Faerie Laws and Consequences
Life of a Faerie
London, 1887
“Did you get her?” asked Robert Taylor of the young man standing in front of him. It was a miserable day; grey clouds blocked the sun’s rays, there was a thick cloud of mist in the air, and there was water centimetres deep in the streets.
The young man by the name of Oliver Walker pushed a young woman around the age of nineteen forward. She was beautiful; long blonde hair falling down to her waist, twinkling eyes the colour of the ocean, high cheekbones, and flawless skin with a blue tinge. “She is still alive, just as you asked.”
Oliver thought back to when he had captured the faerie: It was a cold night, even for December. He had been walking down the street, heading back to the house he shared with his wife and child, when he spotted the faerie hiding in the bushes at the side of the street.
“Capture a faerie and bring it back to me. Alive,” Robert had said the day before. Oliver had had no choice but to agree.
He approached the faerie, no idea how he was going to capture it. The faerie fled from the bushes, running down the street. “Stop!” Oliver called out. “Otherwise you will regret it.”
She stopped, keeping a good five metres between her and Oliver. “What can you do to me that will make me regret anything, Oliver Walker?” Her voice was soft, kind. It made him want to hug her, but there was also something in her tone that frightened him.
“Please. I will not harm you. My master, he-”
“Oh, I know what your master wants with me,” she said. “And he’s not getting it. Faeries are proud beings. We will not give ourselves up to be experimented on.”
“He’s not going to experiment on you. He said you wouldn’t be harmed.”
“Oh, did he? You mortals amuse me. You have no idea when you’re being lied to.”
“But-” Oliver started.
“We have heard word of your master’s plans. He was going to use our magic to create a potion to make him immortal, which is against The Law.”
“The Law?”
“The Law of Faerie. I don’t expect you to know what it is.”
“What does a Faerie law have to do with my master?”
“It is not my place to tell you,” she said coldly.
He stared at her, as if surprised at being treated so poorly, and by a faerie, no less. “Please, if I do not bring my master a faerie, he will kill me,” Oliver pleaded.
“Do you think that means anything to me? Your life means nothing compared to that of a faerie’s. We live longer and we don’t destroy the environment with buildings and bridges and those things you call factories. One faerie life is worth a hundred of your mortal lives,” the faerie told him with the air of someone who thought they were better than everyone else. “Let your master kill you. It won’t do anything to us.”
“Please, just come with me,” Oliver said one last time.
“No,” and the faerie ran down the road, towards the entrance to Faerie, only to be stopped by two very tall, very big men, who tied her wrists together. She thrashed against the men, but she was no match for them.
“You will regret this!” she cried.
“Or maybe I will not,” Oliver answered, his face a mask, showing no signs of emotion.
Robert was surprised that Oliver had been able to see through with his task. Even he, Robert Taylor, would not have been able to do it by himself.
“Well done, Mr. Walker,” he said.
Oliver smiled and looked up at the man he had known since he was a child. “I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet voice and plunged the dagger he had hidden under his coat into Robert’s chest.

Add your comment

Sign into Storybird to post a comment.

Create an account

Create an account to get started. It’s free!

Sign up

or sign in with email below