The Godmother

[WP] You are an ancient fae being, and as such you know a great many things. What you don't know however is how a mortal couple knows your true name, or why they proclaimed you the 'Fairy Godmother' of their infant child, but you are now contractually obligated to godmother the FUCK out of this kid.

*****

“Beautiful…” Isabella exhaled.

And beautiful it was. The place Prince Mikkel brought her – deep into the Darkwoods, hidden out of sight of human travelers – was home to another race, secretive and reclusive, yet proud and powerful. The spirits of the woods, the hidden enchanters, the fair folk.

The Fae.

And that night, the Fae were celebrating.

A great tree – one that must have been a millennium old, if not more – towered over the clearing where the celebrations were taking place, its numerous branches illuminated by mystic lights. Giant mushrooms formed pixie rings, serving as impromptu tables – such as one Mikkel and her were sitting at – and lovely flowers Isabel had never seen were growing among the tall grass. Music was heard – harps and flutes and lyres, their sounds joining into an enchanting melody. And among it all, the numerous Fae walked, flew, and talked with each other, the air buzzing with their constant conversation in a strange, melodious language.

“So… this is where your Godmother lives?” Isabella asked.

Mikkel nodded.

“You could say so. This is where she holds court – her seat of power if you will.”

With a gesture, he indicated the great tree, where, high up above, a tall and graceful Fae could be seen, her bearing regal and dignified, all others visibly treating her with deference.

“She is royalty too, then?” Isabella responded. “Among the Fae, I mean.”

To this, the Prince smiled slightly.

“Not quite. But she has lived for a long time and commands a great deal of respect among her kind. I am truly blessed to have a Godmother like her.”

He was silent for a short time, as if unsure whether to continue.

“In fact…” he said at last, “it was largely thanks to her that I am still a Prince of the Realm.”

“Really?” Isabelle asked, surprised. “You’ve never told me that.”

Mikkel leaned in towards her, his eyes serious as he began to tell the story.

“You remember, of course, when my grandfather was overthrown by the Usurper,” he said, his voice hardening at the mention of the late tyrant’s epithet. “I was but a child back then, so my parents decided to hide me with another family, to keep me safe. I grew up with them, unaware of my true parentage. Only later did my Godmother reveal the truth to me.”

Isabelle was nodding along as he spoke, listening intently.

“When I turned fourteen, I became a squire for Baron Gerbold. I wished to become a knight so that one day I might slay the Usurper. I thought myself lucky when Gerbold agreed to take me as a squire – for I did not know back then that he was not only a warrior but a powerful sorcerer as well. Nor could I have known the Usurper would be defeated in just a few years.”

“What happened after that?” Isabelle asked.

“Naturally, once the Usurper was dead, I wished to reveal myself,” Mikkel continued, “but I could not. Gerbold, you see, had me sign a magical contract when I became his squire, acknowledging him as my master until he pronounces me ready for knighthood. At fourteen, I did not know why Godmother was so cross with me when she learned of it – but after the Restoration, I realized that I could not come to court unless I was free of the contract, lest I become nothing but a puppet with Gerbold pulling the strings.”

“And she helped you, your Godmother?”

“That she did,” Mikkel agreed. “It was thanks to her that I was once again a free man, and could come to the capital to claim my rightful place.”

“But to nullify a magical contract… few wizards could do it, even powerful ones,” Isabelle noted. “How did your Godmother manage it? What magic did she use?”

Once again, Mikkel was silent for a moment before continuing.

“At first, she appealed to Gerbold, promising him a great deal if he would end the contract. The Fae do not make such promises lightly… and yet Gerbold laughed, and refused her. What caused this folly of his, I know not – greed, perhaps, if he thought she would offer even more, or misplaced pride.”

“What did she do then?”

“Then… well, then she took two of her loyal retainers and appeared at Gerbold’s keep in the middle of the night. They dragged the Baron out of bed, and my Godmother told him that either the contract burns in magical fire or he does – along with his castle. The next morning, I was a free man, and could finally return to the court.”

Isabelle was staring at the Prince, her eyes wide at the ending of his story.

“Such is the way of my Godmother,” Mikkel said softly. “Once, a long time ago, my parents helped her somehow – how, I do not know – and since then, she has been a friend of ours, and there is no one who is as loyal to their friends as she. Gerbold scorned her and learned why you do not make an enemy of the Fae. This is why she commands such respect, and why even the mightiest and the haughtiest of her kind would not dare to cross her.”

“I see,” Isabelle said, slowly. “And have you asked for her help after that?”

“Not yet,” Mikkel replied, “but I intend to do so tonight. It is part of the reason I came here.”

Isabelle did not ask, but she could not help wondering what exactly her fiancée could want from such a person. She knew, of course, that the Fae could be vengeful, and should not be trifled with… but still, to not only make such threats to a Peer of the Realm and a sorcerer but to make him cave into her will…

Seeing the question in Isabelle’s eyes, Mikkel elaborated.

“You see… it appears that not all at court approve of our future marriage. The Lord Chancellor, in particular, insists that I choose another bride.”

So that was how it was. In truth, Isabelle was not surprised – even smitten as she was, some part of her understood that it could not end in any other way.

“I understand,” she said, her voice quiet and her gaze avoiding Mikkel’s. “True, my family has no great lands or ancient titles. It was a wonder we could even become this close, and for me to become your wife – that would truly take a miracle. Then… you came to your Godmother so she could find you a new bride?”

“Of course not,” Mikkel said, laughing softly. “I would never think of marrying anyone but you, Isabelle. This is why I went to my Godmother – if a miracle is what it takes, then I would seek the one who works miracles.”

“Still, the Lord Chancellor… a Duke, an Archmage, cousin to the King himself… could she truly persuade him?”

To that, Mikkel simply nodded.

“Somehow… I think her offer would be one, not even he would decline.”

*****

THE END.