~ Authors note ~

Welcome! Okay, so I am dead-set on making this a fully-fledged fan fiction eventually. Let me begin by telling you how this story is going to work, and what it shall entail…

We begin in the late Victorian era, just before cars are affordable to the public. Imagine the scene. A majestic and stunning countryside as the backdrop, in the far south of England, with the sea not too far a distance away.

Magic.

Childhood.

Excitement.

Adventure.

Eventually childhood comes to a close for all of us, and the story travels through Blaine's childhood – from the age of eight - and into his adulthood, following his growth and how the world around him changes not only itself but Blaine as well, and the people he knows and loves. Losing grip and gaining knowledge, this story may start off light and cheerful, but it is not for the faint of heart.

Childhood is innocence.

Adulthood is a mess.

This story is one hundred and ten percent AU (alternate universe), and it is under the 'mature' rating because at some point in the story, that will come in effect. Just not at the start. This WILL be a long story, because I know exactly what happens – I think – up to a certain point, and by then I'm sure I will have padded out the rest.

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. I apologise to the readers reading my other incomplete fan fics – they will be updated soon, I promise.

So sit back, and close your eyes for just a moment. Place yourself in a period dress, or in a suit buttoned up to the neck. You're travelling back in time – way back in time. Enjoy the journey.

Au revoir for now.

We are always told that "seeing is believing." As children, if we see something strange and tell an adult, the answer is usually, "that's impossible," or "don't be silly, dear."

As we phase from childhood into adulthood, the things we believe in slip away from us and we forget. What if, in the past, we encountered many wonderful and mystical things that now we have no clue about? Remember that time you played in your garden and your ball rolled under the bush? What if when you crawled under there you came across a small creature blinking up at you, before scarpering into the darkness? Your story books suggested that what you saw was, in fact, an elf. Yet now, do you remember even seeing that creature? Or perhaps at the beach, when you were six, you stowed away to a small cove and found a mermaid tangled in a net. Upon releasing it, you became friends, yet had to say goodbye once your vacation was over? Ten years later you return to the same beach with no recollection of any sort of mermaid whatsoever.

They all fade back into the pages laid out for them in story books.

When you grow, everything magical becomes invisible.

There are some people in the world who have a gift. As they age, a part of their childhood stays with them. Unknown to them, tucked away in some distant corner of their mind, they hold the key to seeing the magic they lost when they matured. They see glimpses of magic, but not the whole thing. In the corner of their eye, a nymph may dart into a tree. Did they believe what they saw? No. Of course not.

Yet, the gift can only be unlocked if magic presents itself first. You don't go looking for it. Magic comes looking for you.

The only way to get the gift in the first place is if a magical connection is made.

…And that is where our story begins.

The road to Roseburn House was arched with trees, a small stream trickling on the left hand side, running until it reached the large river that snaked around the back of the manor. The carriage jolted on a rock that had escaped onto the track, and Blaine Anderson bounced on his seat with the sudden movement. He didn't seem to notice. He was too busy gazing out of the open window as the horses trotted up to the looming building. As they rounded the corner, his eyes grew wide at the sight of it. Huge Grecian columns stretched up to hold balconies in place, whilst a vast well-kept lawn spread out in front of it with the river glistening at the bottom. Suddenly, hands clasped around his waist and he found himself sitting back in his seat. His mother looked down at him, a warning look in her eye.

"Now Blaine. Do you remember our chat before we left London?" Blaine's eyes drifted back to the building and he replied with a small "mmmhm."
"Blaine!" the woman snapped lightly and he jumped, flicking his head back around and blinking at her.
"Sorry, Mommy. It's just that this place is awful grand, isn't it?" She smiled down at her eight year old and nodded.
"It is indeed. Your uncle is a very rich man. Anyway, Blaine, darling, do you remember?" She ran a hand through his thick, dark curls.
"Yes. I have to say my pleases and thank you's upon every occasion, and I must be polite and I must NOT make a nuisance of myself."
"Very good, sweet heart." She pulled him close and hugged him gently. "Look." She pointed out of the window. "It's your father!" Blaine's face lit up and he scrambled to the window, peering out and seeing the very man he had missed so dearly jogging across the lawn as the horses slowed to a halt. The footman opened the door and Blaine literally threw himself from the carriage and into his fathers open arms.
"Daddy! Daddy!" the small boy cried, clutching onto his father's jacket as the man span him around and around.
"Blaine! Oh my boy! It's been far too long!" he chuckled, placing his son on the ground.
Blaine's father had been working for his brother on a legal matter - Blaine's father was a lawyer - and had been staying with him for over four weeks. Eventually it was decided that Blaine and his mother would travel down to stay there for as long as his father was needed there. Blaine's parents had met when Blaine's father had travelled to America. They had lived there for four years - in that time Blaine had reached the age of three. When they moved back to England, he never lost his American accent, and neither did his mother. The English all found this to be rather fascinating.
"Helen!" Blaine's father cried, looking past Blaine to the woman stepping from the carriage. His father ran and scooped his mother into his arms in a passionate embrace.
"George, stop, Blaine's watching," Helen giggled. George eyed his son.
"Oh, let him look." They kissed and Blaine recoiled in disgust. Seeing his parents kissing was a foul sight to behold. They broke apart and George swung his son onto his hip. Blaine squealed with delight at the fact he was so high off of the ground. Another gentleman strolled briskly from the house.
"Blaine, this is your Uncle Patrick." Patrick had shoulder length brown hair, with sharp features and a cold look in his eyes. He bore a slight resemblance to George, but not that they would be called brothers by someone who didn't know that they were. Patrick acknowledged Blaine and Helen with a tip of the top hat and a small bow.
"Good afternoon, fellow Anderson's," he welcomed in a heavy English accent. "Please, come inside."

Blaine's jaw fell open as he gasped loudly. Elegant and extravagant furnishings filled the entrance hall of Roseburn House. A grand staircase ascended to the next floor, with lavish red carpet and solid mahogany railings. Music was playing somewhere in the distance. A woman in a knee-length black dress and a funny white doily on her head curtsied at them as she scurried past. Patrick stopped her.

"Lucy, would you please ask Penny to join us in the lunch room?"
"Yes sir." And the maid was gone.
"Please," George said, turning to his guests. "If you will follow me to the lunch room, we have a small feast prepared after your long journey. I'm sure you're hungry!" Blaine's stomach rumbled in response. His mother glared at him but his father laughed and ruffled his curly hair.
"Sounds like Blaine is! Let's go, I saw the food coming in from the kitchen earlier. Looks scrumptious!"

It truly was. Half of the banquet table was laden with mouth watering delicacies ranging from cold roast ham to a pile of different cheeses. Blaine smacked his lips and tugged at George's velvet jacket.
"In a second, son," George murmured.
"Oh don't dally, take a seat, by all means. Penny will be joining us in-" Patrick was stopped short by a small, shy voice from the doorway.
"Papa?" They all turned and Blaine laid eyes on by far the prettiest little thing he had ever seen in his whole life. She was about his age, with thick blonde hair curling down to her waist. She was dressed in a sky blue frock with a white apron, and socks to her knees with dainty black slippers on her feet. Her skin was extremely pale, but her plump cheeks were rosy and her eyes were alive with fun and adventure. Blaine thought that she looked strikingly like what he imagined Alice to look like from 'Alice in Wonderland.'
"Penelope, come and say hello to our guests," Patrick ordered, ushering her up to Blaine and Helen. She placed her hands behind her back and inspected Blaine closely. Blaine allowed her to, his eyes wide as he stared at her inquisitive face. Eventually she leant away and put her hand out for him to shake.
"My name is Penelope Anderson. I'm nine. And you must be Blaine? It's nice to meet you Blaine. You're a lot shorter than I expected. Was the journey good? It must have been terribly hot at this time of year. Though the sun makes the scenery just lovely." Blaine took a moment to process the information, taking her hand and shaking it.
"Um...yeah, I'm Blaine," was all he could really say at that moment. She grinned a toothy grin and pulled him into the chair beside her at the table.
"You and I are going to be fantastic friends. I've already decided. Of course, I'll be the brains. You'll be the brawn. You look sturdy. Are you strong, Blaine? I bet you could lift a whole oak branch!" Again, Blaine sat in awe at the rate her mouth was moving.
"I-Uh..."
"Oh hush hush and eat up. After this I can show you the gardens, my favourite place in the whole world. Is that alright, Papa? Uncle George?" The adults had watched the entire conversation in amusement.
"Of course, my dear," Patrick said, setting down his fork. "Remember to stay away from the vegetable patch though. You know how Henry gets about that. He has enough trouble with those darn rabbits." Penny nodded eagerly and clapped her hands together.
"Oh goodie! Do you like the countryside, Blaine?" For once she had just asked one question, so Blaine took a deep breath.
"Oh yes. It's very different to the city."
"Your voice is strange."
"Penelope!" Patrick barked angrily. "Do not mock others! It's extremely rude!" She shrank back in her chair.
"Sorry, Papa. But it is so extremely odd."
"What did I say?" her father growled. Helen coughed gently and placed her hands in her lap.
"It's alright, Patrick. It's natural for her to be curious." Penny gazed past Blaine to the beautiful woman on his left.
"Are you my Auntie Helen?" Penny asked with a smile. Helen nodded.
"I am, dear. Our accents are American."
"Oh I knew that. I've just never heard such a way of speaking before. It's…quite lovely, actually." She blushed a little, before glancing back to her plate.

The rest of the meal went by smoothly, and most of the food was devoured and plates left empty. As soon as Blaine put his cutlery down, his hand was occupied by Penny's and she clutched it tightly.
"Come come, Blaine. Let's go exploring!" Blaine bid farewell to his parents and Uncle and allowed Penny to pull him out of the house and onto the lawn.
"You're very lucky, you know. This place is incredible!" He waved his arms about and pointed to the manor.
"I know," she replied modestly, twirling around on the spot. Her hand then latched onto Blaine's once more. "The gardens are this way. You'll have to stay with me so you don't get lost though. The gardens are very, very large. Plus, there are the orchards and the place over the river, but we're not allowed over there."
They walked hand in hand towards the back of the house, but Blaine was a curious sort of boy and couldn't help but ask.
"Why aren't we allowed over the river?"
"It's the forest. And it's completely overgrown. There are monsters in there, Papa says. Scary ones." Blaine shuddered.
"I don't like monsters."
"Neither do I. Now, Blaine, let me take you to see the gardens."

The gardens themselves were pristine, with beautiful, vibrant flowers dappled in the flower beds. Penny would often stop to sniff them and then thrust them under Blaine's nose, causing him to sneeze multiple times. The walled gardens were the most exciting, since there were secret doors all around - well, secret to everyone but Penny, who knew every nook and cranny of the entire place. Blaine trailed behind her like a puppy, eyes big as he took in his surroundings.
"Let's play a game!" Penny cried out of the blue, making Blaine jump.
"I like games!" he replied eagerly. "Hide and seek!"
"Oh that sounds perfect! I'll hide, you come seek, okay?" Though Blaine wanted to hide, he decided to be a gentleman and allow Penny to hide first.
"Quick, go! I'll count to thirty." Penny squeaked with glee and bounded off as Blaine turned to put his head against the wall and began to count. "...twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight...twenty nine and thirty! Ready or not here I come!" He span quickly and ran in the direction he was sure he had heard Penny dash off in. He came to a door in a wall and opened it carefully, prepared to find Penny there, yet only walked into another garden filled with trees and grass. It wasn't like any of the others. There were no flower beds, just flowers growing wildly. It was amazing. Blaine felt a breeze on the back of his neck and shivered, walking further into the garden. The breeze picked up, and his shirt flapped about annoyingly. He patted it back down and ran over to a tree, peering around it. No sign of Penny. He slumped against a low branch, wondering where she could be. He was sure he had heard her go this way. The wind tickled his ears and he giggled. It was like someone was breathing into his ear. It happened on the other one and he bounded away, frowning into the garden. No one was there. His feet disappeared beneath him and he tumbled back onto his bum. It hadn't hurt one bit, but he was still flustered. Something had knocked him over. Yet he had felt nothing but a strong gust of wind. Grumbling, Blaine picked himself up and brushed his pants down, flicking off the odd speck of mud. Something laughed. Well, he thought it was a laugh. It was like a thousand harmonious bells twinkling.
"Who's there?" he demanded, hands on his hips. The wind stilled. "I said, who's there? Show yourself!" Everything was silent and peaceful. Blaine rolled his eyes and started towards the door. He'd come back here again. He just had to find Penny first. He'd bring her. They hadn't explored this place together yet. He closed the door behind him and spotted Penny by the other wall, gazing up into the tree. When she saw Blaine, he saw her eyebrows lower and she sped over.
"Blaine! Where did you go? I was waiting for ages!"
"I found the really nice garden with all the trees and wild flowers and things!"
"Wild flowers? There are no wild flowers here! Wild flowers are only in the forest!"
"But I saw them in that garden." Blaine turned and pointed at the door. Well, he would have pointed at the door if it had been there. It was gone!
"Blaine that's just a wall. Are you ill? Daddy says that people hallucinate when they're ill sometimes."
"But I really saw it! There was a door just here! A big green one!" He ran and put his hands where the door once was. All he could feel was the brickwork. "I don't understand!" Penny placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Come along, Blaine. I…think you need a drink." Blaine let her take him away, but he didn't take his eyes off of that wall until it was out of sight when the turned the corner.

The evening drew in slowly, with the sun setting below the hills of the horizon which Blaine was looking out upon from the nursery window. His hand slumped under his cheek, staring hard into the gardens, looking for something. He didn't know quite what he was looking for, not at all, actually, but he knew it was something. Penny stepped up beside him and gazed out.
"We have such a pretty home," she mused dreamily, looking up at the stars fading into the sky.
"Yes, you really do," Blaine replied. His mind flickered back to his garden - he called it 'his' because, it was. No one else seemed to know about it. Therefore, he presumed he owned it somewhat. "So you really don't believe me about that garden?" Penny chuckled and turned to him.
"You really are ditzy, aren't you? There's no door on that wall! Never has been! Oh Blaine." She rifled her hand through his hair and skipped out of the door. Lucy poked her head through it.
"Blaine! Oh, there you are." She cast her eyes over to the window seat. "Bed time!" Blaine huffed, but bounded off and followed Lucy and the fast disappearing Penny down the hall to another room. Two huge beds didn't fill half of the space, yet when Blaine jumped onto his own he looked minuscule compared to it. Penny stretched out on hers.
"This isn't my room, you know. But Papa says that you shan't be alone whilst you are staying here. I agreed, and offered that I should sleep in here with you." She smiled at him warmly. Blaine decided he liked Penny a lot. In fact, he had decided that hours ago.
"Thank you."
"Not at all! This room is far bigger than mine, anyway. I've always liked it."

That night, Blaine lay awake in his bed, staring at the beam of light coming through the gap in the curtains. He slithered to the floor, the surface icy, though it was summer. He padded across the room, slinking behind the drapes and shuffling himself onto the sill. The moon was full, and high in the sky, illuminating the earth below in a dull, white light. Leaning up, Blaine unlatched the window and pushed it open, making sure he wouldn't topple out. The air was still and warm, and a fox cried somewhere in the distance. His head rested on the wall, his eyes shining with the reflection of the moon. A breeze swooped across his face. He itched his chin. The wind tickled his toes. He wiggled them. The curtains rustled behind him, and he peered back, then shrugged it off. He sat there for a while, the wind blowing softly through his hair. When he crawled back into bed, he slept peacefully in a blanket of warm air. Outside, the entire time he had been sitting on the sill, not a single leaf had fluttered amongst the trees.

"Blaine! Wake up! Blaine! It's almost eleven! Blaine!" Something was bouncing on top of him, pummelling him lightly through the sheets. He blinked awake gradually, moving his hands up to rub his eyes.
"Penny?" he asked groggily, his voice scratching from where he had been lying on his back. A bright face appeared in his vision, giggling.
"You've overslept by a milestone, little Anderson." She prodded his nose with her fingertip, which he wrinkled in response and poked his tongue out.
"I was warm, thank you very much. This bed is so soft and just..." His eyes drooped to a close once more, but when the covers were ripped off of his small frame he gasped and sat bolt upright. "You're mean."
"You're lazy!" Blaine glared at her, then placed his feet into his slippers and was finally out of bed. Penny was already dressed and her hair was primped and pulled back under a black headband. He yawned, shuffling across the room to pick up some fresh clothes from the drawer. He dressed quickly, and his stomach rumbled anxiously. They made their way down to the breakfast room - a large, open plan room with huge glass windows looking out onto the lawn. Blaine's father was sitting reading the paper at the far end of the table, with Patrick beside him cutting into his bacon. Helen held her fork daintily in her hand on his other side, speaking softly to her husband. Blaine coughed and the three adults glanced up, smiles appearing on all of their faces.
"Morning you two!" George grinned, motioning at them to take seats. Penny skipped up beside Patrick, a plate placed before her laden with delicious breakfast food.

It's best to take time now, to save for an awkward conversation later, that Penny's mother passed when Penny was just one year old. She had been travelling in a coach to the nearby town when the bridge over the river had collapsed due to terrible fixtures, and the horses, Penny's mother and the footman were lost to the icy, raging waters. Since then, the bridge was rebuilt and reinforced, and not an accident has happened on it since - well, not to the extent of the tragedy of Penny's mother. Penny never truly knew her mother, but pictures around the house allow her to see just how beautiful a woman she was. Her father tells her wonderful stories about her. Patrick had to raise Penny alone, and though a strict man with a firm temperament, he loves her dearly and will protect and care for her for the rest of his life.

Blaine edged onto a chair at his mothers side, grabbing a piece of toast and wolfing it down. George eyed him.
"Blaine, I know you're hungry, but try to eat nicely, please." Blaine gulped down his mouthful and blushed.
"Sorry Daddy," he mumbled, returning to his toast, but nibbling it instead. When his plate appeared before him, he licked his lips, but ate politely and quietly. George lay his paper down and sighed.
"Nothing exciting happening in the world at the moment. So, what are you two up to today?" His question was aimed at the children. Penny swallowed and smiled.
"My horse riding lesson is at noon, which means Blaine will have to occupy himself for a few hours." She turned to Blaine. "Is that alright?" Blaine nodded. His mind trailed back to his garden. He would certainly be exploring THAT again, if he could find that door.
"Perfectly!" he replied.

As Penny left for the stables, Blaine took to wandering into the gardens alone, his hands tucked inside his pockets. A bird swooped low overhead, twittering and settling in one of the willow trees that was growing by the river. As Blaine passed through a garden, a large movement in a flower bed made him leap in fright and scarper behind a nearby bush. The creature rose up onto its hind legs, and Blaine was relieved to see it was just a man. When the man turned, however, fear returned to Blaine's chest. He had a hard face, his mouth curled into a sneer. His chin was covered in grey stubble, his hair under his flat green cap even greyer. With a hoe in his hand, he looked absolutely formidable.
"Wha're ya doin', ya little tyke?" he asked gruffly, a thick northern accent rolling from his tongue.
"I...I...I..." Blaine stammered, his knees beginning to tremble. The man chuckled, his entire face suddenly contorting into a friendly expression and instantly Blaine felt more at ease.
"Come o'er 'ere, lemme look at ya," he beckoned. Gulping, Blaine walked towards the towering figure, who, when he stopped in his shadow, raised a large, furry eyebrow. "Well now. Ya must be the youngest Anderson?" Blaine nodded shyly, his head hanging. "Chin up, lad! Wha're ya doin'? Yer a gentleman, aren't ya?" At that, Blaine stood up rod straight, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Of course I am!"
"Wha's that funny accen' ya 'ave goin' on ther?"
"American, sir." The man laughed loudly, clutching his stomach and throwing his head back.
"Sir? Na one 'ere has e'er called me 'sir' afore!" Blaine instantly blushed and hung his head again. "Na need ta be ashamed, lad. It's quite nice, actually." The man lodged his hoe in the soil, and placed his hands on his hips. "Mah name is Henry, care ta tell me yers?"
"Blaine, si- Henry..." They shook hands, and Henry picked up his hoe and went back to turning the soil. "What do you do here?"
"I'm the groundskeeper." Nodding in understanding, Blaine sat down on the grass and watched Henry work.
"You've done a wonderful job with the gardens," he mused, and Henry leant round to look at him, bowing his hat in a thank you. He wore a proud smile.
"Why thank ya muchly! I does try ma 'ardest, I do." Blaine couldn't keep the question back any longer.
"Do you know of the garden with the wild flowers and the long grass?" The hoe fell.
"Wild fl'ers? Wild fl'ers? Where?" Henry looked incredibly anxious, his eyes darting in all directions.
"Oh..." Blaine sighed in annoyance. Henry didn't know either. "Nothing...I was joking..." Henry's brow furrowed angrily.
"D'un joke like tha' ta me, lad. Gave me such a awful fright! Go play now, let me be." He shooed Blaine away, and Blaine happily obliged, dashing into the door that lead to the walled gardens. He breathed out in relief, leaning on the wall. He wasn't quite sure about Henry yet. He couldn't decide if he liked him or not. The wind twirled around his ankles, then travelled up into his hair. He shivered, and continued walking to where his door was. When he reached it, there the door was, in plain sight of anyone who so happened to walk by. His hand brushed the cool brass of the handle, and he opened it slowly, and something pushed him gently in the back, making him stumble slightly into the garden. The door closed, and Blaine took in the garden once more - the young trees, the fact he couldn't see the opposite wall, the high, floaty grass and the beautiful wild flowers that sprang up in various places. The grass whooshed and it looked like something was heading towards him as the grass parted. He gasped in fear, backing away, but nothing appeared. The laugh again. It echoed against the walls. Now Blaine was convinced he wasn't alone. Yet...this other presence - whatever it was - didn't make him feel threatened or like he should run, but he felt comfortable. Another laugh.
"Let me see you," Blaine had meant to say aloud, but it came out as barely a whisper. He swallowed, and tried again. "Let me see you." His tone was firm and demanding, yet not too harsh that it would scare the creature away. The trees rustled one last time. Then, everything fell silent. Blaine glanced about, desperate to see his pursuer. Yet nothing moved. Not a single leaf flickered, not a blade of grass trembled. Blaine stepped warily into the garden, approaching the nearest tree, and holding onto it, still looked around.
"Hi!" came a twinkling voice from above, and Blaine squeaked, bounding away and staring into the branches. Nothing was there. He frowned.
"I know you're there," he sighed, rolling his eyes. Slowly, a pair of the brightest, most crystal-blue eyes faded in against the dark canopy of leaves. It was followed by a slender, small body, with tousled chestnut hair and a pair of ragged green shorts. He flitted behind the trunk of the tree, peering around it, down at the wide-eyed boy standing below. Blaine tried to speak but words failed him. He had never seen such a beautiful, dainty creature. How had the boy been invisible? And how was he so high up in the tree? Blaine's mouth hung agape, in complete awe and shock.
"Hi," the boy - was it even a boy? Was it even human? - said again, in a tiny voice that Blaine barely heard.
"...Um...hello?" Blaine replied, raising his hand in a polite wave.
"Don't be afraid," the other cooed softly. It took Blaine a second to notice that the boy had the same accent as him. "Please...don't be afraid..." he repeated, letting go of the tree. Blaine screamed, afraid the boy would fall to his death, but instead he hovered, and descended gracefully, landing lightly on the grass before Blaine. When he stopped, a pair of translucent wings settled behind his back. Blaine was lost for words.
"You're a...you're a..."
"A fairy?" the fairy smirked, admiring Blaine's expression.
"...Yeah...that." The fairy giggled and Blaine leant back, drinking the appearance of the fairy in. He was about Penny's height, and he looked about Blaine's age. He had a magnificent pair of wings tucked behind him, and his eyes...gosh...Blaine could stare into them for forever. They were huge and round, and as blue as the sky on a clear summer day. The fairy giggled once more and disappeared, and Blaine felt wind swirl around him, before the fairy stood before him once more.
"You're the breeze!" Blaine gasped, a hand clapping to his mouth. The fairy smiled.
"Some of it. Not all of it."
"But...but...I...how...you're real! A real fairy!" It raised an eyebrow.
"Of course I'm real," he said indignantly, sniffing haughtily as if Blaine has insulted him.
"Sorry! It's just...I've never seen...never even...not a real live fairy..." The fairy grinned widely, spinning on his heel and winking.
"Well, I'm a real fairy! Nice to meet you, Blaine!" He floated into the air and Blaine watched him fly about.
"How do you know my name?" The fairy sank back into the tree, his legs swinging from the branch.
"I know lots of things. I know you're Penny's cousin, and that you've existed for eight years, and that you love storybooks."
"But how do you know all of these things?" Blaine suddenly felt very vulnerable. The fairy shrugged.
"I hang about the manor often. More so since you arrived."
"Why?"
"Gods, you do ask multiple questions, don't you?" Blaine blushed and the fairy jumped down nimbly from the branch he was sat on. "You're new. You caught my attention. Plus, you're such an adorable little thing." He poked Blaine's nose and laughed, then did an airborne back flip.
"You talk to me like you're an adult. Stop that! You're just a boy!" The fairy sighed, drifting back in front of Blaine.
"I'm sorry. You're right. I am still young, in fairy years."
"How old is that?"
"I'm twenty in human years," the fairy exclaimed proudly, puffing out his chest. Blaine gawped.
"But that's so OLD!"
"Perhaps to you. But fairy time is very different to human time. One human year to us is like half a year to you. I'm about ten in fairy years, if I had to calculate it like that. We can live for hundreds of years, though. The first few years of our life are very fast, but our growth slows down ever so much when we get older."
"Oh, okay...but...I still...you can fly!" The fairy squealed excitedly and zipped up into the sky, then back down again.
"That I can." He shook his wings and Blaine leant his arm out, but hesitated when the fairy shifted. He looked up into his eyes. The fairy looked thoughtful, then nodded. Blaine extended his arm, running his fingers across the surface. The fairy shivered. The wings felt like silk, and shimmering dust fell onto Blaine's fingers with every stroke.
"Be careful," the fairy warned. "They're extremely delicate." Blaine withdrew his hand. "And very sensitive."
"Sorry...wait...you can control the wind, can't you...?" Blaine had so many questions. They were packed inside his brain, desperate to be answered. In response, the fairy flicked his wrist and a gust of wind made the tree shake.
"The air," the fairy corrected. "I'm a Sylph."
"What's that?"
"I'm an air fairy. That's the name for us. We are the Sylph."
"Do you have a name? A name that's just your own?" The Sylph went invisible, then appeared in the tree once more.
"You won't be able to pronounce it."
"Can't you shorten it?" The Sylph looked at him contemplatively, then exhaled and swung from the branch by the backs of his knees. His upside-down face blinked at Blaine. A smile stretched onto his lips.
"Kurt. You can call me Kurt."

~ Authors Note ~

I hope you liked this first chapter – I don't know if the others will be as long as this, or, depending on how this gets written, even as short as this! Who knows? Haha! Well. I'm not sure when I'll be updating, but I'll try to keep it regular. I promise! If not, nag at me in my message box. I'll get back to this shit stat. Hehe :)

Reviews are amore. They are loved and they are cherished – each and every one. I truly appreciate them! I'll make Kurt blink his big blue eyes at you! You can't resist those now, can you? Nope, you certainly can't. So go review! Go go go! X)