Abject terror and flowers

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom where Fairy Godmothers lived in abject terror.

You know part of this story; you’re aware that in certain magic-positive nation states, beings from the other side of the Thicket might show up to convey blessings upon the firstborn of some particular iteration of the House Royal. It wasn’t a sure thing (there’s no world where you can entirely predict the Fae); but if you invited them, they’d more than likely make an appearance, and bestow upon the sprog a multitude of supernatural-but-wholesome blessings.

Now, if you’ve heard the version of events which hit the press, you know that on one particularly horrible occasion, the royals failed to invite one of the rather less benign Godmothers, for they feared her power and malice, and thought the best way to avoid her wrath was to have a highly-publicized event to which she was cordially not invited.

If that never sounded stupid to you before, you should have read this story sooner. As should they, for that matter.

That whole mess got sorted out (somewhat), but it left the noblefolk of that realm with a bad case of the collywobbles. They therefore decided that, going forward, they would assume all Fairy Godmothers were rageful murderesses-in-waiting, and should all be shunned and kept at bay by force. That’s clearly irrational and stupid; but (this is a secret, don’t tell)—sometimes humans are irrational and stupid, especially when they’re displacing anxiety-fuelled-aggression onto (what they believe to be) soft, easy targets.

And hey, taking a zero-tolerance policy on potential outside malefactors makes sense. Ward everything with thrice-forged iron, such that no Fae even come near without suffering severe burns, and sure, you might keep out a few good ones, but you’ll make sure you get no bad ones.

And maybe they’re all bad ones.  At the very least, they’re certainly weird. Where are they in your social structure? Nowhere; how do you decide how to treat them, then? They’re not artisans, they’re not merchants, they’re not peasants or nobles; they’re not even normal human beings. Who has wings and magical powers? Weirdos and freaks, that’s who.

Do you remember how powerful that one really angry Fairy turned out to be?

Means one of two things:

Either the OTHER Fairy Godmothers are inferior, in which case, we DESERVE better…

….or they’re holding out on us.

And that’s not something we’re going to accept from a bunch of condescending flying things. Know what flies, ain’t a bird, and acts peculiar? Insects, that’s who. And we get RID of those suckers when see see them.

So the Kingdom ringed itself ’round with tall Iron Bars, and but a single gate.  And though they could not close the skyways, they fired up as many forges as they could, so that the sky was black with acrid smoke from countless anvil-infused flames.  Fairy Godmothers could visit to bestow blessings upon the royal offspring if, and only if, the gifts were good. This led to a few challenges, such is, “Why, precisely, is a damn daughter who reads well,” and, “whishin a rule of peace before all is really stupid when you’re fighting someone where you can steal their stuff.

So the Godmathers were Not Popular.

And finally, they did a thing.

Cold iron burns like toughing your whole hand to a sources of a dozen flames.  It took almost a hundred of the Fae folk, but they did it, and seales it between them.

No faeries would yet in. And no faeries would have to lie to greedy old me.  There’s no treasure but love and friendship? No problem, sayeth the Lord, who has a lot of smiing to do.

They can point at the wall; but they are its unwitting slaves.

He who has the diamonds, after all, makes the rules.

You’re not locked in here with me, oh, you sons of bitches. You’re locked in with you. Let’e see how long you survive.

 

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