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Sapphic Snapshots | Faeverse

Fae hate iron. Fae love bargains. Fae want your name. Never give them that.

I was about twelve when I met my first fae. I ran away from home and into the Forgotten Forest – a bad decision to make, if you ask me. But I just couldn’t stand my mother’s silent fuming any longer, and I just wanted to get away. To forget and be forgotten. That’s what the forest is for, isn’t it? In a way, I was a willing spirit for fae to abduct.

I wandered off deep into the forest and spend an hour aimlessly browsing through the trees. The forest is beautiful. Sun was shining through the leaves, illuminating them a shining brilliant green, and particles of dust swirling in the streams of light looked enchanting. That’s exactly the word.

I sat down on a tree stump, and I cried. I cried, because my mother didn’t love me, and I don’t think I loved her, either. I cried because there were no friends I could talk to about this, and even if there were, twelve year olds aren’t exactly equipped enough to deal with this kind of emotional turmoil. I cried, because I knew that I would end up going back to my broken home with its tense silence and my mother angrily washing dishes at me. I cried, because there seemed to be no escaped.

That’s when she crept out of the woods, her steps light, inaudible. She walked the way only fae could – almost levitating. And mesmerizing. Fae are, despite all of the danger and alleged people-eating, magnificent creatures.

“Hey.” Her voice was light, too. Like wind, and sunshine, and the stream of a spring. All lovely clichés rolled together in one slender blonde-haired bundle standing before me.

I sprung to my feet and ran. Or wanted to run, really. Except I only ended up stumbling over a branch that wsn’t here before and scraping my knee as I fell down.

“Am I that scary?” Fae cocked her head to the right, studying me with her amused eyes. Emerald green. Just like the leaves with the sun shining through them.

I kept silent. Talking with fae, if you’re inexperienced at it, could end badly. On the other hand, what did I have to lose, really? My name? My life? None of it particularly mattered to me. None of it made me happy. So I stood up, dusted myself off, and looked at her.

She appeared to be the same age as me, but you never knew with fae, the immortal creatures they were. She could be a thousand years old and I wouldn’t know till she told me. She was a little shorted than me, and much, much prettier. Which isn’t that hard to be when the eternal magick of the Forgotten Forest and the spirits of wanderers lost feed your youth and beauty.

“So?” She got impatient with me rather quickly. Not surprising. “Am I that scary?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Not really. But I’m still scared.”

She stood, then, contemplating something as she studied me. Then, she sighed. “I won’t ask for your name. Don’t worry.”

“I can give it to you,” I said. For a second, I was enveloped by my fear; imagining The Feast of Fae, with a table full of every food I loved, beckoning me to eat something, anything, and never be able to return to the mortal world again. Imagining the endless dance. Imagining fading away into the sunlight, and the fae in front of me breathing my soul in.

I wasn’t sure that that was exactly how it went, but my twelve-year-old imagination pictured everything so vividly and beautifully that I didn’t want to know the truth. Perhaps, fae would simply gnaw on my flesh and bones instead while I danced away in a magically induced haze. Perhaps, they – or even her, in front of me - would wear my skin and come back to my mother.

“Careful.” Her quiet voice interrupted my train of thought that was about to take a rather gory turn. “It’s not something you want to say in this forest. Come on.” She gave me another long stare. “Follow me.”

I had already made peace with the fact that I was staying in the Forgotten Forest forever, so I simply did as I was told. To my surprise, instead of a sunny meadow and a dinner table, she led me back to the town border.

“Go. Don’t come back.” Her expression was serious, and it looked completely out of place on her young, ethereal face. “I can’t cross over the border, or I’d walk you. But hey,” a tiny smirk appeared on her lips, then. “If you managed to survive an hour in the Forgotten Forest, I’m sure you’ll find your way back home.”

The words escaped my mouth before I even had a chance to thought them over. “What if I don’t want to go back home? What if I wanna stay here?”

“No mortal wants to stay here,” she cut me off, rather coldly. “Go before I change my mind.”

That was when my self-preservation instinct kicked in, and I ran. Mother didn’t even notice my absence, and I never told anymore about my run-in with fae. No one would believe I escaped her, anyway.

For a week after that, I waited. And researched. I read everything I could on fae, but the books didn’t offer much – only that they were trouble and you should never talk to them, or attempt to bargain. There were things I already knew – that they hated salt and iron and you could use that to protect yourself, should a stray fae wander up to your house. In the Forgotten Forest, though, that was virtually useless. It was their territory. The land itself gave them power. Or so dusty old books told me. I wasn’t that dumb of a kid to go to the forest again, but I also had enough anxiety that told me the border might not stop a fae that realized she let her prey go.

So I stocked up on salt and waited seven long, sleepless nights for her to come take me back. Yet she never appeared. I waited for confusing, luring dreams, but they never happened. I waited, and waited, and it was almost in vain.

Until the eight night, when I awoke to a silver moon and an annoyed familiar face staring at me through the window. Naturally, I screamed. Or attempted to, really, but fae waved her hand at me, and no sound came out. I could only watch, wide-eyed and terrified, as she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

Her next words, however, made me more baffled than scared. “What do you want?” She hissed, thoroughly irritated.

I blinked and gestured at my throat.

“You scream and I tear you apart,” she warned. I nodded. Huffing again, she snapped her fingers. “Now. What do you want?”

“N-nothing,” I stammered. “I don’t want anything.”

She glanced down at the window sill. “Salt? Seriously? I finally answer to your call, and you make it so I can’t get in?”

“My call?”

At my question, she narrowed her eyes, and studied me for a long moment. Her gaze ran over me, searching for something. And, clearly, she found what she was looking for, and she didn’t particularly like it. “If you don’t know about the call, how did you do it?”

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, you don’t know.” She shook her head, incredulous. Her hair shined silver in the moonlight, and her eyes looked dark. “Don’t think about me. Forget you ever met me. If I cross the border again, it’s to kill you and burn your town to the ground. Do you understand?”

Oh, I understood. I frantically nodded, wishing for this all to be over so I could go back to my uninterrupted, boring small-town life. As soon as I thought of it, her face relaxed, and her expression became that of a relief.

“Good,” she told me, curtly. “Hope to never see you again.” With that, she stepped away from my window and ran. I didn’t watch her retreat. I jumped from the bed, closed the curtains, and poured another salt circle around my bed before climbing back in and hiding under the blanket.

I was wildly successful in not thinking of fae at all for several years. If I were more willing to start therapy, I would’ve been probably told that I blocked a traumatic experience as a defense mechanism. And I, once again, successfully avoided even talking about fae unless it came to studies, and I was the only one in my class to opt out of the Defense Against Fae class, which didn’t exactly help with my social standing as that quiet freak.

It was only at my graduation night that I was forced to think of her again.

Our class gathered at the house of our valedictorian, as was the long-running tradition. It certainly helped that our valedictorian came from an extremely long and equally powerful line of witches. Makes sense, really; children of ancient witch families were taught the craft earlier than they learned to walk. I, like many of other simple witches, only got to start on the witchcraft at the age of fourteen. Anything earlier was deemed potentially harmful. But old bloodlines didn’t care. And maybe they were onto something, too.

The fact that our valedictorian was from one of these families meant not only proficiency in magic, but wealth, too. Wealth meant owning a house that was more of a mansion, which meant a party for the ages. I had no idea how I ended up going there. The invitation stretched for everyone in the class, though, and I wasn’t all that looking forward to spending another lonely night in my room with my mother silently watching TV. I guess I just wanted to celebrate at least somehow. Do something to remember one of the most important days in my life.

It turned out to be both the worst and the best decision I’ve ever made.

When it was late and half the class had passed out in various places not really meant to passing out around the house and the other half got tired of excessive dancing and drinking, we all spilled out into the backyard to gather around the fire. Another tradition. I stood a little behind, silently sipping on my wine and watching everyone joke around and exchange promises they likely won’t keep. Until it got quieter, and the main fae expert of our class, Sam, noticed me.

“Hey,” he addressed me, with a tiny bit of slur in his words. “Hey – Mika, right?” His pupils, dilated and sparkling, told me he’d been sipping on potions that night. That didn’t help me at all. I wondered if I should translocate to my house. That would be too dangerous for a novice like me. I could always just run, though.

“Yeah, Mika,” he nodded and beckoned me to come closer and sit on one of the logs that served as chairs around the crackling bonfire. “I always wanted to ask you. Why are you so afraid of fae?”

“Why aren’t you?” I replied quietly. Every pair of eyes watched me as I slowly sat down.

He shrugged. “Why would I be?” The on-going question ping-pong did nothing good for my anxiety. I took a deep breath and shrugged back at him, clearly indicating I wasn’t interested in continuing with this conversation. But he wasn’t done. And not just him. Reana Griffin, the valedictorian, watched the exchange with unhealthy interest.

“No, seriously,” Sam continued coking his head to the right. Just like – no. I gulped the remaining wine down, shutting the thought down. “You didn’t take the Defense class. You never talk about them.”

“I never talk about anything to any of you,” I reasoned.

Reana smirked. “Then why are you here?”

I didn’t have an answer to that, and I was all out of wine to gulp.

“Come on, tell us,” Sam said loudly. He spilled some wine on his tailored pants, and didn’t notice. “Something happened, didn’t it? Did they kill your father?”

“Sam,” one of his friends, a guy I didn’t remember the name of, shushed him disapprovingly. “Too far, man.”

“No one killed my father,” I said, clearing my throat. “He was just... never there. I don’t really…” Why was I even sharing any of these with those people? I glanced at my empty glass. Right.

Everyone kept staring at me. Witch unions were supposed to last forever – literally, in some cases. Divorce was unheard of. One of the many reasons I didn’t really have friends. Everyone speculated that my mother got rid of my father, or that I caused him to leave, somehow.

“So you don’t know your dad?”

“Wait, I wanna know what’s up with her and fae first,” Sam interrupted.

“Nothing,” I said. Nothing was up with me and fae. I was afraid of them. I couldn't think of them. It inevitably lead to thinking about her, and what happened that night, and what did she even mean by my call? And why did she save me – and did she even save me at all, or did I make it all up in my lonely mind of a lonely child to escape the reality of being utterly, devastatingly alone?

I blinked and felt something wet drip down my cheek. Great. Now I was crying in front of these brilliant, wealthy, confident morons. Truly a way to end the night. I blinked faster, and the tears kept coming faster, too. I couldn’t bear to watch their faces twist with pity, so I pointedly looked past them, far eat. In the direction of the Forest.

It probably shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see her standing there. She grew up, too, as I did. Her hair was longer, and it still shone silver under the moonlight. She stood mere feet away from where we were all sitting, and her smirk was as warm as it was annoyed. At first, I thought she was just a result of my desperation and blurry vision. But, when I wiped the tears away, she remained.

“I’m surprised it took you this long,” she told me. Everyone turned around, and then scrambled to their feet, cries of surprise and fear filling the air. I didn’t move. I simply watched her as she walked to me, her bare feet barely touching the ground.

“So am I.” There was something different about meeting her this time. There was no fear. “Are you mad at me?”

“Not anymore.” She outstretched her hand. “Come.”

“Aren’t you going to kill me and burn this town to the ground?” I asked, then, allowing myself a small smile as I stood and took her hand. Warm. And soft. It promised a forever. So I accepted.

And she led me away; away from my gawking classmates and my small town and my dim future; away from my previous life that seemed so dull in comparison with the bright green of The Forgotten Forest. We crossed the clearing that separated the town and the woods, and I didn’t ask why The Forest was suddenly illuminated by sunshine, just like the way it was when we first met. I just watched, and breathed the warm summer air in, and smiled.

“It’s yours now,” she told me, quietly, as we stood before the unseen border. “All of it.”

I looked at her. “Do you need my name?”

“No. No,” she shook her head, and let out a small, melodic laugh. “But you don’t need it, either. You can find a new one. I can give you a new one, if you want. Or you can go without any name at all.”

I thought of it, and the last option seemed to be the best. Later, perhaps, we’ll come up with something together. Now, I just wanted to be.

And so I smiled wider, and grasped her hand, and led her over the border, into the emerald depth of our forest.

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