Writing and reading about modern fairy courts had me thinking of how they would return and what it would be like, as well as ancient prophecies and who and how can break them. I may or may not have an entire story already planned out (im so sorry one day i will finish at least one) but here is the beginning.
It had been a long time since the Fair Folk had openly walked the surface, and generations of people and countries had forgotten the rules. Some places remembered, where the old ways lingered longer, pooled in the creases of valleys. But most of the world had forgotten.
The old Queen had preferred secrets and shadows and whispers in the dark, happy to withdraw deep into the earth and ignore the humans above. Too many ventured down seeking wishes and blessings and so she sealed the doors to the Court and for centuries she had peace.
She was an ancient creature, for millennia her armor was impenetrable, her spells so carefully woven and tightly spoken that nothing, no edge of advantage could even begin to unravel her.
But on the surface the humans were changing, growing, building, learning. And one Lady, always looking for an opportinuty watched them.
The Good Neighbors had rules. Not just guidelines made of words held together on the hope that you would obey, but laws bound into the fabric of their existence.
They could not touch iron
They could not break a promise
They cannot go where they are not invited
And they could not lie.
But they twisted the truths so tangled together you never found the end. Which still wasn’t a lie, even if you were lead down the wrong thread, it broke no rules.
But humans had no rules. Fascinating creatures made entirely of chaos, unbound promises and brief bright lives.
The old Queen when she forged her prophecies before the dawn of their civilisation never considered them enough of a threat to protect against.
But they grow so fast.
It wasn’t hard to find one and fill their head with knotted thread and not-promises, one who could be pushed to fit and slip between the gaps in prophecy.
Backed with borrowed magic.
The Old Queen fell.
To kill a Queen is to become a Queen, and as the Fair Lady slipped the knife through her human’s fragile ribs she whispered that she made no promise to tell her the rules.
And no man or woman
None born of body or conceived in flesh
May harm me
This time, no humans could be used to depose a Queen.