IT TOOK HER AN embarrassingly long time to figure out what the self-proclaimed hero had just announced to the world. Allory could not feel her fingers and toes. Nothing to do with the ropes. Her idiotic brain kept serving up sap-fizzing twaddle that ranged from, ‘Whee, pick me! Pick me!’ to, ‘If he looks at me one more time like that I’m going to combust,’ and the humiliating drumbeat, ‘Drool! Drool! D-d-daa … drool!’ The rational part of her, the part that knew no male in his right mind would ever fall for the resident runt, wimpiest wimp in all of Spheris – never mind this exemplar of all things relating to gorgeous masculinity – ended up fairly much being drowned out.

Clearly, he took her speechlessness for encouragement, for Harzune the Hunter now proceeded to inform her in earnest, archaic rhyming verse how very well he intended to take woo, succour and worship his one and only tiny muse, from her exquisite blue toes to the tips of her adorable antennae. The mighty warrior had evidently given the object of his adulation much thought. He was dead set on a track to promise Middlesun itself to his cherished hostage and most of Allory, to her deep frustration, ended up being utterly convinced.

Convinced he was a fruitcake.

Fruit for brains, but oh, what a yummy cake!

Such a handsome, virile slab of fruitcake, in all honesty, he had her quivering like a leaf as ten thousand immoral thoughts crowded into her mind all at once. Things they would do together. Romantic things. Wicked things. Things she had not even imagined were things until right now. She blushed and blushed and blushed at the rush of scenarios, wishing for nothing more than a cool jungle breeze to intervene.

Eventually, she heard herself peep in an incredulous soprano, “Married? But I can’t marry –”

“You will choose to marry me.”

“I … will?”

The insanely handsome smile did not deviate one iota. He declared, “You will marry me. It has been prophesied.”

Never had she heard a person sound so confident. Day followed night. Night brightened into day. Middlesun spun about its axis, and she would marry Mister Impossibly Handsome. His belief was like crystal, pure and incontrovertible. It was so precious, Allory found herself unable to frame any kind of denial. How could this be? Yet there he hovered, unutterable and overwhelming in presence, and declared his intentions with almost naïve sincerity. All she detected of his inner magical melody only served to confirm this impression. Argue with that? How?

Leaning forward, he reached out to cup her cheek with his tremendous hand. Aye, he was sunshine incarnate, her ridiculous brain yammered. His perfect forearm muscles rippled and jumped as he moved. The majestic hunter wore solid metal bracelets with blocky yellow, green and red patterns upon his wrists, biceps, neck and even his ankles, she noticed as her gaze dipped diffidently.

He said, “I had not expected beauty so exotic, of sapphire refulgence most artfully moulded, to grace any day beneath Middlesun, yet here you are, o sweetest of trembling buds, captive to my hand. You will choose me.”

Allory feared she would faint.

Yet she did not. That timorous sprout of before was gone. She had just begun to recover, to start to think, when he pasted the leaf back in place over her lips and fastened a light covering over her eyes. The deep, steady voice reassured her that this was merely to follow protocol as he took her back to his cocoon to introduce his future bride to his pupa-family, friends and colony. His superb acquisition must not be disquieted.

Now I’m an acquisition?

Quite the most engaging word in any language ever written. Acquisition? Of his? Mmm, yummy nectar. Pure sugar intoxication.

Surely a girlfae could embrace this fate?

Embrace? What leaf-rot! wailed her thoughts. Should a girl not hurl herself into his arms?

The tiny Scintillant regarded the fainting violet inside of her with disdain. So, she wanted to be acquired by some muscle-bound nitwit who was twice her freaking height? Lashed hand and foot and whisked away into his cocoon to be coddled and romanced in obscure yet oh-so-dreamy verse? Dizzy little sap, to make herself a willing target! Only … was this titan among Faerie a fool? Or merely intense? Impossibly intense! Made unshakeable by prophetic imperative kind of intense, with a descant of conviction playing through his life that an Allory could only wish for. Her life, her thoughts, her beliefs were all characterised by the most caustic misgivings. Did he even harbour a single doubt in his brawny body?

Could a person truly be so assured, and fate thus unalterably sealed?

Contemplating these mysteries, Allory found herself hefted over a shoulder that felt as broad as a table and whisked away deeper into the column maze. Faeling to his prodigious size. A small part of her wondered what would happen when her companions discovered her gone. The rest, frankly, could not bring herself to care. He even smelled gorgeous, a spicy floral scent that introduced an element of fizzy to her already dizzy lack of scruples.

Ashueli didn’t want to be sold to someone. What if she ended up with a man like this, a champion, a poet, a … an unspeakably dazzling dollop of whacky-sap?

Wimp! Weakling. Sigh …

Before she could wallow too deeply in all the issues related her grotesque ineptitude, instantaneous lack of principles and a lamentable demonstration of the willpower of a shred of water weed, Allory’s pointy ears pricked up to the sounds of a Faerie colony. They had been so close by all along! Twittering laughter. Singing. Someone played an unfamiliar, melancholy ballad upon bamboo pipes.

My family … oh …

From nowhere, sadness as deep as the Russet Jungles smashed down upon her, the inescapable reality of all she had lost.

By the time Harzune halted amidst all the cheerful greetings, laughter and general teasing, she was a teary wreck. Allory had barely registered the voices above the sounds of her own sobbing, but now she listened and heard:

“Mom! Come quickly. Harzune’s done it again!”

“Oh Harzune, you didn’t.”

“Where’s she from?”

“Magical colour! Do Faerie even come in rainwater blossom blue?”

“He brought home another – Harzune, that’s the seventh time this year! This will cost our colony dearly … really, boy?”

Then, a voice that could only be someone’s momfae exclaimed, “Harzune, Harzune, Harzune! For shame! You brought a Faeling to colony? What’s the matter with you, you colossal waste of brain space? Put that child down this instant! Hand off her backside!”

Suggids! She had been enjoying that touch.

Allory’s heart squeezed inside her chest at the kerfuffle, so familiar yet strange all at once. Not a Faeling. Just … undersized. Always the smallest bud on the bough.

“Beyond beautiful!” someone sighed.

“The very sweetest of nectars,” agreed another young male voice. “Would you look at the patterning on her wings and those superb silvery glints? How wonderful –”

“And barely half his size! He’d only crush the poor thing,” yet another put in.

“She’s of age, she said so,” Harzune protested.

“And I’m a baboon’s bleeding backside!” his momfae screeched. “She’s … tiny! Miniscule, the poor thing! I did not raise my son to kidnap children and Faelings.” Smack! “You colossal wretch, you’ve gone too far this time. She is not a toy. Put that girlfae down this instant, or so help me, I’ll –”

Smack-whack! Suggids, Harzune had earned himself quite the pasting.

“Ouch,” he offered mildly. “Alright, cherished Momfae. But I assure you, she’s the one.”

“I’ll give you one and then some!”

Judging by the way his body jolted, his momfae had just kicked him firmly in the rear! Clearly, strength ran in his family – and a touch of whacky-sap.

Lifting Allory off his shoulder, Harzune set her down gently upon what felt like Faesilk matting. Allory was grateful for his supporting arm, or she would have fallen over. This place even smelled like home, that particular spiciness of Faerie scent.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Too many echoes … her senses reeled, but no daymare rose to snatch her away.

Here she was, right in the heart of another Faerie colony. Wonderful and terrifying and overwhelming emotions crowded her .

His momfae continued to berate him, “You great lummox, what’s the matter with you? Sharzune, your fool son’s gone and kidnapped another girlfae – not from these parts by the looks of things –” fingers eased the blindfold over her antennae “– there now, you poor trembling budling – oh, would you look at this? She’s been weeping rivers! Oh! Oh, you are lovely, my sweetsap – Harzune! Hands off! This shame – the shame upon our cocoon – oh, I cannot bear it any longer. This ridiculous prophecy, it’s tearing our family and our colony apart! We can’t afford the reparations – which part of that do you not understand, you demented, muscle-bound oaf?”

Allory had to blink again to clear her sight. She would have stroked her antennae urgently, but her hands were immovably bound behind her back and she could not for the life of her recall the simple magic which had whisked two Felidragons straight through Giant netting not long ago. These Fae all shared Harzune’s light orange skin tones with some variation, which made the sapphire palette of her primary colouration stand out like a startlingly misplaced jungle blossom. All bar the children wore the metal body jewellery, the women sporting more intricate designs, while the men majored on bold, blocky creations. Striking! Generally, they appeared much more robustly built than her petite, slender kind, taller, rounder in the bosom and thicker of musculature – yet her captor still stood out amongst this exotic family, for sheer magnetism as much as his giant stature.

No problem in prodding his heroic abdominals with her nose. Which she was not thinking about. At all. And why her stupid nose? Why not run both her hands down – suggids! She had never been more grateful to be speechless in her life.

“Now, Momfae, can we talk about this?” he began amiably.

“Russet Jungles of origin, I’d wager on my life’s own sap,” said another manfae, coming forward. He was less brawny than Harzune and wore a pair of magical oculars upon the point of his nose. He blinked short-sightedly at her over the ground crystal rims. “One of the true Miniature Faerie, I make you, precious one? Sap of my ancestors, what a matchless beauty! The extraordinary cobalt, sapphire and azure wing-pattern detailing up to your wingtips – oh, what are these magical glints, I wonder? Harzune, you’ve truly outdone yourself this time, she’s as radiant as Middlesun itself –”

“Sharzune!” Smack! The large woman beside him punched his arm, not gently either. “I’ll thank you for a little support?”

“Ahem! Quickest sap, my precious wifae.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “What’s your name, child, and where is your colony?”

Allory liked him at once. His fussy, exacting manner reminded her of none other than Yaarah, who would very soon descend upon this colony in a paroxysm of unscholarly rage, of that she had no doubt … best try to fix this situation before something regrettable happened.

“Mmm-nnn?” she murmured pointedly.

“Oh, the gag, aye,” Sharzune agreed at once, reaching out.

The woman belted his fingers away. “Gently! You’re worse than your ridiculous lump of a son. I’m Faria-Mae Fae, Momfae to this … this Harzune Fae.” She fixed the object of her wrath with a glare of such withering magnificence, it could have stripped a branch of its bark in two seconds flat. “Despite all appearances and the travails that you’ve undoubtedly suffered at his ungentle hand, my dear sweetsap, you are among decent Faerie – some of us are, anyways! Clearly there are a few bad apples, sundry rogues and scoundrels, amongst those descended from my tree!”

She’s forgotten the leaf thingy too. More fun telling everyone off … what’s an apple? Sounds tasty.

Mumbling into the gag was getting her nowhere. Allory tried a few twitches of the eyebrows to make her point. She felt so tiny next to these Fae – she had to be as tall as of one of their eight year-olds, and far slighter.

“Well, it’s the prophecy, Momfae,” Harzune said peaceably, his massive shoulders blocking out the light as he shrugged.

Swoon, oh swoon!

Allory heartily wished her giddy brain would shut up. Any time soon. Preferably before she humiliated herself in addition to this comical situation.

“Go feed it to the suggids, boy!”

In a trice, a raucous family argument broke out. Actually, closer to a brawl. A friendly pair of hands whisked the captive out of harm’s way as dadfae, momfae, son and more than a few pupa-siblings, judging by the size of them and similarity of appearance, started screaming, waving their hands or pushing at one another. All at once. At least a dozen? If not two dozen?

Allory snatched a quick glance about the place. Some kind of Faesilk meeting tent in the middle of their colony, perhaps? Gorgeous tan and cream fabric, a tapestry depicting the histories of their people, if she was not mistaken.

It was stuffed full of more Fae than she had ever seen together in her life, two hundred at a minimum, with more arriving by the second as the kerfuffle spread. They had a lot of children. Maybe two clutches of pupae-siblings, or fourteen children, per family? Half of the children were whizzing about giggling at the commotion, while the other half, including many agog adults, took to egging on the combatants. An elderly Fae with grizzled antennae gathered bets in one corner, about twenty-five feet overhead.

Fizz her sap. Not so much like home. Everything was bigger than she expected, and very much louder. This Scintillant stood out effortlessly in their company, her rich colouration like a sapphire butterfly perching amongst yellow, orange and crimson flowers.

Was any of them prepared to listen to their captive? As loudly as she was able, she complained, “Mmm-mmm-mmm!”

“At once!” Her new handler carefully peeled the leaf off her lips. “Better. Alright there?”

“Alive, thank you.”

“Sip of nectar whilst we participate in this peculiar spectator sport?”

The young manfae’s tone communicated embarrassment. Allory found herself looking over another, smaller version of Harzune. Mini-heroic. Not at all unhandsome, but somewhat less of an immediate thump in the gut – still, he would have turned every female head in her colony, make no mistake. She accepted a sip of unfamiliar, spicy nectar gratefully. All this being tied up and whisked off to the boudoir of an exotic barbarian sure made a girlfae thirsty.

Meantime, he smiled down at her. “I’m Varzune, one of the little brofae to our heroic Harzune over there. I’m on the slightly less misguided end of the branch, let’s just say.”

“There really is a prophecy?”

“Indeed, there is.” His sigh alluded to a thousand arguments, to a history perhaps better not recounted to a newcomer right away. “Recollections of the exact wording spoken over his birth vary, since as you can tell, our family majors on listening to one another with great attention to detail. Harzune is convinced he will take his future wife captive and she will fall gratefully into his mighty arms and declare eternal devotion despite her capture. It’s fated upon the very life of Middlesun, etcetera, and as you can tell, my religious brofae takes this prophecy business extremely seriously.”

“Extremely.”

“It’s become absurd, actually. He’s been kidnapping some poor girlfae every other month – no offence, but you are merely the latest in depressingly long line of victims. The other colonies around here are getting pretty twitchy, to say the least.”

Others? Incredible! How many of them are there?

“I’m not sure he’s entirely mad,” Allory mused aloud, frowning at the continuing fracas while trying to stop her wayward thoughts from leaping to the subject of her captor’s scrumptious brofae. Fail on that score. “My antennae tingle to the song of the prophetic about his life. That much is real, but I don’t understand …”

She hesitated.

Varzune put in deftly, “I’ll just take this opportunity to apologise for my weird family, shall I? Now, are you truly alright? You can still feel your hands and feet? May I know your name?”

“I’m Allory.”

“Allory Fae? That’s pretty. Which part of Middlesun birthed you, Allory?”

Oh, my fluttering wings, they’re all so ridiculously charming … over the top bough for sure, way over, but – phew! Nectar with wings and a dazzling smile …

Close to a dozen Fae similar to Harzune lurked out there. Would they find her kind as attractive as she found them? By all appearances, that would be a resounding ‘aye!’

But Allory knew that part of her had always longed to be noticed by the boyfae. Any boyfae. Another facet of her frailty. Her station amongst her colony had always been smallest, weakest, the useless extra mouth to feed. The boyfae she knew noticed grubs more readily than her. So when another handsome young Faerie smiled at her like she actually mattered and all that was within her wanted to just melt away into a puddle of gooey happy-sap, a strident, cynical inner voice begged to differ. To assert that this Allory was a new creature.

Returning his smile despite that she could not feel her knees for real, she simpered, “Why Varzune, I find you so pretty, too.”

Those brilliant yellow eyes fluttered twice.

Then, a roar of laughter burst out of him. He bellowed. He guffawed. He bent over, trying to balance her upright, slap his knees and hold his stomach at the same time, which did not work, since he was literally crying with merriment. He clapped her upon the back and declared that was the best comeback with which he had ever been smacked over the antennae. Oh, he deserved it. More than. In fact, Varzune was having such a great time dissolving into stitches that Allory only belatedly realised that the rest of his family had fallen silent in surprise at his antics.

Oops. Here came a frosty silence worthy of a Pixie mountaintop.

Harzune strode over, scowling, “I saw her first, Varzune! She’s mine! Momfae, he’s girlfae-stealing!”

Heroic whine? That rather tarnished the image.

The other chortled, “If you believe that, brofae, you’ll believe anything. By the way, since you forgot to ask before the actual kidnapping, this beauty’s name is Allory.”

“Allory. How evocative.” As Harzune picked her up, her head clonked on the thick metal band upon his chunky right bicep. “Sorry. So, Allory Fae, do you indeed hail from the Russet Jungles? You’ve come a very long way from home.”

His tone suggested that she definitely needed his protection. Here she was, a girlfae who had smiled at fire-snorting Fire Raptors and lived to tell the tale. Yet something in his manner made a tiny Fae yearn to be protected by his stalwart arm. Grr. Could her silly brain get over itself for one second?

“I am – uh, from the Russet Jungles,” she said, as firmly as she was able. “I was travelling with two Felidragons and an Elf, on my way to –”

“I saw. I tracked you for several days,” he put in proudly.

“Then you will know that I needed no saving from my friends.”

He grinned, “It was those vicious sapphire butterflies. Brutes, I tell you. Tricky customers at the best of times, butterflies.”

“The … butterflies?”

“I was afraid you’d blend in with their beauty, Allory Fae, and thus be lost to me forever. Tragedy beyond description.” He placed a hand upon his chest and made pretend beats with his fingers. “My tender throbbing heart should thus most assuredly be devastated.”

Maybe mad, but a well-honed sense of humour certainly provided much-needed balance.

Breathe. Try to, at least.

“Oh, get on with it already!” someone yelled from the back. “Ask her!”

“Harzune! Harzune! HARZUNE!” The Faerie began to chant, causing him to frown with his brow while smiling at her with his mouth. At length, Harzune waved a hand for silence, which was a time in coming as the jovial catcalls rained in. Allory matched his frown as he balanced her before him, one hand grasping her waist to help her to balance, while he sank to one knee. Her heart sprang upward to ambush her throat, faster than any hummingbird.

The beautiful eyes pleaded with her.

Silence descended.

“Allory Fae, by the power of destiny true, I believe that you are fated to be my one and only. Say you will be mine. Please, I beg thee.”