A Basket of Wishes
By: Usagi_serenity_tsukino_hime
Prologue
English Countryside October 31st
Panting with exertion, Virgil stopped running and glanced over his shoulder. Across the moonlit meadow glowed the lights of his cottage, where his beloved wife lay dying. Virgil swore he could hear her cries of agony, and vowed to help her at any cost.
Fear fired his determination. He fled into the black woods ahead, instantly blinded by the darkness. Shivering with apprehension and cold, he eased his pace and forced to mind every notion he'd ever heard about the Wee Folk.
"Fairy ring," he whispered. "I must find a ring."
Eyes cast to the shadowed forest floor, he searched for evidence of a flowing circle. Long moments passed; his brow began to bead with the sweat of desperation, and a tinge of hopelessness slowed the frantic beat of his heart.
"Little People," he called, his voice barely louder than the drifting of a cloud. "I beg your help."
He saw nothing. Heard nothing.
Covering his face with his hands, he fell to his knees at the foot of an ancient oak. Stones and gnarled twigs cut into his legs, but he could feel only the painful knowledge that his sweet Peregrine was going to die.
And with her would die their unborn child.
He wept, his tears seeping through his chilled fingers and splashing to the ground. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he perceived eerie changes occurring all around him. The cool night breeze warmed as if heated by sunbeams of high noon. The rustling of the oak, birch, and elder branches became almost musical, a soft, stirring melody that sounded like hundreds of flutes playing in harmony. From between the narrow spaces of his fingers, Virgil saw lights. Among the mist-dampened leaves, the sparkles swirled in a small, perfect circle.
They were here. They'd come.
The fairies.
"Virgil," a small male voice sang out.
Virgil took great care to stay outside the edge of the circle, for he knew that if he stepped inside the dazzling ring he would be pulled into the world of faerie with little chance of escaping. Crouching lower to the ground, he strained to see the fairies. He saw nothing but the leaping shimmers of light, but remembered suddenly that the Wee Folk could quickly turn themselves into human form.
He edged away.
"Speak now, Virgil," the voice demanded, "or the aid you seek will be swiftly denied you."
Virgil took note of the authority that laced every word the tiny voice spoke. "My wife," he blurted out, more tears slipping to the ground. "Pegeen. The babe---the babe won't come. It' been near two days, it has. Please."
"What would you be willing to sacrifice to save the child and it's mother?" the voice asked.
"Anything," Virgil answered impulsively, clasping his hands together as if in prayer. "Anything you ask."
He saw the sparkles come together on the dark ground to form one large ball of gleam, and he realized the Little People were discussing the bargain. Silence ensued, and then the lights separated once more.
"In return for the life of your wife and child," the voice finally said, "I demand a betrothal. One of your descendants must wed one of mine. Do you agree to these terms, Virgil Trinity?"
Virgil took not a second to ponder the fairy's stipulations. "Yes, oh, yes!"
The lights glowing among the leaves grew brighter, so bright that the Virgil could not bear to look at them any longer. He shut his eyes.
"Your plea is granted," the small voice announced. "Pegeen is delivered of a fine healthy girl."
Virgil shook with happiness, but he didn't respond. The Wee Folk shunned gratitude.
"Go now, Virgil Trinity, and raise your daughter, but speak of our bargain to no one," the fairy instructed. "Although you will have naught to do with its fulfillment, you may be sure that the promise you have made on this night shall come to pass."
His eyes still shut, Virgil rose from the ground, raced out of the woods, and bolted across the wide, grassy field. When he finally arrived in the front yard of his cottage, the proof of fairy magic lilted into his ears with the lusty wails of his healthy newborn and Pegeen's cries of joy.
Clapping his hands together, Virgil laughed and danced around the yard and saw that in the distant woods the fairy lights continued to shimmer faintly.
In return for the lives of your wife and child, I demand a betrothal.
Still dancing, Virgil nodded as he remembered the fairy's words.
A betrothal.
Suddenly, his dancing stopped, his laughter faded. Now that he was assured of Pegeen's and his daughter's well-being, the true significance of his agreement with the fairies came to him at last.
He groped for the fence and leaned against a wooden post, and his forehead beaded with sweat once more. Was it his infant daughter who would one day marry into the enchanted world? Would it be one of his grandchildren? Great grandchildren? He could not begin to guess, for the fairy voice had given no hint whatsoever.
All he knew for certain was that the rash and desperate promise he'd given only a short while before had irrevocably doomed someone of Trinity descent to the powerful clutches Faerie.
By: Usagi_serenity_tsukino_hime
Prologue
English Countryside October 31st
Panting with exertion, Virgil stopped running and glanced over his shoulder. Across the moonlit meadow glowed the lights of his cottage, where his beloved wife lay dying. Virgil swore he could hear her cries of agony, and vowed to help her at any cost.
Fear fired his determination. He fled into the black woods ahead, instantly blinded by the darkness. Shivering with apprehension and cold, he eased his pace and forced to mind every notion he'd ever heard about the Wee Folk.
"Fairy ring," he whispered. "I must find a ring."
Eyes cast to the shadowed forest floor, he searched for evidence of a flowing circle. Long moments passed; his brow began to bead with the sweat of desperation, and a tinge of hopelessness slowed the frantic beat of his heart.
"Little People," he called, his voice barely louder than the drifting of a cloud. "I beg your help."
He saw nothing. Heard nothing.
Covering his face with his hands, he fell to his knees at the foot of an ancient oak. Stones and gnarled twigs cut into his legs, but he could feel only the painful knowledge that his sweet Peregrine was going to die.
And with her would die their unborn child.
He wept, his tears seeping through his chilled fingers and splashing to the ground. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he perceived eerie changes occurring all around him. The cool night breeze warmed as if heated by sunbeams of high noon. The rustling of the oak, birch, and elder branches became almost musical, a soft, stirring melody that sounded like hundreds of flutes playing in harmony. From between the narrow spaces of his fingers, Virgil saw lights. Among the mist-dampened leaves, the sparkles swirled in a small, perfect circle.
They were here. They'd come.
The fairies.
"Virgil," a small male voice sang out.
Virgil took great care to stay outside the edge of the circle, for he knew that if he stepped inside the dazzling ring he would be pulled into the world of faerie with little chance of escaping. Crouching lower to the ground, he strained to see the fairies. He saw nothing but the leaping shimmers of light, but remembered suddenly that the Wee Folk could quickly turn themselves into human form.
He edged away.
"Speak now, Virgil," the voice demanded, "or the aid you seek will be swiftly denied you."
Virgil took note of the authority that laced every word the tiny voice spoke. "My wife," he blurted out, more tears slipping to the ground. "Pegeen. The babe---the babe won't come. It' been near two days, it has. Please."
"What would you be willing to sacrifice to save the child and it's mother?" the voice asked.
"Anything," Virgil answered impulsively, clasping his hands together as if in prayer. "Anything you ask."
He saw the sparkles come together on the dark ground to form one large ball of gleam, and he realized the Little People were discussing the bargain. Silence ensued, and then the lights separated once more.
"In return for the life of your wife and child," the voice finally said, "I demand a betrothal. One of your descendants must wed one of mine. Do you agree to these terms, Virgil Trinity?"
Virgil took not a second to ponder the fairy's stipulations. "Yes, oh, yes!"
The lights glowing among the leaves grew brighter, so bright that the Virgil could not bear to look at them any longer. He shut his eyes.
"Your plea is granted," the small voice announced. "Pegeen is delivered of a fine healthy girl."
Virgil shook with happiness, but he didn't respond. The Wee Folk shunned gratitude.
"Go now, Virgil Trinity, and raise your daughter, but speak of our bargain to no one," the fairy instructed. "Although you will have naught to do with its fulfillment, you may be sure that the promise you have made on this night shall come to pass."
His eyes still shut, Virgil rose from the ground, raced out of the woods, and bolted across the wide, grassy field. When he finally arrived in the front yard of his cottage, the proof of fairy magic lilted into his ears with the lusty wails of his healthy newborn and Pegeen's cries of joy.
Clapping his hands together, Virgil laughed and danced around the yard and saw that in the distant woods the fairy lights continued to shimmer faintly.
In return for the lives of your wife and child, I demand a betrothal.
Still dancing, Virgil nodded as he remembered the fairy's words.
A betrothal.
Suddenly, his dancing stopped, his laughter faded. Now that he was assured of Pegeen's and his daughter's well-being, the true significance of his agreement with the fairies came to him at last.
He groped for the fence and leaned against a wooden post, and his forehead beaded with sweat once more. Was it his infant daughter who would one day marry into the enchanted world? Would it be one of his grandchildren? Great grandchildren? He could not begin to guess, for the fairy voice had given no hint whatsoever.
All he knew for certain was that the rash and desperate promise he'd given only a short while before had irrevocably doomed someone of Trinity descent to the powerful clutches Faerie.