Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience. Please be advised.
|She Who Was All explains the facts|
She Who Was All stared back at him, pursing her lips in a tight line, and then with a wave released the three of them from their frozen posture. "The charm of your confident insolence will only take you so far, Ridre Dubh. The girl lies upstairs, fighting for every breath, and this boy..", she pointed a long painted nail at Ian asleep on the sofa, "...is trapped in a time and place not his own." She fluttered down, and perched herself on the knight's soldier. "In addition, two lives no longer exist in the past, the consequences that will result impossible to imagine. Did I not warn you against disrupting the natural order of things? It is unknown at this point how much damage your carelessness will cause."
Maureen slipped off the sofa, coming to her husband's aid. "Excuse me, Madame Fairy...but this is not Ted's fault. He was only trying to rescue me. Those red coats meant us harm. One of them was attempting to...to 'force' himself on Roxie and..." She suddenly went silent, her mouth moving but no words escaping.
"It is only natural for you to defend your mate, Nymph. But I will not be questioned. Ridre Dubh must take responsibility for his action. It is his call to honor. He must do all that is possible to make amends to those who have been harmed under his watch."
"I take full responsibility, Your Majesty. I have seen to the girl's medical needs, and have been assured she will fully recover. If you will kindly explain to me what I can do to return the young man back to his time, then I will see it done."
Next to him, Maureen violently shook her head her no, her eyes wide, but without the ability to speak.
The Queen laughed, a sound similar to the tinkling of tiny wind chimes. "It seems the Nymph takes issue with you foraging in the past." She flew over to the top of Maureen's head, and gave it a condescending pat, as one might a favored pet. "She is strong willed, this one. The royal line flows deep in her, but she is need of constant guidance. The Nymph has given us much to fret over in her short years, but the blood line must be preserved at all costs."
It was Fr. Kevin's turn to blurt. "Blood line? I'm not sure I understand, Your Majesty. What does my sister have to do with any royal blood line?"
From her perch on Maureen's head, the tiny fairy examined the faces of the three humans, peering intently at each of them. "Hmmm...so you really don't know, do you? I would have thought the clurichaun might have explained all this to you, Servant of the Creator. It seems I am wrong. He has told you nothing in hopes of keeping your life serene and simple, but that is now impossible."
She left Maureen and floated back to her spot on the mantle. "It is time you knew the truth. You are no longer children, and nothing can be served by allowing you to wander through life misinformed." She turned and spoke directly to Fr. Kevin. "Are you not curious as to why you see things unseen by others? Surely you have noticed your sensitivity to all things living? Your openness to the clurichaun's presence in your life?"
The Queen turned her attention to Maureen. "And you, Nymph...have you not felt the pull of the Fae since you were but a wee child? The times you sat in the grass searching for us among the flowers of your Grandmother's garden? The others would tease your youthful imagination, but deep down, you knew we were truly there. Surely you have felt the rumblings of your blood line? The times you knew things before they happened? The energy that flows through your hands when you create? The empathy you also share with all things living?"
Maureen came over and sat next to Kevin, and grabbed his hand for support. "Are you saying, Your Majesty, that Kevin and I...that the two of us...have a Fae blood line? That hardly seems likely. There are eight of us in the family. We're no different from anyone else."
"Do not be simple, girl! Not just an ordinary Fae blood line. That would have died out centuries ago, as things with humans often do. Of course you are different! Special, in fact. You carry royal blood, the two of you, one that is over a thousand years old, passed on from generation to generation. Your red hair marks you amongst the rest of your clan. You are two of a very small group that exists today, and we wait hopefully for the offspring you will produce."
She pointed a finger at Kevin, and he cringed in response, waiting for some type of retribution, but all he felt was an overwhelming sense of disappointment. "It seems the Creator has claimed you for His own, and though we are saddened by the loss of the bloodline, we bow to His decision as all-knowing and wise. Who are we to question the Power that keeps the planets moving in the sky? It is our deepest wish now to see the line passed on through the Nymph." She Who Was All leaned back, her wings fluttering oddly against the plaster Last Supper, and sighed. "Their was much grief among us at the loss of your last child. The blood line was strong in the boy child who returned to the Creator. We await another."
Throughout her explanation, Beckett had remained thin lipped and silent, but if Fr. Kevin was as observant as he thought, his brother-in-law had gone a few shades paler at the information. The Fairy Queen took notice, and aimed the next directive at him. "And you, Ridre Dubh...surely you must know that your union with the Nymph was not left to chance. There are those who would see the Human-Fae bloodline extinct, noting it unnatural and unwelcome. We still trust your ability to keep the Nymph safe, despite the incident that almost cost her life, as well as the life of your child. We shoulder some of the blame for not revealing this information sooner. Still, we believe your skewed sense of honor, as well as your natural desire for the Nymph, will suit our purposes nicely."
Again, there was no response from the Sheriff, though there was a definite stiffening to his jaw, and just the slightest flush of pink at his ears. She Who Was All laughed again, the tinkling floating across the room, but strangely not waking the sleeping Ian. She lifted herself from the mantle, and flew down to land on his shoulder again. "This, of course, does not release you from your commitment to me, Ridre Dubh. You will remain in my service, as agreed upon, until the birth of your first living male child, with or without the royal bloodline." The Queen gave his ear a pinch, and added, "My hope is the Creator will bless the two of you with a long line of beautiful girl bairns." She giggled, and slid down his arm, landing on the ottoman next to Fr. Kevin's desk.
"This, my dear human subjects, brings us to the problem of the young man slumbering away on the divan. He, of course, can not stay here in the wrong place and time. The Creator has firm rules about us tampering with the time continuum, and I shall not risk His disapproval over your mistakes, Ridre Dubh."
Beckett cleared his throat. "I suspect that my Queen has the ability to send him back. I would be most grateful for your assistance in the matter."
"I'm sure you would, my Knight, though you have learned that Fae magic comes with a price. I shall add this to your growing list of debts. Now, let us see what the young man has to say."
She snapped her fingers, and with a shudder and a yawn, Ian sat up on the sofa. He looked around the room, momentarily confused over his current state, and when he saw the tiny fairy standing on the ottoman, he rose up and took a step backward, banging into the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, swearing under his breath, and making both the sign of the cross, and the hex against the evil eye.
"Holy Hell, I find myself in the clutches of Beelzebub for sure!"
She Who Was All raised an eyebrow, and with the curl of a finger brought the frightened man to a kneeling position in front of the ottoman. "I am hardly the likes of the Evil One, human, and you take great risks in saying his name aloud. Your friends have enlightened you on the place and time you find yourself?"
"You shall address me in the manner, I deserve, human. I answer to 'Your Majesty'.
"Aye...Your Majesty. It seems I have somehow magically travelled into the future, to the Year of Our Lord, 2015."
"You understand that you do not belong in this time and this place, and therefore must return to wheres you came."
Ian looked down at the floor, and then to the others in the room, before answering. "If it is all the same to you, Your Majesty, I'd rather stay. It seems...well...it appears I have lost my heart to Miss Roxanne. If this is her time and place, then I'd much rather stay here, and see if she will have me."
The silence in the room was deafening, and for several seconds, no one said a word. The Fairy Queen stared hard at the kneeling man, as if she were looking through him. Then she spoke. "It is decided then. He speaks the truth. He is in love with the girl, and will not leave if there is the slightest chance that she returns his feelings."
Ian's proclamation of love toward Roxanne hit Fr. Kevin square in the gut, making him suddenly queasy. In his best priestly voice of calm logic, he interceded. "But surely, Your Majesty, we can not keep Ian from his assigned destiny. Though I sympathize with his plight, it is simply impossible for him to stay...well...here in Dollyville. In the 21st Century. It's...well...just not right. It's crazy, in fact."
She narrowed her eyes at Kevin. "The Creator has given all of us...all sanctioned beings...the gift of Free Will. It is His Holy Way. This young man's soul is true. He does not wish to return to the past, and I can not force him to do so against his Will. You of all people should understand this. Is not Free Will a truth among your kind?"
Fr. Kevin stuttered over the words, acknowledging the truth, but panicking none the less. "Yes, it's something we believe in. An important tenet of our faith. But this seems...an unusual circumstance. Surely there is something you can do? What in the world are we going to do with someone from 1775?"
"That, my dear human, is your problem." And with that, she disappeared, leaving an overpowering scent of roses, and the four people in the room stunned.
Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2015
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