he was too entranced, too breathlessly curious to turn back now. Plus, Shadow was a spirited animal and his fitfulness did not truly alarm his rider. There was a reason only Killian seemed able to handle him. 

The brooke, and the path following it, both turned again sharply, and Killian ducked to ride under the low-hanging branch of a tree, and when he sat back up in his saddle once more, the sight around that bend brought him up short. The creek came to a stop at last, running into a still pond, dark and motionless, and on the far side of the pond was some sort of cave, its mouth wide open as if beckoning those brave enough to explore. Flowers grew strewn through tall grasses, and all of it was waving soundlessly in the breeze like a beckoning sea.

Again, Killian found he was almost mystified by his own impulse to dismount and come closer. To seek out every secret corner of this meadow hideaway. He knew well enough not to venture into dark and unknown caves and underground passages, and yet the pull was nigh irresistible. He stood in wonderment, taking it all in as he stroked Shadow’s nose, soothing the restless gelding.

“What is it, lad?” Killian murmured to his horse, scratching behind its ears and trying to keep a firm grip on the reins as the creature continued to shuffle and toss its head.

Suddenly, the knight sensed he and his steed were no longer alone, a strong scent of apple blossoms and sweet honey stirred on the breeze and a chill ran over his skin, making the small hairs on his arms stand on end.

A dulcet, hypnotic voice spoke on the horse’s other side, a delicate feminine hand stroking over the animal’s nose caused Shadow to calm instantly. “Perhaps,” it offered subtly, “he knows something you do not.”

Killian had never known Shadow to gentle for anyone else; the creature rarely grew that still even for him, and the chill which had run through him a moment before now shivered down his spine. “And what might that be?” he questioned stoutly, not allowing any of his trepidation to show in his tone. “And who are you and what might you know of it?”

A form so fair, so ethereally bright and beautiful that he knew immediately she must be more than human, stepped into view from the other side of his horse. Long, glowing golden hair hung to her waist, twined with buttercups and bluebells, her feet were bare and gracefully shaped, her eyes a verdant green he wanted to fall into like a thick carpet of clover and grass, and the slight tilt of her voluptuously shaped pale pink lips somehow seemed to hint she already knew she had entranced him. The lady who had materialized there in the meadow at his side was breathtaking; her smile serene and inviting, her voice low and melodic, drawing him to lean in closer to hear what she would say next.

“Do you not hear strange tales of this place, warning travelers to be on their guard?” she tilted her head slightly, studying him as if bemused.

“I am a knight of the Realm, milady,” he replied, “Sworn to go where others may fear to tread, to protect the helpless and vanquish dangers wherever they might be. Seldom am I in one place long enough to hear all the local legends and superstitions, but even so, I would not let such talk turn me from my duty.”

That pale, lovely face continued to meet his own gaze head-on, not doubting, but merely watching as if weighing his response and gauging the sincerity of his words. Humming lightly to herself, she stepped away from him and Shadow, turning towards the pond’s smooth surface, almost as if taking for granted that he would follow.

Killian found to his chagrin that he had blindly followed two strides in her wake before realizing he had done so. Glancing back over her shoulder with arched brow and genuine question in her tone she asked, “Your duty brought you here then?”

Dipping his chin slightly toward the metal armor that covered his chest, Killian offered her a slight show of respect. He was not sure just where he had wandered, if he was trespassing on some royal land and this was some trick to ensnare him in wrongdoing, if he had wandered into some sort of enchanted space and she was a siren risen from the depths, or perhaps she was their next evil wizard or monster to fight, taking on a disguise of fair form to spy upon them and learn their weaknesses. As much as he felt a pull toward her and wanted to stay there speaking with her, there was at the same time a warring sense of unease in his being. The day was wearing on, he had yet to make arrangements for the night, and he had given his word to find his fellows once more as well.

“That I do not yet know,” he finally replied. “I broke off from a larger company at the last bend in the road. This meadow was so peaceful and inviting, and I suppose curiosity led me further as much as anything.”

For a time neither spoke, and Killian noticed for the first time that all other sounds had ceased as well. The rustling of the leaves and grasses, the birdsong and the plash of the brook into the larger pool were all muted; every bit of their surroundings gone strangely still. He knew it impossible, but for a moment it seemed as if he were frozen in a still life, unmoving, unblinking, like a statue carved in stone.

The beautiful vision stared into the water silently, so long and so deeply he wondered if she had forgotten his presence. Killian did not know whether to address her further or to turn and go, nor was he certain that his feet would move to turn from her if he did attempt to leave.

As eerily still as all was around him, he felt more concern in that instant that he had upset her, troubled or disturbed her somehow with his presence or his answers to her questions. Urging Shadow forward, he came to stand beside the mysterious lady once more, reaching out a hand meant to soothe or comfort.

But before he could make contact she whirled to meet him, her face a mask of pained struggle, her eyes wide and alarmed and so much darker than the jeweled green they had been before. Her voice was harsher, rough as she screeched for him to stand back, to get away from there. He didn’t understand the transformation, but he could see she was nearly vibrating with tension, trembling as if some force wanted to burst from her and she could scarcely hold it back. What had been a gentle breeze now howled about them, and the still pond was whipped into choppy waves. Killian stumbled back, dumbstruck, uncertain what was happening.

The idyllic beauty of his surroundings and the pleasant stranger before him had been changed instantaneously. None of the calm tranquility or gentle smiles which had lured him further in lingered now, and the enthralling vision before him now radiated tension and warning, her voice still rasping as if dragged over glass, saying that he must flee, she could only hold back so long.

Nearly as confused as he was alarmed or frightened, Killian shook his head, anxious to clear it of the doubt swirling through - had he imagined everything before? Or was he imagining things now? The anguish on that fair brow was enough to send him away for the moment, the pale maiden well on her way to enchanting him looked stretched to her limits, beseeching him to leave while he was still able. The chilvalrous knight he was fought against leaving such a one in pain or distress, but he also knew that he did not understand the situation, did not know all that was needed to act wisely.

And so, reluctantly, he swung up into Shadow’s saddle, his steed at least feeling no qualms about leaving. The beast tossed his head and wheeled to gallop off at the first mere prodding, hide quivering as he carried his rider back the way they had come in haste.

Killian, for his part, felt compelled to look back. For a moment, he could still see her form, curling in on herself slightly as she seemed to double over, and growing ever smaller in his view. The whole vista seemed to waver, partially obscured by a rising haze, until he could not have pointed out exactly where it had been.

Soon after, Shadow had carried them back to the main road, and Killian urged him to turn back onto it, to once more find his fellows, quite possibly in the next small village. Yet, though he appeared safely back on course, Killian could not forget what he had seen and heard… haunted by the face of the troubled maiden.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The faery, Emma, sagged in relief as the knight finally rode from view. She was breathlessly grateful for the mist which rose up from the surface of the pool, and the very air itself, now heavy and charged and hiding her from view, where before it had been so fresh and light with Spring. No wonder the man had been drawn to the small oasis. With the flowers and cool breeze and sparkling waters, her hidden grotto was made to be inviting, dangerously appealing. As was she herself - in form and face - or so she had been told when the curse was placed upon her.

Sinking to her knees in the tall grass, the thin blades and the faces of the daisies both brushed her skin if trying to offer comfort, Emma panted rapidly in effort to regain her breath. She had managed to hold it back, the dark power which had been twined with the natural light fae magic inside her. Her song, once capable of brightening skies, coaxing plants to blossom, and raising spirits that were broken or bowed, now would ensnare and entwine those same lost souls who might cross her path, draining them and never allowing them to leave.

One solitary tear slipped down her cheek as her breathing calmed and she contemplated the change wrought upon her being against her will. It kept her even from her own kind; loved ones who might ease the hurt and loneliness. For she did not know for certain if they were immune to the strange siren call she had been infected with, and she could not bear to risk such folly. It was horrifying enough to have almost trapped and harmed the handsome stranger who had stumbled upon her hideaway, but she would not surve being the death of one she loved.

Sadly, Emma finally managed to stand again, making her way slowly back to the mouth of the cavern where she spent so much of her time hidden away from the trees and flowers, the sunshine and fair breezes and springtime that she loved for fear of her curse withering it all and destroying others who wandered near, appreciating the same beauty of which she had once been the caretaker. Folly it had been to venture out today, and yet she had been unable to help herself, needing to see and smell and touch the bounty she had been denied. Then it had seemed the knight had just appeared.

Those eyes… a new sort of pang in her heart twinged at the reflection. They had been so blue, searching and deep, as pristine and sparkling as the waters before her and seeking to understand as if he sensed her pain. What an idea! Emma shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the frail hope. That could lead nowhere but disaster for the both of them. A proud, strong young life cut down for no reason if he did return. She was not sure exactly how her powers would snare him in thrall, drain him of life, only that the dark and twisted caster had proclaimed it would be so. She had managed to hold the welling of destructive energy she could feel rising within herself until the man had gone. And normally she managed to stay hidden well enough, removed from all others, that she did not chance unleashing it.

What had drawn her to this one? Caused her to show herself? Why had it almost seemed as if the knight could sense something was wrong? She did not know, and it troubled her, but there was no one to ask for advice. Quite possibly no answers to be had at all. She knew no other faery who had been punished in such a manner.

Turning to slink back into her cavern, Emma’s shoulders slumped. She certainly couldn’t risk being seen again this day; her strength was far too diminished to fight the poison surging to escape if any other hapless being discovered her. Such a horrible, unending punishment, for an unknowing, well-intended mistake, her spirit railed fruitlessly once again. How could she have known that bestowing her innocent heart in love would bring her here?

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop

@xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @kday426 @superchocovian @jonesfandomfanatic

@motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @lfh1226-linda @linda8084

@winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare

@belovedcreation @ultraluckycatnd @drowned-dreamer @ineffablecolors @goforlaunchcee

[high-noon-raccoon]

Finally finished reading Legionnaire but unfortunately it set me back on my bullshit and I'm trying desperately to spare my tabletop group from it.

I need to just sketch more, it helps me remember how to draw like an actual frigging adult.

[holly-tea]

Prince Erato, Scion of Spring 🌷

-

A gift for my good friend @nightfaeses !!! it’s their birthday go wish them a happy birthday rn or i’ll explode you with my mind

[sacrificial1-lamb]

🜃 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔠𝔥 ℑ'𝔩𝔩 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴

ℑ𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔈𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔥, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔶𝔰:

"ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔴, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔢" 🜃 -emmaruthrundle

self portraits on 35mm film

[dumb-dumb-again]

[random-bookquotes]

“You do not see darkness as evil?” “Nothing is evil. The very idea was created by those who won wars and wished to paint their poor choices as the right thing. No one goes into war or battle thinking they are evil.”

Emma Hamm, Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld, #1)

[talesofphantombandits]

Introducing my 'Holy Trinity' and their facecasts.

Keys - Keys is a transgender knight from medieval times who was sworn to protect the Princess, he falls in love with a village girl who is pretending to be a Highwayman to make money to feed her family. Later on Keys becomes a Vampire and finds his way to Hero who helps him with his blood lust.

2) Hero - Hero is a nonbinary Fae who was once a Knight but then became ruler. They enjoy their masquerade balls way too much and wine even more, especially when their getting drunk with Keys. The love of their life, which if asked they would deny. Is one of the ladies of the court.

3) Westie - Human Woman, she a very talented manager of a band but also a talented musician in her own right. Westerly Kirby is openly and proudly a lesbian and her all time, massive crush is on a 70s Glam Rock artist named Nixie, Luckily for Westie the devil likes her enough to entrust her with a special mission that will bring Nixie back from the dead.

It's a fun little tale of a Human, Vampire and a Fae fighting to keep the devil on their side and in the process becoming unlikely best friends, while also navigating their unusual love lives. I love them very much and I just have this feeling that out of all my children these three would be adored the most 🥺. let me know what you think of them and if you want to see more, short stories of them.

[rrrustandstardusttt]

as long as you exist and I exist, I will love you

The Dark Artifices by Cassandra Clare

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

[dustandshadows-if]

Honestly, this sounds a bit cliche 🤔 waking up, amnesia, murder accusations, running away, most popular supernatural creatures (vampires), hunters..

But I've learned not to judge IFs by their descriptions because the demo may surprise me. So good luck with your project!

it may be a little cliche im ngl but! i write out of pure self-indulgence, so im not too bothered by it, and i hope you aren't either🫶

[fangirlforthewin]

Hi I saw your fairytale retelling recommendation list and I wanted to ask if you have recommendations for beauty and the beast retellings in particular? Thank you in advance!

Thank you for the ask! I saw your other ask clarifying that you were specifically looking for Fae Beauty and the Beast retellings. I do have a couple that I've read that I can suggest.

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas

Curse of the Wolf King by Tessonja Odette

A Deal with the Elf King by Elise Kova

Heart of the Fae by Emma Hamm

An Enchantment of Thorns by Helena Rookwood

I know you weren't asking about nonFae Beauty and the Beast retellings, but here are a couple suggestions anyway because I like them a lot:

Hunted by Meagan Spooner

A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer

I hope you find a good read or two out of these suggestions! Let me know!

Also if anyone has any other suggestions, feel free to reblog and add!

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

Some saved morphs with similar color schemes

these dragons do not exist, to my knowledge (except one that almost does. I'm working on it)

[rosignoelle]

just finished reading ‘war for the oaks’ by emma bull and it was stunning… and literally the blueprint for every urban fantasy fae novel written since.

well written and compelling female lead (she’s competent! and emotionally intelligent!)

emphasis on plantonic love and friendships… girls supporting girls

excellent world building

light hearted (in a similar way to the october daye novels)

charming plot-driven romance

so, war for the oaks was written in the 80s and is literally one of (if not the) first modern take on the human girl discovers the world of the sidhe and reading it really gives you insight to where so many of the modern tropes in urban fantasy come from (outside of traditional myths).

this is a really great book, and i highly recommend it to anyone who’s ever read and urban fantasy. it’s a quick read and feels very modern despite being almost 40 years old. mild content warning for use of homophobic slurs (by side characters).

9/10 reads like fruit toast, so many gems that pop up in other authors’ works.

if you enjoyed war for the oaks, i highly recommend the october daye series by seannan mcguire or tithe by holly black.

[crimsonwidow666]

I have a question who would read a Once upon a time fanfiction where Maleficent has a sister who is reginas mate/soulmate but rumple needs regina fir his curse so he forces the soulmate to keep that fact to herself. She is not happy about this but does it so he won't do anything to regina she travels thorugh the realms but comes back when she gets word that her sister will have a baby she then stumbles in on the charming perfirming the darkness light swap on the egg and emma she jumps in with the egg and gets help in the land without magic from the dragon who helps her settle in, then they find Pinocchio/August with emma and raise them together so the children have a good childhood

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

I have. convinced she's not dead (anymore)

Have you thought about Emma Winchester recently? You know, Deans amazon warrior daughter from season 7? No? Sorry then. Still immeasurably infuriating me.

Anyway, Happy Father’s Day 🥲 from her and the dozens of kids Dean adopted along the way

Have a nice week 🐝🌻

[mk-chimera]

Emma of Erley

Prologue

Male faun x female human

Series: 3rd person, extra-canon stories

CW: N/A

—

Emma of Erley was common born, without even a drop of fae blood to mingle with the red blood of her ancestors. It was a chance of birth that made her an outcast among the village folk: born on the Summer Solstice, she had been gifted the second sight.

Not every Solstice-born inherited this dubious honor, and she had heard it rumored since she was a young child— in dark undertones and cruel whispers— that she had gotten it because she had been conceived on the Autumn Equinox, giving her a double dose of otherworldly and ungodly.

Physically she looked the same as the other girls her age in the village— tanned skin and freckles from working in the sun, ash-brown hair, gray eyes. She was the same height as her mother and chin-height to her father, and had a lean but strong build from a life of hard work. At nineteen years old, she should have blended in with all of the other young women of marriageable age.

Someone from out of town would have thought it odd the way the townspeople gave her such a wide berth, but she was used to it. She spent what little time she had to in the presence of others, and spent the rest of it in the woods: foraging, hunting, and seeing the things that only she could see.

It had gotten easier to hide as she’d gotten older; it took time to figure out which things she was supposed to see and which she wasn’t. Where she saw little fae folk the size of the palm of her hand flitting around the trees in the evening, others saw only fireflies; where she saw a rusalka drifting in the water, yellow eyes hungrily tracking the movements of travelers who passed her pond, others saw only a drifting log tangled with pond scum. They did not see spirits that came in with the storms or the figures that followed the mist down from the hills.

And they certainly didn’t see the half-human, half-other creatures she saw in the heart of the wilds on her lone rambles through the forest.

There were stories, of course— brief glimpses of antlered figures in the trees by hunters, lost children who came back with memories of pretty, jewel-eyed women or horned men with cloven feet who had given them berries and beds of grass. But those were the stories of babies and the nearly dead— people who caught a glimpse beyond the veil for the barest second in a moment of extremity before being snatched back to reality. A brief brush with the unknowable could be forgiven.

Someone who could see such things at all times, however, was demon-touched. Not to be trusted.

Emma had learned to be fine with that.

Read on AO3