A Modern Fairytale

I see.

I remember you.

I remember you, but you may not remember me. You may never have taken notice of me, and I frankly don't mind—I frankly don't care. I have drawn so many people, held up Valerie's portrait against so many others just to see, for my own amusement, if they would match, but you were not one of them. I have shown myself to you a few times throughout the years, each time with a different appearance, but not once have you perceived me as important enough to be...well, perceived. The angel who argued that you ought to be allowed to exist, at least for a while? That was me. The ballerina who pointed a sword at you? That was me. You didn't care—and again, I don't either. It wasn't for your sake that I was banished, and it wasn't for your sake that I spared you. Now that I think about it, I probably mean as much to you as you do to me.

Good and evil ought to exist on a balance—this I still believe. After all these years, I've found that some entities lean a bit more towards one than the other, and that it can be quite difficult to strike the perfect balance. However, I've also found individuals who exist right at the center between the two, as balanced as if they measure it every second of every day.

I don't need to tell you who those individuals are, do I? Oh no, of course it's not you.

Anyway, King Sepher, I think it's about time. On Valerie's command, and by my own conscience, we will meet again—this time, I think it will be the last.

☆☆☆

I don't remember you. I don't remember anything you recall—I probably never paid any attention. In fact, what are you even talking about? I simply do not recall; perhaps you lie. Whether or not you speak the truth, the case remains that you have led an army to my kingdom. An army of individuals, each of whom looking exactly like yourself. Whose power enables this? Is it hers? I wouldn't be surprised if it were, yet I have a hunch that it isn't.

You rose high above the sky, the clouds—high above myself, the elementals, and the army of your own lookalikes, even—with a sword in your hands and both eyes closed. At that height, it almost looked like your hair was one with the sun itself—but I know it to be a mere trick, for a shapeshifter could not possibly be of the sun. The sun, something far higher, more powerful, and brighter than the rest of us down below; something of the heavens, above all living things. So long as you work with the cunning fairies, surely you would not be something of that caliber.

You opened your eyes, a minute later, and only then did I see for the first time that your eyes were an ordinary brown color. Not that special, then, as must be the case, and I certainly don't recall ever seeing you before.

☆☆☆

Centuries ago, you revolted against the fairy kingdom of Mecrisdale, founding your own nation halfway up in the sky. All these years later, you must be quite bitter about how it turned out—did you think Mecrisdale would do worse without you? Were you hoping for it? In any case, you know now that this is not the case. But—aside from how it might affect them, or you yourself, have you ever considered what impact it might have on the world at large?

I didn't think so.

Many shades of gray exist between black and white. As far as the heavens is concerned, as long as evil does not exceed a particular level, it is permitted. When you ascended from the ground and attempted to become heaven itself, however, that became too much—my creator would not allow it to persist. Initially, you were to be eliminated: you and your whole new kingdom. I pleaded for you...pleaded for you! I pleaded that you be allowed to exist, arguing that all the world cannot always be at a perfect balance between good and evil, that the attempt to do so in a world so vibrantly inhabited by all kinds of creatures would be tyranny restricting the freedom that the creator so lovingly gave them in the first place. And tyranny, I said, must be one of the last things the creator wanted to impose.

My plea was heard and realized—but you must know that, King Sepher, since you are still breathing at the moment. But for speaking against the almighty, I was banished from the heavens.

That's right.

I am the only real fallen angel.

☆☆☆

No wonder the one right behind you doesn't faze you. Hell, no wonder I know nothing about you despite having been around for so long—possibly even the longest. If that is the case, you are the one I should focus on, and not—

"Hello."

...her. I would recognize it anywhere. Anyone would, if they knew who she was. Someone must have transported her up, maybe it was that same boy who rescued her the other time. Fairies can't make it up this high on their own. If they could, perhaps the fairy k—oh, I'm sorry, the late fairy king would have already done it.

She didn't even travel. When she appeared, she did so right beside me, at the top of this tower. This is the highest point in Navitusia, and by extension the highest point just beneath the true heavens where you claim you come from. She held nothing in her hands, but I know that means nothing when she is a fairy. Her smile was still the same as the last time we met. So that's what Valerie's fake smile looks like, I realized, since she's definitely not here to give me a good time.

"Valerie," I responded. I was about to comment on what a party it was down there with all of your troops against many of my people, but I changed my mind. Instead, I focused on her. Something felt different. "Is it just me, or does your presence seem stronger today?"

The fairy laid a hand on my shoulder, tilting her head slightly as she brought her face closer to mine. "You really do have control over every molecule in the air, King Sepher. I see no point in hiding from you, so yes, my presence is stronger today."

That tells me nothing.

I tried to vacuum all the air out of her lungs right then and there. Ultimately, it did not matter. It would be a shame, of course, if she were to die, since she is so much more interesting when she is alive enough to retort. However, if...

Hm...?

Nothing happened. She still breathed as if I never tried anything. And she acted, too, as if nothing had happened.

"It's been a while since our date," she said, "I don't remember this being a part of the deal."

"'This', you say?" I asked. Now, I was convinced I would have to kill her or be killed myself. Once again, I tried to manipulate the air. If it worked on Reginvalt Boneflare, why wouldn't it on Valerie Ginemoux?

And yet, it didn't.

"Hovering over Rectitia. Oh wait, no, it was part of the agreement: that it would not happen, or am I misremembering our terms?"

"It wasn't me," I lied, without batting an eye. Fairies lie just as well, do they not?

"You've probably lived a while. Did you know my mother?"

"Personally? No, and I don't concern myself with—"

"A shame. See this, isn't it pretty?" She opened a palm, conjuring above it a crown. A smoking crown.

"...did you make it?"

"It wasn't me."

She put the crown on me, swiftly, before I could successfully back away.

Ah, women. You are all so petty.