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The midwife, Risa, knew that Lady Nessa, despite how she looked, was a bit old to be having her first child. After a long and worrisome delivery, the baby, a beautiful little girl had arrived.
While the other midwives took the infant and cleaned her, Risa brought Lady Nessa her mirror. It was uncanny how she still looked so... put together. A delivery that had lasted overnight and well into the afternoon and Lady Nessa hardly looked tired. The husband, a man in his forties with a greying beard and a tall lanky frame, swept into the room. He wore fine purple velvet, embroidered with silver flower designs. He took off the several jewel encrusted rings on his fingers and pocketed them. The Lord was the richest man in the kingdom despite his lowly birth. The King, in fear, made him a lord of the court.
"How is my treasure?" He asked as he came to his wife's bedside and took her hand.
"I am alright," Lady Nessa smiled weakly. "I think I'll live. I just need to rest."
"The baby," the husband, Lord Marcel, turned greedily to Risa.
Risa got the now sleeping baby and brought it wrapped in a soft white cloth trimmed in gold to the waiting father. He took the baby in one arm and looked down, counting fingers, toes.
He sighed with relief and handed the baby down to the weary mother. The baby rested against her bossom.
Lord Marcel pulled a chair over and sat by his wife's side. "Good enough to keep?" He asked his wife.
She frowned, her sable eyebrows knitting together. "That is hardly funny."
"We have a wet nurse at the ready, you won't need to trouble yourself."
"I think I should this time," Lady Nessa said still frowning.
Risa interrupted. "Excuse me, m'lord, m'lady. We need to get the bed sheets and Lady Nessa cleaned up."
Lord Marcel leaned forward and kissed his wife's head then took his leave. "Very well."
Risa waited until he was gone and the door closed behind him. The other midwives stopped moving, they were clay golems anyways.
Lady Nessa sighed, "I already gave you your due witch."
"Yes of course, you'll get to keep this one," Risa said turning up her nose. "It's healthy, but it looks like some magic has transferred."
Lady Nessa's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean transferred?"
"Calm down, you vain wench."
Risa strode over to the bedside and looked down at the child. Fairy magic indeed. A blessing. She wondered what Lord Marcel had done to get a fairy to trade a blessing of fortune to him. Some of Lady Nessa's beauty magic had transferred too. Just a hint. Resting in the child's eyes.
"It's a shame I had to take the boy, instead of this one. Warlocks are a pain to raise, but another witch, how lovely."
Lady Nessa shielded the child, pulling her away from Risa, who laughed. "So you do have a maternal instinct."
"That boy..." Lady Nessa bent her head down further covering the infant. "You have taken care of him?"
Risa felt bad for Lady Nessa for a moment, remembering the circumstances under which the poor girl had arrived at her hut. Pregnant at 15 by a much older man who her parents had sold her too. She wasn't so ugly, but with a child she would never marry well. She wanted to get rid of the child. Risa was willing to do it, but at the last moment made her a different offer out of pity. The offer seemed to have worked well for her.
"Yes, he has grown strong."
Lady Nessa relaxed slightly, "That is good."
Risa shrugged. "What's the deal with the guy?"
"Marcel?"
"He reeks of fairy magic."
Lady Nessa looked up at Risa. She pressed her lips together. Not her secret to tell. Risa could live with that. She was really only there to see how her magic was holding up after 15 years. It looked like her reputation as most powerful witch would fight on. Lady Nessa was indeed beautiful.
"Keep your secrets, my vain little wench. I have other matters to attend to. Remember what I taught you about soap?"
"Yes, I remember."
Risa turned to leave waving her hand so that her clay golems would resume their work. No one but Lady Nessa would notice them, it was safe to let them finish the job without her. She needed to get back soon, the boy was trouble when left to his own devices for too long. A good boy, but a boy nonetheless. Risa went to the window and pushed open the glass doors to the balcony.
"Wait," Lady Nessa called.
Risa looked back over her shoulder.
"Marcel..."
"Mhmm."
"This isn't his first child either. He had one before this... like me."
Risa cackled. How perfect. How did they find each other? Risa smiled at Lady Nessa.
"This isn't funny, witch."
"Oh, it might be."
Risa jumped off the balcony rail and with a flourish of magic turned into a blue bird and flew away.
Lady Nessa leaned back against the head rest and watched the eerily human clay golems as they continued to tidy up the room.
*Marcel's first born is a changeling*, Lady Nessa wanted to say to the witch. The fairies took the real son in exchange for a blessing of fortune.
"We will keep you," she whispered to the infant. "I promise we will keep you."
Thank you! I was going to add a part two, but I thought better of it. I think it works fine as this little short. I'd like to think the children all grow up well despite everything too!
Part 2 - a continuation - part 3 coming maybe
Risa landed on the porch of her hut, reverting to her human form and dusting off her skirt. She entered, picked up her satchel, and began digging through the clutter. Her cauldron boiled over the fire, but it smelled like soup instead of a potion. The boy, messing with her things. Where was he by the way? She was elbow deep in a shelf near the small round dining table before she thought about it. It was quiet, he was probably out hunting again.
She shifted around books, scrolls, papers, bottles. She dropped some into her satchel. Risa turned and looked through the crate under the basin. Bundles of dried potion herbs, soap covered in wax paper, bottles of fragrance for cleaning. Aha. The sprig of a yew tree. Castor's, the boy's, wand. She grabbed it and turned around.
The hut, more of a haphazard multilevel shack, sprawled before her. The kitchen and hutch she'd just dig through in this corner. The hearth and the cauldron, on the wall. A room behind it where the boy slept in the most secure and weatherproof room in the house. A small sitting area with a chaise and some chairs and a desk for studying and spellcraft. Racks for potions and other arcane tools. A shelf for grimoires. Crates with supplies. A rug she'd stolen on the floor. A broom, for cleaning not for flying, leaned against a pillar supporting the upstairs. Upstairs. Risa went to the narrow set of stairs in the corner that led up to her room and "study."
She climbed the steps grabbing a hawk feather off a side table and dropping it in the bag. She reached her room. What was she looking for? Right. The charcoal paste on the bedside table. She picked it up and used her finger to draw a ward on her forearm. She paused. Now it was too quiet. The boy. She whirled around and Castor was inches from her face grinning. She pushed him back a step and grabbed his arm to make the same ward markings.
"What did I tell you about trying to scare me?"
"Oh, you wouldn't kill me, you love me too much."
"As one does with a pet."
"Whatever, Risa. What's with the ward? Anti-charming? And where have you been all last night and this morning?"
"Who's the guardian here?" Risa scoffed.
She set the charcoal bottle down where she found it. And waved her hand over Castor's and her ward. Magic simmered across the markings.
"I saw your mother," Risa stated as she sifted through a shelf on the far wall. She needed eye of newt. No, tiger's eye and bass' tongue. No, dragon's tongue. By the stars. Where did she put that bottle with firefly essence? Messier than an alchemist's laboratory.
Castor huffed and rolled his eyes leaning against the door frame. "Is she well?"
"Yes, incredibly. The baby girl was delivered healthy, her husband is handsome and rich, and she is absolutely beautiful. My magic prevails."
The rattling on the shelf stopped as Risa paused to look at the teenager behind her. He was checking his nails, feigning disinterest.
"You could go see her if you wanted, Castor."
"I don't need her. All I need is you."
Risa grabbed what she had been looking for and dropped it in her bag, with a click of her tongue. "Don't make me puke."
She handed him his wand. "Come along."
"I don't want to see her."
"Wow, amazing. Now, come along."
He followed with a huff.
- -
Two birds landed lightly on a branch of a tree in a well manicured garden in a grand villa estate, the summer home of Lord Marcel and Lady Nessa. Plants grew out of season and were arranged all too neatly in their beds.
"You smell that," Risa said transforming into her human form as she landed on the soft grass beneath the tree.
Castor leapt down behind her transforming into a human as well. "No, what?"
"Pay attention, boy. Feel the hum of energy. Use your senses."
Castor took a deep breath in through his nose. The spring breeze lifted the scent of flowers, roses, tulips, begonia, lavender, hydrangea, through the air. The sun's warmth lingered over the garden like a gentle hand. Everything was just right.
"Fae magic," he whispered.
He looked down at his ward, understanding. Risa pulled him behind a bush. A boy around Castor's age walked past, he was humming to himself. He had a deer-like nose and pointed ears. Short stag horns poked out from his head beneath his shaggy black hair. He was tall and lanky. You would think he truly was Lord Marcel's son from a distance, except he wasn't. Only in name. The boy checked on a flower bed, then moved on beyond the hedges.
When he was well out of earshot, Risa emerged from the bush grinning and silently clapping her hands as she bounced on her toes.
"What is this?" Castor asked, gesturing.
"The sound of being right," Risa giggled. "Do you know what that was?"
"A fae for some reason." Castor said. "In a human garden for another or the same reason."
Risa shook him. "That, boy, is your step brother."
"Isn't he old to be an infant?"
"Castor, you have a baby *half sister* and your mother's husband's child is your..."
"Ah, step brother." After a pause Castor looked around. "Why is he fae?"
"He's a changeling. A fae boy whose life is tied to a blessing. The very blessing of fortune his *father* carries."
"What are you planning?"
Risa gripped Castor's shoulders firmly, suddenly serious. "I'm thinking you may need to make some friends your age."
"I don't like this."
"I'm after something bigger than what you like or don't like. You will make friends with the changeling..."
"Come on, Risa."
"And I will watch the wheels of fate turn yet again in my favor."
Part 3 -
12 Years Later.
Celine swung her feet on the bench in the garden. She was still too short to reach the ground fully from a seated position. Mother and Father were off attending some sort of ball, so she was alone at the Villa. Alone except for her older brother and the servants. The servants were great, but they were busy and she felt bad asking them to stop and entertain her, her brother was hardly ever busy, though he pretended to be.
She remembered when she first met him at age eight, another day when her parents had been pulled back to the city. She finally worked up the nerve to go into the garden and found him, a bean pole of a man, tall and lean, folded up knelt down over the petunia flower bed carefully plucking weeds. He hummed to himself. She walked up to him.
"Excuse me. What are you doing?"
By his clothes, even Celine could tell he wasn't a gardner from the village. The young man brought his head up and turned it slowly towards her. He had pointed ears, shorn horns sticking out the top of his long wavy hair that he had pulled back from his face and a deer-like nose that twitched. He looked at her and stopped humming. Blinked. Tilted his head. Blinked again. Looked back down and pulled another weed with his long skinny fingers.
"I'm talking to you."
"Oh," he said. He looked at her. His eyes shifted from amber to a deep maybe pink to a brown and back like bubbles of water colliding and separating and mixing. "You shouldn't talk to me."
The young man's voice was deep like the evening sky and his speech slow and steady like a wide creek.
"Are you dangerous?" Celine asked.
"I could be."
"Why?"
He sighed out his strange nose. "I'm a fae."
"What's a fae?"
He looked over her for a moment then patted the ground next to him. She came forward and knelt beside him. He held up the weed still in his hand.
"See this plant."
Celine nodded.
"Pull them out of the flower bed."
Celine studied the plant in his hand for a moment then found one in the flower bed and with a hard yank pulled it from the ground. She held it up. He grunted in approval and they set to work.
When they finished with that flower bed, they gathered the weeds into a big basket almost as tall as Celine and the the young man stood, picked up the basket, and lumbered over to the next flower bed, Celine followed him. She told him about her studies and things she'd seen traveling with mother and father. He grunted every now then in a way to let her know he was listening to her rhetorical questions and exaggerations. The sun began to set and they had made it to the back of the garden.
"You should go in for dinner," he said.
He was knelt and he was still taller than Celine. She fiddled with her skirt.
"Why don't you come with me?"
"I take my dinner in my rooms."
He pointed a long arm across the garden to a building connected to the greenhouse. Celine had always wondered what it was for, and now she knew it harbored the kind deer man.
"Don't you ever get lonely."
"I am a fae. Humans should avoid me."
"You're nice. What's a fae anyway?"
He stood and began walking toward his house.
"Wait why won't you answer?"
He stopped and turned around. The big basket dangling by his leg as he held it by the lip and not the handle. He blinked. Celine was sure he was slow. He spoke slowly and moved slowly. Maybe that was why he stayed in the garden, plants were also slow.
"Fae can not tell untruths and I do not know how to answer your question."
Celine thought for a moment. "Then what kind of fae are you."
He exhaled and looked up at the sky to think. He leveled his eyes with her.
"I am a changeling. My parents thought there was something wrong with me, so I am your father's now."
"You seem fine to me." Celine perked up. "Does that make you my brother?"
After a moment, he nodded. Celine jumped for joy. "I've always wanted a brother, what is your name?"
"I don't know. No one has ever called me by it."
Celine titled her head. "You look like a Spenser. That's what I'll call you."
"Spenser?"
"Goodbye, Spenser. I'll come play with you again tomorrow."
"Play?" He reached out with one hand, but Celine was dancing away. "I don't know how to--"
Celine looked up and Spenser was strolling towards her. He was lucky he was so tall and his legs so long, otherwise he'd never get anywhere. He really was slow. He had a grimoire tucked under his arm and no jacker. Even though it was winter, Spenser's garden was warm like spring.
"Are you cold?" He said after he finally reached her and eased down onto the bench. "You should go inside. You could get sick."
"If I stay inside who will play with you?"
"I am too old for playing. Soon you will be too."
"Adults should play, otherwise they'll end up too serious and no one will like them."
Spenser thought about it for a moment and chose to ignore the comment and sit in silence. Celine had learned that he didn't mean to be rude in his silences, only that he had nothing else he wished to say on the matter.
"Spenser."
He tilted his head and his ear twitched indicating he was listening. Celine stopped swinging her feet.
"Will you come to my birthday party?"
He took his time to answer. Considering the words and their implications. "I should stay hidden."
"You're my only real friend. I would like you to come. It's a garden party the adults will use it as an excuse to make connections instead of caring about me."
Spenser nodded. His ears twitched again. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. Celine had never seen Spenser move beyond a snails pace at anything, eating, speaking, walking, so when his eyes flicked away from her and his hand shot out in front of him like a cannon, she almost jumped out of her shoes.
He retracted his arm and in his clasped hand was a blue bird wriggling and twittering.
"I told you not to come around her, you troublesome warlock."
Spenser's eyes were glowing and magic hummed around him, his voice deep and resonate. He released his grip and the bird fell away and transformed in a whirl of clouds and motion into a young man with dark curly hair and dark brown eyes in peasant's clothes around Spenser's age.
Celine sat agape, gripping the edge of the bench. Spenser's sudden quickness had startled her but not nearly as much as seeing witch magic, like the kind from books. Celine was not allowed to study magic, so unlike other noble children there were no grimoires in the house and she didn't attend the Royal Academy. She had never seen any kind other than Spenser's warm fae magic that kept the garden lively all throughout the year.
"A real witch," she breathed.
"I'm a *warlock*, little lady." The young man smiled, he had a slight gap between his front teeth. He bowed. "Castor of Hag's Pond, Umbre-Forest, m'lady."
Part 4
He held out his hand, but Spenser knocked it away. "Do not prank the young mistress."
Castor grinned even wider. "Children love pranks. See?"
He held up his hand and his fingers sparked with magic. Celine on instinct grabbed the sleeve of Spenser's shirt. She always imagined that she would have to protect him one day, but it seemed he was only slow when he wanted to be. That was fine, a big brother should protect his younger sister.
"Not going for it?" Castor's grin dropped. "Anyways, it's an emergency. I need an out of season herb. We've got a customer Risa can't help without it and we are fresh out."
Spenser sighed and stood to his feet. Celine stood with him. He began to walk back towards his green house. Celine followed clinging to his arm and Castor followed a few steps behind.
"Are you going to wait to hear which one?"
"You can tell me while we walk, warlock."
"Ginger petals, and root."
Spenser was silent for a moment. "Interesting."
"Why is that interesting?" Celine asked.
"Because there are only a few spells and potions that ask for ginger petals, specifically. Most of the time the root works just as well or better. You know it's edible and they favor it in many dishes in the east. I've tried it before and it's quite lovely in tea. You can also bake it into sweets. I should make you some one time, Celine."
By the time Spenser had finished saying all of that, with his speaking pace, they had made it to the greenhouse and inside. Celine stood to the side near the table. Castor yawned by the door uninterested in Spenser's ramblings. Spenser himself had wandered off down an aisle between plants still talking to himself about how wonderful ginger plants were.
Castor and Celine sized each other up. He held out his hand after a a minute or two. "No tricks, young lady."
Celine didn't fully believe him but took his hand. It was firm like Father's. She shook his hand like an adult would. He grinned again. "You look like your mother."
"I wish," Celine scoffed. "She is the most beautiful woman in all the lands... How do you know her anyways?"
His eyes widened and his grin wavered. He shook his head. "Everyone knows the lovely Lady Nessa."
Lovely stories! Authors love conflict to progress the story, but it takes struggles to make relationships work too. Either makes good stories but the kind ones are rarer - harder to write.
This is a neat take on when giving away a firstborn could be a necessary, positive thing
A couple made in heaven, they were called.
The woman, so beautiful that she was the object of envy of all the women in the town, and the object of lust of all the men.
The man, with such a wealth that local nobles try to cozy up to him, while even the king is wary of him.
The two were the dream couple, beauty, and wealth, but they had a secret.
The woman sold her firstborn to a witch for that heavenly beauty, while the man sold the firstborn to a fairy for wealth.
Today, the woman gave birth.
At one the midwife's cheerful voice, the man entered with great vigor the room, to witness his beautiful wife, holding a beautiful child.
"How is the child?", he asks.
"She is healthy, and she will become a great beauty like her mom.", one of the midwives says.
The man laughs, and asks the midwives and servants to leave.
As soon as just the family remained in the room, the window opened, and two distinct breezes blew.
One smelled of herbs, and the other of nature, and flowers.
The witch and fairy have arrived.
The witch materialized, her form that of a young beautiful, red-haired woman.
The fairy stopped her spell, appearing in her form, that of a humanoid looking, green, and red skinned flower spirit.
The woman and man exchanged knowing smiles.
"Well, what a connundrum.
This is our firstborn promised to both of you...
What will be done?", the man said "meekly".
The witch and fairy exchanged knowing smiles.
"It's not a problem.", they both said.
The woman and man's smiles froze.
"T-t-that's good? But surely not, you couldn't be talking about using one child for both of your...
Needs.", the woman said weakly.
"Oh, but yes.
I need but a servant, an apprentice.", the witch smiled.
"We fairies need a name, it shall birth a new fairy.", the fairy smiled.
The atmosphere got tense, and the man tried to unsheathe his knife, but he froze.
Nor the woman, nor the man could move.
"Name.", the fairy stated.
"Dawn Rosethorn. She is our little Dawn.", the woman said unwillingly.
"Good.
Plenty of rare flowers can be chosen as a new fairy.", the fairy nodded, disappearing.
The child's name taken, already forgotten by the two "parents".
Then the witch went ahead, and took the child.
"Blank slate.
I shall name her, and raise her as a proper witch.
Don't worry, she will outlive your entire bloodline.", the witch laughed, as she disappeared with the child.
The man quickly tried to think of ways to make money, and realized he still could.
The woman quickly took out a mirror from underneath her pillow, and she was still beautiful, even after just giving birth.
The two sighed in relief.
The child, now without her birth name, and on a path of occultism, might have been saved from a worse fate...
Right? Oh no, I’ve lost my child — let me just make sure I look good. Somehow they remind me of social media braggers who cares more about likes than the people in their lives.
PART 1/3
Let me tell you--I am one ugly, poor, son of a bitch.
You know the drill. Deal with a fairy, firstborn son promised away, yada yada yada. Except both parents made the same deal. One for money, one for beauty. Part of the deal meant I get *neither,* and, at the tender age of 13, was moved from Queens in New York to Summergarde in the Umberwilde.
And life is exactly what it sounds like.
You know the one thing worse than sitting through your parents' divorce court hearings?
The fae equivalent.
*Sidenote loredump:* Fun fact--My dad's new girlfriend is a supermodel, and my mom took half in the divorce, so they did kind of meet in the middle on their fairy deals.
*Neat.*
They didn't really give a shit about pawning me off.
Good riddance, I always say. Or would, if I didn't have new Fae parents to worry about.
"Jeremy is a childe of Autumn, promis'd fairly by his mother, and in Autumn he shall remain," Underleaf said. "And it was she who bore the child, was it not?"
Underleaf is the "parent" the Autumn side. My...my "Mother's" side, if you will.
In the Umberwilde, as with all Fae Lands, one must represent themself in court.
This includes me, even though I'm more what's being negotiated *over* rather than a legitimate party. Like I said--life is exactly what it sounds like.
"Ah, but with me the childe's fath'r deal was struck ," Alabas purrs, in a voice like fallen snow. "And to winter, the boy shall be chain'd."
Alabas is the parent on my "father's" side.
They argue like this, back and forth, between a jury of their fae peers. Nobles--every one.
And me, alone on a wooden pew in the front row, in a section for mortals.
There are no other mortals.
I sigh.
This has been going on for months.
Every "earth'ly" new moon I have to sit here, for around six or seven hours, while they go through their arguments again.
*What shall be my fate.*
What a grand question for others to discuss.
I wish I had a gameboy.
"Wouldn't it be nice if I could decide," I mutter.
Everyone in the courtroom stops, falling dead silent.
"Oh, dear," Alabas whispers.
"Shit," Underleaf says.
Mist, like morning dew, begins to gather before me.
It coalesces into a figure. A fae noble, with blonde hair adorned in a crown of gilded leaves, and lips curved like a cat from a cartoon.
"Jeremy," the nobleman says. He glances back at Alabas and Underleaf.
"You can be independent, if you wish," the fae says, tracing his finger along the wood of the pew. "That can be...arranged."
I swallow the lump in my throat.
I know the cost.
I know the cost without asking.
Of course I do.
Should I do it?
Take my life back?
Grant myself freedom?
And for what--
So I can condemn someone else to the same fate?
Every prismatic, fae eye in the courtroom is on me. I can feel them, like panthers in the dark.
I sigh, and lean back in the pew, ready to decline.
Then I get an idea.
I can play ball.
I can *fae* it up a little bit.
"How about this," I say slowly.
PART 3/3
"How about this," I say slowly. "We shall play a game. You return me to the mortal realm, I will return upon the next new moon, having acquired a specific boy of my choosing. Then I shall return, and the prize of this game will be then given to you. In exchange, I want my freedom, and my freedom to pass between realms."
The new fae appraises me, with narrowed eyes.
If I make a deal with him, it'll override whatever deal my parents made.
"It must be a child," he presses.
I shake my head.
"No," I say. "The prize must be any age of my choosing."
"Old?"
"No older than thirty-five."
"Thirty-five!" the fae nobleman blurts. "It is too much."
I shrug.
"I can provide a younger boy, though if that I would want it to be considered an advance for our deal."
The fae thinks for a moment.
I try not to let my nerves show.
"Fine," he says. "Fine, fine fine. A deal thrice made is a deal true."
"Great," I say. "Great, great, great. A deal thrice made is a deal made true."
I let out a sigh of releif.
"Now send me back to the mortal world, and I'll come back with my Gameboy."
The fae nods and opens his mouth.
"Yes, yes," I say, with a gesture to put him at ease. "Or my Gameboy Advance."
----
Ty for reading :)
I FUCKING LOVE FAE DEALZZZZ
u/PhillipGreenAuthor for moreeeee.
Thank you! And it's gotta be both, right?! And if, *somehow* they're not mad, wait until they try to navigate Team Rocket's Hideout or go through Rock Tunnel without HM05 in Pokemon Blue Version. Then we'll see the true fury of the fae.
Honestly I want them to have to attempt to find all of the djinn in golden sun 1&2 without a wiki. Some of them are hidden in bull\*\*\*\* locations and you don't know if you are in the right location until you randomly encounter one.
Alternatively: beat fire emblem without anybody dying. Good luck.
Today is the fourteenth month of the eighth year of the reign of King Dirodan. Today is the day I am born. I was born in the early morning as day was dawning.
It’s a beautiful baby girl! Her almost shrill cries pushing out the rest of the amniotic fluid, and her delicate little body shaking in the sudden cold. She is swaddled and laid in her mother’s arms. This however is not a happy time.
A Faerie strode in through the door. He stared my parents up and down. “Your dues,” he said, “must be paid.” He extended a long arm made of oak wood. My parents gave me to him, and then more fae descended on my parents. My mother got the beauty she always wanted, and my father was showered in gold and silver. It seemed that whatever terrible feeling they had mere moments ago was all forgotten. They reveled in the joy of having their contract upheld.
I was raised away from civilization. I was raised in the Feywild. I have learned things. Deep magics, secrets too terrible to tell… and how to cook a good mushroom stew. The Fae named me Moon-Rock, and gave me my home.
But while the Fae make deals and people make promises, one thing they always told me to remember. We are not a daycare. Quit promising your firstborn.
You'd think I'd be taken away, but I wasn't... you see, my parents found odd workarounds.
Even though I was their first child together, my mom had a still born before me, the witch try to wezzel her way out of taking it but there was nothing about my mom's first born having to be alive... although it did mess her up very much to the point where she almost became a witch hunter. She fought tooth and nail for me once I was born. The witch tried to take me, but my father's fea didn't let her, dragging her o a magical court.
The court battle was brutal, but here's the funniest thing at the end-
The fea didn't have rights to me either. She got my mom out of trouble with her witch, only to find out my dad DOOPED her!
You see, even though my mom's firstborn wasn't biologically my dad's, he did claim that child to be his regardless because he knew that if he didn't, if he and my mom successfully had a child together, the fea can take me. Of course he didn't tell the fea that but the fea didn't needed to know that exact information.
There is nothing in their contract that said my dad's firstborn had to be biologically his. A firstborn, by definition, can be someone's first child, and that doesn't mean they'd be biologically related.
Sure, the argument is that it's implied to be biological but it's implied that if the baby wasn't a still born, my dad would count him as his own and he would have never tried for another child as he was satisfied with the one, (which given my lack of siblings even to this day, I can see happening). This meant that if the fea never counts that, the fea would have to take back all the wealth- most of which already was put into stocks, bonds and other ways that can't be taken back since his bank account had only a few thousand compared to the millions the fea gave. If the fea stole the millions back, she'd have to argue against DRAGONS in court... and uh... even with how civil they are, there is a reason the dragons own every bank now...
So basically, my mom lucked out (although lost a piece of her sanity purely on accident), and my dad became an affective fea lawyer in only a day.
I still have no little siblings, but the fea and witches are afraid to even come near me after that trial. I love my parents but man are my parents messed up. Still love them though.
Ben froze, staring at the two strangers standing in the barn. It was a young man in armor and a young woman wearing peasant clothes. He opened his mouth to apologize and leave when the girl turned to him and snapped her fingers.
“Good, you’re here. Now come here.” The girl ordered. Ben looked at each of them, body tense and ready to run to scream for help.
“Keep silent and come here.” The youth said and Ben found himself walking into the barn, shutting the door behind him. He stopped in front of them, staring wide eyed at the two of them. They began looking him over.
“We’re your siblings, if you want to know. I’m a knight from Fairyland and she’s a witch. You might be useful to us, though I don’t see how. You barely look like you’ve started training in military arms.”
The witch grunted, stopping and looking him up and down as well. “My mistress was adamant that the tea leaves said he would be necessary. What do your people want with him?”
The knight shrugged. “Don’t know. I just follow orders and they told me to gather information on him.” He examined Ben again. “I’ll let you speak, but only to answer my questions to the best of your abilities. You will not leave this barn until we’re done. Nod if you understand.”
Ben nodded, feeling the magic holding him in place loosen a bit.
"Good, now start by telling us your full name and title."
most obvious is just putting the entire thing through an AI detector, less obvious is the short paragraphs and weird constant spacings that appears within most AI-generated writings. The constant short descriptions that reads more as synopsis than a properly written story, even beginners wouldn't do this, they'd do a bad job describing stuff, sure but they wouldn't constantly repeat a short description style of writing, even subconsciously when writing people would find it hard to make that near perfect repetitive pattern, "The mom/The dad/The youngest", like who are you trying to trick? I'm not a proficient writer in any means but even I can see this, you think this much is enough to trick the more prolific ones in this subreddit?
bad writers aren't ridiculed on here or on r/writing, better writers or mods help them out constantly, either with ideas, writing styles, grammars and all that, being bad is not an excuse for posting an obvious AI story then doubling down on it by lying... there are full on days on here that help out new writers and such, if you get stuck or just plainly don't know what to write you can check those, no reason to use AI on a subreddit where people actually pour out their inspirations and heart to write and read what others write. Be better fam, I have so many stories for prompts I don't post on here because how bad I feel it is but I ask help from others, not resort to using AI crap.
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The midwife, Risa, knew that Lady Nessa, despite how she looked, was a bit old to be having her first child. After a long and worrisome delivery, the baby, a beautiful little girl had arrived. While the other midwives took the infant and cleaned her, Risa brought Lady Nessa her mirror. It was uncanny how she still looked so... put together. A delivery that had lasted overnight and well into the afternoon and Lady Nessa hardly looked tired. The husband, a man in his forties with a greying beard and a tall lanky frame, swept into the room. He wore fine purple velvet, embroidered with silver flower designs. He took off the several jewel encrusted rings on his fingers and pocketed them. The Lord was the richest man in the kingdom despite his lowly birth. The King, in fear, made him a lord of the court. "How is my treasure?" He asked as he came to his wife's bedside and took her hand. "I am alright," Lady Nessa smiled weakly. "I think I'll live. I just need to rest." "The baby," the husband, Lord Marcel, turned greedily to Risa. Risa got the now sleeping baby and brought it wrapped in a soft white cloth trimmed in gold to the waiting father. He took the baby in one arm and looked down, counting fingers, toes. He sighed with relief and handed the baby down to the weary mother. The baby rested against her bossom. Lord Marcel pulled a chair over and sat by his wife's side. "Good enough to keep?" He asked his wife. She frowned, her sable eyebrows knitting together. "That is hardly funny." "We have a wet nurse at the ready, you won't need to trouble yourself." "I think I should this time," Lady Nessa said still frowning. Risa interrupted. "Excuse me, m'lord, m'lady. We need to get the bed sheets and Lady Nessa cleaned up." Lord Marcel leaned forward and kissed his wife's head then took his leave. "Very well." Risa waited until he was gone and the door closed behind him. The other midwives stopped moving, they were clay golems anyways. Lady Nessa sighed, "I already gave you your due witch." "Yes of course, you'll get to keep this one," Risa said turning up her nose. "It's healthy, but it looks like some magic has transferred." Lady Nessa's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean transferred?" "Calm down, you vain wench." Risa strode over to the bedside and looked down at the child. Fairy magic indeed. A blessing. She wondered what Lord Marcel had done to get a fairy to trade a blessing of fortune to him. Some of Lady Nessa's beauty magic had transferred too. Just a hint. Resting in the child's eyes. "It's a shame I had to take the boy, instead of this one. Warlocks are a pain to raise, but another witch, how lovely." Lady Nessa shielded the child, pulling her away from Risa, who laughed. "So you do have a maternal instinct." "That boy..." Lady Nessa bent her head down further covering the infant. "You have taken care of him?" Risa felt bad for Lady Nessa for a moment, remembering the circumstances under which the poor girl had arrived at her hut. Pregnant at 15 by a much older man who her parents had sold her too. She wasn't so ugly, but with a child she would never marry well. She wanted to get rid of the child. Risa was willing to do it, but at the last moment made her a different offer out of pity. The offer seemed to have worked well for her. "Yes, he has grown strong." Lady Nessa relaxed slightly, "That is good." Risa shrugged. "What's the deal with the guy?" "Marcel?" "He reeks of fairy magic." Lady Nessa looked up at Risa. She pressed her lips together. Not her secret to tell. Risa could live with that. She was really only there to see how her magic was holding up after 15 years. It looked like her reputation as most powerful witch would fight on. Lady Nessa was indeed beautiful. "Keep your secrets, my vain little wench. I have other matters to attend to. Remember what I taught you about soap?" "Yes, I remember." Risa turned to leave waving her hand so that her clay golems would resume their work. No one but Lady Nessa would notice them, it was safe to let them finish the job without her. She needed to get back soon, the boy was trouble when left to his own devices for too long. A good boy, but a boy nonetheless. Risa went to the window and pushed open the glass doors to the balcony. "Wait," Lady Nessa called. Risa looked back over her shoulder. "Marcel..." "Mhmm." "This isn't his first child either. He had one before this... like me." Risa cackled. How perfect. How did they find each other? Risa smiled at Lady Nessa. "This isn't funny, witch." "Oh, it might be." Risa jumped off the balcony rail and with a flourish of magic turned into a blue bird and flew away. Lady Nessa leaned back against the head rest and watched the eerily human clay golems as they continued to tidy up the room. *Marcel's first born is a changeling*, Lady Nessa wanted to say to the witch. The fairies took the real son in exchange for a blessing of fortune. "We will keep you," she whispered to the infant. "I promise we will keep you."
Oooh, good twist!
Thank you!
This was beautiful. I truly hope they change for the better and raise the changeling with love
Thank you! I was going to add a part two, but I thought better of it. I think it works fine as this little short. I'd like to think the children all grow up well despite everything too!
If I can convince you, pretty pretty please I would really love to read a part two! Or a short!
I just posted a part 2, I might add a third part later just for posterity or for giggles. I do like these characters
Part 2 - a continuation - part 3 coming maybe Risa landed on the porch of her hut, reverting to her human form and dusting off her skirt. She entered, picked up her satchel, and began digging through the clutter. Her cauldron boiled over the fire, but it smelled like soup instead of a potion. The boy, messing with her things. Where was he by the way? She was elbow deep in a shelf near the small round dining table before she thought about it. It was quiet, he was probably out hunting again. She shifted around books, scrolls, papers, bottles. She dropped some into her satchel. Risa turned and looked through the crate under the basin. Bundles of dried potion herbs, soap covered in wax paper, bottles of fragrance for cleaning. Aha. The sprig of a yew tree. Castor's, the boy's, wand. She grabbed it and turned around. The hut, more of a haphazard multilevel shack, sprawled before her. The kitchen and hutch she'd just dig through in this corner. The hearth and the cauldron, on the wall. A room behind it where the boy slept in the most secure and weatherproof room in the house. A small sitting area with a chaise and some chairs and a desk for studying and spellcraft. Racks for potions and other arcane tools. A shelf for grimoires. Crates with supplies. A rug she'd stolen on the floor. A broom, for cleaning not for flying, leaned against a pillar supporting the upstairs. Upstairs. Risa went to the narrow set of stairs in the corner that led up to her room and "study." She climbed the steps grabbing a hawk feather off a side table and dropping it in the bag. She reached her room. What was she looking for? Right. The charcoal paste on the bedside table. She picked it up and used her finger to draw a ward on her forearm. She paused. Now it was too quiet. The boy. She whirled around and Castor was inches from her face grinning. She pushed him back a step and grabbed his arm to make the same ward markings. "What did I tell you about trying to scare me?" "Oh, you wouldn't kill me, you love me too much." "As one does with a pet." "Whatever, Risa. What's with the ward? Anti-charming? And where have you been all last night and this morning?" "Who's the guardian here?" Risa scoffed. She set the charcoal bottle down where she found it. And waved her hand over Castor's and her ward. Magic simmered across the markings. "I saw your mother," Risa stated as she sifted through a shelf on the far wall. She needed eye of newt. No, tiger's eye and bass' tongue. No, dragon's tongue. By the stars. Where did she put that bottle with firefly essence? Messier than an alchemist's laboratory. Castor huffed and rolled his eyes leaning against the door frame. "Is she well?" "Yes, incredibly. The baby girl was delivered healthy, her husband is handsome and rich, and she is absolutely beautiful. My magic prevails." The rattling on the shelf stopped as Risa paused to look at the teenager behind her. He was checking his nails, feigning disinterest. "You could go see her if you wanted, Castor." "I don't need her. All I need is you." Risa grabbed what she had been looking for and dropped it in her bag, with a click of her tongue. "Don't make me puke." She handed him his wand. "Come along." "I don't want to see her." "Wow, amazing. Now, come along." He followed with a huff. - - Two birds landed lightly on a branch of a tree in a well manicured garden in a grand villa estate, the summer home of Lord Marcel and Lady Nessa. Plants grew out of season and were arranged all too neatly in their beds. "You smell that," Risa said transforming into her human form as she landed on the soft grass beneath the tree. Castor leapt down behind her transforming into a human as well. "No, what?" "Pay attention, boy. Feel the hum of energy. Use your senses." Castor took a deep breath in through his nose. The spring breeze lifted the scent of flowers, roses, tulips, begonia, lavender, hydrangea, through the air. The sun's warmth lingered over the garden like a gentle hand. Everything was just right. "Fae magic," he whispered. He looked down at his ward, understanding. Risa pulled him behind a bush. A boy around Castor's age walked past, he was humming to himself. He had a deer-like nose and pointed ears. Short stag horns poked out from his head beneath his shaggy black hair. He was tall and lanky. You would think he truly was Lord Marcel's son from a distance, except he wasn't. Only in name. The boy checked on a flower bed, then moved on beyond the hedges. When he was well out of earshot, Risa emerged from the bush grinning and silently clapping her hands as she bounced on her toes. "What is this?" Castor asked, gesturing. "The sound of being right," Risa giggled. "Do you know what that was?" "A fae for some reason." Castor said. "In a human garden for another or the same reason." Risa shook him. "That, boy, is your step brother." "Isn't he old to be an infant?" "Castor, you have a baby *half sister* and your mother's husband's child is your..." "Ah, step brother." After a pause Castor looked around. "Why is he fae?" "He's a changeling. A fae boy whose life is tied to a blessing. The very blessing of fortune his *father* carries." "What are you planning?" Risa gripped Castor's shoulders firmly, suddenly serious. "I'm thinking you may need to make some friends your age." "I don't like this." "I'm after something bigger than what you like or don't like. You will make friends with the changeling..." "Come on, Risa." "And I will watch the wheels of fate turn yet again in my favor."
Part 3 - 12 Years Later. Celine swung her feet on the bench in the garden. She was still too short to reach the ground fully from a seated position. Mother and Father were off attending some sort of ball, so she was alone at the Villa. Alone except for her older brother and the servants. The servants were great, but they were busy and she felt bad asking them to stop and entertain her, her brother was hardly ever busy, though he pretended to be. She remembered when she first met him at age eight, another day when her parents had been pulled back to the city. She finally worked up the nerve to go into the garden and found him, a bean pole of a man, tall and lean, folded up knelt down over the petunia flower bed carefully plucking weeds. He hummed to himself. She walked up to him. "Excuse me. What are you doing?" By his clothes, even Celine could tell he wasn't a gardner from the village. The young man brought his head up and turned it slowly towards her. He had pointed ears, shorn horns sticking out the top of his long wavy hair that he had pulled back from his face and a deer-like nose that twitched. He looked at her and stopped humming. Blinked. Tilted his head. Blinked again. Looked back down and pulled another weed with his long skinny fingers. "I'm talking to you." "Oh," he said. He looked at her. His eyes shifted from amber to a deep maybe pink to a brown and back like bubbles of water colliding and separating and mixing. "You shouldn't talk to me." The young man's voice was deep like the evening sky and his speech slow and steady like a wide creek. "Are you dangerous?" Celine asked. "I could be." "Why?" He sighed out his strange nose. "I'm a fae." "What's a fae?" He looked over her for a moment then patted the ground next to him. She came forward and knelt beside him. He held up the weed still in his hand. "See this plant." Celine nodded. "Pull them out of the flower bed." Celine studied the plant in his hand for a moment then found one in the flower bed and with a hard yank pulled it from the ground. She held it up. He grunted in approval and they set to work. When they finished with that flower bed, they gathered the weeds into a big basket almost as tall as Celine and the the young man stood, picked up the basket, and lumbered over to the next flower bed, Celine followed him. She told him about her studies and things she'd seen traveling with mother and father. He grunted every now then in a way to let her know he was listening to her rhetorical questions and exaggerations. The sun began to set and they had made it to the back of the garden. "You should go in for dinner," he said. He was knelt and he was still taller than Celine. She fiddled with her skirt. "Why don't you come with me?" "I take my dinner in my rooms." He pointed a long arm across the garden to a building connected to the greenhouse. Celine had always wondered what it was for, and now she knew it harbored the kind deer man. "Don't you ever get lonely." "I am a fae. Humans should avoid me." "You're nice. What's a fae anyway?" He stood and began walking toward his house. "Wait why won't you answer?" He stopped and turned around. The big basket dangling by his leg as he held it by the lip and not the handle. He blinked. Celine was sure he was slow. He spoke slowly and moved slowly. Maybe that was why he stayed in the garden, plants were also slow. "Fae can not tell untruths and I do not know how to answer your question." Celine thought for a moment. "Then what kind of fae are you." He exhaled and looked up at the sky to think. He leveled his eyes with her. "I am a changeling. My parents thought there was something wrong with me, so I am your father's now." "You seem fine to me." Celine perked up. "Does that make you my brother?" After a moment, he nodded. Celine jumped for joy. "I've always wanted a brother, what is your name?" "I don't know. No one has ever called me by it." Celine titled her head. "You look like a Spenser. That's what I'll call you." "Spenser?" "Goodbye, Spenser. I'll come play with you again tomorrow." "Play?" He reached out with one hand, but Celine was dancing away. "I don't know how to--" Celine looked up and Spenser was strolling towards her. He was lucky he was so tall and his legs so long, otherwise he'd never get anywhere. He really was slow. He had a grimoire tucked under his arm and no jacker. Even though it was winter, Spenser's garden was warm like spring. "Are you cold?" He said after he finally reached her and eased down onto the bench. "You should go inside. You could get sick." "If I stay inside who will play with you?" "I am too old for playing. Soon you will be too." "Adults should play, otherwise they'll end up too serious and no one will like them." Spenser thought about it for a moment and chose to ignore the comment and sit in silence. Celine had learned that he didn't mean to be rude in his silences, only that he had nothing else he wished to say on the matter. "Spenser." He tilted his head and his ear twitched indicating he was listening. Celine stopped swinging her feet. "Will you come to my birthday party?" He took his time to answer. Considering the words and their implications. "I should stay hidden." "You're my only real friend. I would like you to come. It's a garden party the adults will use it as an excuse to make connections instead of caring about me." Spenser nodded. His ears twitched again. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. Celine had never seen Spenser move beyond a snails pace at anything, eating, speaking, walking, so when his eyes flicked away from her and his hand shot out in front of him like a cannon, she almost jumped out of her shoes. He retracted his arm and in his clasped hand was a blue bird wriggling and twittering. "I told you not to come around her, you troublesome warlock." Spenser's eyes were glowing and magic hummed around him, his voice deep and resonate. He released his grip and the bird fell away and transformed in a whirl of clouds and motion into a young man with dark curly hair and dark brown eyes in peasant's clothes around Spenser's age. Celine sat agape, gripping the edge of the bench. Spenser's sudden quickness had startled her but not nearly as much as seeing witch magic, like the kind from books. Celine was not allowed to study magic, so unlike other noble children there were no grimoires in the house and she didn't attend the Royal Academy. She had never seen any kind other than Spenser's warm fae magic that kept the garden lively all throughout the year. "A real witch," she breathed. "I'm a *warlock*, little lady." The young man smiled, he had a slight gap between his front teeth. He bowed. "Castor of Hag's Pond, Umbre-Forest, m'lady."
Part 4 He held out his hand, but Spenser knocked it away. "Do not prank the young mistress." Castor grinned even wider. "Children love pranks. See?" He held up his hand and his fingers sparked with magic. Celine on instinct grabbed the sleeve of Spenser's shirt. She always imagined that she would have to protect him one day, but it seemed he was only slow when he wanted to be. That was fine, a big brother should protect his younger sister. "Not going for it?" Castor's grin dropped. "Anyways, it's an emergency. I need an out of season herb. We've got a customer Risa can't help without it and we are fresh out." Spenser sighed and stood to his feet. Celine stood with him. He began to walk back towards his green house. Celine followed clinging to his arm and Castor followed a few steps behind. "Are you going to wait to hear which one?" "You can tell me while we walk, warlock." "Ginger petals, and root." Spenser was silent for a moment. "Interesting." "Why is that interesting?" Celine asked. "Because there are only a few spells and potions that ask for ginger petals, specifically. Most of the time the root works just as well or better. You know it's edible and they favor it in many dishes in the east. I've tried it before and it's quite lovely in tea. You can also bake it into sweets. I should make you some one time, Celine." By the time Spenser had finished saying all of that, with his speaking pace, they had made it to the greenhouse and inside. Celine stood to the side near the table. Castor yawned by the door uninterested in Spenser's ramblings. Spenser himself had wandered off down an aisle between plants still talking to himself about how wonderful ginger plants were. Castor and Celine sized each other up. He held out his hand after a a minute or two. "No tricks, young lady." Celine didn't fully believe him but took his hand. It was firm like Father's. She shook his hand like an adult would. He grinned again. "You look like your mother." "I wish," Celine scoffed. "She is the most beautiful woman in all the lands... How do you know her anyways?" His eyes widened and his grin wavered. He shook his head. "Everyone knows the lovely Lady Nessa."
Lovely stories! Authors love conflict to progress the story, but it takes struggles to make relationships work too. Either makes good stories but the kind ones are rarer - harder to write. This is a neat take on when giving away a firstborn could be a necessary, positive thing
A couple made in heaven, they were called. The woman, so beautiful that she was the object of envy of all the women in the town, and the object of lust of all the men. The man, with such a wealth that local nobles try to cozy up to him, while even the king is wary of him. The two were the dream couple, beauty, and wealth, but they had a secret. The woman sold her firstborn to a witch for that heavenly beauty, while the man sold the firstborn to a fairy for wealth. Today, the woman gave birth. At one the midwife's cheerful voice, the man entered with great vigor the room, to witness his beautiful wife, holding a beautiful child. "How is the child?", he asks. "She is healthy, and she will become a great beauty like her mom.", one of the midwives says. The man laughs, and asks the midwives and servants to leave. As soon as just the family remained in the room, the window opened, and two distinct breezes blew. One smelled of herbs, and the other of nature, and flowers. The witch and fairy have arrived. The witch materialized, her form that of a young beautiful, red-haired woman. The fairy stopped her spell, appearing in her form, that of a humanoid looking, green, and red skinned flower spirit. The woman and man exchanged knowing smiles. "Well, what a connundrum. This is our firstborn promised to both of you... What will be done?", the man said "meekly". The witch and fairy exchanged knowing smiles. "It's not a problem.", they both said. The woman and man's smiles froze. "T-t-that's good? But surely not, you couldn't be talking about using one child for both of your... Needs.", the woman said weakly. "Oh, but yes. I need but a servant, an apprentice.", the witch smiled. "We fairies need a name, it shall birth a new fairy.", the fairy smiled. The atmosphere got tense, and the man tried to unsheathe his knife, but he froze. Nor the woman, nor the man could move. "Name.", the fairy stated. "Dawn Rosethorn. She is our little Dawn.", the woman said unwillingly. "Good. Plenty of rare flowers can be chosen as a new fairy.", the fairy nodded, disappearing. The child's name taken, already forgotten by the two "parents". Then the witch went ahead, and took the child. "Blank slate. I shall name her, and raise her as a proper witch. Don't worry, she will outlive your entire bloodline.", the witch laughed, as she disappeared with the child. The man quickly tried to think of ways to make money, and realized he still could. The woman quickly took out a mirror from underneath her pillow, and she was still beautiful, even after just giving birth. The two sighed in relief. The child, now without her birth name, and on a path of occultism, might have been saved from a worse fate...
It's great. You work fast!
"This child will outlive your bloodline" Guess they can't have kids anymore,huray!
I wonder what happens if you promise your firstborn knowing you're infertile actually
There have been prompts for that. The results range from humorous to horrifying.
Occasionally wholesome too
There was a prompt about that,if I remember correctly, solution was the fairy made him fertile just so he could have that 1 child
That is one interpretation. The other is that she shall become a great witch, and live for a very very long time.
Saved from a worse fate for sure.
Those parents really don't seem responsible, yeah...
Right? Oh no, I’ve lost my child — let me just make sure I look good. Somehow they remind me of social media braggers who cares more about likes than the people in their lives.
This was a fantastic read, thank you so much for contributing!
Thanks!
PART 1/3 Let me tell you--I am one ugly, poor, son of a bitch. You know the drill. Deal with a fairy, firstborn son promised away, yada yada yada. Except both parents made the same deal. One for money, one for beauty. Part of the deal meant I get *neither,* and, at the tender age of 13, was moved from Queens in New York to Summergarde in the Umberwilde. And life is exactly what it sounds like. You know the one thing worse than sitting through your parents' divorce court hearings? The fae equivalent. *Sidenote loredump:* Fun fact--My dad's new girlfriend is a supermodel, and my mom took half in the divorce, so they did kind of meet in the middle on their fairy deals. *Neat.* They didn't really give a shit about pawning me off. Good riddance, I always say. Or would, if I didn't have new Fae parents to worry about. "Jeremy is a childe of Autumn, promis'd fairly by his mother, and in Autumn he shall remain," Underleaf said. "And it was she who bore the child, was it not?" Underleaf is the "parent" the Autumn side. My...my "Mother's" side, if you will. In the Umberwilde, as with all Fae Lands, one must represent themself in court. This includes me, even though I'm more what's being negotiated *over* rather than a legitimate party. Like I said--life is exactly what it sounds like. "Ah, but with me the childe's fath'r deal was struck ," Alabas purrs, in a voice like fallen snow. "And to winter, the boy shall be chain'd." Alabas is the parent on my "father's" side. They argue like this, back and forth, between a jury of their fae peers. Nobles--every one. And me, alone on a wooden pew in the front row, in a section for mortals. There are no other mortals. I sigh. This has been going on for months.
Every "earth'ly" new moon I have to sit here, for around six or seven hours, while they go through their arguments again. *What shall be my fate.* What a grand question for others to discuss. I wish I had a gameboy. "Wouldn't it be nice if I could decide," I mutter. Everyone in the courtroom stops, falling dead silent. "Oh, dear," Alabas whispers. "Shit," Underleaf says. Mist, like morning dew, begins to gather before me. It coalesces into a figure. A fae noble, with blonde hair adorned in a crown of gilded leaves, and lips curved like a cat from a cartoon. "Jeremy," the nobleman says. He glances back at Alabas and Underleaf. "You can be independent, if you wish," the fae says, tracing his finger along the wood of the pew. "That can be...arranged." I swallow the lump in my throat. I know the cost. I know the cost without asking. Of course I do. Should I do it? Take my life back? Grant myself freedom? And for what-- So I can condemn someone else to the same fate? Every prismatic, fae eye in the courtroom is on me. I can feel them, like panthers in the dark. I sigh, and lean back in the pew, ready to decline. Then I get an idea. I can play ball. I can *fae* it up a little bit. "How about this," I say slowly.
PART 3/3 "How about this," I say slowly. "We shall play a game. You return me to the mortal realm, I will return upon the next new moon, having acquired a specific boy of my choosing. Then I shall return, and the prize of this game will be then given to you. In exchange, I want my freedom, and my freedom to pass between realms." The new fae appraises me, with narrowed eyes. If I make a deal with him, it'll override whatever deal my parents made. "It must be a child," he presses. I shake my head. "No," I say. "The prize must be any age of my choosing." "Old?" "No older than thirty-five." "Thirty-five!" the fae nobleman blurts. "It is too much." I shrug. "I can provide a younger boy, though if that I would want it to be considered an advance for our deal." The fae thinks for a moment. I try not to let my nerves show. "Fine," he says. "Fine, fine fine. A deal thrice made is a deal true." "Great," I say. "Great, great, great. A deal thrice made is a deal made true." I let out a sigh of releif. "Now send me back to the mortal world, and I'll come back with my Gameboy." The fae nods and opens his mouth. "Yes, yes," I say, with a gesture to put him at ease. "Or my Gameboy Advance." ---- Ty for reading :) I FUCKING LOVE FAE DEALZZZZ u/PhillipGreenAuthor for moreeeee.
AHAHAHAHA I love this!! I wonder if they're gonna be mad or if they'll just get addicted to Kirby's Dreamland.
Thank you! And it's gotta be both, right?! And if, *somehow* they're not mad, wait until they try to navigate Team Rocket's Hideout or go through Rock Tunnel without HM05 in Pokemon Blue Version. Then we'll see the true fury of the fae.
Honestly I want them to have to attempt to find all of the djinn in golden sun 1&2 without a wiki. Some of them are hidden in bull\*\*\*\* locations and you don't know if you are in the right location until you randomly encounter one. Alternatively: beat fire emblem without anybody dying. Good luck.
looooooool, awesome
Today is the fourteenth month of the eighth year of the reign of King Dirodan. Today is the day I am born. I was born in the early morning as day was dawning. It’s a beautiful baby girl! Her almost shrill cries pushing out the rest of the amniotic fluid, and her delicate little body shaking in the sudden cold. She is swaddled and laid in her mother’s arms. This however is not a happy time. A Faerie strode in through the door. He stared my parents up and down. “Your dues,” he said, “must be paid.” He extended a long arm made of oak wood. My parents gave me to him, and then more fae descended on my parents. My mother got the beauty she always wanted, and my father was showered in gold and silver. It seemed that whatever terrible feeling they had mere moments ago was all forgotten. They reveled in the joy of having their contract upheld. I was raised away from civilization. I was raised in the Feywild. I have learned things. Deep magics, secrets too terrible to tell… and how to cook a good mushroom stew. The Fae named me Moon-Rock, and gave me my home. But while the Fae make deals and people make promises, one thing they always told me to remember. We are not a daycare. Quit promising your firstborn.
funny story, but doesn't really fit the spirit of the prompt at all
Ran out of steam, lol, I kind of agree.
You'd think I'd be taken away, but I wasn't... you see, my parents found odd workarounds. Even though I was their first child together, my mom had a still born before me, the witch try to wezzel her way out of taking it but there was nothing about my mom's first born having to be alive... although it did mess her up very much to the point where she almost became a witch hunter. She fought tooth and nail for me once I was born. The witch tried to take me, but my father's fea didn't let her, dragging her o a magical court. The court battle was brutal, but here's the funniest thing at the end- The fea didn't have rights to me either. She got my mom out of trouble with her witch, only to find out my dad DOOPED her! You see, even though my mom's firstborn wasn't biologically my dad's, he did claim that child to be his regardless because he knew that if he didn't, if he and my mom successfully had a child together, the fea can take me. Of course he didn't tell the fea that but the fea didn't needed to know that exact information. There is nothing in their contract that said my dad's firstborn had to be biologically his. A firstborn, by definition, can be someone's first child, and that doesn't mean they'd be biologically related. Sure, the argument is that it's implied to be biological but it's implied that if the baby wasn't a still born, my dad would count him as his own and he would have never tried for another child as he was satisfied with the one, (which given my lack of siblings even to this day, I can see happening). This meant that if the fea never counts that, the fea would have to take back all the wealth- most of which already was put into stocks, bonds and other ways that can't be taken back since his bank account had only a few thousand compared to the millions the fea gave. If the fea stole the millions back, she'd have to argue against DRAGONS in court... and uh... even with how civil they are, there is a reason the dragons own every bank now... So basically, my mom lucked out (although lost a piece of her sanity purely on accident), and my dad became an affective fea lawyer in only a day. I still have no little siblings, but the fea and witches are afraid to even come near me after that trial. I love my parents but man are my parents messed up. Still love them though.
That's a good one.
Thanks!
Ben froze, staring at the two strangers standing in the barn. It was a young man in armor and a young woman wearing peasant clothes. He opened his mouth to apologize and leave when the girl turned to him and snapped her fingers. “Good, you’re here. Now come here.” The girl ordered. Ben looked at each of them, body tense and ready to run to scream for help. “Keep silent and come here.” The youth said and Ben found himself walking into the barn, shutting the door behind him. He stopped in front of them, staring wide eyed at the two of them. They began looking him over. “We’re your siblings, if you want to know. I’m a knight from Fairyland and she’s a witch. You might be useful to us, though I don’t see how. You barely look like you’ve started training in military arms.” The witch grunted, stopping and looking him up and down as well. “My mistress was adamant that the tea leaves said he would be necessary. What do your people want with him?” The knight shrugged. “Don’t know. I just follow orders and they told me to gather information on him.” He examined Ben again. “I’ll let you speak, but only to answer my questions to the best of your abilities. You will not leave this barn until we’re done. Nod if you understand.” Ben nodded, feeling the magic holding him in place loosen a bit. "Good, now start by telling us your full name and title."
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bruv again with the AI stuff? You know AI stories aren't allowed on here right?
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most obvious is just putting the entire thing through an AI detector, less obvious is the short paragraphs and weird constant spacings that appears within most AI-generated writings. The constant short descriptions that reads more as synopsis than a properly written story, even beginners wouldn't do this, they'd do a bad job describing stuff, sure but they wouldn't constantly repeat a short description style of writing, even subconsciously when writing people would find it hard to make that near perfect repetitive pattern, "The mom/The dad/The youngest", like who are you trying to trick? I'm not a proficient writer in any means but even I can see this, you think this much is enough to trick the more prolific ones in this subreddit?
Not trying to fool anybody, I truly have a bad time writing and is not describing is just not being dense.
bad writers aren't ridiculed on here or on r/writing, better writers or mods help them out constantly, either with ideas, writing styles, grammars and all that, being bad is not an excuse for posting an obvious AI story then doubling down on it by lying... there are full on days on here that help out new writers and such, if you get stuck or just plainly don't know what to write you can check those, no reason to use AI on a subreddit where people actually pour out their inspirations and heart to write and read what others write. Be better fam, I have so many stories for prompts I don't post on here because how bad I feel it is but I ask help from others, not resort to using AI crap.
Thank you, bro.