The Virgin and the Fae

Suddenly, it felt like the ground was pulled out from beneath her and Charlotte was falling, sickeningly fast. Her palms connected with a cool, smooth surface. She felt stomach revolting against her, and fighting the urge to vomit, she lay down on her side, pressing her cheek to the cool surface. Dimly she heard laughter, a tinkling ethereal sound.



“This, this is the mortal you desperately had to have, Garrick?” It was a woman’s voice, Charlotte thought, though she couldn’t see the face. Her hair fanned over her face, plastered to her temple and cheeks from rapidly cooling sweat. There was more laughter. Charlotte wondered passingly how many people there were. The nausea was gone and as she opened her eyes, she found her vision to be clear again. Still her head…god, how her head hurt. And it was too cold now. She began to shiver slightly, tremors involuntarily coursing through her. More laughter. They must all be watching her.



“Really, Garrick, she looks like a shaking rock.” A man’s voice this time, but different from the one who had spoken to her.



Charlotte did make for a rather strange picture, with her black puffy coat and backpack, curled into a fetal position, she did look a bit like soft rock. Gingerly, Charlotte tried to stand. Her legs felt weak and her back screamed, but fear was taking over, over powering the cold and the pain. She needed to know where she was. Her knees wobbled slightly, but she was able to stand. With a deep breath, hoping desperately that this was some sort of dream and she was asleep on her books in the library, Charlotte pushed her hair back from her face.



There were so many people, or rather not people. They looked human, and yet somehow more than human. They were all too beautiful, too perfect looking to be human. And they were dressed like nobles, and yet not. The clothes were not quite right, the styles and cuts not precisely belonging to any particular time period or court. But she recognized the corseted waists and long skirts of the women, the breeches and waistcoats of the men.



There were twenty or so of them, all staring at her, some with interest, others—mostly women—with blatant dislike. Charlotte tried to find the man who’d spoken to her before, but she’d barely been able to make out his shape in the darkness that now, if he were among these people, he was indistinguishable from the others. A man—was it him?—took a step towards her.



Charlotte stepped backwards, overestimating the strength of her legs. They gave out beneath her, and she fell, with a slight gasp, to the ground. The man was at her side in an instant. Now there were murmurs, hushed but rapid, that travelled among those who stood back and watched. For Charlotte it sounded much like the buzzing of some sort of insect and she wished she could clap her hands over her ears to shut it all out.



“Charlotte, what’s wrong?” he asked softly. There was fear in his voice. Why was he afraid? That was the last thought that passed through her mind before she lost consciousness.





Garrick was able to catch her this time before her head hit the floor. He looked down at her bewilderedly. This wasn’t at all how he’d imagined claiming her. She would have denied everything he told her first. His Charlotte was so practical, she’d never believe in the Fae. He anticipated her fear, even her anger, but this…he hadn’t anticipated whatever this was.



“I want a human,” Garrick barked at the other Fae present. Kaelyn stepped forward, her human at her side. Together they made they way to beside Garrick. Without even a glance at Kaelyn, Garrick addressed the human male, demanding, “what’s wrong with her?” The man paled visibly under Garrick’s stare.



“I don’t know, my lord. She may be sick.”



“Sick? Sick from what? She is young and healthy,” Garrick was puzzled, indeed all the Fae seemed somewhat puzzled. To immortals, the idea of sickness was both foreign and confusing. Hugh knelt beside the unconscious girl. He moved to touch her head, but Garrick made a low, growling noise in his throat, warning the human not to touch her.



“Really, Garrick, Hugh is only trying to help,” Kaelyn chastised. Though only a lady of Garrick’s court, Kaelyn commanded an imperious tone to rival even his own. Gritting his teeth against anger, Garrick nodded to Hugh to continue.



With the back of his hand, Hugh touched Charlotte’s forehead. He jerked his hand away in surprise.



“She’s running a fever, a high one.” Garrick had passing knowledge of what a fever meant, but the idea of his Charlotte, his healthy Charlotte having one paralyzed him.



“What does that mean for her,” he asked.



“She is sick, I don’t know what of. Can I look in her bag?” Hugh had learned quickly that it was best to ask for permission before attempting anything around this girl. Garrick nodded again.



Hugh unzipped the backpack, unloading its contents. A calculus book, a notebook, a novel, a calculator, pens and pencils, few folders, a bottle of vitamins, and, luckily, a bottle of Tylenol. Hugh had been here for some time, at least several years, but still he recognized the red bottle with its white cap. He fumbled with the cap, finally opening it and shaking out two white tablets.



“She needs to take these,” Hugh said. “It’s how she’ll get better.” Again, Garrick nodded. He hated that he had no control over this situation, it was even more humiliating that a human knew what to do when he didn’t. He felt the eyes of his courtiers on him, and yet their judgments felt meaningless when he looked down at Charlotte. She had begun to stir and her shaking was getting worse.



“What’s happening to her?” Garrick asked with alarm.



“She’s shivering. Its her body’s way of trying to warm her up.”



“But you said she has a fever.”



“She does, its only that there are periods of chills during a fever.” Hugh pressed the pills against Charlotte’s mouth. In a moment of lucidity, she clamped her lips tightly against the intrusion.



“What’s her name?” Hugh asked.



“Charlotte.”



“Charlotte, my name is Hugh. I’m human too. You have to trust me. You have a fever and you need to take these pills—their your pills, the Tylenol from your bag—they’ll lower your fever.” Charlotte nodded weakly as a sign of agreement and allowed the pills to be placed inside of her mouth. She quickly slipped them under her tongue and pretended to swallow them. She had no idea what was going on, but she still knew enough to not take pills from a stranger. She felt the arms around her relax slightly and the man holding her looked down at her. He had such a look of confusion on his face. Confusion was all the incentive she needed. Charlotte spat the pills out and twisted herself out of his hold. She began crawling away as fast as she could. Then rising to her feet, Charlotte began to run, struggling against the lightheadedness that threatened to cause her to collapse.



“Charlotte, stop.” There was the cruelty in the voice that she’d recognized early. Fear cleared her wavering vision and caused her to push onwards against the weakness of her limbs. She was in some sort of throne room, with marble floors and high ceilings, and at the far end, there was a large double-door. She could make it out of this room and then out of this, this place, and then—



“Charlotte.” And then the air was knocked out of her. It felt as if she had hit something hard and solid and yet before her there looked to be only air. She thought she was going to fall, but she didn’t. No, not just didn’t, she couldn’t fall. It was as something had locked her in place. She couldn’t move any part of her body—everything felt stiffened and frozen in place. Panic swelled in her chest, her breaths coming in ragged chokes.



“What a well-behaved mortal you’ve found yourself, Garrick.” Charlotte recognized it distantly as the same man who’d said she looked like a rock.



“Its no affair of yours, Locke.”



“Oh, but it is, think what the people will say when they hear that their king’s lover spits in his face.”



“My lords, please, she meant no harm. When we—mortals—get feverish, sometimes there is panic and things are done that wouldn’t be if—“ Kaelyn cut him off with a sharp glare for speaking out of turn.



Claustropobia was taking over Charlotte. It was like something solid, yet invisible was packed tightly around her, restricting the movements of her chest as she breathed.



“She will be punished, Locke, but she is still no affair of yours. She is a human; we cannot expect her to adjust with difficulties to our ways. Leave us. All of you.” With a slight shimmer, the room was empty. Garrick picked up the open bottle of pills and made his way towards the frozen Charlotte. She looked terrified, he thought to himself. Deathly pale and terrified.



“Charlotte…” She seemed to be struggling against his magic. “Don’t fight it. Its only magic, it wasn’t meant to hurt you. Only to stop you. Now, I am not angry with you. But if you don’t do what I tell you to, I will become angry. I want you to take these pills. He shook almost a dozen into his hand.



“N-no, that’s—“



“Charlotte, do not disobey me. You will take these pills.” Charlotte tried once more, hoping that if she said it fast enough she could finish before he was able to interrupt.



“That’s too many, it’ll kill me.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was close enough. Had she been well enough, Charlotte would have calculated the exact amount in a fatal dose in her mind, but a dozen extra strength Tylenol was close enough to an overdose that she was prepared to risk this strange man’s anger. It was as if she had struck him. He recoiled somewhat, stunned.



“He was trying to poison you then. That’s why you spat them out.” Charlotte paused, wondering if she should speak or not.



“No, only two is safe. Its only that in large doses, it can be…harmful.” He stared at her marveling.



“How do you live knowing that you are so weak?” Charlotte bristled somewhat, painfully aware of the…magic?...that kept her locked in place before him.



“I’m not weak.”



“But anything can kill you.”



“Not anything. There are dangers, that’s just part of the nature of mortality. Things can kill you too, but you don’t go around thinking of yourself as weak.”



“Nothing can kill me.” Dots danced in front of Charlotte’s eyes. She wondered if this was a hallucination.



“What are you?”



“A fae.”



“A what?”



“A fae, a fairy as you call us now.”



“A fairy?” Charlotte thought she was losing her mind. “Why am I here?”



“Because I wanted you.” He was so matter-of-fact as if his want was all the justification that was needed.



“Give me the pills—just two.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have ordered him, she thought so she added a tentative, “please,” after a moment. He nodded and carefully dropped all but two of the pills back into the bottle. These he slipped, one by one, between her lips and watched her swallow them down. He was handsome, she thought. Cruel looking but handsome. “Could I sleep?” Charlotte asked. Her whole body ached from that night.



Suddenly they were in a bedchamber. It was huge and opulent, the bed was covered with deep blue velvet and the four posters held up what looked to be silk draping over the bed. The room was darkened, but she could make out an armoire along with bookshelves. Charlotte stumbled towards the bed, glad that the magic on her had worn off. A thought occurred to her as she climbed into the bed, and she turned back towards Garrick.



“Why can’t you just use your magic and make me well again?” He moved towards her, taking off her sneakers. Charlotte tried to recoil but found she no longer had control over her legs. “You’re doing it again! Stop it!” He laughed softly, as if amused by her distress, and began to roll down her socks. “I can’t cure you because I don’t understand what’s made you sick. We don’t have sickness among my people and I worry that meddling with you blindly could cause more harm than good. As to this…trick…I am rapidly finding it is quite helpful for dealing with you. It doesn’t hurt you and makes everything much easier for me.” He ran his hand along her ankle.



“I don’t like it.” She sounded more petulant than she might have hoped, but it was true, she didn’t like it at all. “It frightens me to not be able to control my body. Please, stop.” Garrick didn’t realize how strong a reaction he could have to the sound of her begging. Without even a conscious thought, he dropped the magic. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. There were so many questions that were running through her mind—where exactly was she? What was expected of her? Would she get to return home?—but she felt drowsiness taking over. Without another word, Charlotte leaned back and fell asleep.