CH 4.2: Ugly Faeling

The road spiraled up the trunk and into the sky, carved into the very bark. It was wide enough to hold two cars side by side. Not that I’d yet to see any sign of cars, or even carts or carriages. Waz waited for me to approach, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to follow him all the way up there, it looked like a hike. And I wasn’t even sure I wanted to meet the stupid Queen.

“The Barkway, Her Highness,” Waz answered dutifully.

“Yeah…” I said, not moving from where I stood. “Why you calling me that?” I asked.

“Pardon?” Waz said.

“Her Highness,” I said. “Why?”

“It is Her Highness’s title,” Waz said simply. We stood looking at each other for about a minute. “Why does Her Highness not follow?” He finally asked.

“Why is that my title?” I asked instead.

“Is that not the title reserved for your station?” Waz said, sounding more confused than ever.

I decided to let that drop, instead asking, “What’s the queen like?”

“The Queen,” Waz said. “What if I spoke on this as we traveled to the next errand?”

“Hmmm,” I said, hesitating. It really was a long walk, and I still wasn't sure I wanted to meet the Queen.

“Did I mention that this errand involves fitting Her Highness for new garments?” Waz said.

Hold up. Clothes? New Clothes? I loved new clothes.

“Lead the way,” I said, following him up.

“And what have you brought me?” A whisper came from the webs draping the canopy.

Waz paused with me along the branch. The trip up the Barkway had passed much more quickly than I expected, almost blurring as a whole. We were now atop a lower branch which was of a size befitting the Heart-Tree.

“Asking questions you know the answers for is a waste of time,” Waz said curtly. I stood behind him, trying to find the source of the whisper.

“No sense for theater,” The whisper said, and I found the source.

“Wow,” I said.

So far, I had only seen insect-persons: What looked like giant insects shaped into a macabre of a person. The whisper came from a person-insect. From the waist up she was gorgeous. Slim waist, flat chest, and thin black lips, with a fashionable forest green and gold trimmed tunic. From the waist down, she was a horrifying brown spider, with a gigantic ass. She dangled upside down from silk as she lowered to the branch in front of Waz. It turns out, her name was Orb, a spider-kin.

Orb scurried around me, and the way her legs creaked on the wood made me shiver. A close-up view of the fur on her body made me shy away. But she was already upon me. “No reason to fear me,” Orb said. “At least not yet.”

What proceeded was a rush of measuring and fitting.

Orb clapped her hands, and three dog-sized spiders dropped upon me, prompting my own scream. Orb shushed me by putting her finger to MY lips, and I felt all fuzzy and warm suddenly, even though the dog sized spiders crawled over me, taking measurements, leaping off, and coming back with panels of black silk, which they then joined together with eight-legged magic. The end result was some nature of a dress, but joined with leggings, sleeves, and a high neck. The skirt held frilled layers, the neck was laced like a choker, and the sleeves ended in asymmetrical cuffs. I didn’t really do dresses, let alone gothic ones like this. Unfortunately, Orb did not have a mirror available for me to check myself in. I probably looked ok.

“Don’t you have any suits?” I asked, frowning.

“A dress is most appropriate to Her Highness’s station,” Orb said. “Now, are we not pressed for time for an audience?”

Orb and Waz both ushered me back towards the Barkway, climbing once more. Apparently we were behind schedule. I still found it hard to believe there hadn’t been a mirror, considering Orb made clothes for people, and people needed to know how they looked. But I guess if people lived in mud huts, that they might not have luxuries like silvered glass.

Orb and Waz led the way back up the Barkway and into the upper canopy, until we reached a large opaque gate set in a wall of silk, guarded by two large ant people. There were two guards standing to each side of the gate, each carrying a spear. We stopped before them as Waz announced us. Meanwhile, my eyes wandered.

The most incredible thing about the upper canopy would have to be the unobstructed view of the sky. The Court was built smackdab on top of the tree, with no roof or covering. And the sky, let me tell you, wasn’t a sky at all. No clouds, no moon, no stars, no sun, no hazy blue stretching forever. No, what there were was, was distant flashes of non-colors that radiated impressions, and curling threads stretching from horizon to horizon in a tangle. This is a bit weird, so I’ll give you an example: One thread, when I examined it, gave me the impression of storm-troopers and roman-esque empires. A burst of rosebuds gave me the impression of a river of immense strength. These were the colors, which were registered in a completely non-color fashion. It was unprecedented, a synthesia enforced by an environment. It was so bizarre, that I missed when the guards opened the gate, I missed our announcement, and I missed the first few times Waz tried getting my attention.

“Her Highness can gawk at the Nonverse later!” Waz hissed, snapping three sets of fingers in front of my face. I was startled, and realized the gates were open. Orb was watching me with a bemused smile, Waz looked beside himself, the guards didn’t look anything but neutral, and The Queen was starting to pay me attention.

“If Her Highness will follow,” Waz said finally, seeing he had my attention. I followed him in.

Now, when most people think of fairies and a fairy queen, there are a few ideas that might come to mind. Probably the most common one is some sort of Tinkerbell inspired, winged, Marilyn Monroe. Some might think of the Grim Brothers, and their stories of devouring morally corrupt and utterly deserving small children. Others might even be reminded of a drag show. Well, throw-out those ideas, and make room for one more.

First of all, The Fairy-Queen was beautiful, as we all expected. But that beauty was in a boyish, bloodthirsty, mound of skulls, kinda way. Literally, a mound of skulls, surrounding her throne. Some skulls were fresher than others, leaking gore into puddles across the floor. It smelled like raw steak, with a hint of pepper, and my mouth might have watered involuntarily.

The throne itself looked like a mix of cobwebs and bones, with a chalice made from femurs resting on a side table. The Fairy-Queen reclined with both legs over one armrest, and she reclined against the other. She had dragonfly wings, long antenna, and before you guys start making assumptions, she had pitch-black skin.

All said and done, I’d tap that. Probably.

“Darling,” The Fairy-Queen said, looking me over like I was a piece of meat, subsequently making me go a bit weak in the knees, “You look stunning, Daughter.”

Wait what?! Daughter? Not OK. I flinched and stood speechless, my thoughts grinding to a halt as I took everything in.

The Queen was flanked by four ant guards to each side, four wielding spears, two with great-swords. The hall was big enough to comfortably hold a few hundred people, but it was only us, not including servants, or the spiders skittering along the silk walls. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration: Except the bundles of people wrapped and gagged lining a chamber wall. Or the mothman tied and bound wriggling across the ground in front of the Queen. Just as a side note, the ant guards and queen all seemed to be ignoring the mothman’s slow escape, and Orb just grinned at it.

“Tell me Daughter,” The Fairy Queen continued. She floated to the floor, stepped down around the mothman, and trailed a slender finger around my neck as she circled me. “Do you come with a name?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “Joey.” I was still watching the mothman. He had made it another foot towards the exit. I was having trouble paying attention to her, despite her proximity. What was that mothman doing?

“What would be more interesting than I?” She asked, following my obvious line of sight to the moth. “Perhaps my dinner?” She asked. “Did the Steward not feed you?” She asked.

“Your Majesty,” Waz protested, “We were delayed...” He wrung his hands, all four of them. “My sincerest apologies.” He glanced towards me, probably trying to convey something. But what. And why would I care?

“Yeah and I’m not about to eat people,” I said. “Just gross.” I made a gagging motion.

“Daughter--” The Queen started to reprimand me, but I interrupted again, which led Waz to groan, Orb to hiss, and the guards to tense before striding towards me with weapons at the ready.

“And stop calling me that,” I said. “I’m not your daughter. We aren’t related. This whole place is weirding me out...I’m starting to think I should have picked the slime-girl instead.”

The Queen held up her clawed hand, halting the guards from their march towards me.

“I choose to not fault you, this time.” Her voice was calm and relaxing, and she smelled like garlic. “I shall not begrudge you your period of grief. However, you are one of mine. The sooner you realize this, appreciate this, and accept this, the more likely your continued survival shall be.” She waved over several servants, carrying something large towards us, something covered in a drape.

“Even if that is true,” I said. “You can’t just claim me like that...It’s just…” I didn’t know what to say. It was a lot to take in. “It just doesn’t work that way…” I finished.

“The first Season is always the most difficult,” The Queen said. “But in time, you shall know your place, Daughter.”

Now she was doing it just to piss me off, I was certain.

“STOP calling me your fucking daughter!” I shouted. Fuck her. Fuck my mom.

Two swords were at my throat now, the guards flanking me, with an eye on the Queen, presumably waiting for an order to decapitate me. I gulped, but I wouldn’t take it back. Some things were worth dying for, and telling my mom to die of syphilis was one of them. Not that the Queen was my mom. No way.

“Even my patience is not unlimited,” The Queen said. “But all in its time.” She floated back to her throne, plucking the mothman up as she passed with one hand. The mothman was about the same size as her, maybe a little smaller. She didn’t look that strong. The mothman’s struggles intensified, but she ignored that, and sat down upon her throne, holding the mothman in place with both hands, nearly face to face. The mothman made a muffled screech.

“Daughter, Princess Joey the Fey, First of my Brood,” The Fairy Queen nodded towards a servant by the draped object, and the sheet was drawn off, revealing a full sized dressing mirror. “Behold your glory, and hasten your acceptance. For your fate is before you.”

And with that, the Fairy Queen’s mouth enlarged, split into four sections of jagged teeth and strands of saliva. She lifted the mothman as though he were nothing, and her jaws closed, over his head, meeting at his neck, where they sawed through in a sickening crunch.

Meanwhile, I saw the mirror. And I saw myself in the mirror. And I recoiled in horror.

Dear. God...I was a monster.