A Modern Fairytale

The frog in the well

Long, long ago, a false angel was born into this world without a story. He knew only that the spot where he woke up was not where he had been when he was first created, and he knew not how, when, or whence he was transported; he knew only that he belonged here now. He was a court musician to the king of man, the kingdom was called Rectitia.

The curious thing was, he did not question it—not at first. Without a history, he did not know that ordinary people had it; without a childhood, he was not aware that ordinary people had one. He played his role, not even questioning where he learned to play all the musical instruments that he did. Time helped him discover that his voice could heal and that he had white, feathered wings. He assumed he was a seraph because of those traits.

He had no complaints. Iefan was content with the life he had at the castle—King Alasdair was a benevolent king; before the rogue fairy came, it was the King who led his own expeditions and conquests. Even back then, he always came back with tales and victory. The King was always calm and collected, so Iefan assumed, again based on his observations, that all kings were like that. He began to think deeper, however, when King Alasdair introduced him to the library. Why he had done so was a question Iefan had neglected to ask, but the young false angel quickly became engrossed in what he found in books. Tales of new and old took him to worlds previously beyond his imagination; memoirs of past kings taught him that not all kings were the same; musical scores gave him a visual of what he previously only knew by sound. He learned quickly. He learned that he was wrong, but he thought he was improving now.

Then, it was the rogue fairy—who turned out to be a princess in exile—who told him he was a false angel, not an angel. In the same breath, she assured him it was better to be a false angel.

Suddenly, he wasn't sure if he actually understood anything he thought he understood anymore.

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"Why?" Iefan asked, his brows creased at the spot on the map that symbolized Venethema.

"To find out what the late fairy queen's secrets were," King Alasdair explained patiently, "The curse covered all the region for a century. Valerie wants to know what it was covering."

"What about King Ulric?" Iefan asked further.

"That...I do not know."

"Is it not because he was the last king?"

"I doubt it is directly relevant."

"It's been a while since her message, Your Majesty."

Alasdair nodded. "Indeed. It usually takes a day at most for her to return after reporting a mission accomplished."

"Your Majesty?" the boy asked, blinking in some sort of revelation.

"Yes, Iefan?"

"Was it your idea that she goes to Venethema?"

"No, Iefan, it wasn't. It is never appropriate for man to probe into the world of the supernatural."

"But you're an explorer too."

"Of nature. I search for oddly-shaped trees and gigantic fish, not spells and curses."

At that moment, King Alasdair glanced out the window.

"Your Majesty, are you worried?"

"For?"

"For...Valerie, and also..."

"...the people have noticed her absence, and not just our people," Alasdair said. "No, I'm not worried about that. I am a little concerned for Valerie herself though."