A Modern Fairytale

The king of fairies

From all the way over here, I can see it—you are failing. We don't know each other, but your history has always been one of victory. What happened to that? You're falling fast.

☆☆☆

Long, long ago in the fairy kingdom of Mecrisdale, there lived two kinds of royalty: one who wandered idly most of the time and one who spent every day plotting the demise of other kingdoms—any other kingdom. Neither could stand to be bored, but the way they handled their boredom varied greatly—the former traveled and tried new things, the latter sought bloodshed.

In an underground workshop, Reginvalt Boneflare tinkered away quietly, beating time with his hammer without meaning to. He belonged to a family whose wings had no color. They looked the most human, even though they were not. It was only under the moonlight that the outline of their wings could be seen—and even then, that was only sometimes. Their work was thus almost invisible, unmarked by any sort of sparkle. Such was what Reginvalt was doing now. This was a time when his hair still matched the dark brown of his eyes. Should he be placed in a different kingdom, he might have looked quite ordinary indeed.

But in that room, at the moment, there was only one other person—Valerie Ginemoux, the only child of the current monarch, heiress to the throne. Her hair was a soft shade of pink, her eyes a piercing blue, and her wings glistening gold. Initially, she only stood there, watching quietly. Then, the smallest hint of a smile played at her lips, and she went to sit at a piano, playing a tune to Reginvalt's unintended beat. Not a single word was exchanged.

When he stopped, so did she, ending her song as if it was always meant to last exactly that long—not a second more, not a second less. Their eyes met. The young man arched an eyebrow, as if asking: why is there a piano in this room? And the young woman mirrored his expression, as if saying: because I want there to be.

At this time, there came a voice outside.

"Valerie! Valerie! Where are you?"

Both glanced at the door. Valerie rose from her seat. Sighing, she opened the door. Just a moment ago, her expression had been stoic. As soon as the door opened, the princess showed a soft smile.

Her voice honey-sweet, she asked, "Are they looking for me?"

"Oh, sweet princess, they've been looking for hours! Valerie, please, there are wars to be fought!"

"I'll be there in a minute, don't worry. I was just waiting for Reginvalt's gift."

"Oh..." the maid only peered into the workshop at the mention of another's name. She looked for only a moment before stepping back. "My apologies. I'll tell them that, then."

"Thanks," said Valerie.

Then, she closed the door.

Reginvalt snickered, spinning the crystal globe in his hands to check that it was properly adjusted to the golden stand. "Amazing," he voiced, unmistakably sarcastic, "A gift from me, huh?"

The fairy princess strode to her companion, stopping only a step away. She lifted her chin, her eyes widening in feigned wonder. "Or I could tell her that Reginvalt Boneflare, a man of equal prowess to the heiress, made an omniscient crystal globe for his own amusement. I wonder if they would believe me if I said—"

"—I can't be bothered to travel, so I made this to see if I can journey around the world without the muscle work."

"Or would I be deceiving with the truth? I daresay, probably the latter."

"Probably."

Valerie stepped back and made her way back to the door. A minute had long passed. Just as she placed her hand on the wooden handle, Reginvalt spoke up again.

"Val, wait."

She halted and turned.

"Take it." He held out the globe.

"...why?" she asked, incredulous.

"Why, to be persuasive, of course." He grinned.

"To be persuasive," she repeated. Carefully, she took the crystal globe from him.

"Indeed."

"I'll send it back to you tonight," Valerie promised.

"As long as you don't send it into enemy territory."

☆☆☆

But Valerie did not return the crystal globe, and the maid did not know what news she was supposed to deliver. The pink-haired princess vanished from Mecrisdale that night, and the throne was overtaken. An hour was all it took for an imprisoned prince to rob the king of his rule, one he had maintained for centuries.

Valerie, evicted just like that? That Valerie? Reginvalt thought to himself later that night—but he said nothing. Even without his crystal globe, he could feel Valen's glare upon him. Oh, well. That's our king now.

He said nothing about the kingship, and he did nothing about it, but there was one thing he had to find. After all, Valerie did have a point—the crystal globe was not something to be had by anyone outside of the monarchy.

That night, Reginvalt flew up to what used to be Valerie's room, taking the size of a firefly. If he used the door—no, he would most likely be expected there. From her window, there was a sealed hole. He lifted a hand and pushed it. At his touch, the hole dissolved into gold dust and opened up as an entrance. He flew in from that hole and glanced back only briefly—only Valerie could seal that opening again; it was her magic in the first place. She never explicitly told him of this entrance, but she did hint at it once. Once was enough; it had to be enough in a realm such as this.

Reginvalt had always been more proficient at making inventions himself than finding them afterward. Valerie, on the other hand, was not much of an inventor, but turning everything into a puzzle seemed to be a hobby of hers. He looked around—Valerie's room was surprisingly plain. A bed with pink sheets, a wooden desk and chair, two bookshelves, a wardrobe, a glass shelf. If an item of his own making was inside, it wouldn't be too difficult to find. He flew about, his eyes closed. Unlike most other fairies, his sparks were not visible, but they worked just like everybody else's.

Yet, he found nothing. It was not here.

Did they take it? Did she take it?

There was no time to wonder. Guards were already outside—not for him, thankfully. Only Valerie's belongings. But wait, Valerie's belongings...

Before leaving, Reginvalt took something from that room.

☆☆☆

It was only two days later that Valen put Reginvalt into the army. He gave him a weapon and took away his workshop. No explanation was given, but it was all for the better—none was needed. The hostile look in the new king's eyes said it all: you were aligned with the wrong person. Whenever they passed each other by, Valen would always give him that look. Every time, Reginvalt returned his gaze. Sometimes, he would even smile lovingly until the king looked away in disgust.

He did not like it. He did not like it one bit. He would much rather sit back in his workshop, studying anything of his interest. He would rather look at the world from a crystal globe—and not up close, especially not through slaughter. They were Valen's conquests anyway, not his. They had nothing to do with him.

Maybe, just maybe, he would really have to travel this time.

Such a thought entered his mind more than once, but with every victory, it became clearer that he would not realize that faint whisper of a wish. Without his workshop, Reginvalt now worked with Mecrisdale's armaments instead. Although he worked with other fairies as well, his expertise was what stood out. Perhaps also because of that, he was placed on the frontline more than a few times. Each time, he returned intact. Eventually, he found himself at the front every single time. With each battle, the color of his hair changed a little, until it settled at cherry brown.

Then, the day came when he saw her again. Like him, she was on the battlefield—but that was nothing new for her. Like him, her hair was now a different shade. Unlike him, though, hers was a bright, crimson red. She sprang out from amongst the army she was with, charging forward and alone. For the first time, he witnessed the "warrior princess" in action—from the other side.

...and she seemed to be coming straight for him.

But when she was almost there, she passed by him, holding out a hand for a brief second. Without missing a beat, he placed into her hand the item he had taken from her room that night—the last time they met before now.

Then, Valerie vanished again, leaving Reginvalt with two armies and a chaotic battlefield that she seemed to have no intention of handling.

☆☆☆

When they met again, it was in the throne room. By the time he arrived, Valerie was already there playing the piano, bloodstains on her clothes. By the bench on the floor lay a pair of golden wings. On her back, there was another. On her index finger, she wore the ring of gold that he had placed into her hand only earlier that day—the ring that gave her the power she needed to cut that other pair of wings off. It was that ring that made her "warrior princess" to begin with, although its existence had been known to no one else.

Reginvalt made his way to her. He arched an eyebrow. She stopped playing, looked up, and mirrored his expression.

Then, he chuckled. She stood up.

"May I have this dance?" she asked.

"I'm tired. I just killed a bunch of your people."

"And I just killed your king. What about it?"

"Sure, I'll have this dance."

He reached out, and she took his hand. Without a beat, without a melody, they danced around in the throne room, their steps in perfect synchrony as if they had been practicing for all of the fifty years that they spent apart. When they decided it was enough, they stopped at the same time, standing only a breath apart.

And they stood like that for a few long minutes before they each took a small step back.

Valerie looked up. "Good to see you."

"Likewise."

"I killed your king."

"You've said that, yes."

She took his left hand, then slid the golden ring from her own index finger onto his. Then, she dropped the hand.

"And I will go back to my king with his wings," she said, walking back to the piano to retrieve the abandoned pair of wings.

"Your king? A human king?"

"Yes. And I'll see you around."

With that said, she walked out of the throne room, leaving an entire kingdom in his hands this time.

☆☆☆

Despite what is written and said about you, you are not perfect—that I firmly believe. And I have no desire to meet you but let me just say...you need to find your truth if you don't want those clouds to rain over Mecrisdale.

Unless that's exactly what you want, of course. Who am I to tell another how to rule his kingdom?