#where is the funky angry scottish man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelisverba · 5 years ago

Text

golden

in which y/n’s life is dark, but the fae king sees she’s golden.

word count: 12k

pairing: y/n and the Fae King, Harry

warnings: allusion to suicidal thoughts, angst, & a very sad reader.

note: This is my fic for the #FineLineFicChallenge that @hsogolden is hosting. I submitted for Golden! Enjoy :)

It was a known fact, that one isn’t to mess with the Fae.

Don’t try to communicate with them.

Don’t try to find them.

Don’t do anything with them.

Masters of twisting the truth because they cannot tell lies, the ethereal beings were dangerous in the sense that they cared not for anything but their own interest. If they wanted your lover, they would do everything to take them from you.

But y/n wasn’t one to listen to the rules.

Especially one that promised her a better life, at no cost other than to seek it.

Her life wasn’t exactly shit, but it also wasn’t enjoyable. It was bland. And, to put it straight, lonely.

She had no family, and no friends or lovers. Life had made surviving her number one priority, and bouncing from job to job her favorite hobby. The girl lived in an apartment that had her feeling like a heroin addict, and she’d never had a dose of drugs in her life that wasn’t Tylenol. And, well, she had the looks of one; a feral, dead look in her eye accompanied with a malnourished body from eating what her pocket change allowed her to: ramen noodles.

It was pathetic. She had to shower using a cup because the overhead didn’t work, and she couldn’t sit because the bathtub was full of rust on the edges. Her walls were cracked and at night there was a faint scratching of nails in the ceiling. The sink was missing a knob, the light bulb in the mini-fridge didn’t work, and neither did the one in her room.

But, she couldn’t complain because it was all she could afford. Y/n was grateful that she had a roof over her head, even if it was infested with rats, and the cheapest, tattered clothes on her back. At least she had food, water, clothes, and a home, right? Even if it was the worst quality and her unfortunate state of mind made it worse?

View it however, she was done. Had been for a long time, but she didn’t really know how to stop, how to live a new life.

Until that night.

* * *

* **

It was another lonely night for y/n, and those she usually spent in chic bars she would never be able to afford, sipping on drinks and observing. Learning; mentally taking notes of how rich people lived their lives and all the mannerisms that came with it because maybe, just maybe, if she acted like one, she’d be one. That dainty toss of the wrist, the graceful, hypnotizing tilt of the chin that told a man you were interested.

She didn’t dress like she was going to the bar, which made her stick out like a sore thumb in the high-ceiling, leather-furnished, glass-walled place, and she didn’t drink alcoholic beverages. She sat at the far end of the bar counter, sipping on a glass of tap water the bartender gave her because he pitied her, and watched. That last part didn’t really matter because it turned out, rich people got more drunk than people with less money than them-- a blacked out woman (or three) ending up on the marble floors at the end of their outing. Men never tried to talk to her because she always showed up in ragged jeans and shirts with holes in them, and women wouldn’t even look her way.

That is of course, until another dead-eyed person walked up to the counter.

She was a Scottish woman, or maybe Irish-- y/n couldn’t remember much. Only that she talked of fairies prancing and singing around mushroom tops and a fairy king that got angry when she said thank you. Drunken slurs, that were only made more incomprehensible by her accent, spilled from her lips at the first sip of brandy, and at the sound of her foreign tone, y/n’s ears perked to hang onto every word.

“Never in my forty two years of putrid life did I see something like that, and I doubt I ever will again.” The woman said to the bartender. She was wearing a sleeveless cardigan the color of hazelnuts when they’ve fallen off trees, decorated with golden medallions that jingled every time she moved her shoulders. Big, was an appropriate word to describe her hair; voluminous, blown out Barbie waves that plumped at the top of her head and bounced all down her back to end at her hips. Her eyes were an engaging amber color, the kohl black charcoal on her eyelids enhancing them like boiling magma, the reddish-brown shade in stark similarity with the blood-red shade of paint on her thick lips. “Dance with us, to your heart's content, so fun you’ll want to never stop, them little brats tried to get me, they did! If it hadn’t been for the Fae King, well--” she huffed, a jerking movement with her entire body, “-- I wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.”

The bartender, a middle-aged man in a flannel with a 5 o’clock shadow sprinkled on the lower half of his face, pursed his lips and rolled his eyes as he wiped down a shot glass with a rag. “Sure as hell never seen a drunk lady talk about faeries before. Santa Claus? Sure, but faeries? You must be on some heavy stuff, ma’am.”

Y/n was staring into the center of her glass, watching the water ripple, strangely comforted by the slow movement of the liquid; her fingers tapped rhythmically at the ridges molded into the edges of the cup. It looked as if she wasn’t paying attention, with eyes cast downwards, but every inch of her was standing on edge, eager for a story. Essentially, this was the reason why she came to these bars when she felt like it, to catch a story; be entertained. Her own life wasn’t enough, she needed more, even if it didn’t belong to her.

“Aye, lassie!” shouted the woman, lifting her glass with a pointed finger towards the lonely girl at the other end of the bar.

At her loud exclamation, y/n glanced up to see what was the cause of the remark, and found the woman looking at her with a peculiar, interested look in her eye. Y/n twisted to look behind her, oblivious that the woman’s true subject was her. Expecting someone to be standing where the woman pointed, she returned to her original position, confused.

“Lassie, it’s you I’m talkin’ to, listen to this tube, says faeries aren’t real. You believe me don’t you?”

Because the feeling of humor was so scarce in her life, it had turned into a strange and foreign feeling rendering her useless in how to react-- and while y/n found the woman humorous in her drunken ramblings, she wasn’t quite sure how to express it. A wormy smile played on her lips as she nodded her response, the bartender throwing her a bewildered look because it was the first time he’d seen her interact with anyone other than him.

“Well den, I guess you’ll listen to me, won't you? I’ve gotto tell sumone or I’ll go radge.” The woman throws her head back and finishes what’s left of her drink, wiggling two fingers at the bartender to signal: she wants another. Y/n watches from her seat as the lady hops off her seat, one hand on the counter to keep her standing as she wobbles over in her direction; the medallions on her cardigan tinkling with every swish of her hips. When she stood, the dull heels of her knee high boots slapped against the sleek floor, the noise making y/n jump.

“Listen, here,” she sat on the empty bar stool next to y/n with a labored huff, “don’t you ever go walking round the woods on a full moon. My own mother been telling me that since I was on her tit, and I should have listened.” Her tone was slightly spiteful, and exasperated at her own action. She made the same gesture at the young girl, two long-nailed fingers curling and drawing y/n closer to her, as if she was going to tell her a secret.

Never go walking in the woods on a full moon.

“The trees- they speak. Got ears I’m telling ya,” The woman’s voice rasped at her hushed tone. “Will o’ wisps are sweet talkers, I’m telling ya!”

Y/n bit her lip in efforts to keep a building laugh in. The stranger didn’t look at all drunk, she was in complete control of her facial features, and her voice was funky because y/n wasn’t used to the accent. If it hadn’t been for the tell-tale empty glasses she kept generating, one wouldn’t even be able to tell.

Finally deciding to propel the conversation further, she said, “Is that so?”

“Swear on the Fae King himself, I do! Told me to find the mushrooms for a good time, coz I was out for a piss half mad with moonshine. Knew what they were doin, they did. I thought they meant those that make ya loopy, shite don’t even know what made me listen to them.” She grumbles the last part to herself, her chin tilting down to touch her chest as she frowns.

“What happened next?” Y/n asked, propping her chin on the flat of her palm.

The woman looked up, startled like she’d forgotten there was someone there. “Next? Next…. Next, oh yes!” Crossing her legs, she angled her body sideways to y/n. “Will o’ wisps said to walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms and I did! I did! And, and it got me to the fairy realm. ‘Course I didn’t know until after the king himself told me. But this... this circle of sky opened up-- like,” her head tilts to the side as she thinks of ways to form her thoughts into words. “Like the sky fell and was standing before me. Go through it and find eternal happiness, they told me.”

Walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms. Go through it and find eternal happiness.

As soon as those words left the Scottish woman’s lips, y/n was hooked. A part of herself that had slowly been locked away throughout her pitiful, self-depreciating life, and, that part of her came to life-- it bloomed awake, triggered by the words eternal happiness. An earth-shattering revival.If this woman wasn’t spitting shit, then… this was her chance.

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Her voice went soft and hazy, recalling the images of a far away land. “It was green… everywhere. And the flowers were alive.” She snaps back into a more solid tone, “They fairies were too-faced little bitches, though.”

Y/n nodded, noting and agreeing. “Tell me more.”

Needing to further probing, the tales continued. “They tried to get me to eat, to dance. And I nearly did, you know? I would have, had it not been for the king… I’d be dead.” The bartender slid a glass their way, a manicured hand reaching to catch it without turning to look at it. “He saved me from them. He apologized for his subjects actions, even housed me for the night, and escorted me out the next day. Mentioned something about…” Her head cocked, eyes squinting. “A star telling him not to wipe fairy dust against my forehead to make me think it was just a dream.”

Someone in the distance dropped a glass, and a shattering noise was heard; reduced to a meager tinkle. The bartender whipped his towel in anger, and went to see what the fuss was about.

“He was truly… well I can’t even explain it. You’d have to see it with y’own eyes.”

Y/n tapped her forefinger on the plushy center of her lips three times before saying, “And, what exactly do I have to do to see it with my own eyes?”

The question simmered in unknown waters while the woman registered what y/n had asked. It was clear; the transition of her eyes going from unfocused and dazed to serious.

“Why, lass, would you want to find those piece of shites?” Her head bobbled. “After I just-”

“I just wanted to hear you tell the story, that’s all.” Y/n shot to respond, set on getting the stranger to tell her how to get to the fairy realm. Every atom in her buzzed with friction against each other, excited, elated to have what basically a reason to life again. What Wonderland was to Alice, this was to her.

A rabbit hole.

“Legend goes that if a pure-hearted being leaves offerings for the Fae, the Fae may respond. This is why lil’ tikes always talk about, having dem-- imaginary friends. They’re fairies-- they friend, that is. Fae people show themselves to children because they’re pure. Maidens before their wedding night, if desolate, go missing in the woods because the fairies take them. As for me? They wanted to take advantage of me. It’s process; fickle people they are.” A hand waves in the air, brushing away intrusive thoughts. Y/n leaned further into the woman, lips pursed in interest. “Anyways, my mother, her mother and her mother’s mother, have all had encounters with them after long periods of offerings of home-made foods, and planting flowers in the woods. Slowly, over-time, they gather the courage to show themselves. But, what happened to me was the Summoning of the Full-Moon. And- HEY! ‘Nother one please.” She repeats the same motion from before, sliding back the empty glass.

“What is the Summoning of the Full-Moon?” Tapping her fingers to attract her attention again, y/n’s eyes follow the woman’s desperately.

“Right, right. Fleet aren’t you?” She chuckled. “The Summoning of the Full-Moon happens when the moon is full, and you drink a glass of moonwater from the past full moon. To get the moon water, just leave out a pitcher of water in clear view of the moon when it’s full, that way, when the next full one comes around, you drink a glass. The moon charges the water with it’s energy, and it’ll give ya’ the ability to see will’o wisps.”

The bartender slid another glass, and the woman took a swig before continuing. “Will ‘o wisps are spirits that appear as floating blue flames of fire, usually three atta time at first; one disheartening and appearing behind the last as you move closer to them. They guide travelers, y’see? They lead you to what your heart wants the most-- or wherever destiny takes you-- depends on which one is mighty. It all takes off from there.” At her last words, the small glass listed, and slammed back down empty.

Y/n nodded slowly, absorbing the information that was unloaded on her. Moon water. Will o’ wips. But,

“What happens next?”

“It’s up to Destiny and wherever She wants ta take ya, lass.” The woman winked, her long, curled lashes fluttering closed momentarily. “Of course, that is if we’re talking about a hypothetical situation, isn’t it?”

Y/n was about to give a flustered response, when a man decked out in a black and white suit, with shades, an earpiece and slicked-back dark hair, tapped the woman on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. The woman lifted a hand and dropped her eyes to the floor, directing some but not all attention to the man. An abrupt change in her voice sends shivers down y/n’s spine; the friendly rasp converting into a chilling, demanding scorn. “Tell Alex he’ll lose 30k from his next check if he doesn’t fix this in an hour. I’ll be out as soon as I wrap up the lovely conversation I’m having with this lassie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The man says, nodding and walking the way he came.

Lifting her eyes from their casted gaze, the woman locks with y/n’s curious, seeking eyes, and sees. She understands now. The questioning. The peaking glint of interest.

It makes sense.

“Play your cards right, child.” The woman sighed, her voice suddenly ages older than she seemed. “Play them right, and you’ll find eternal happiness… but, make one wrong move and you’ll screw yourself over forever.”

Then she got up and left. Feet landing one after the other with a firm stance, and a swagger in her walk that hadn’t been there before.

Strange, y/n thought. How quick her demeanor went from drunk to composed. After that fleeting thought came a tsunami of questions. What was she doing in the woods? What woods? What dis the woman take with her?

But it was too late because the was far gone, and she was left to sit and ponder the countless outcomes that could come if she were to go through with this. For one, eternal happiness. It’s natural for anyone to try and seek it. Who wouldn’t? Especially y/n, who’d been deprived of dopamine for... well, forever. Her childhood was about as good as her current life. Parents who yelled at each other, and at her, leaving her only company to be the stray cats that would lick the tears off of her cheeks; raspy tongues eliciting giggles from the small girl. It was a treasure, what she had found.

She would be stupid if she didn’t at least try.

* * *

* **

Y/n left her measly apartment on a day where the clouds looked like objects you could pluck from the sky; fluffy, white cotton shapes that overlapped and left small sifts of space where the sun shone through in beams. All was shadowed with soft colors; rough edges turned tender, perfectly appropriate for the way the giddy girl felt inside. Floaty, heady, and delicate with a skip in her step. Aloof with happiness and a tickle in her rib. She no longer cared about anything. The latter was true. She didn’t even tell her landlord she was leaving, or anyone else for that matter. Everything that belonged to her and truly significant, was inside a wicker basket she tucked in the crease of her elbow. Food, and a blanket because she wasn’t sure how long she’d be waiting for the Fae to respond.

The Fae.

After extensive research at her local public library, y/n realized how… complex these creatures were. It was no joke was she was getting into, and the Scottish woman has been right. Make one wrong move, and it was over. The ethereal beings had the power to make the rest of her life living hell if she messed up before eating their food.

Eating their food,

was all she had to do

to stay.

Bound by whatever magic they possessed, she wouldn’t be able to leave the Fae realm if-- when-- she bit into something from their world. Like giving your soul to the devil, but instead it was faeries who pranced in delight, not flames. This promise, this reward had restored something in y/n that hadn’t been there in years. Child-like glee, innocence, purity. Call it what you want. But it was there; a fresh sprite in her soul. Restoration of a youthful essence.

But it was there, and it was back twice as strong as when it previously existed in her. Ignited by the words she drank from her computer screen; early morning rises to the library, and late night walks home after closing time fueled her through two months. The first, she dedicated to attaining a jar of moon-charged water.

There was a mason jar in her cabinet that she used to eat blueberries and milk in, which was the only portable-type cup she had. The night before a full moon, she filled it with tap water, and set it on her window sill. For the first three hours into the dark, y/n watched the moonlight dance in the water like the aurora borealis. Her eyes would focus and unfocus with possibilities of her future; the possibilities of her eternal future extending from the tips of her toes like the yellow brick road. Images of dewy meadows and heart-shaped ponds full of lilies flooded her mind. Willow trees and flowers to make flower crowns and tea out of. She wanted it. Wanted to live among the Fae, and wander aimlessly with beauty and prose.

She yearned for it.

Y/n woke the next day with a jar of... water. It didn’t look any different then from when she poured it into the cup, other than the fact that the glass was dewy from the cold of the night. Her fingerprints decorated the sides where she gripped it, and after bringing it up to her eyes for closer inspection, she set it on her pillow, and left for the library.

Her seek of Fae knowledge continued, with more vigor now that she’d acquired the water. Everyday consisted of books, online pages, audiobooks; anything she found she ate up like she was starving for it.

And in some ways, she was.

Swallowing more that could fit in her mouth, y/n came to learn that the Fae weren’t exactly the comforting go-lucky deities she’d come to perceive them as. Beautiful, sure, but not all of them. And certainly not sweet.

Anything, but sweet. Y/n found that faeries were actually formidable creatures that enjoyed watching trouble develop. Legend has it, that the Fae were those caught in the in-between land at the time God shut the gates of heaven, and Lucifer trapped demons in hell. They could be angels or demons; fallen angels, outcasts, forgotten on the human plane. Belief in angelic behavior is reported, but lesser than the haunting actions, or bewitching incidents. It was a blind treasure hunt, the one she was getting herself into.

However, it she wouldn’t let that stop her. In some ways, she felt entitled to an explanation, a slice of truth; and answer. It would be an act of sadism to derive her of euphoria after she’d lived so, so shitty. She owes it to herself to seek them out.

Even if they could haunt her forever, take her first born, and or make her dance until her feet were reduced to stubs, she needed to look. Anything would be better than her reality.

Her adventure started with the seek of Rowan trees, sacred trees commonly associated with the Seelie court, the lesser malicious group of fairies. If... her expectations are even a fraction real, then she’s set. Good to go. Safe.

Or at least, once she found them she would be safe. The woods before sunset were enchanting, with golden tones littering the leaves and bark with glittering light. Pieces of peach-colored sky peeking through the empty spaces in the tree canopy, shadows dancing on her skin with every giddy step she took. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, only that she was looking for the Rowan trees, and the increasing amount of flowers was a good sign (according to the internet). It had been about an hour since she went off the set trail, the ground growing more unleveled with each step. Squirrels and rabbit would scurry across her way every time a branch cracked underneath her feet, and since her eyes were set on the shrubby part of the trees-- looking for the tell-tale red berries of the trees she was looking for-- the furry animals skittered more often than nought.

Slowly, the sun snuggled deep in the horizon, and the remaining light shifted to created harshly shadowed edges on the trees. This prompted y/n to panic, her searching eyes growing faster in their movements. No, no, no, it couldn’t be dark yet. She hadn’t found the trees yet. It would be dark with....

With no light to light her way.

Light. Small flames of blue light, was what the Scottish woman said the Will ‘o wisps were. And to see them, all she had to do is drink the moon water.

The moon water that was in her wicker basket.

With the last of the sun floating away, y/n hurried to flip open the top of her basket, deft fingers dipping in to wrap around the cool mason jar. She screwed it open, lifting it to her lips and taking two generous mouthfuls of the water. She needed to sip at it cautiously, because the offering acceptance took time, and she’d need more than one night to work this out.

To find her way back to whatever spot the spirits took her, she’d need the water. There would be no waiting at the gates of the realm, given that the faeries were suspicious creatures, and it would take time for them to judge and be comfortable around her; deem her a pure maiden at heart. Hovering in the area where she placed her gift would jeopardize any chance at them accepting, or even considering her entrance into the realm

She would have to be patient. And she would be.

Y/n was full of buzzing energy and she let her eyes adjust to the growing darkness. The sun had gone down completely. The trees reduced to smeared shadows and mysterious shapes. Her skin was victim to a crisper kind of air- the cold having a sharper edge to it in the absence of sun. The moon shone brightly, she could see it through the same spaces where the sun had shown through; a milky-white face in the sky, frozen mid-yawn, and though her light was strong, it wasn’t enough to penetrate through the wood’s thick roof of leaves.

The path space that formed in the gaps of the trees, was cloaked in a pitch blanket, general figures of branches and trees ghosting in her squinted line of vision. Shivering, she shrugged the quilt she carried onto her shoulders, and it was when huddled into herself when she heard the first whisper.

We hear you.

It was one voice; one whisper. And hundreds resonating behind it. A small, shy, wispy call out to her, sounding as if it were right at the lobe of her ear.

Y/n is startled, and she jumps, clutching her fists tighter towards her chest, the basket digging into her hip and chafing on the skin in the crook of her elbow, but she doesn’t pay any mind to it because holy shit it’s happening.

Often reported, the wisps whisper or make high pitched whirring noises to catch the attention of the traveler. This was it. What she was hearing, was the calling. The will o’ wisps.

Her head whipped wildly from side to side, searching for the hovering blue and it’s incandescence. Eyes wide with seeking fervor, lips parted as puffs of air left her lips when her chest came down, y/n felt a rush of adrenaline course through her spine.

“Who can hear me?”

Suddenly, a flashing burst of electric blue color appeared in the distance, about 10 steps away from her current position. She gasped at the sudden outbreak, her eyes stretching to their maximum diameter. All the inklings of doubt that had seeded themselves in her break uprooted and flew in the wind; gone. Real. It was all real.

And she was doing it. She was helping herself. Providing to her soul what she couldn’t for years: happiness. The mere appearance of these spheres entities sent a buzz of ecstasy to the center of her core because they were real and she was really doing this.

I can

Three chants of ‘I can’ tinkled, one after the other, appearing with every she took towards the spirit. Her knees shook slightly, goosebumps prickling on her knees with every movement. Eerily, branches crack underneath the soles of her shoes, and she can feel the dispersion of energy against her feet when the wood cracks. With the lack of sun, and how she’s so hypnotized by the will o’ wisps, she doesn’t see the thick hump of tree root sticking out from the ground, the tip of her shoe catching on it and causing her to fall fly forward and dig her nose in the dirt. The basket gets crushed between the dirt and her hip, the abrupt and uncontrolled pressure eliciting a pained yelp from her. Her hand comes out stiffly from underneath the blanket, rushing to push herself back up and relieve the intrusion. As she’s hissing, the dreamy, other-worldly whispers say,

Oh no

Are you okay?

Are you still able,

To come and play?

Smaller, quieter, different toned whispers echo each murmuring, creating a dizzying, mind-spinning effect. To a certain extent, it disoriented her. But the tender, cooing voices smoothed over her unease and comforter her. Encouraged her, even.

Huffing, y/n dragged her dungaree covered knees underneath her, and sat kneeled for a moment.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She panted, the experience amazing her. “Who are you?”

She stood again, feeling her dented basket with her other hand while she waited for a response.

We are messengers of Destiny

We will take you

To what your heart wants most

Be quick, Your Majesty

They won’t way forever

Your Majesty? Now why on earth would they call her that? Befounded, she walked with cautious steps towards the first spirit, and tried to caress it with her fingertips. She wanted to feel it, hold it. But alas, as soon as her hand got close, it disappeared as quickly as it came, and reappeared behind the other two that were in line. The trio produced a bio-luminescent radiance that would surely stump any scientist who tried to explain the logic behind it. There simply was no other reasoning to the phenomenon, other than it was magic.

She knew that. Could feel the altered tensions in the proximity of the will ‘o wisps, calmer and still where they were. Beats of her heart pounded where her tongue lay, dry, in her mouth. She wasn’t royalty.

“Why are you calling me that? Why… why are you calling me your majesty?” Y/n stared intently to the very core of the wisps, noticing the change of color at the center. White flickers of tiny bodily shapes, like the spirits were dancing idly in their own capsule of light.

Destiny calls you so

Destiny yearns for you

You’re almost there

Be quick, Your Majesty

She didn’t understand. Your Majesty, was a title reserved for royals wasn’t it? She was not one. In the midst of her confused and amazed state, a lineage of wisps appeared behind the third one, creating a long path that went straight and then made an abrupt turn left. Enchanted, she followed in a zombie-like state. This was real and it was happening. It was real because her nose was bitten-raw from the cold and her nails pinched into the skin of her palm. Pain didn’t exist in dreams, and her hip still ached where the basket has pressed against it.

This wasn’t a dream.

Will ‘o the wisps flickered in their formation, bursting away when she came into proximity. The exhilarating thrill of attempting to catch; chasing, is what caused her to let out a squeaky giggle that eventually grew into harmonious laughter. Light, gleeful chortles bounced between the trees, and if anyone were to hear here from a distance they’d surely think the woods were haunted.

Eventually, she reached the turn, and was set onto a winding, twisting road of curving blue light. Y/n was light on her feet, raising them high and setting firmly on the ground. She began to run.

She ran and ran until her throat went dry, her lungs burned, and her thighs ached; body begging for a break, heart high on the drug of hope. Every slight twist in the wood only motivated her further, coaxing her towards her end target of… wherever the wisps were taking her. She was so submerged in the task of following that she was quite surprised when she arrived at a clearing; a circular space where the trees curved around, almost respectfully. The wisps made a beeline towards the middle, where they made the same pattern the trees did, forming a circle around a ring of mushrooms.

It was almost comical, the way the red-topped, white-dotted mushroom were arranged in a circle big enough to lay, sprawled, in the middle.

You’ve made it

You’re here

Destiny wishes you luck

Stay strong, Your Majesty

And then, they dissipated; flip of a switch and the lights were off.

For two days, she waited. The first night, she layed her homemade thumbprint cookies and honey in the center of the ring, leaving a sweet kiss on the wooden plate, and walked aimlessly until the balls of her feet ached. It wasn’t that far, because she had already done so much walking, and the girl was drained from the events she’d witnessed. Y/n settled in an alcove of tree roots, wrapping herself snug with her quilt but shivering despite her efforts. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she waited until the morning, wanting to make the food she brought last as long as possible.

She woke with the faint images of golden petals floating around her, faeries dusting shimmering substances on the top of her head, and a demanding grumble in her stomach. The dirt underneath her hand was soft, dipping in where her the pad of her fingers dug in to push herself up. Instantly, she was met with the feeling of something wet striping up her cheek, a sniffing like noise filtering through her ears.

Blinking, y/n groggily turns her hear, and comes face to face with... a pig. It snorts when it see her move, sitting back on it’s haunches and looking up at her with bunched cheeks so it looked like it was smiling. Y/n’s jaw dropped in shock. Where had this pig come from?

It’s pink skin was a cool contrast in the light of the late-morning sun (y/n was never much of an early riser), and upon closer inspection, she saw the pig was a he. His nose was twitching with interest at the stranger he’s encountered. Ears floppy, bent and jiggling with every call squeal he exhibited, hooves half dug into the dirt. He watched patiently, inspecting and almost waiting for orders.

“Where’d you come from?” She asked, intrigued at his presence. They both shared a small moment of staring at each other in wonder until her stomach emitted a stale gurgle, pleading for food. The piglet (which he was, given his small stature and clean snout), squealed again, standing up with a jump and walking around in a circle three times, chasing after it’s curly tail before stilling, with his rump facing y/n. He began to walk backwards, continuing until his back legs came up on her lap, and he plopped himself down, tilting his head up with a pleasant smile, while y/n stared at the small creature, astounded.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” She said with a light giggle, reaching with one hand for her basket, and the other to pet the small thing’s head. She might as well embrace him, so she had company.

The basket was right by her shoulders while she lay, meaning it was now behind her because she had sat up. Clutching the pig so he wouldn’t fall out of her lap while she moved, she twisted her upper body to grab the basket, and the pig adjusted himself, pressing his two front feet onto her lep repeatedly. Making shushing noises, she flipped open the wicker flap, and reached in to grab whatever she found.

A sleeve of ritz crackers, that she ripped open eagerly, popping the first cookie into her mouth. Chewing, she looked around for the first time that day.

She was surrounded by much, much bigger trees than the ones she was venturing in the day before. Tall, brooding giants; rows and rows of trunks thicker than her wingspan and arching branches casting shadows on those who walked underneath. Might and wise, but silent and still. And intimidating network of roots on the ground mirrored the intertwining leaves above her, so high up she had to throw her head all the way back to see the expanse.

Breathtaking, is what it was. Y/n hadn’t been this connected with nature since that field trip she took with her third grade class to the blooming tulip meadows. She appreciated their presence, basked in the beams of light that shone through and grazed over the grass and moss on the trees. She even stopped eating, transfixed by the image before her, and she would have continued pondering in the glorious, godly image of greens and brown had the pig in her lap not shifted to sniff at her hand.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, glancing down at his curious tilted head. “Want some crackers, too?” Y/n wriggles her fingers into the brown packaging and took out two cookies, setting one on her tongue and extending the other towards the pig. He sniffs at it, his snout twitching, before cocking his head and picking it up with the side of his mouth. The pig gets close to her, placing the flat underside of his chin in the groove of her neck, snorting appreciatively.

“You’re a cute one,” she hums more to herself, tracing the pads of her fingers on the piggy’s back.

They fall asleep like that again, after y/n had finished the sleeve of crackers. The girl so calmed by the image presented in front of her, she slipped into a light slumber, the breeze and waving sheets of leaves lulling her eyes closed.

She spent the day like that, rationing her food, and sleeping, the pig switching positions from her lap, to her side, and eventually by her feet. The thick quilt she had brought stayed on her shoulders at all times, keeping her warm in the crispy forest air.

Nearing the sunset again, a butterfly landed on the tip of her nose, stretching its wings and tickling her awake. Her eyes fluttered opened when everything around her was lit a golden haze; the tell-tale sign that the sunset was near, and so was the night. The blue butterfly flew away when she took the first breath, and she watched it fly away with hazy eyes, not fully awake and aware yet.

Y/n jumped when the piglet let out a squeal, and upon looking down, she saw that he had remained settled into her side while she slept.

With a smile on her lips as she placed her hands on her back to stretch, she said, “Well, hello there!” She patted his head, and he leaned into her touch. “You stayed!”

The pig smiled, which sounds ridiculous but his lips really turned upwards, filling his eyes with a glint, and squealed his response. Y/n’s heart warmed at the sweet animal, happy that she had company and wasn’t alone. Her friends, she realized, had always been furry. Animals were the only beings that were ever welcoming of her, treasured her presence, and reciprocated the love she had to offer.

“Will you stay through the night as well?” The girl remarked, scratching behind the piglet’s ears. “I sure hope so.” A sad look took over her face, the corners of her lips pinching downwards as a sudden wave of forlorn thoughts washed over her.

She was sitting in the forest, all by herself, following after a drunk woman’s rants because that it what her dissatisfaction led her to. That’s how much she lacked. That’s how much she yearned for. It goes to show the large chunk that was missing, because she had no second thoughts about doing so. It hurt, knowing no one would worry about her, and that she had nothing to regret leaving.

As if sensing her unease, the pig started bucking up into her hand, his snout blowing onto her palm and tickling her skin. The action made her laugh, her first genuine, comfortable laugh at an act of humor. A deep, belly chuckle that made her cheeks hurt.

She had learned to laugh again.

Y/n got up from her spot on the forest floor, and stretched with her arms reaching towards the canopy, fingers splaying and tightening the skin between them. Taking a deep breath, the corner of her lip quirked up in her smile.

Night two was underway and she was ready.

With her furry companion, the girl picked her basket up and began her walk in the general direction of her arrival. It was hard to tell, because it was pitch black when she made it to her spot, but either way she walked far enough that she would need guidance from the wisps to get back on the correct track.

The sun repeated the same routine it had the day before, splashing an assortment of colors on tree bark and leaves, streaking the sky wild orange taints and soft blues to contrast. It was ethereal image, the one she was witnessing. Like something out of a documentary, except she was there, seeing it with her own eyes.

Her neck was starting to hurt with how much she craned it to see the mesh of vibrancy in the sky, and the piglet alongside her had often bumped it’s small snout on her ankle when she stopped moving to gaze. When night finally came, the moon was a partly eaten up by shadow, her color less vibrant that the day before. But it was fine, because according to research, what mattered most was the first offering on the full moon.

Repeating the same steps from last night, y/n took another drink from her glass, and blinked three times exactly, waiting for the wisps to formulate in front of her.

And they did.

But there was something different about it this time. They were quiet, a change from their past fizz of whisper. Confused, y/n tilted her head and tried to speak to the.

“Hello?”

Silence. Not even the whistling sound of their breaths. The wind had stopped, and as the line of blue orbs created a twisting route between the trees, the hairs on y/n’s spine stood on end. The air was charged with... a certain potential that was impossible to miss. A certain static of promise.

Tonight was the night.

As she walked towards the wisps, her footsteps were accompanied by the soft pitters of her tiny friend, stuck by her feet still, despite everything happening around them. Could he see them too? Was her cold? He probably was. If y/n was cold, then he was too. Deciding to not only warm herself up, she took out her blanket and bent down to pick him up, cradling him against her chest and wrapping the blanket around him as well, to which he responded with a cuddle into her neck.

With purpose in her step, the hopeful girl began her journey, following the marked up path left by the wisps. It was, as expected, longer than the first. She had ensured that she was far enough away before settling down for the night.

Nevertheless, she made it to the blue luminescent ring of red-topped mushroom (like the ones from Mario), and stared.

It was apparent, that she had no clue what to do next.

“Now what? Tell me what to do?”

The last wisp, placed in the center of the ring, spoke for all the spirits the first time since they appeared that night.

Destiny had spoken once, She will not speak again.

The knowledge you need to open the realm,

is one you already know.

Furrowing her eyebrows, y/n took a moment to digest the message.

She knew? She knew how to open the gate? The extent of her research only described protocol on fairy manners, what they were like, and what to do in the case of an encounter. Never explicitly the steps to open the realm to meet them. Yet, the wisps said otherwise. They claimed she knew the ways to open the realm.

How could that be true…

OH. The Scottish woman! The Scottish woman had told her exactly what to do. Walk counter-clockwise around the circle of mushrooms.

And that was it.

All she had to do.

Y/n was in the middle of contemplating if she should do it or not, given she had only presented one offering, when she saw the note.

In the middle of the ring, lay a fist sized scroll that was only visible because the last wisp hovered above it. The pig next to her glanced from her to the script, and skipped over to clutch the script with his mouth, and trotted over to give it to her.

The wisps didn’t disappear when the pig approached it, but it raised higher above the ground, above her head and just past that; blue light glowing just a bit brighter.

The girl bent to get the note from the piglet, and gave it a small pat on the head before unrolling the thick paper. It had a very quality feel to it, grooves tickling her finger-pads. The slip, not much better than her hand, read,

the pie was delicious. we are most appreciative of it. proceed.

The black inked scripture widened her eyes, sending a shiver up her spine.

Well, that settled her question. She could, proceed.

And she did. Y/n placed the note in her basket, and picked up her small friend, needing the emotional support. Her lungs expanded in a burning breath, bracing herself for what was to come. No turning back now.

She angled herself so her feet were parallel to the mushroom she was near, and began to walk. Please let me in, please please please let me in. I need this, please. She begged mentally. The girl wasn’t sure what would happen if this went wrong. Her hopes were high, and the crash would be devastating.She begged to whoever would listen; whoever was in charge. Please let me in.

Nothing happened, until she passed her third mushroom.

The remaining will o’ wisp began to expand, it’s light turning a lighter blue color, bubbling out and expanding into a concrete oval, growing in size as she made her way around the ring. The pig in her arms was quiet, not affected by what was going on like he saw it happen everyday, but y/n, on the other hand, was having her mind blown. Her lips were parted as soft breaths came out of them, scared to breathe to her full capacity, watching as the color of light went from blue to yellow. The two colors merging in a gradient shift, the orb growing bigger and larger as water expands when spilled on a flat surface.

Fleeting shadows danced through the portal, like the reflection of birds flying over a lake’s surface.

Y/n picked up the pace on her last round, and a breeze began to blow out her hair. the light from the now door-sized hole turned a golden color; a glittering, metallic shade of yellow that swirled in a spiral at the speed of her steps, dizzying her. The far-away sounds of a child’s giggled resonated through the forest, coming from the golden circle in the ring.

When she stopped at her starting mark at the end of the third rotation, the portal rose higher, higher, higher, and then floated down like a swaying feather in the air, the golden beams of light now shooting skyward.

It came to lay on the grass covered floor, flattening in the area inside the circle of the mushrooms, the gold-lined edge nearly touching the tip of her show.

The front of her face was covered in the golden light, her eyes gleaming in the colored glow. Laughter sounded from it, the sound of music teasingly escaping, low enough that she could hear it over the lapping water noises from the portal.

The pig, still in her arms, began to thrash and squirm, squealing wildly until y/n finally let him go, and he didn’t hesitate to jump in the pool of gold.

“Wait, wait no, n-,” y/n protested, but his curly tail was gone before her hand even attempted to catch him.

After his leap, the portal rippled, and cleared into a calm mustard yellow splashed with... clouds? It was a piece of sky that fell to the ground, just like to woman had said. Without thinking twice about it, she jumped through, just like her friend had done.

Her body was instantly met with a chilling wind, as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes. It was a disorienting feeling of shooting up, and coming back down like she was falling, landing in the same spot where the portal had been, except now it was closed. Her butt ached where is received most of the impact, and y/n groaned as she pushed herself back up, the budging feeling of her basket restricting her arm movement present, but… the weight of her clothing was gone.

And, when she glanced down at her body, it was confirmed that she was bare.

As in, no clothes, no underwear, no bra or panties.

Y/n shrieked.

Who, when, and how had her clothes come off if she hadn’t taken them off herself? She ignored the fact that she was in the fairy realm to cover herself with her hands, glancing up to see who may have seen her, only to view a landscape unlike any other.

Rolling hills, seemingly endless with giant trees on top of each one, bigger than the ones she had slept alongside, with flower-filled valleys and and a crystalline river that cut a path through a hill and disappeared into an arch of trees. Children with elvish features stared up at her from the nearest valley, blue flowers littered in their hair to match the pink color tinted in their cherub cheeks. Brown ad white rabbits alike roamed around her, does grazed in the meadows. The sun was nestled in the horizon, just barely peeking in the dip of two hills, sky the same glittering golden color the portal had been. Everything was untouched by technology. No building or antenna towers, but homes in tree trunks or underneath giant mushrooms.

The faeries were staring at her. All with features a human would posses, but a certain other-worldy-ness regular people didn’t posses.

They were all beautiful, with full lips and striking eye colors to match their leafy outfits pertaining to their niche. Two of them ran up the hill on which she sat, edgy grins on their lips as they approached her with their hands behind their backs. One was dressed in the fluffy feathers of a peacock, black hair slicked back and tucked behind his ears, curving up at the nape of his neck. The feathers draped over his shoulders and fanned around his arms, ending just at the end of his wrists so the his hands showed; talons in the place of nails. His lips were beak like, the cupids bow dragging over his bottom lip to imitate a bid’s curved mouth. The other man standing next to his was dressed just the same, except that he had no hair and his ears curved like a ram’s above his head.

Suddenly, her pig friend jumped onto her lap, and began the same squealing as before. Urgent and forbidding, pressing his rump back into her, but leaning forwards as if to ward them off.

“You again, Angus?” The one with the ram horns said, quirking his eyebrow into a perfect arch at the same time his tilted in that direction, giving him a graceful yet mechanical look. Intimidating and cold. His voice was equal to the ear-splitting sound of a fork against plate.

The other one spoke. “How’d you get away from Harry this time, you littl-”

“Pias and Rye? You best stop right there!” Another voice spoke, making y/n twist her heard towards where a crowd had formed in the nearest valley. Mostly creatures with childish features, holding fruits of bunches of petals to their bare chests.

There was a woman, with curly red hair and striking blue eyes. Droplets of water seeped from her skin, collecting at the dress she was wearing, which looked like rippling bodies of water floating above her skin, the placed surrounding her most intimate areas a darker color of water, whereas everything else was translucent. A blob of liquid floated near her head; a crystalline globe of water that contained a golden koi fish that moved on its own around it’s companion, swirling around her unruly red coils of hair.

“Well if it isn’t-”

“I’d shut it, if I were you. Just wait until he hears that you weren’t going to follow protocol. Now, leave.” At her emphasis, her grey eyes flashed bright white momentarily, scaring even y/n, but fulfilling their purposes in warding off the other two fairies. They turned around and left with their prides damaged, turning back to look every other step.

The woman turned to look at y/n, her face transformed into a welcoming smile.

“Hello, my name is Marianne, Welcome to the Fae realm.”

* * *

* **

Marianne took y/n to the river, opposite the way the two other faeries left, and clapped her hands to snap everyone's’ gazes away, while y/n listened to every command with no hesitation.

One their way to the river, y/n was covered in monarch butterflies that flew from a nearby bush, arranging themselves like a skirt on her hips, their wings twitching and fluttering with every step she took. Her top half was taken care of by her pig friend, whom she learned was called Angus, which she clutched to her chest like when they walked around the mushrooms.

Marianne apologized for the other faeries’ behavior, and led her into a giant water lily, holding her hand as she stepped in. The large green leaf coasted down the river, giving y/n a proper sight-seeing experience. They passed by tree roots that elevated above the water’s surface, and passed through the center of a hill like a tunnel. The golden skies seemed to place a filter on everything it touched, making it look like the water held diamonds, and the dew on other floating lilies were pearls. Leafy branched from willow trees on the river bank reached out to touch the newcomer, caressing y/n’s bare shoulder’s as she passed. She watched it all happen with parted lips, intoxicated by the luxurious feeling of magic pouring over her; skin coated in remnants of glittering water from the tips of the tree leaves that dipped in water.

So fixed on the trees and their giant glory, y/n didn’t see the stone castle coming into view from behind the passing green hill; the river turning into the castle’s moat, floating alongside the uneven stone walls patterned different colors from time, sun, and water, but magnificent in it’s ancient glory.

The girl noticed Marianne staring at her, and in her embarrassment, she turned around to attempt to compose herself, but her efforts were thrown away when her eyes found the castle. Romantic, rustic walls covered in curtains of ivy that grew all around. Blinking, y/n gasped as the lily pad came to a stop right before the entrance of the tunnel underneath the bridge, and rose to meet it. She glanced down to see they were off the river’s surface, level with the top of the stone arch. Marianne stepped off, her bare feet stable on the path and she extended a hand for y/n to grab onto.

Stunned, she took hold of the woman’s wet grip, and followed after her, throwing her head back to view the entirety of the castle. Windows with no glass carved rows into the walls, allowing sun to stream in to the rooms and halls. The drawbridge lowered for the two guests, dropping with a loud rustling of chain.

Walking across is at, goosebumps possessed her skin, and she felt the shameful, poking sensation of being exposed settle in her breastbone. Castles meant kings and queens; she was being brought to the king and she was practically naked.

Her chest rose, and her stomach filled filled nervous breaths. Her pals became moist against Angus’s furry one, who seemed calm and sated with the whole ordeal.

Once across the drawbridge, they were met with an open courtyard framed by the castle walls, a cobblestone path leading to an arched entrance, where Marianne followed The courtyard was full of wild grass up to her ankles, stone arches in the middle of the scene, with rope swings and flowers hanging down, ominously still. A bench centered in an arrangement of statues of men in heroic poses holding harps and arrows, a floating body of water in the place of a fountain. Much, much more attracted the girls curious eyes, but Marianne pushed past a curtain of foxgloves, and led her into the castle hall and her view was cut off, dragged into... the throne room.

The throne room clearly because in the center of the sun-lit room, there was a throne covered with wild flowers where the king sat, legs spread and back against the seat as he listened a subject speak.

He wore a red ensemble, by-far the most magnificent of anyone in the room. Transparent garments the color of cranberries draped on the broad expanse of his olive-skinned shoulders, waves of the material hanging loosely on his hard biceps, a tassel tied around his waist to taper an accentuate the strong muscles seen through the garment. The cloth bunched at his groin, and fell in folds around his muscular thighs and down his calves, stopping at his ankles and exposing his bare feet.

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of his throne, each finger falling after the other, adding to the powerful aura of his character. Plump lips colored that matched the tone of the nipples that poked through the thin fabric on his chest, mouth arranged into a hard, concentrated line as he listened. Eyebrows dipped just slightly, drawing attention to the vibrant emerald eyes that gleamed in the sun that illuminated his castle. Structured jaw that twitched with the movement of his lips, leading down to the delicate skin of his neck, equally delectable as the rest of him.

Y/n knew he was the king by the tell tale crown that rested on his head. A golden wrap of laurel leaves that nestled on the caramel curls that were pushed back and away from his face.

She wasn’t aware that she was holding her breath, until he glanced up and locked eyes with her. His eyes brought instant relief to her, her body uncoiling, lungs releasing the air their were holding. His lips pulled up into a pleasant smile that made her heart leap and causing one to appear on her face, too. Oddly, she felt safe the instant her eyes landed his, the green sating all of her doubts.

“Marianne? And Angus? Angus is that you?”

Angus jumped from y/n’s arms, landing on the stone floor with a snort and running over to meet the king, jumping into his arms and nuzzling his snout into the king’s face.

The absence of the pig in her arms, left her breasts bare for all to see, and given y/n was transfixed by the king’s voice, smooth like honey with a beautiful scratch that was pleasing to listen to, she didn’t rush to cover herself.

Meaning the king, and the subject he was speaking to, had the time to look at the curves of her chest.

An unreadable look took over the king’s face, and he frowned down at the floor before saying, “You may leave now, Rives.”

The subject cleared his throat, and rushed out at his king’s command. He snapped his fingers, and two of the butterflies on her legs flew up and covered her nipples with their wingspan.

“Your Majesty,” Marianne bowed, and y/n looked over at her before doing the same thing, awkwardly curtsying and the king’s lips quirked at her attempt. “I found her with Pias and Rye. They planned to trick her, Your Highness.”

“Very well, Marianne. You may leave now.” He said. The woman bowed and left without turning back, leaving y/n alone with the king.

A moment passed, ensuring the water fairy had left before he began to speak again, leaning forward on his throne and smiling fully at the human. Y/n instantly took note of the dimple on his cheek, and she blushed at the simple fact that he was looking at her while she was so exposed.

“Oh! My apologies, surely you’d like some clothes wouldn’t you?” He asked rhetorically.

Y/n nodded sheepishly, and crossed her arms over her torso.

“Right, well let’s see.” He stood, letting Angus on the floor with a small pat to his head, and walked off into another archway on the left side of his throne, mumbling “come, come” to get y/n to follow him. She walked behind him, shamelessly grazing her eyes over his back, adoring the way his muscles dimpled his shoulder blades, and hating the way she can’t see the cleft of his buttocks of the strategic bunching of the fabric, the color darkening and making it hard to see through it.

The archway led to a short hall of portraits and moss-covered head statues, before opening to a steep staircase, which the king stepped on, going all the way up and choosing the right branching of stairs from the landing. By the time they reached the top, y/n was huffing and her thighs ached from the walks in the forest.

The stairs opened to a hallway of rooms, and the king entered the third on the right, revealing a sun-lit room. The corner closest to the window was covered in tree tranches, twigs extending and branching along the pink colored wall, small leaves and flowers twisting up to the roof, splaying over the bed to create a net of petals around the fame of it.

He led her to the center of the room, and sat one of the chests. She stood nervously, unsure of where to take her place because she didn’t want to offend him. It was easy to do that with faeries.

“Stand right there,” he pointed to an elevated tree stump opposite of him.

Y/n felt the butterflies flutter wildly at the drastic movement of her knee hiking up, and her ears burned red when she felt cool air blow on her intimate area.

“Now turn to face me.” She turned, and came face to face with the king, who sat with his ankles crossed, and hands clamped between his thighs, back straight.

He removed a hand, and snapped once.

Instantly, the butterflies flew off of her body, and out the window.

Y/n yelped, and rushed to cover herself, forearm over her breasts, palm at her mound.

“M’lady I need you straight so I can adorn you with clothing. I’d have someone else do it, but it’s just me here.” The king said, voice a whisper. His eyes drooped, eyebrows slanting and softening his whole demeanor.

Y/n would have responded, said something to protect her modesty, but she was just too out of it. Her brain running on autopilot by the events that had occurred, that she went pliant under his orders and obeyed. She wasn’t even ashamed anymore.

The king’s fingers moved along her figure from a distance, twiddling across her body, and as he did so, a milky glitter grew upwards from the tree stump, wrapping around her calves and up her thighs, tightening just lightly at her hips, and resting snugly up her torso. Setting on her shoulders, she blinked slowly at the finished product, her tongue too tied to attempt a dreamy woah.

He had dressed her in a silk toga, the material so light it felt like she was wearing nothing.

“There we go!” He cheers, another small smile gracing his lips, melting y/n.

“I am most appreciative, Your majesty.” She bowed her head respectfully, her hands coming to fold at her navel.

“It is alright to say thank you. M’trying my absolute best to dilute a lot of the negative stigma around my people, but with fools like Pias and Rye it’s nearly impossible.” He stops, shaking his head to himself before looking back up and saying, “And you can call me, Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry, my name is y/-” before she could finish her sentence, the Fairy King interrupted her with a green flare of his eyes, heat radiating off his translucent cranberry ensemble, licking her skin with warnings of heat.

“I don’t want to know your name.” He said, his voice changing from jovial to demonic. His eyes pinch closed, and his shoulders tense, momentarily reeling himself back in, and the licks of heat turn a soothing cool. “Please, not yet.”

Harry sounds nearly broken, pained by the restriction.

“I-” y/n started. She collected herself, taking a deep breath before saying, “I understand.”

His eyes opened again, and uncertain fire blazing in the green of his irises. “Do you? Do you really?” Harry’s tone is mocking, angry. He’s mad, but not at her and she knows that. Deep down inside her, she knows this is him baring himself, this is him slipping her a piece of information, and she’s grateful they get to start off an a truth slate, but not at the way he’s presented himself.

He’s got no right to talk to her that way, she feels.

“Yes! I do understand! It’s the reason why I’m here!” She fires back at him, her nostrils flaring, and eyes wide. By the time she’d finished with her aggravated statement, her chest is heaving.

Both go quiet, the revelation heavy between them. Harry realizes that one, he’s been extremely rude, and two, he and this girl may be more alike that he thinks.

“Why are you here?” He asks, his face doing the thing again, there his eyes droop downwards like a puppy’s when it’s begging. Soft. tender.

Y/n takes a deep breath, and begins. “I need to escape. If.. if I stayed even a moment longer I wholeheartedly believe I would have died. Everyday was a mindless drone, and it was eating at me. I came to ask for permanent residence in your realm.”

When Harry doesn’t respond, y/n crosses her arms over her chest, and picks at the skin of her elbow nervously. Her throat closes up and eyes well up with tears. But, she’s not sad. She’s overwhelmed with emotion because for the first time, she’s admitted it out loud; formulated into a coherent thought instead of a general feeling.

The king, touched by her vulnerability, gets close enough to her that so he can uncross her arms to stop the girl from harming herself. This stranger, so unexpectedly placed into his world, understood him. She knew what it was like to go unnoticed; to not get what she wanted out of life. But to risk forever? Is that really what she wanted?

“I do not know if this much of a wise decision. The rules of my realm are diff-”

Y/n grips at his arms, her eyes pleading and her tone desperate. “Please,” tears slip from her eyes, and neck veins protrude in stress, “You don’t understand. The past day has given me more than I’ve ever received from my life. Do you know much happiness Angus has given me? Or standing on a lily pad while trees touch my shoulders? Let me stay.”

She’s shaking him, grip so tight her nails make crescent marks in his skin.

“Do not cry, my lady,” he begs, voice just barely audible. “You must understand the severity of your words. This lifestyle is not a situation in which you can change your mind when your heart so pleases. The fairy life is forever.”

“I don’t care. I will die, if I go back.”

“Your species will perish either way. Humans are destined to die.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone. At this, y/n drops in a heap of desolation, and places her face in her hands, shoulders shaking her sobs.

Her begging, her uprooting, was all for nothing. Her hopes were crashing, she wouldn’t survive this fall.

The strings of Harry’s heart pull ferociously at him, his instinct telling him he has to help her. He has to. Even if it goes against everything faeries stand for. He was king, he could do whatever he wished

He bent down, his feet bending at the toes in a crouch, and he placed a hand on the girls wrists, pulling them away from her face so he could see her when he uttered the words, “But, I will give you three days.”

At that moment, y/n thinks he looks magnificent. A curl has slipped from the crown’s grip, falling to rest over his left eye, and his eyes sparkle with golden specks of the sun that slip past y/n’s shoulders and his face. Shadows ghost over the left side of his face, accentuating the right side, and y/n sees for the first time, the small moles on his chin, and the bags underneath his eyes. Bags that come from nights of no sleep.

She knows because she had them too.

“Three days?” It comes out wet, her voice thick with the saliva that had collected in her mouth, and the mucus at the back of her nose.

“A period of time for you to be sure of this choice. A human can go three days without food or water, and I wish for you to have the most time possible. You cannot eat or drink, because by fairy law you are bound to stay the moment it passes your throat. I will not allow a forced decision. This is a choice you must make on your own.” When y/n’s eyes began to fall, the king placed a warm hand on her cheek, drawing her eyes back to him. He needed to know she was sure, and her eyes would let him know everything.

She was sure. She was very sure, and he could see that. More than that, she was even irritated he’d make her wait that long.

“Three days?” She asked

“Three days.”

#harry styles gifs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #finelineficchallenge #harry styles blurbs #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff oneshot #harry edward styles #harry styles soft #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles au

760 notes · View notes