A Faery Tale - Finished

One Night With The Fae - Part Seven

- Grim & Realtín -

Grim winced as his Queen kicked him in the stomach. Her strikes were not out of anger or spite, just habit. He hated her. He hated her court. One day she would pay. He consoled himself with thoughts of his love, Realtín. Despite the fact they weren’t the same, despite the fact they were enslaved, and despite the fact they would both be tortured at best if anyone found out about them, they had become firm friends a long time ago, united in their hatred of the Seelie Queen. They consoled each other over their poor treatment. Gradually, over the centuries, the common ground of despising the Queen had turned into companionship and at last love. Thoughts of Realtín regularly got Grim through the day.

Only Realtín could have convinced him that the traditional festival had been the time to make a stand. For centuries they had endured, persevered and planned, patiently waiting the turn of the Irish fae. It had been a long struggle. If he was to die, at least it would be for a good cause and with his own true love next to him. All he hoped for was that he and Realtín didn’t suffer too much. He seriously doubted they would survive the night.

Realtín almost dropped her light a number of times. She cursed herself, knowing that a suspicious Queen was a dangerous one. She hoped that things would work out or that the two Queens would turn on each other and save everyone else some hassle. If the Seelie Queen wasn’t so cruel or if she was even a little forgiving then it might have been different, but their ruler delighted in death and pain. Mental pain was just as satisfying to her as the physical kind. The twin Queens had always been unbalanced, even as children. Their father had been the only thing controlling either of them. Since his murder, the fae had been unstable all over again, and the combined power of all the fae had been seriously weakened.

The unimportant fae, like Realtín and Grim, had been trampled on for far too long. It was time for a new leader. Realtín couldn’t bear to watch Grim suffer any longer. The daily growing need to smash something over Queen Mirela’s head was something Realtín was fed up struggling with. She knew that she would die for it, and it would almost be worth it except for the pain Grim would go through. Besides, if the Queen ever realised that her sudden violence was on Grim’s behalf then he would be executed, too. Or worse. The Queen was highly imaginative when it came to pain.

Realtín bit her lip anxiously. Watching the Queen made her want to scream. She sat on her throne, dangling her leg and kicking Grim in the head with every movement. Realtín could barely wait for the signal; she felt pure joy when it finally came.

The wail of the banshee made her heart feel like stopping; it felt so cold and full of death. As soon as she cried out betrayal, Realtín’s excitement soared. But Grim remained shaking on the ground. Hesitating, Realtín thought sorrowfully, for the first time disappointed in her love. She willed him to look at her; she knew she could persuade him to do anything she wished.  Luckily for Realtín, the Queen was too distracted by her pleasure from witnessing her own sister’s death to realise that Realtín had stopped hovering behind her and that Grim had raised his head in her presence for the first time in centuries.

Grim trembled as he met Realtín’s eyes. He knew she was angry, he could see it in her face. She gestured toward the Unseelie Queen’s throne pleadingly. The others had already done their job. They were late. He had to hurry and make a decision. The Seelie Queen rose to her feet and began declaring her power, as pompous as ever. Grim made his choice. He nodded to Realtín, treasuring the smile she gave him, knowing it might be the last smile he ever saw.

Realtín dashed her light to the ground, her heart overflowing with love for Grim. He would help her; he would save them both from a lifetime of slavery. She flew at the Queen in a wild temper, gripping her hair firmly and yanking it backward to make sure that Grim had the best possible advantage. He only had one chance. Her body shivered with adrenaline combined with anticipation of freedom. The Queen’s bodyguards were slow to move for a change, or were they too guilty of betrayal.

Grim leapt into the air neatly, his limbs agile even though he had been curled up on the ground for hours on end. Realtín had made him practice the move incessantly for a long time. He had it almost perfected. He was a little low, but the dagger he had hidden within his clothing made up for the distance. He was almost surprised by how neat the wound was in the end, how quickly the Queen fell to the floor. The bodyguards all stood still, blinking with surprise, not knowing what to do. Technically they had no command now, and as they all disliked the Queen, they weren’t keen on getting involved further.

But Grim heard a warning howl. Brathnach. He cursed under his breath, knowing that the dog wouldn’t stop until both he and Realtín were dead. He grabbed hold of Realtín, pulling her to the ground and urging her away. They sped as far away from the Queen’s throne as possible, weaving through the crowds, trying to lose Brathnach. For the first time ever, Grim was thankful for his small height. Risking a glance around, he saw that Brathnach had lost their trail and was now barrelling after another faery and a human.

He stopped Realtín and gestured toward the scene. “Should we do something?”

She shook her head, horrified. “We need to leave. Now, Grim! We can’t stay for what happens next. I never thought we’d make it this long, but now that we have…”

She didn’t finish, but he knew she was right. They had to get out while they could and forget about the dog’s revenge. If they had a decent head start, he may never find them again. They sped toward a stairway.

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving, little ones.”

They both whirled around to face a banshee. Realtín was defiant in her fear, but Grim couldn’t speak. The daughters of death were terrifying, even without their true power. He stared back at the banshee, wishing he had some sort of power to speak of.

“I need you two,” the banshee said, a little more gently this time. “You did a fine job tonight, but now I need you both to help with the summoning, and then, of course, the new King will want to reward you both for your aid. Leaving tonight is not an option for any of us.”

Grim glanced at Realtín in despair as the words sank in. They had just traded one form of slavery for another.