A Fairy-Tail Marriage

A werewolf with a large bruise on his face stepped forward. “King, the fairies began this skirmish. I’ll be honest, we weren’t innocent either, calling insults back and forth across the river with them. But they flew across the river and attacked.” Several werewolves grunted in agreement.

Braxton nodded. “I’m sure the fairies will tell a similar story with some modifications.” Several chuckles erupted throughout the tavern. “Truth is, it doesn’t really matter who began this one, or the one before or the one before. It’s time to end them.”

Quiet yeses and I agrees could be heard. The clan was tired of fighting every time the fairies were around. Peace was more profitable, in their minds, and much less deadly. Braxton was thankful the clan wasn’t one of the more violent-minded clans. Most of them lived in the north and battled with ogres just for the fun of it. Here was a peaceful group of people who wanted to live their lives without the danger of a fight breaking out every other day.

And Braxton meant for them to have it. “Let’s have some ale while we wait for the fairy king!” Cheers erupted around him, and the liquid began to flow freely. Braxton enjoyed only one mugful; his mind needed to be clear when the fairy king arrived.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, he heard trumpets blaring the arrival of the fairy king. Braxton rose, brushed off his clothes, clean because he had not traveled in them, and gestured for Blake to follow him.

*****

Tristan stood on the fairy side of the river, still fairy size, which was about seven inches. The area was beautiful, with the river flowing quietly between rocky shores and green hills. The forest rose high on either side, but the fairy side was much thinner. His people were running out of room to live, to build, which was the reason behind the hostilities with the werewolves. His trained eye had picked out the werewolf king’s shape across the river. It was time to settle this dispute.

Before they’d arrived, Tristan had asked his wife and daughter to remain hidden in the trees closest to them. Althea had agreed to easily, with almost no word of argument. He hoped the mule-headed girl would do as she was told; the wolves could be dangerous. The same could be said for some of his own people.

As they had traveled through the kingdom, several of the fairies had stopped him and asked to speak with him. The ones closest to the skirmish were the most interesting to speak to. They claimed the werewolves had taunted them to the point of losing honor had they not defended themselves. The king possessed a more judicious ear; the fairies had begun the fray and lost. When he had attempted to point this out to the group of men around him, they had argued their side, claiming they had responsibility of honor to all fairies.

Tristan had looked at his wife and daughter, both of whom had rolled their eyes. He had turned back to the group and told them, “Because of your folly, I am now forced to apologize to the werewolf king on your behalf. You will not begin another fight, or you will pay the consequences under my law.” The men had looked like chastised school boys staring at the ground in embarrassment. Tristan almost expected them to shuffle their feet and cough.

He had flown away without a backward glance, his retinue close behind. Mariah had smiled at him; she knew he hated to speak harshly to his people.

He watched as the young werewolf king, an impressionable, handsome man, stepped out of the tavern and waved to him. With a handful of guards, Tristan flew over the river to discuss the possibility of a treaty with the new werewolf king.

*****

From her perch in the tree close to the river on the werewolf side, Althea stared at the werewolf king. Wow! she thought. Too bad he’s a werewolf, because that guy is gorgeous.

She was grateful her father hadn’t specified which trees to hide in. She had wanted to be close enough to hear the discussion, not just watch from afar. And thank the gods she had! That werewolf king was meant to be looked at.

As she watched, her father magically grew to the size of a human as soon as he landed. He tucked his wings back and walked forward to greet the king of the werewolves. While she stared, she did not see her mother fly and land next to her.

“Althea!” Her mother’s tiny voice hissed. The size of a small hummingbird, their voices were higher pitched, almost the pitch of a dog whistle.

“Mother! You scared the magic out of me!” Althea returned, her hand on her chest.

“What do you think you’re doing? Your father told you to stay in the trees,” Mariah reminded her.

Althea smiled. “I’m in the trees.”

Mariah cocked an eyebrow at her saucy daughter. “He did not mean these trees.”

“He didn’t specify.” Althea’s smile remained in place when her mother frowned. “Besides, I wanted to hear their conversation. And did you see that werewolf king? Wow!”

Mariah stared at her daughter, then chuckled. She glanced in her husband’s direction, spying the werewolf king. Her eyebrows shot up, her eyes widened, and she giggled like a girl. “He is a sight.”

Althea returned her eyes to the handsome king. His jet black hair was slightly longer than the men around him, and perfectly straight. She wondered if when he shifted his fur was the same color as his hair. His skin was tanned a lovely shade of brown that contrasted wonderfully with the pale skinned fairies around him. Her father looked like a ghost next to him. She wondered what his skin felt like; she imagined her hand on his arm, the small, pale hand against his dark skin, the hair there bleached by the sun. And his lips! The lower lip was thicker than the top and looked positively kissable. His shoulders were broad, his waist trim, and everything about him exuded strength.

When the voices lifted in greeting, Althea focused her attention on the two kings, hoping for a peaceful solution. Tristan had hopes for peace, although his pride sometimes barred him from smart thinking. That’s why her mother usually sat with him during his meetings. She was his wife, yes, but also his top advisor. Mariah, though she had chided Althea for sneaking to the werewolf side, was glad she had disobeyed.

“Welcome, King Tristan, and thank you for coming to this side,” Braxton said, extending his hand to the fairy.

Tristan stepped forward and shook the new king’s hand. “It is a pleasure, King Braxton. But may I suggest we drop the formalities?”

“Of course, of course,” Braxton said with a smile. So far so good, he thought. “Would you like to go into the tavern? The owner has offered to clear it out for us.”

“Please don’t be offended, but I think the neutral territory here is a better place.” Tristan’s tone was kind, not abrasive.

“I understand perfectly,” Braxton replied. “Let’s get down to business then.”

“Before you begin, I’d like to tell you that I spoke with the fairies involved, and though they won’t admit to being the culprits behind the physical part of the fray, I am sure they are responsible. However, your people were not entirely innocent just as mine weren’t.”

Braxton nodded. “I agree. However, my people only hurled insults, not punches. I admit they shouldn’t have been yelling, but your people flew across the river onto our land and attacked.”