The Virgin and the Fae

That somewhere was dank and dim. There were stonewalls, slick with condensation. The ground was a cool mud and Charlotte realized with a bit of disgust that she hadn’t remembered to put on shoes.

“But we had a deal. You were going to tell me where and when we were going before you moved us. And you promised not to do that thing again. Its sickening and cruel. Do you know how awful it feels to not be able to control any part of your body, and all because someone, on a whim, takes that control away from you?” Anger began to rise, “you’re sick, you know that? The idea that you’ve been watching me—watching me since I was fourteen. Its…its sick. And I will not wear a collar! I am not a dog”

“These are all your complaints against me?”

“And you’ve kidnapped me!” Garrick ignored her shout.

“Do you truly miss your world? Or do you just miss how tightly you could control things in your world?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Follow me. And keep quiet. From now on, it is in your best interest to speak only when spoken to directly.” Just to be contrary, Charlotte wanted to shout, but she kept silent. She knew he was powerful and ever since that evening’s bath, there existed a fear in her mind that he could kill her. And though things were rather grim at present, she had no wish to die.

The hem of her dress sullied in the mud as they walked.

They continued through strange, dimly lit passageways. There was a noise of some kind, soft but audible in the distance. It grew louder as they continued further. Charlotte stopped walking the moment she realized what it was. It was screams, multiple screams and wails. She felt sick to her stomach.

Garrick stopped and turned to her.

“You are going to see things that will…be unpleasant to you. In your eyes, I no doubt have many faults, but most of what you will see are things that I would never, ever subject you to.” He took her shoulders in his hands. “The only reason we are here is because I wish to publicly lay claim to you, so that none of this can ever happen to you. You are to stay by my side at all times; is that understood?” Charlotte nodded, scrunching her toes in the mud to relieve some of her rising anxiety.
Garrick released her and began walking ahead, then, as if he thought better of it, he turned and took her hand in his.

Eventually the dark passageways gave way to an open room, at the end of which where two large wood double doors. They looked similar to the ones she had run towards the day before.

“Is this part of your castle?”

“Yes, but it is a part of the castle that you will never have access to. Many of the Fae of my court will live in the castle when courting my favor. They have their own lands, but it is common for many to reside here for several months out of the year. They have certain…needs that must be met, even when they are visiting. These corridors and the rooms to come belong to the wing reserved for such needs.” His voice contained an odd mix of disgust and wistfulness. Charlotte was beginning to feel progressively more disconcerted. Had it just been the disgusted he’d shown earlier, perhaps she might have trusted him, turning to him out of necessity in these circumstances. But that wistfulness? Something in this attracted him. She stole a glance at his face; his eyes were darkened and distant. She knew that look. Mark had looked at her like that before. It was lust. But Garrick’s lust was not directed at her, rather he seemed momentarily lost in thought. Charlotte realized with a lurch that he was probably thinking about having these needs met. But what were they? What was it that happened behind those closed doors?

Charlotte searched for another thought to block out this one.

“Why don’t they just…appear here when necessary?” Charlotte asked, thinking of how he could be somewhere one second and somewhere else in another. He chuckled.

“Transpose was a nice word for it, since you seem to be struggling with what to call our traveling.”

“What do you call it?”

“Just traveling. But I sense that has another meaning for humans, one much more banal, so transpose will do.”

“But why can’t they transpose themselves into your castle?”

“They can, but it is considered rude to transpose without warning by my people—“

“Ah! So it is rude then. Why do you do it to me?” Stupidly, Charlotte felt momentarily triumphant as if she’d discovered a fundamental flaw in his logic.

“You aren’t one of my people, you are only my human.”

“But I’m not y—“

“Charlotte,” Garrick interrupted warningly. She quieted. She was too sensible to push any harder knowing that nothing would be gained. There was no point in arousing his anger. “Come along.” Oh, but he was angry. She could hear it in his voice. He was furious by the sound of it. He jerked on her hand, pulling her through the doors, as they swung open.

Torture. That was the first thing that came to mind. Sick, grotesque torture. There were several humans strung up with chains being whipped, some men, some women. One man was being whipped from behind by a smiling Fae male while another Fae, a female, knelt between the human’s legs suckling him. A woman, not far away was screaming in pain as two male Fae pumped what looked to be their entire forearms in and out of her, one in front and one behind. The men were laughing, clearly enjoying themselves until the women, with a gasp, collapsed, no doubt dead from internal hemorrhaging of some kind. Both men removed their blood-soaked arms and stared down at the body.

They looked at one another with a shrug as if to say: “What are we are supposed to do now?”

Their cruelty, their callousness, and all the screams of pain that surrounded her managed to do what the flu alone could not. Charlotte fell to her knees and began to vomit. She hadn’t eaten anything in almost two days so her stomach had nothing to up heave, but nevertheless the retching continued. She caught the scent of burnt flesh, and each time she inhaled through her nose, she retched harder, gagging and spitting the saliva that dripped out of her mouth. She was crying too she realized after all while. How long ago that had started, she didn’t know. But that woman had just died. Charlotte had just seen someone die. She began to retch again, wishing that she could somehow purge herself of this memory.

A hand began to rub gently up and down her back.

“Shhh, its alright. Nothing like this, like any of this will ever happen to you once you’re mine.” Charlotte began crying harder, but the retching had stopped. “Come on, we will finish what is required of us quickly and I’ll return you to your room.” Garrick pulled her to her feet.

The crying girl had attracted quite a bit of attention. In fact the Fae had all stopped to watch their King’s human struggle to her feet. She was as strange looking as those who had seen her yesterday had reported. Though she was certainly well-formed, she lacked any sort of beauty to justify why he wanted her to himself. Her face was red and splotchy and her eyes appeared unattractively puffed.

A few of the Fae women whispered together over her appearance. They took pride in criticizing her torn and muddied dress. Maitane was the first to notice she wore no shoes and she and her three friends giggled together at her uncultured look.

The Fae men were slightly more charitable, prepared to accept the idea that had she not been crying so hard, she might have looked quite attractive.

She looked so fragile, shaking slightly and clutching at herself. For the Fae she was a polarizing presence. Some wanted to see how roughly she could be used before she’d break, others felt the overwhelming, and foreign, urge to hide her away, slowly and tenderly taking her as she was able. All wanted her.

Their eyes almost burned her with their intensity. Inside of her, there was an idea, beating its way to the surface, of what was to come, but fear suppressed it, held it under the water, preventing her from understanding fully. She knew she should be frightened. Of who and of what exactly, Charlotte wasn’t certain. But she knew enough to know that this place was not safe and that these people were evil, much much worse than Garrick.

“Garrick, please take me back, take me away from here,” Charlotte pleaded. Garrick was torn. He had never heard her say his name before and the sound of it from her lips caused a feeling of warmth to wash over him. Her pleading made him uncomfortable as well, somehow he wanted to posses her and control her, and yet not reduce her to this, not have her beg him. But there was no choice. He had to go through with this if she was to be safe in his world.

“She’s rather sniveling, don’t you think, Garrick? And small too. She’d barely last a night with you alone much less with all of us.” Charlotte began to see spots again. All of them. Was that why she was here? For all of them. She looked over at the dead woman, flecks of drying blood stained her thighs. This place, all of it, terrified her. There was no light source that she could make out, but somehow the room flickered, as if lit by torches. It was magic, malevolent magic that bore witness to the atrocities that happened here.

She picked a point on the wall, trying to focus all of her attention on it so as not to faint. It was a stone, slick with something slick and dark. At first she thought it might be blood, but rather it looked to be a slime growth. Rather than be disgusted, she welcomed the realization. Compared to the blood and the chains elsewhere in the room, slime seemed so innocuous and normal as to be comforting.

“Locke, she is not to share. I’m here to publicly claim her as per the code. Once the ceremony is over, I will leave you to the other humans who you may do whatever you want with. But not her.”

“She’s not claimed yet.” Charlotte looked up at Garrick’s growl of anger. The man, the Fae Locke, that he was speaking with, looked more amused than anything else. He appeared to merely enjoy challenging Garrick. Garrick, however, looked thunderous. Charlotte noticed for the first time that he had pronounced canines, rather like those of an animal. From what she could tell of the predatory smiles of the other Fae, their teeth were no different.

“What is the claiming?” Charlotte asked after a few moments of tense silence.

“Quiet!” Garrick snapped at her.

“She is just as ill-behaved as last night, Garrick. Perhaps before you claim her you should give her to one of us. Any of us would be happy to save you the trouble of breaking her.” Locke smiled lewdly at her. Charlotte shrunk backwards, pressing herself against Garrick. The Fae began to laugh, even Locke appeared amused.

“It seems she has already chosen Garrick, Locke.” Another Fae male spoke, one she didn’t recognize from the other night. He appeared older than the others, somehow not as harsh.

“She is mine, Olin. It doesn’t matter who she chooses.”

“But, my lord, I think it may. She’s a virgin.” Charlotte watched the Fae looking around at one another. Charlotte was beyond blushing, beyond embarrassment. All there was now was confusion that was rapidly being encroached upon by fear.

“There is no need for worry. She won’t be one for long. I would have conducted the claiming last night but she was ill.” At the word “ill” several of the Fae women recoiled, fearing somehow being tainted by the human’s mortality.

“There is every cause for worry, Garrick! How could you knowingly bring a virgin into our realm? A female virgin! You know as well as any of us the risks.” It was the Fae who Hugh had been with, Charlotte realized. Oh god, and there was Hugh, somewhat bloodied sitting by her feet. He had a blank stare, as if somewhere far away.

Though she envied his absence, Charlotte struggled instead to follow what was going on, but she was too lost to understand. All she could make out was that they knew she was a virgin, and for some reason that made them angry.

“Kaelyn, I am here to claim her. Let me claim her now, if you are so concerned about the unicorns.” Charlotte would have laughed at the ridiculousness of unicorns had she not been kidnapped by a Fae. What did she have to do with unicorns?

“Fine,” Kaelyn nodded at the space before them. A large flat stone appeared where before there had been only air. It looked like the stones at Stonehenge to Charlotte. It looked like the stones that people joked were for sacrificing virgins.

Panic, hot and sharp began to course through her. Charlotte was about to tear herself away from Garrick and run, when she found herself lying on her back on the stone. Two realizations hit Charlotte simultaneously. First, she was naked. And second, she couldn’t move. She began to sweat as she thrashed her head, straining to be able to move something, anything.

Garrick watched Charlotte as she screamed. They were loud, piercing screams of fear. If only there were another way…but there wasn’t. A female virgin was a dangerous thing, almost as dangerous as not claiming Charlotte as his own. The thought of Locke or any other touching her made him sick. The things that they would do to her if the could…He tried to calm Charlotte but she couldn’t hear anything over her screams. She was begging now, pleading with anyone whose eyes she could catch to help her. But Garrick knew his court. They were far too interested in watching what was to come than to even think of helping.

Gently, Garrick spread her legs apart. Charlotte had begun to scream again, more piercingly than before until suddenly she was silent. Her mouth still open and contorted in a scream, yet no sound came out.

“It was beginning to bother me,” Locke said with a shrug. Garrick glared at him, but in truth he was somewhat grateful. It was easier on him as well to not hear her screams. Garrick looked around at the other Fae, mostly they appeared aroused. With heavy-lidded eyes, they looked on, covetously scanning over Charlotte’s body.

She was beautiful. There was something both alluring and terrifying about how innocent and virginal she looked.
Locke thought to himself at what a pleasure it would be to corrupt such innocence. He would never have tried though. Despite his challenges to Garrick’s power, he cared for his king with a greater degree of loyalty than most. If Garrick wanted this mortal to himself, then Locke would ensure no other Fae so much as approached her without permission.

Charlotte—deprived of both movement and speech—was in a state of terror. She thought she was going to pass out at any moment. Garrick began to undo his pants. Something primal surged through Charlotte, something deeper than fear. It was instinctual and powerful and it yelled at her to run. With a scream, Charlotte pulled her leg, ripping it through the magic that held it in place and kicked Garrick on the side. He wheezed and stumbled, stunned at the blow. Free from the magic, Charlotte scrambled off the stone, running for the doors.

“Charlotte, stop!” The steel-like magic descended over her, but she kept running. At first it was like running through water, her movements slowed and labored but after a moment the magic was gone. She was running normally again. Fear gave her strength and Charlotte yanked the doors open, splashing up mud around her as she ran.

The passageways all looked the same. There was no way to differentiate them and Charlotte panicked at the idea that she might never find a way out.
She just had to keep moving, that was all that mattered now. She had to get away from those….monsters. These weren’t the tiny angelic fairies in her picture books as a child. These were awful, cruel creatures that perpetrated unspeakable acts against humans.

She thought of Garrick and his promises not to harm her like the others did their “pets.” Perhaps he’d been telling the truth, but simply because he was the lesser of two evils was not enough for her to passively allow him rape her.

And why were they so concerned that she was a virgin? Not just concerned, a few were even frightened it seemed. But why would that be cause for fear?

Charlotte continued to running, struggling to think through what had just happened. How had she escaped? She’d felt the magic, had recognized the heavy oppression of its weight, but this time it couldn’t hold her. Her muscles had strained against its restraint and then, somehow, she’d broken through them. But she felt the straining. Every muscle felt torn and her body ached from running.

All around her were stonewalls, dank and slick with moisture. The air was cool, almost cold even.

In anger, Charlotte slammed her fists against the wall. She’d never make it out of this place. She didn’t know what would be worse: to die here of starvation or to be found by the Fae. She slid down against the wall to the ground, the mud squelching underneath her. Her nakedness barely phased her.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Charlotte asked softly into the darkness. She wanted to cry, but struggled once more against it. Control. She had to maintain control whenever and wherever she could. This—crying—was within her powers to control, even if it hadn’t been earlier that afternoon. To steady herself, Charlotte closed her eyes, focusing on the smells and sounds that surrounded her. She felt the cold, gloppy mud beneath her butt and legs. She felt the slime of the walls against her bareback. For better support, Charlotte tilted her head back against the wall. There was an odd bump, she remarked after a moment and ran her fingers through her hair. The flowers Garrick had put in. They were ugly now, wilted and crushed from when she pressed them to the wall.

Charlotte flung them away from her in disgust.

The thought of Garrick made her want to cry again. She had not even begun to emotionally come to terms with his claim that he’d watched her since she was fourteen. A part of Charlotte that was rapidly becoming hysterical thought with amusement that she wouldn’t have been much fun to watch. Fourteen would have been around the time she started high school. All she’d done then was work. In fact, all she’d ever done from then on was work. What on earth could have been interesting about her?

That was the moment she felt it; so gentle that she could easily have missed it, but she didn’t. A breeze, Charlotte realized with leaping hope. She felt a breeze.