Black Hearted Faery Tale

{First 5 chapters only}

Zane Joly

Chapter 1: The Invitation

There were pros and cons to dating a shapeshifting heir to a faery throne. Skyla had learned this over the course of her relationship with Mimic. Pro: They could look like whatever you wanted them to. Con: You had to wait a few weeks to be certain this wasn’t some kind of con to kidnap you or curse you. Pro: Your partner would know interesting and fascinating things about the mythical world. Con: Sometimes, that same partner would invite you to come meet their parents.

Now, meeting the parents can be awkward for any couple. It is made more awkward when the parents in question are Queen Oana, ruler of the Unseelie fae court, notorious for her madness and terrifying magic and the great Kaalik, perhaps the most powerful dragon alive.

“I know that you’ve met my parents,” said Skyla, “And you were very polite and they loved you. And I want to show the same symbol of affection to you, I really do. It’s just that I worry they might eat me.”

“Dad doesn’t eat people who don’t do something to deserve being eaten,” said Mimic, holding Skyla’s hand to reassure her.

“And your mother does?” asked Skyla.

“Well,” said Mimic, visibly thinking, “She doesn’t usually eat people at all. She prefers to curse them or feed them to her forest. But, she’s not going to do any of that to you. This is a formal reunion and you will be my guest, you’re protected by fae law. Besides, she wouldn’t do anything even if you weren’t protected by the rules. She understands you’re important to me. I made her promise to not even slightly mess with you. That’s a big thing for her.”

Skyla leaned back in her chair, looked up at the ceiling, and took a deep breath. The problem was, she knew the stories. She knew the stories better than almost anyone else. She was a folklorist and scholar of magical creatures, knowing the stories was her job. And the stories about Kaalik and Oana were not comforting. And she knew that plenty of myths and stories were false or exaggerated, but if only a portion of the ones about those two were true, that was reason enough to worry.

“My parents aren’t that bad,” said Mimic, “They’re… well, inhuman. They don’t quite fit your standards of morality. But they’re not murderous maniacs. And even if somehow something does threaten you, I’ll protect you personally. I can be quite ferocious when I need to be.”

Skyla looked down at her partner, who smiled. The smile was full of sharp carnivorous teeth. Mimic’s brown eyes turned yellow and feline, and their slender fingers grew sharp claws. After a moment, all the features returned to normal. Mimic was a true shifter, an extraordinarily rare species defined by having no original true form. Mimic usually spent their time in a form Skyla was fond of, a human woman with dark walnut skin and dreadlocks that reached her shoulders.

“And,” added Mimic, “Think about what an opportunity it would be. Spend just an hour at the reunion, and you’ll see more magical creatures than most people do in a lifetime.”

Skyla had to admit that did sound enticing. Her main sources for studying mythical creatures were old fables, scattered accounts of personal encounters, and the notes of various mages or sometimes those of the creatures themselves. Getting to personally interact with the Unseelie Court was a tremendous opportunity for new knowledge, but also for danger. The Unseelie were not known for their mercy or compassion. Of course, there was also the matter of meeting Mimic’s half-siblings. The children of Oana were many and monstrous.

Mimic could see the caution on Skyla’s face. “You don’t have to go if you really aren’t comfortable with it,” said Mimic, “I know my family is, well, dangerous. I do promise that I will keep you safe, but you’re not required to come.”

Skyla bit her lip and considered. Fuck it, she thought, I’ll spend my rest of my life regretting it if I don’t go. Of course, the rest of my life might be very short if I do go. “I’ll do it,” she said.

“Great!” said Mimic, beaming, “You’re going to love it.” They leaned over and kissed their partner.

 “But if I die there, I am going to haunt you,” said Skyla when Mimic withdrew.

“I’ve actually met a ghost,” said Mimic, “I think her name was Astanel. Lovely woman, though a bit melodramatic.”

“When did you say the reunion was again?” Skyla asked.

“The winter solstice,” answered Mimic, “In a week. It’s tradition for these things to be done on auspicious dates.”

“And who else exactly will be there?” asked Oana.

Mimic shrugged. “I don’t really know,” they said, “The only other people I know are going to be there are my parents. Currently my mother has… seven living kids? The number’s somewhere around there. She says it’s very rare for all of them to show up. This will actually be my first formal reunion, so I’m not quite sure how it’ll go.”

“So you don’t know if there’s any formalities I’m supposed to know?” asked Skyla, “Like, where to put a salad fork or if I have to make a blood offering?”

“Mother’s never really been one for ceremony,” said Mimic, “She married father in front of the castle, giving her court about two minutes to prepare. No flowers, no arch, no gifts.”

“Romantic,” said Skyla dryly. Mimic had explained to her before that their mother and adopted father were married as an odd sort of political alliance. The two got on well, but there was no romantic love between them and they had no biological children together.

“I’m excited,” said Mimic, “It’s going to be great, you’ll see. My mother looks forward to meeting you. Dad is indifferent, but I’m sure you’ll get along great.”

Skyla smiled. She’d always found Mimic’s confidence charming. It was a shame she couldn’t share it.

“How are we getting there?” asked Skyla a couple days later, “The Unseelie castle is in the nameless forest, isn’t it? That’s hundreds of miles away. None of the locomotive lines go by that way, and it would be an expensive and long carriage ride. I suppose you could turn into a giant hawk or something and carry me there, but that will still take days that I’d rather not take off work.”

“Not to worry,” said Mimic, “I can arrange transportation with my mother.”

“Are you going to be more specific?” asked Skyla.

“Now where would the fun be in that?” asked Mimic with a grin.

Five days later, Skyla was checking herself in the mirror. She was wearing a green dress she was fond of. Her dress had pockets with a pair of sharp iron knitting needles in them. Faeries were vulnerable to iron, and Skyla didn’t like the idea of going into a fae castle defenseless. She really hoped she didn’t have to use them. Mimic had said their father liked silver, so she’d decided to wear a silver necklace of hers with a moonstone teardrop resting at the bottom. Unlike her partner, she was unable to change her physical appearance. She liked her tan skin and long black hair, but it would be nice to try something different.

“You look beautiful,” said Mimic, entering the room.

“Aren’t you going to dress up for the occasion?” asked Skyla. Mimic was still in their typical form, wearing casual clothes.

“Oh, most certainly,” said the shapeshifter, “My mother might not like ceremony, but this is a formal event, and I am the princen. Besides, you know how I love to show off.”

Mimic took a deep breath as Skyla observed. Watching them shift was always a strange experience. The eye was merely aware that things were moving and changing for a second or so, and then suddenly there was someone new standing there.

Mimic now stood at almost six feet tall, even more counting the pair of tall horns arching from their bald head. This form had ebony skin and wore black finery decorated with silver accents. The iris of one eye glowed red and the other was a shining mix of violet and blue. Their fingers ended in sharp elegant talons, and behind them trailed a cape of brambles and thorns that almost reached the floor. This form was more androgynous than their previous one. A moment later, Skyla noticed the silver tattoos that now decorated their skin. She recognized them as fae runes, a language not easily readable by mortals. If she’d had time she might have been able to decipher them, but Mimic noticed her looking and shifted them to the continental tongue.

The tattoos listed the many titles that Mimic bore. Princen of The Unseelie. The Shifting Shadow. Wyrm-Child and Thorn-Born. After Skyla had finished reading them, the tattoos shifted back to runes.

Skyla looked back at the mirror. At herself, standing next to the tall and elegant immortal. She turned and glared at Mimic. “What?” asked the shifter with an apologetic smile, “You still look beautiful.”

The human sighed. “I guess that I didn’t have much chance of being the prettiest at a fae event. You do look gorgeous, though.”

Mimic grinned and made a preening tilt of their head that Skyla had seen them do in other forms. They leaned down and Skyla went on her tip-toes to kiss them.

Mimic looked outside, at the setting sun. The longest night of the year was about to begin. “Alright, let’s get going,” they said, heading through the apartment towards the balcony. A little confused, Skyla followed. Was Mimic going to climb onto the roof?

The shifter looked at the balcony door and nodded. The light of the setting sun cast the shadow of the designs on the glass door onto the opposite wall. Mimic gently took Skyla by the shoulders and turned her towards the shadow, her back to the balcony and the sun. “Now,” they said, “Just look at that shadow.”

Skyla nodded. Mimic took a deep breath before saying, “Oana, Oana, Oana,” and then a short phrase in the fae tongue. The faery language was impossible for a human to naturally learn, Skyla had tried, but she recognized it when she heard it. It was hard to focus on individual syllables, it was like a buzzing melody the mind couldn’t quite hold onto. She could guess what Mimic had said, probably something along the lines of “Mother, I invoke your name”.

The shadow of the door on the wall began to shift. The lines of the glass door’s frame started to grow and split like vines. The shadows expanded and darkened until they formed a pure black silhouette against the wall, a doorway of void.

Mimic held out their arm. “Shall we, my dear?” they asked.

“What a gentleman,” said Skyla, taking the arm. “Gentleperson,” she amended a moment later.

Together, the two went to the shadow door and stepped through.

Background: A Horrifying Love Story

Kaalik, he was called. People had come up with many epithets for him over the years, but none of them stuck. You could tell a dragon was truly terrifying when everyone knew their name, but no one could think of a fitting title. His name was enough of a description.

Oana, she was called. She did have titles. The Unseelie Queen, She Who Dances In Darkness, the Lady of Shadows, the Warden of Thorns, and many others that did not translate well into most mortal languages. But she had made most of her titles up herself.

Theirs is not what one could call a traditional love story. Or perhaps not what one could call any kind of love story. But it was undeniably a story.

The charred ruins of the ancient city of Delrotali were wedged between mountains. It was a hard place to access for those who were land-bound. The city had once had bridges and roads to make the journey easier, but they had all long since collapsed. All that was left were the crumbled stone remains and incomplete skeletons of colossal structures.

It was Kaalik’s lair, and he simply adored it. The dragon was quite picky about his lairs. This was the perfect one: it was hard to access, it was exposed to the sky, it was large, nothing was flammable, it wasn’t unbearably cliche. And best of all, it had a grim yet artistic aesthetic that Kaalik found immensely soothing. Plus, there was an implied arrogant boast to it. Anyone looking around could see that the city was old, very old. And yet it had in fact existed for less time than the wyrm himself. Not much less time, but still.

Inside the open ruins of what used to be a library, the beast lay. Kaalik’s scales absorbed the light like they were made of night itself, and his reptilian eyes blazed red. A powerful set of horns rose up from his head, marked with scratches and scars. He was about sixty feet long, not counting the long, sharp tail that was an additional thirty feet. As was customary, a shiny hoard lay beneath him. Kaalik had a preference for silver, as opposed to gold, and so his hoard shone with cool light. While not his primary preferred treasure, he also had taste for written knowledge, and scrolls and books sized for dragon proportions and made of fireproof paper were neatly arranged behind the rest of his hoard.

Kaalik could smell something approaching. Something that was far beyond any lesser beast or hero that came for his treasure. He lifted himself up and readied his fire. Dark mist poured in from around the ruins, thickening and coalescing into a single point a dozen or so feet in front of him. The mist cleared, revealing a woman.

She was roughly the shape of a human, but Kaalik did not for one moment mistake her for one. Her skin was a shadowy pale color like moonlight, and she wore a cloak of black feathers over worn-out rags that a beggar might have. One of her eyes shone a brilliant blue, and the other one a deep violet. Her hair was wild and black, and halfway down her back it transformed into a mess of thorny branches and vines. Her fingers ended in claws, and a sharp crown of frozen blood encircled her head. She was taller than most human women, around six feet. But her appearance was not the main factor that made Kaalik believe her inhuman. It was the power that rolled off her. A wild, dangerous, and dark magic that no human could hold within them. She was a fae, and a powerful one too. A queen. She deserved his respect as a guest, even if she had arrived unannounced.

The wyrm dipped his horned head slightly in greeting. “Your majesty,” he said, in a voice like slowly flowing lava, “Before we discuss the reason for your visit, shall I come down to your size?”

“If you wish to,” the fae responded. Her voice was beautiful, but sharp.

The magic of dragons was a mysterious and elemental one, not even fully comprehended by themselves. The elders of their kind knew how to twist it to suit their more subtle needs. The shadowy scales of Kaalik rippled and his form contracted, shrinking down and shifting. After a few moments, a man stood before the fae queen. His skin was dark, and his eyes were still reptilian and bright crimson. He was dressed in robes that absorbed light in the same unnatural way his scales had. Horns protruded from his head, and he stood over six feet tall even without them.

“I am Kaalik,” he said, “as I’m sure you know. I presume you to be Queen Oana of the Unseelie Clan?”

“Indeed I am,” Oana replied.

“I don’t keep track of mortal politics, but I do try to keep a general awareness of important mystical matters,” the dragon said, “And I have heard stories about you.”

“Good things, I hope?” Oana asked, and Kaalik could tell from her grin that she was entirely aware of what the stories about her were like. That they all said to fall in the path of Queen Oana was to court death. That she played games with mortals and other fae alike, throwing pieces away when they bored her. That even for the mischievous and dangerous Unseelie Clan, she was a paragon of chaos.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, your majesty?” Kaalik asked.

“There’s no need to refer to me with such a title,” Oana replied, “And I’ll get straight to the point. There’s an old fae law that says that I must marry by my hundredth winter solstice as queen, which is tomorrow. I have no desire to marry, but even I cannot reverse such a law.”

“How tragic,” Kaalik commented, in a voice that conveyed neither sincerity nor sarcasm.

“Well,” Oana continued, “If I must marry, then it must be to someone worthy. And so, Kaalik, I have come to offer my hand in marriage.” She extended a clawed hand toward Kaalik.

The dragon looked at the hand, then up at Oana. She only remained smiling. “The fae are known for their jokes,” Kaalik said, “But I’m afraid I don’t have the same sense of humor as your kind.”

“I am being sincere,” the Unseelie queen said, “This is not just some jest, I swear it upon my crown.”

“Why, then?” Kaalik asked, “Even if you were set on having a dragon for a partner, why me? Dreigmora The Gray seems like she’d get along with you far better. She’s always had an appetite for chaos, much like yourself. If you need a male partner to create an heir, I have little interest in such things.”

“Oh no, I don’t need to produce an heir,” Oana said, “And I did consider Dreigmora. I like her, and we’ve had fun together in the past. But her similarity to me is just the problem. I won’t have a partner with a taste for mischief like myself. It’s why I won’t take any other Unseelie to be my partner, as is traditional. Whoever shall rule beside me needs to be different, to be my equal and opposite, but also not be boring. If I were to make Dreigmora my queen, the other fae would be shocked and confused, but after thinking about it for a few seconds they’d say ‘Actually it sort of makes sense’. But you…”

“It would be insanity to marry a dragon as ancient and feared as I am,” said Kaalik, “Especially if you didn’t even intend to create an heir. They would think you a twisted madwoman who sees only power.”

“Exactly!” Oana cried, heterochromatic eyes wide and wild, “You’re perfect!”

“Ah,” Kaalik said, “Well I supposed I lost the moment I tried to understand the motives of a fae. But I still must ask why I would be interested in such things.”

“Oh come on,” said Oana. Black smoke formed around her and quickly dispersed. Her inhuman features were gone, and she was in the form of an attractive young woman wearing a rather revealing black dress. “I thought dragons were supposed to like beautiful young maidens.”

Kaalik was thoroughly unimpressed. “Firstly, the stereotype of kidnapping young women was spread mostly by one dragon, Abocendrias. I killed and ate him. Secondly, while I do not and will never find you or any other being sexually or romantically attractive, this form of yours is less aesthetically pleasing than your other. Thirdly, you are hardly a beautiful young maiden. Well, you are beautiful, but so is a thunderstorm and I have never been provoked to marry one. And while you may be young compared to me, you are still centuries old. As for being a maiden… well I did say that I had heard the stories about you. I’ve also heard the stories about your children. I even met one of your grandchildren once, before I roasted him to ashes.”

“Well aren’t you a charmer,” Oana muttered, shifting back to her original form. “I came equipped with other selling points. You could be a king.”

“What does kingship matter to me?” the dragon asked, faintly amused, “I could kill the rulers of any kingdom and declare myself its king and burn all who would contradict me.”

“You would be king of the Unseelie Court, not some common mortal nation,” the fae argued, “And you would have the loyalty of all who fear and serve me outside of my clan. You have lived for a long time, surely the novelty of such an experience intrigues you?”

Kaalik paused. That argument at least was worth considering. “Perhaps,” he said, “But that is still not sufficient incentive. Unless you have something else to offer, we are done.”

“Oh, but I do,” said the fae queen with glee, “I have a crown of silver, embedded with onyx stones. I have a silver throne, delicately and expertly crafted, with thirteen rubies coaxed from the deepest earth embedded in it. A throne that currently sits empty.”

That got Kaalik’s attention. A dark forked tongue hissed out between his lips, as if he could already taste the jewels in the air. Yet still, he was not so easily convinced. “I have treasures enough,” the dragon said, gesturing back at his glimmering hoard, “What makes you think you can bribe me?”

“‘Bribe’, ‘pay’, and ‘incentivize’ are all different words for the same thing,” said Queen Oana, “And yes, you have treasures. But I could get you new treasures. In a year, I could present you with more splendid things than you would ordinarily collect in a century. And you hardly have to do a thing.”

A dragon’s lust for treasure is one of their most primal drives. Different dragons have different tastes, but their love for things of value never fades, as many other joys of life do with such a long lifespan. And while merely being in the presence of treasure is soothing, acquiring a new item always sparks joy as if it is the first. An older dragon can learn to control this hunger, but it still remains within them.

“Why didn’t you make this argument before the ‘young maiden’ and ‘you could be king’ ones?” Kaalik asked.

Oana’s eyes glinted with mirth. “It’s tradition for fae to do things in threes and for the third attempt to succeed where the others failed, or vice versa. Do you not read any faery tales?”

The dragon mused over what the queen had said. He did like treasure, and being a king might be at least somewhat entertaining. But the last thing that tipped the balance was Oana herself. He found her wildness somewhat entertaining, at least more than most creatures he had known in his long life. “You make an enticing argument, I must admit,” said Kaalik, “But there are still a few things I wish to settle beforehand. I have heard faery tales, and I know it's madness to go into a deal with a fae without establishing rules.”

“I’d be disappointed in you otherwise,” said Oana, “What terms do you wish to discuss, then?”

“Would we have to consummate the marriage?” Kaalik asked.

“No, no, nothing like that,” said the fae queen, “I have heirs enough. Of course, if you wanted to-”

“No,” said Kaalik, with force, “In the millennium in which I have lived, I have never mated nor felt the desire to.”

“Hey,” said Oana, lifting up her hands, “You do you. I may be an insane power-hungry monster, but I respect boundaries. All I need from you is an agreement to marriage, maybe a few theatrics, and for you to sit next to me and look scary as fuck. Anything else?”

“I do not wish to be trapped in this arrangement,” said Kaalik, “I am free to leave at any time. If necessary, I can keep the technical position and title as king, but no other obligations.”

“Done,” said Oana, “Though I do hope you won’t get so bored you feel the need to leave. Does that settle everything?”

“I believe so,” said the great wyrm. Were he a lesser creature or much younger he would have added many more rules to protect himself. But he was a powerful dragon, and if Oana attempted to trick him she would regret it dearly.

“Shall we return to my palace?” Oana asked, “Oh, I can’t wait to see the looks on the faces of all those snobby aristocrats. We should make a dramatic entrance. You know, I’ve never ridden a dragon before…”

Kaalik sighed and changed from his human form to his natural draconic one. He carefully plucked Oana up between two talons and deposited her on his back. He barely felt her weight on his scales.

The dragon’s wings spread wide and he leapt into the sky, the fae queen shrieking with glee on his back. A couple long branches extended from her hair and dug into the edges of scales in order to hold on.

The shadowy form of the dragon lifted out of the ruins, over the mountains, and across the plains.

Kaalik moved swiftly, but the Unseelie castle was far away, and the directions that Oana gave him didn’t always make sense. But the wyrm was patient. As the sunlight faded, he did however recall that the deadline for the queen to marry was the winter solstice tomorrow.

“Are you sure that we’re going to make it on time?” Kaalik asked, tilting his head back to observe the fae riding on his back.

“Yes, of course,” she said, waving a hand dismissively, “We will arrive just before the end of the longest night of the year. We shall be cutting it hilariously close.”

And so the dragon flew on through the night, a silhouette across a starry sky.

Oana directed him towards a deep forest. In the center of the woods was a massive clearing in a perfect circle, empty of trees or anything else. The dragon’s flaming red eyes could see a shimmer in the air that indicated something was hidden, but could not tell what it was. Oana snapped her fingers and suddenly the shimmering ceased and the palace came into view.

The Unseelie castle was a bizarre structure, halfway between palace and nest. Dark stone and wood melded together, and both branches and parapets extended from the lopsided central mass.

When Kaalik landed, the ground shook. The nearby fae fled in terror or cautiously watched from a distance. One Unseelie who appeared like a human with long gray moth wings slowly approached the wyrm. “What is it you want from us, oh great dragon?”

“Well that’s rather rude!” came Oana’s voice from the top of Kaalik. The faery who had spoken to Kaalik looked up in confusion and alarm as she flew down from the dragon’s back, dark mist flowing behind her. “Kaalik here greeted me as a guest when I came to his home, I should expect you to do the same for him. Instead, you immediately ask him the reason for his visit without so much as a hello. You should have more respect. He is your future king after all.”

The fae’s look of confusion deepened as he looked back and forth between Oana and Kaalik. “He’s… but… what?”

“I don’t have all night,” said Oana, “Go, gather my court, go! You’re all invited to the wedding, no need to RSVP, no dress code. We only have a few minutes before sun-up.”

Kaalik looked back toward the eastern horizon and squinted. He could see the sky beginning to brighten as the day approached and the longest night of the year neared an end.

Fae swarmed out of the palace, frantically talking to each other.

“Silence,” said Oana pleasantly. Every fae immediately went dead quiet. The queen cleared her throat and turned to Kaalik. “Do you accept me as your bride and wish us to be wed?”

“I do,” answered the dragon.

“Then I hereby declare us married, and you to be the new king of the Unseelie.”

The Unseelie Court around them didn’t make a sound, and Kaalik wasn’t sure whether it was because Oana had ordered their silence or because they were all too stunned to form words. The entire situation seemed surreal even to him. Oana had wanted to shock her court, and she had certainly succeeded. The first glimmers of sunlight rose from the horizon. The longest night of the year was over, and Oana had just barely followed the ancient laws.

The Unseelie queen led Kaalik to a dramatic sealed gate of black stone at the front of the palace. With a wave of her hand, it opened inward. The archway was too small for Kaalik to fit through, so he shifted to a narrower, more serpentine form, though still titanic in size. Oana walked into the palace and her new husband slithered after her.

The inside of the palace was dim, illuminated from some source Kaalik could not see. The pair proceeded along the long hallway until they came to the throne room, where two elegant seats rested side by side. One of the thrones rose up out of the floor and was made from twisting wood and black stone, like the rest of the palace. The other throne stood out more. It was made of elegantly crafted silver, and was designed to look like frozen flames, with ample amounts of claw, wing, and tail imagery as well. At the top of the backrest, thirteen identical rubies gleamed.

Kaalik shrank down to a human form as he approached the throne. Laying on it was a crown that looked like it was made from loosely woven thorny vines, also silver. Three onyx stones were set in the crown, dark and beautiful. The wyrm lifted the crown to rest on his head, and sat down on the throne. A deep growl of satisfaction emanated from him as he made himself comfortable. There was no padding on the silver, which would have been painful to a human but to Kaalik felt soothingly familiar to his hoard.

The queen took her place next to the king, and the two shared a smile.

Chapter 2: Introductions

The first thing that Skyla was aware of was that the air was colder. Not quite uncomfortably cold, but it had a chill that her apartment hadn’t. She blinked and looked around. She and Mimic were in a wide, empty hall of black stone. Roots, or possibly branches, stuck out of the walls and ceiling.

“Do you like what I’ve done with the place?” asked a voice coming from an inch away from Skyla’s ear. She jumped and wheeled around, stumbling. Grinning at her was a tall woman with skin pale as moonlight wearing raggedy mismatched clothes and a crown of dark red glass. Her eyes glowed, one violet, the other brilliant blue. She had long black hair that trailed to the floor and turned into a mess of gray-brown vines and thorny branches halfway down.

“Mom!” scolded Mimic, seeming exasperated but not surprised by this.

The woman cackled. She didn’t look much like Mimic, which made sense for a shapeshifter, but Skyla recognized that grin and the glint in her eye. This was undoubtedly Mimic’s mother. “You’re-” began Skyla, trying to regather her wits.

“Her Royal Majesty Oana, Queen of the Unseelie, She Who Dances In Darkness, the Lady of Shadows, the Warden of Thorns,” finished the fae queen, “Though you can- well, I suppose it’s a little early in the relationship for you to call me mom.”

Mimic sighed deeply. Oana said something in the fae tongue which Mimic rolled their eyes and smiled at. Oana saw the slightly confused look on Skyla’s face and said in the continental tongue, “Oh right, human. Not to worry dear, it’s a minor fix. Not the humanity, the language barrier. Although, if you ever need me to fix the humanity, I’d be happy to-”

“Mom,” interrupted Mimic. Skyla had never seen anyone exasperate them, usually it was the other way around.

“This will just take a moment,” said Oana. She gently laid her hands on the sides of Skyla’s face. The human realized for the first time that Oana’s nails were sharp like claws. The queen leaned forward to whisper something in the fae tongue in her ear. Halfway through, she switched to the continental tongue, saying, “-as we do.”

“What?” asked Skyla.

“The gift of tongues,” explained Oana, “To you, the fae dialect will sound like whatever language you’re most comfortable with, and you’ll be able to interpret any fae words you read. You won’t be able to speak it yourself, but most of us know mortal languages anyway so we can understand you. It will only last until the next new moon in seventeen days, though.”

“Oh,” said Skyla, a little surprised, “Thank you.”

Behind Oana, Skyla saw movement. A figure detached themself from the shadows of the hall, unseen until they moved. He was a tall man with ebony skin wearing clothes just as dark. The only color came from his reptilian red eyes and his silver crown, set with onyx stones. A pair of horns rose from his head and dreadlocks reached halfway down his back. The man towered at around seven feet tall. He did look related to Mimic’s current form, and Skyla realized that must have been deliberate.

“I take it that you are the great dragon Kaalik,” said Skyla, “Mimic’s father.”

The dragon inclined his head in confirmation. “And you are my child’s mate,” he said in a slow, deep voice, “The human scholar.” There was no disdain or joy in either his tone or his gaze.

“Yes,” answered Skyla awkwardly, “I’ve heard of you.” Heard that you’ve slaughtered the mightiest dragon slayers, eaten your own kin, and immolated armies.

“Skyla is a folklorist,” said Mimic, “She studies stories of mystical creatures. When we first met, she didn’t think I existed.”

“I thought true shifters were a misattribution given to several different types of shapeshifter,” said Skyla, “It’s rather hard to accurately identify something that can literally look like anything.”

“Tell me about it,” said Oana, “Mimic here loved to play hide and seek when they were young. I once couldn’t find them for three days. You know, I actually felt them shifting forms in the womb.”

“If you start telling the story of my birth, I’m going to kill you,” said Mimic.

“Your majesties,” said a new voice. All four of them turned to a fae with beetle wings. “Princess Morgana has been spotted approaching the front entrance.”

“Well, let’s go then,” said Oana, turning and setting off.

“Wait, Morgana?” asked Skyla, “As in Morgana the Witch Queen?”

“Don’t worry, most of the stories about her are made up,” said Oana, still walking. After a moment she added, “Well maybe not most. Not the ones about eating babies, her digestion is far too fragile for that. The girl couldn’t even drink milk when she was little.”

Kaalik stepped in behind his wife, and Mimic and Skyla hurried to catch up. Skyla was not fond of having shorter legs than everyone around her. “You didn’t tell me Morgana was your sister,” hissed Skyla.

“I didn’t realize it was important,” they said apologetically, “I’ve met her, like, twice. To the fae she’s not really considered that impressive.”

“Is there anyone in your family who isn’t terrifyingly powerful and known for killing people who get in their way?” Skyla asked.

Mimic thought for a moment. “Can they be terrifyingly powerful or known for killing people who get in their way?” they asked, “Or can they not be either?”
Skyla sighed. She noticed something odd about the halls of the Unseelie castle. She could see fine, but there were only occasional skylights to provide illumination. She didn’t know what was illuminating most of the space. Looking down, she saw that everyone’s shadows were pointing in different directions. It was a little disconcerting. She could swear that Oana’s shadow waved at her, though the queen herself didn’t move.

The twists and turns of the castle didn’t seem logical, and there were multiple times when Skyla suspected the halls were moving when she wasn’t looking. Their party passed several faeries in the Unseelie Court as they walked. Most of them appeared human but with one or two magical features like glowing eyes or wings. Skyla made mental notes on how their appearances did or didn’t match the stories about the Unseelie.

Then, all of a sudden, they were outside. Skyla blinked. Had they walked through a door or something she hadn’t noticed? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, it was a common theme in stories that the realms of fae didn’t follow traditional logic. She looked back at the castle they had come from. It was a strange thing to see from the outside. It was mostly constructed of smooth black stone and it did have a few turrets, but most of its external features were giant branches reaching out from the central mass. The entire castle was slightly lopsided, and she couldn’t tell if the castle was built around the giant plant or if some strange tree had grown up through the castle.

There was an open area around the Unselie castle, ringed by tall, thick trees. The orange glow of twilight still shone, and a figure could be seen against the sky, approaching.

The newcomer soared over the trees and floated down to the ground. It was a woman, sitting sideways and balancing with ease on a long broom of black wood. When she reached the ground, she stood up and stretched.

“Hello there darling,” said Oana. The newcomer turned to look at her gathered relatives, and Skyla saw her eyes were a brilliant indigo. But other than the eyes, the Unseelie princess seemed perfectly human. There was a certain unearthly beauty that shapeshifters like Mimic and their parents possessed and that Skyla and this witch lacked. The witch had caramel skin and short black hair, and wore dark riding clothes. Certainly not how Skyla had imagined Morgana the Witch Queen. She also had a stockier, broader build than most illustrations of her, but Skyla supposed that made sense.

“Hello mother,” Morgana said, tipping her head in greeting. The witch seemed most interested in the other three, and seemed most puzzled by Skyla. “I didn’t expect a human,” she said.

“This is Skyla,” said Mimic, “My partner.”

Morgana stepped closer, those piercing indigo eyes staring at Skyla. “You don’t smell like a mage,” she said, “I sense no magic of any kind on you. What are you?”

“I’m a folklorist,” said Skyla, “I work part time at the library.”

Morgana gave a genuine smile, much less menacing than Skyla would have expected. She turned to her half-sibling and step-father. “Mimic, Kaalik,” she said in greeting, “I’ve met both of you before, but I do look forward to getting to know you better.”

The Witch Queen waved a hand and the broom behind her vanished, leaving behind a wisp of black smoke. Skyla noticed that the palm of Morgana’s hand was scarred. It didn’t look like it was from a blade or fire, possibly acid? Something crawled out of the witch’s jacket and onto her shoulder. It was small and blue, its shape something between bat-like and humanoid, with two leathery wings coming from its back and a long flexible tail. An imp, one of the least magical of the mystical species. They were much less powerful or mysterious than fae, though some said the two were distantly related. “Oh yes,” said Morgana, “This is my familiar, Faron.”

“Pleasure to meet you, your majesty,” said the imp, bowing to Oana.

The Unseelie queen tilted her head as if she heard something. “Well it seems that everyone is arriving at once.”

“Something wicked this way comes,” muttered Morgana, moving to stand near her mother.

A figure burst from the tree line, skidding to a halt on the soil. It was a large… something. Skyla couldn’t decide whether it looked more like a bear or a wolf, but she thought she saw a few features that looked more like a weasel or maybe even a snake. It was four legged, big, and furry. The creature started to shrink and twist, rising up onto its hind legs. After a few seconds, it looked a little more humanoid, though still over seven feet tall and covered in fur. After a moment, Skyla realized this creature was female, before averting her eyes from the evidence of such.

“Sverrir!” exclaimed Oana, moving forward to hug the behemoth and kiss her on what was probably the cheek, “I didn’t think you’d come!”

“I wished to meet the dragon,” the monster growled in response. Her yellow slitted eyes flicked over to Kaalik. Then she sniffed the air and tilted her head, before turning to Skyla.

“Human,” Sverrir said, dropping onto all fours and prowling closer, “Are you the appetizer?”

Mimic stepped between them, growling, their claws growing longer.

“Darling,” said Oana, with an edge to her voice, “I don’t lecture you on what you do on your own time, but you are not going to threaten anyone while you are in my domain. Don’t worry, you’ll get fed soon.”

Mimic kept growling, and Morgana flexed her hands and gave Sverrir a calculating look. Kaalik observed silently, seeming unbothered. Sverrir sat back on her haunches, seeming disappointed.

“And because they know that enough people are here to see their entrance…” began Oana, clearly waiting for something.

A tall sliver of darkness formed in the air nearby and widened until two figures stepped out, shoving each other a little bit. The first to make it through was a fae who Skyla’s eyes hurt to look at. They wore a sparkling silver gown that almost glowed, and enough jewelry set with emeralds to buy a small city. Their hair cascaded down a little past their shoulders and shifted through various colors, most of them unnatural. Their eyes were two swirling galaxies, and their skin was a rich bronze. The very air around them seemed to tremble and shiver with the sheer weight of their splendor. Skyla closed her eyes and rubbed them for a moment. She’d heard descriptions of fae glamor, their ability to bend the minds of those around them, often using it to cloak themselves in unnatural beauty. She’d never heard of one applying it this thick before though.

When Skyla opened her eyes, there was someone else standing beside the fae, though he was hard to see next to the shimmering figure beside him. He wore a rather plain black dress, though it had a belt and several sheathed daggers hanging on it. He had olive skin and short curly black hair. Skyla noticed his eyes were a perfectly ordinary blue-gray. Finally, she thought, One other person without fancy magic eyes. The man flicked his hand and the rift of darkness behind him closed. She noticed the tips of his fingers were clawed, like Oana’s.

The fae was clearly waiting for something that did not come. “What, no herald?” they asked, “That’s alright. I am Bastanour, princess of the Unseelie, master of glamor-”

“And I’m Caligo,” interrupted the other one, “Thank you for inviting us, mother. We’re very grateful, and would hate to bore you with a long list of titles, most of which are rather stupid sounding anyways.” They gave a pointed look towards Bastanour.

“My,” said Oana, “Five children showing up, that’s quite rare. Plus two new in-laws, no less.”

Skyla would have pointed out that she and Mimic weren’t married so she wasn’t technically an in-law, but didn’t consider it worth pursuing. For now, she didn’t want to draw any more attention to her than necessary.

The party headed back towards the castle. There was a wide gate in the outer wall that hadn’t been there a moment before. It swung open, and the Unseelie royal family and Skyla moved through.

“So what do you know about your siblings?” asked Skyla, staying by Mimic’s side.

“Well,” said Mimic, “Bastanour is Mother’s child with another fae. They are talented at glamor and live among humans, but other than that aren’t really considered special. They’re quite good friends with Caligo, who is the child of Mother and an ordinary human. I think the two are successful criminals among the humans. I think I’ve met Bastanour once, briefly.” Oana was talking animatedly to the duo.

“Caligo and Morgana are both half human,” said Mimic, “So they’re treated as somewhat lesser by the court, even though they both inherited some of Mother’s magic. I think Caligo also has some superhuman physical capabilities.”

“I’m sorry,” said Skyla, “Morgana is considered lesser?” She looked over at the Witch Queen. Morgana’s imp, Faron, was whispering in her ear, and she occasionally nodded in response.

“Well, yes,” said Mimic, “She is, more or less, mortal. She’s actually earned a bit more of the court’s respect than Caligo though. Her own fae magic is stronger than his, and she’s also a prodigy at mortal magics. In terms of sheer power, she could probably take on the vast majority of the Unseelie fae here. If she were a true fae herself, I’m sure she’d be quite popular. I know she and Mother have a, uh, difficult history, but I’m not sure on the specifics, and I think it’s mostly patched up now. Like I said, I haven’t had many personal encounters with her, but I know her better than the others.”

Among humans, Morgana was a legend. It was said she had defeated the most powerful wielders of mortal magic, and that she was the strongest witch to have ever lived, her skill in dark magic unrivaled. They said she had alongside the mage Merlin and from the warlock Umbris, and had tried to kill both. In the latter case she had succeeded.

“And Sverrir?” asked Skyla, eying the beast walking alongside Kaalik, talking to him. She was fairly certain she saw the dragon looking at Sverrir with disdain, but it was hard to tell.

“Barely knew she existed,” said Mimic, “Only heard it referenced that she lives in the wilds and almost never leaves. She must have really wanted to meet dad. I bet she thinks he’s a savage monster like her.”

Mimic had talked about their father a few times. They loved him dearly, and even though Kaalik hadn’t expected to treat them as his child, he had willingly. The dragon seemed cold, but Skyla vastly preferred a rude dragon to a tempermental one.

“I do think that the two of you would get along well,” said Mimic, “You both value knowledge highly, and you can both go on boring rants about it. In fact,” they raised their voice, “Hey Dad! Come talk to Skyla about boring stuff while I introduce myself to Sverrir.”

Sverrir looked like she was going to object, but Kaalik said, “Very well.” He and Mimic traded places.

“So,” said Skyla, “Mimic says you value knowledge. Are you a scholar?”

“I suppose you could say I am the dragon equivalent,” answered Kaalik, “I have accrued much knowledge throughout my millennium of existence.”

“Millennium,” said Skyla. It was known that Kaalik was over eight hundred years old, but there was debate as to how much longer he had existed before that. There were older records of dragons that matched his description, but it was thought those could be a dragon with a similar name being confused for him.

“Just a little over twelve hundred years,” said Kaalik, “Third generation dragon. My grandparents were among the first, born of magic and chaos.”

“That’s remarkable,” said Skyla, “If you don’t mind, could you clear something up for me? Why do you have almost no titles? A being of your age and power should have at least four. I mean, look at your wife and child. Technically you’re the Unseelie king, and you are on occasion referred to as Kaalik the Black or Kaalik the Wyrm.”

“Those are not titles, those are descriptions,” said Kaalik, “I have never much cared for epithets. Oana and Mimic are both quite fond of them, whereas I have always thought that my name is declaration of power enough. Oana put quite a lot of work into making sure her titles were known and that they stuck.”

“I see,” said the human. She looked over at Mimic, who was talking quietly to Sverrir, neither of whom looked like they were enjoying the other’s company. “I feel kind of bad for sticking Mimic with her,” Skyla commented.

To her amazement, Kaalik actually smiled. It was a subtle thing, but noticeable. “Oh, no, I can hear them,” he said, “My child is describing in detail how they’ll end her life if she ever threatens you again.”

Skyla looked over at the pair again with a bit more alarm. Sverrir’s expression was hard to read, but she did seem a bit nervous. Mimic noticed Skyla looking and gave her a smile and a wave.

“I imagine Mimic has more or less shown you their more gentle side,” said Kaalik, “And the tenderness they are capable of is no lie. But there is a far more dangerous aspect to them as well. They inherit that from Oana as well as myself. You must be unique to them. Someone they care about who is fragile. They always have always liked new experiences.”

Skyla looked at Kaalik. There were a few different things that he might be subtly saying, but his even tone made it difficult to tell. Seeing her confused expression, the dragon added, “I do not mean to say that they are a danger to you. They do care about you, I can see that.”

“You’re not what I expected,” said Skyla.

“I have yet to see enough of you to deem if you meet my own predictions,” replied Kaalik, “And you have yet to witness all that I am capable of.”

Skyla was mostly sure that Kaalik wasn’t trying to be ominous on purpose.

The group reached a wide room with several cushioned chairs sitting about in a loose circle. At one end of the room were the closed doors of the large gate that they had come in through. Skyla had given up trying to understand this place.

“Now,” said Oana, “Dinner will be soon, but I thought we could sit and talk for a little while before that. There are so many people who need to get better acquainted.”

The group moved towards the chairs. The queen was the first to reach one, sitting down on it sideways. “Now-” she began before suddenly freezing. She stood back up, and her stance was suddenly tense. “What is she doing here?” she hissed.

Before Skyla could ask what she meant, the gate swung open.

Background: Dear Diary

For several years, Mimic kept a diary. Well, they more or less kept what was more or less a diary. It was a gorgeous black leather grimoire they kept hidden in the chimney of an abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere. Mimic had spent most of their life traveling, so it was as good a place as any to keep it. The diary itself was a neat and expensive thing, but the notes in it were unorganized, undated, and intermittent. Mimic mostly wrote things down in it when the fancy struck them or they thought there was something that would entertain themselves in the future. Some of the entries read:

Dear Diary. That’s how you’re supposed to begin these things, right? Anyways, today I stole a book from a wizard. This book, actually. I thought it would have some interesting spells inside it, or if I was really lucky, some good food recipes, but instead it was blank. Maybe he intended to write something down in you eventually, maybe he was a hoarder, maybe he just wanted to spite thieves. Though in my experience, generally when wizards feel spiteful things start exploding. Anyways, I’m going to use you as a diary from now on. Maybe.

Dear Diary, met my first dragon besides Dad a few days ago. Took herself very seriously, like Dad, but more talkative than him. I couldn’t get her to shut up. On the upside, she got so distracted by talking I got to steal some money from her hoard. Am I developing kleptomania? Eh.

Turned into a sea serpent and went swimming. I am never leaving the mainland again. The ocean is terrifying. Dad’s scary, jellyfish are scarier.

Visited a small town and got burned at the stake today. Was pretty funny when they realized that fire couldn’t hurt me. They tried to kill me a bunch of other ways too, but, this may surprise you, none of them worked. Then it got boring. I let them lock me in a steel box, throw me to the bottom of a well, then pour dirt in on top of me. I melted my way out of the box, then burrowed far away from the village before surfacing. They still think I’m down there, I felt like they could use the win.

Tried apprenticing to an artist. Art is hard. It’s so much easier to just turn into the drawing or painting or sculpture or whatever. I got bored and left.

Got into a fight with a witch. She was tougher than she looked. She had a truly ridiculous amount of wands and potions and powders in her pockets. I don’t know if it’s magic or just efficient spacing or if it defies all logic, but witches always have so much stuff they pull out of nowhere. I’ve only met Morgana a few times, but I swear she could outfit a small army or equip a large classroom with the amount of things she fits in that jacket.

I made a game. I turned into a beetle and waited until a weasel was about to eat me. Then, I turned into a weasel and waited until a cat was about to eat me, then turned into a cat, et cetera, et cetera. Got to go through the whole food chain, was pretty fun. I’m going to try doing it in a few different ecosystems.

I started dating a human named Skyla. I’m actually moving in with her soon, so it might be a while before I can return to write in this. I think I might be in love. That’s weird, right?

Chapter 3: One Last Guest

A figure in white walked into the black stone hall. An albino raven flew above them and landed on the ground in front of them. The raven rose up into the form of a tan woman with brown hair tied back in a braid. She wore elegant shining armor, and a cape of white feathers trailed from her shoulders.

“Attention,” said the woman, “Announcing the arrival of her Royal Majesty Sedile, unchallenged queen of the Seelie Court, grand witch and sorceress, She Who Commands the Light, the Pale Lady, Bearer of the Golden Crown.”

“If I’d wanted a herald,” said Oana crossly, “I would have one of my own.”

The first figure walked forward, moving at a casual pace. She laid a hand on the woman in armor’s shoulder, and the herald vanished as she closed her hand. Whatever was in the newcomer’s hand disappeared into her robes, and her walk never paused the entire time. She wore long white robes that concealed almost all of her shape, and her face was covered by a smooth golden mask with only two eye-holes.

Oana vanished and reappeared across the room in front of the newcomer. “Sedile,” she said, in a voice of fake sweetness, “As much as I love your visits, I’m afraid that I’m rather occupied at the moment. Maybe if you had told me you were coming ahead of time we could have avoided this embarrassing mix-up. Well, goodbye now.”

The golden mask rose up and shifted, flowing across the figure in white’s face to form a crown around her brow. “You misunderstand, Oana,” she said in a rich and beautiful voice that echoed around the chamber, “I’m here for the family reunion.”

“You are not family,” said Oana, sounding angrier than Skyla had so far heard her.

“Ah, but I am,” replied the Seelie queen, “I am a distant cousin of that one.” She pointed to Bastanour. The glittery and grand fae actually seemed scared, and their glamor faded a little.

“I still don’t think you qualify,” said Oana, “So if we’re done here you can go back to that oversized dollhouse you call a castle.”

“But,” said Sedile, “It seems you recently expanded the qualifications of family. I mean, she is here.” The Seelie turned towards Skyla, who for the first time got a good look at her face. Sedile had almond skin, short white hair, and eyes a metallic golden. Black tattoos of swirling abstract designs decorated the sides of her face and neck. When she opened her mouth to speak, Skyla saw some of her teeth were sharp and predatory. “She shares no blood with you. She isn’t even related through marriage. If she is included in this family event, why would I not be? Unless,” she turned back to Oana, “She is not technically considered an invited member. In which case she would not be protected by the laws of this event.”

“Why must you always be such a stickler for the rules?” asked Oana, “It makes you dull. But fine, you can stay.”

Sedile moved to sit in one of the chairs. Skyla looked around. The others seemed… afraid, except for Kaalik who merely looked cautious and Oana who looked excited but with a slightly furious edge to it.

Skyla had of course heard of Sedile, and heard far more stories that referred to her by one of her many titles. She was powerful, yes, and in more than a few stories dangerous. But compared to the others here, she was hardly cause for concern. Most of the stories portrayed her as indifferent to humans or helpful, rarely malicious like the stories of Oana or Kaalik. The caution of the others gave Skyla pause, though.

“Did I interrupt something?” asked Sedile, “Please, no need to stop on my account.”

“Actually,” said Morgana, “I just remembered I need to go check on something. I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Well, I think me and Bastanour will be heading off to our guest rooms as well,” said Caligo, tugging his sibling along.

Without saying anything, Sverrir crept away as well. Mimic and Skyla left soon after.

“Dinner is in the feast hall in an hour,” called Oana to her retreating children.

Then there were only the two queens and the king. “Kaalik dearest,” said Oana, not taking her eyes off Sedile, “I’d like to speak to my dear old friend here alone.”

Kaalik nodded and walked away.

The two fae queens stared at each other. “Why the hell are you here?” asked Oana.

Sedile tilted her head innocently. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked.

“Cut the bullshit, ‘Dilly,” said Oana, entirely aware of how much that nickname irritated the other faery, “This isn’t your style. I’m the kind to crash a party and make things awkward by using a technicality. You tend to be more tasteful. Which means you have a purpose here.”

“Your deductive reasoning ability is truly remarkable, Rosheen,” commented Sedile dryly. Oana bristled at the name.

“Are you going to try and convince me into an alliance again?” asked Oana, “Because if you are, it would be funnier if you could do it in front of a crowd again.”

“No,” said Sedile, “I gave up on trying to drive any sort of logic into that mad mind of yours some time ago.”

“So who are you after?” asked Oana, “Kaalik? Mimic? I wish you the best of luck in both regards.”

“Unpredictability does not require irrationality,” said Sedile, “You’ve never quite been able to figure that out. Now, it’s been quite some time since I’ve been in this quaint little castle. I’d love to have a look around, see what renovations you’ve made. Maybe I’ll squeeze in a brief nap before dinner. No need to give me a guide, I can find my own way.”

With that, the Seelie queen dissolved away into white mist. Oana sighed. So much for a pleasant reunion.