A Fairy-Tail Marriage

Tristan’s face had grown redder as Braxton spoke. Althea wondered if her father would be able to maintain his cool. What Braxton said had merit; the fairies had attacked physically. She wasn’t sure what part of the statement had angered her father.

“Your land?” Tristan repeated, and Althea understood. She and her mother exchanged worried looks. “A century ago this land belonged to the fairies. Your people attacked and pushed us over the river.”

Braxton’s brow knit. A man stepped forward and spoke quietly in his ear. Handsome as well, Althea wanted to ask her mother if all werewolves were handsome, but a gathering of them had begun to form around her father and Braxton. Just like fairies, werewolves came in all shapes and sizes.

“Sir, if you’ll pardon me, but you need to check your historical facts. The fairy army crossed the border and killed several unarmed werewolves. This act began the war between us.” Braxton stepped forward. “But that’s all in the past. We should focus on the problems we have now.”

“Yes, the problems we have now,” Tristan repeated, his finger pointing at Braxton. “The problem we have now is that the fairies have run out of room, and your people have more than enough land. We’re living on top of each other while you and your beasts live freely.”

Braxton growled in his throat. “Tristan, this meeting is supposed to be civil. Referring to my people as beasts crosses a line.”

“Those beasts,” he pointed at the men with bruises who had obviously been involved in the skirmish, “killed one of my fairies! They must pay!”

“That fairy was killed in a fair fight,” Braxton maintained. “Had one of your little people killed a werewolf, we would not be screaming for payment.”

“How dare you question my honor? You’re a child!” Tristan bellowed.

Althea and Mariah gasped at the same time, shocked that this was escalating so quickly. Althea asked, “Mother, should we do something?”

“Not yet, love,” Mariah answered. “Hopefully your father will regain his senses before this gets out of hand.”

“You mean further out of hand,” Althea muttered.

“Child?” Braxton huffed. “I am as much a king as you are, sir, and deserve the same respect.”

“When you have proven yourself a good king, I’ll give you the respect you deserve,” Tristan replied.

Braxton’s body began to shake. The primal need to shift, to defend his honor, pricked his mind and his ego. Blake’s hand on his shoulder held him in his human form. He pointed his finger at Tristan. “Listen here. I have nothing to prove to you. I am king of the werewolves, and I rule this kingdom. You are here—” Tristan tilted his head, flicked his wrist, and Braxton was forced back a step or two, halting his words. Braxton put his hand on his chest and rubbed it.

Mariah said, “Oh no,” and Althea heard several gasps from both fairies and werewolves alike.

Tristan raised an eyebrow at Braxton. “Do not point your finger at me, young man. I will not be spoken to like a child. I, too, am king, king of the fairies.”

“You used your magic against me,” Braxton stuttered, shock still radiating from him. “Just like your fairies who began the fray, you’re trying to begin one now.”

Tristan raised his arms in a let’s fight gesture. “You say you deserve my respect. Come earn it.”

Althea grabbed her mother’s arm. “Did Father just challenge the werewolf king?”

Mariah shook her head. “Men. Why does everything have to be a fight?”

“Are you challenging me, sir?” Braxton asked skeptically.

“If you’re willing,” Tristan replied haughtily.

Blake stepped forward. “Gentlemen, if I may? I’m Blake, Braxton’s chief advisor,” he introduced himself to Tristan. “I don’t think a fight between the kings would be the best idea at this time.”

“Your king has not earned the respect he requires. He has not fought in a battle,” Tristan said loudly, his voice carrying to the fairies and werewolves present.

“Inciting my people to find fault with my honor is not a route you should pursue, Tristan,” Braxton threatened, his voice nothing but a growl.

Tristan smiled. “Your honor is already in question, Braxton.”

“And what battle have you fought in, king?” Braxton asked, his emphasis on the word king not at all kind.

“Several, young man, with the scars to prove every one,” Tristan bragged.

Braxton laughed. “All right. Shall we establish a few ground rules?”

“Rules?”

“Just you and me,” Braxton said with a smile.

“Agreed.” Tristan also smiled, a slightly feral smile.

Althea murmured to her mother, “I don’t like that look on Father’s face.”

“I don’t like the gleam in his eye. He has a plan,” Mariah replied, frowning.

“Should we go down there?” Althea asked, concern lacing her tone.

“Not yet,” Mariah told her, putting a hand on her arm to calm her. “Your father has his reasons for this. Let’s see what happens. I’ll step in should the need arise.”

“Step in? Between two men?” Althea asked, shocked.

Mariah chuckled and shook her head. “No dear. I’ll step in magically.”

The women returned their attention to the kings, awaiting a fight that was both necessary and unnecessary. Althea, her eyes wide, felt a thrill of excitement accompanied by fear. She’d never seen her father fight, though she’d heard stories. She clasped her hands in front of her as she heard the roar of Braxton as he shifted.

She gasped when her father’s body became that of a lion, his magic making the fight a little more equal. Gleefully and fearfully, her eyes remained glued on the pair of creatures circling below.