"... has an interesting taste in this era. Personally I brew my tea with less sugar and more sprigs of chamomile and lavender."
It was hot chocolate.
Madeline drummed her fingers overtop the kitchen table, resisting the urge to drag her hands down her face and groan in frustration. Despite bringing the strange woman home and listening to her twitter on about pixies and Fae and the mountains of Munster, she still had no clue who the woman was.
"... uh, sure." She drawled. Madeline didn't have the heart to tell her it was hot chocolate. "So who exactly are you? I mean how did you do..." she gestured vaguely in the air. "That."
The woman frowned. "I don't understand. Is this a form of sign language? I've heard of the concept, but I'm afraid that was invented long after my stay in the Darklands."
Madeline stiffened. Thoughts of Eli ran through her mind. Her heart clenched in guilt, if this wasn't a prank... "The Darklands?"
The woman (creature?) frowned at her cup. "You don't know? I'd assumed all humans would be aware. Gunmar may have seemed a moot threat after Deya's great battle, but do humans truly not teach this? Your royalty must be utter buffoons to forgo teaching their people such important history."
"We're a democracy."
The woman either didn't hear or pretended not to. "Tell me," she said. "Where is the nearest castle? I will fly there to ask for safe passage to my homelands."
"We're a democracy." Madeline repeated. "There aren't any castles in America, and humans can't fly."
"I am no human." A sad look filled her guest's eyes. "I am a Faerie, the last of my kind." She stirred her drink with slim finger, seemingly oblivious to the scalding temperature of the drink as she stared into the swirling liquid.
"It's pixies! Faeries are almost extinct!"
"A faerie." Madeline breathed, remembering the time she'd bandaged up Eli's arm. He might have been eight then, but he knew. He'd always known. She felt like throwing up. What kind of mother was she? He'd only been trying to warn her and she'd… Madeline shook her head, gripping her own cup like a lifeline. "Faeries… pixies… these things are real." her voice cracked.
The Faerie scowled. "I do not wish to speak of those vile creatures more than strictly necessary. Those fiends are responsible for the massacre of my entire people. They do not deserve the mention of name."
Madeline pursed her lips. "I'm sorry for your loss." It was one of those social cues she was obligated to follow. She didn't mean it, not really. She felt pity for the woman, but she couldn't begin to understand it. She hardly knew this woman.
The Faerie knew this. "No, you are not. It was hundreds of years before your birth. You could not have down them as I did. It does not those Lon deceased. My tears have been dried long ago. Although I have long suspected, or rather hoped, that my wayward friend Morrígan, the pale beauty, might have survived the massacre…" her voice trailed off. "But no. That is impossible. My people are long gone."
The silence was awkward, pierced only by the stirring of hot chocolate, and the spluttering cough when Madeline forgot about the temperature of the liquid and tried to gulp it down.
"Áine."
Madeline jolted up in her seat at the sudden voice. "What?"
"You wanted to know who I was, yes? My name is Áine, the queen… former queen of the Faeries of Munster." She shifted in her seat. "I have not been the most gracious guest. It seems my understanding of human customs is greatly outdated." The admission looked almost painful.
Madeline wasn't sure what to say, so she just looked to a random spot behind Áine's shoulder. Áine spun around, thinking the gaze was meaningful. The Faerie's eye caught on a framed photo. It was a photo of Eli in seventh grade, posing in front of his History Day project on 'The Importance of Norse Mythology in Modern Culture'. Eli, having gotten his first phone for his birthday the month before, had insisted on taking a 'selfie' with his mom.
"Is that your son?" Áine asked. Madeline nodded. The Faerie frowned. "Where is his father?"
"I take Eli during the week." At Áine's scrunched eyebrows, she added. "We're divorced." The look of confusion persisted. "As in, not married anymore."
Áine didn't look like she understood, but she mouthed 'ah' anyway. It was obvious to both that there would be a gap in understanding. They came from different worlds. Different times, different cultures, different species.
"I too have children. Many in fact. 86 daughters and 97 sons. I have lived millennia as the queen of a great people, but never have I felt greater pride than in watching my children grow. Perhaps you have heard of them. They call themselves wizards."
Madeline raised an eyebrow, but she didn't comment. She'd heard weirder things that day. "So you're a mother too?"
"Bet you were…" Madeline sighed. "Bet you were a great one, huh." Her thoughts roamed to Eli. The past few weeks, every fight, every hurtled insult that had felt like a blade in Madeline's side, when really… she was the one at fault. Eli didn't lie. Why would he? He was the kindest, most trustworthy boy she knew, and she may have been slightly biased, but you could ask anyone at school. His best friend was a stuffed octopus, and his idea of fun was going to the library to look up the history of ghost sightings in North America. He lied sometimes, sure, but he was a kid. Madeline could count each time he lied because he was an absolutely horrible lier. So why hadn't she trusted him? He had been telling the truth the entire time, and she took him to the psychiatrist. Eli… what had she done?
"Hell of a lot better than me anyway." Madeline sighed.
Áine snorted. "I beg to differ. I was an absolutely horrible mother."
"Oh, shut up." Madeline groaned "Can't you see the pity party I'm having over here?"
"Pity par-" Áine stopped at Madeline's glare, shoulders stiffening. "Er, do continue." Madeline slumped her head in her hands and groaned. Áine opened her mouth then closed it again, as though deciding whether or not to speak.
"If it makes you feel any better-" Madeline lifted her head. Áine chose to ignore the glare this time, clearing her throat. "If it makes you feel any better, I too had my failings. My son, Merlin once warned me of a time where Faerie would be for naught and humans would rule the land. I ignored his words, for while prophets may be of any class or species, they are rare to be found. My people died for my ignorance. Whatever has happened between you and your son, is it worse than this?"
A pregnant pause "..no."
"Then what is broken now, fix it." The words could have been profound, or at least somewhat helpful. Alas, quotable speech is rare and usually found in books and movies where it was deliberated for months before hand. Real conversation isn't a pretty, so it should be no one's surprise when Áine added:
"I don't suppose you have a guest room?"
Sorry about the html issues, I hope this is readable
