It started, as most stories like this one do, in a kingdom so long ago that the ideals and culture of the country make it seem very far away indeed. Near a city nestled next to the winding river Seine in France there was a thick forest of trees. No one from the village dared to venture into these woods because of the tales that had grown as tall as the towering oaks. Stay on the path, they said, or you'll get eaten by a wolf. Be kind to old women, for they may secretly be a fairy who will do you a good turn. Avoid the circles of mushrooms or you might find yourself taken by faeries and returning to the city years later, everyone you knew and loved having grown old or died. There were actually several stories about the fae, many of them cultivated by the faeries themselves. In return, the faeries were largely left alone except for invitations to grand ceremonies, coronations, christenings, and the like by the elite. It was a great honor for the rich to have faeries bless the occasion and offer gifts, while the faeries themselves enjoyed the lavish feasts and the opportunity to strike a few bargains with the greedy nobility. No mortal ever understood the true price of the bargains until it was too late, but of course that was the fun of it.
There were 12 of them. Once they had been rebellious, mischievous. Once they had defied their father and stolen away men every night to dance until they wore holes in their shoes. Once the eldest of the 12 had loved the mortal man who had found out their secret. He was clever like she was and showed her a happiness she had not truly felt before. Once she had done everything she could to save him from mortality and her efforts turned to bitterness that left lines on her face and aged her into a crone. Her blue hair was now white, her pale blue skin covered with a white sheen. She took a dark pleasure these days in mocking her sisters, still so hopeful and carefree. Naive. She resented them. She envied them. Lynette mused on all of this as she sat alone in her hovel, watching an insect make its way up a curling orange leaf on the windowsill. Autumn always made her pensive, her mood black as the early night. Today she felt particularly somber. A memory came to her, floating through the window with her sisters' laughter as they gossiped about the latest party and the tricks they might play. Their talk was interrupted by Étoile.
"Did you hear," Étoile was saying, waving a letter in the air, "our cousin Puck in England turned a boy's head into that of an ass!"
"No!" gasped Sylvie. She clapped her hands and jumped, her green hair coming loose from its long braid. "Tell us more!"
"Well," Étoile read from the letter and tossing her white-blonde hair, "it was a trick our cousin played on our Aunt Titania because Uncle Oberon was mad at her. This boy was madly in love with her and instead of spurning him, she chose to encourage his advances. Puck made it so she had to fall in love with the first thing she saw when she woke up, which was the boy who now had a donkey's head. Puck gave the full story in a dream to a poet in return for his plays being renowned worldwide. Of course, he didn't tell the poet that would only happen after his death!"
"La!" laughed Aveline, "what fools these mortals be!"
"Exactly what Puck said!" Étoile joined in the laughter.
Lynette smiled in spite of herself, bringing herself back to the present. She took a spiderweb from the windowsill, started weaving it idly as she muttered an incantation to keep her mind sharp, her body from frailty, her powers full. It was a battle she was winning-for now. But she felt a subtle change in the wind, more than the chill of winter. She'd heard whispers from the mortal world. Philosophers creating new ideas. Magicians who called themselves scientists, who used mystical materials called microscopes and swore they could unravel the mysteries of nature. Even coming up with fanciful stories that the earth moved around the sun. More foolish bluster. She and her sisters had spent centuries learning how to harness the whims of nature. Still, she couldn't shake a foreboding that their time was coming to an end.
Lynette's reverie was interrupted by Rowan, the youngest sister. They had always had a special bond, a mostly friendly rivalry. Rowan's bright red hair made a waterfall on the windowsill as she leaned her forearms on it, chin on her hands.
"Gay and merry as ever, I see," she said teasingly.
Lynette grunted. "What do you want, Rowan?" she said.
"I have here an invitation to a christening," Rowan replied, dancing to the door and putting a hand on the doorframe. "Kings and queens from neighboring countries will be in attendance. There will even be some magicians in the new style there. I know they're your favorite!"
"Magicians, tricksters," Lynette spat. "They all want the same things in the end. Boring. What use is it anymore?"
Rowan walked in and yanked open a drawer, which spilled gilded envelopes all over the floor. "And when was the last time you answered one of these?" she demanded. "This sitting indoors is doing you no good. You're brooding too much! You need to practice your powers. Already I'm almost as strong as you." This last was said almost mockingly.
"Never," said Lynette with a small laugh. "I don't dance anymore, but perhaps a stretch of my powers would do me good. Hand it over, I'll consider it."
Rowan grinned, pulling a packet of invitations out of her bodice and removing the ribbon."Let's see here, Étoile, Sylvie, here's mine, Chauntelle, Aveline, Merlina, Ivett, Rosalie, Celestine, Violette, Folie, um…hm."
"What is it?" Lynette asked.
"I'm sure it's nothing. I probably just missed yours. Let me count again." Her lips moved as she shuffled the envelopes once, twice, three times, her expression growing more and more worried. She slowly looked up with eyes wide at Lynette, who was smiling darkly, eyes glittering.
"So," she said slowly. "They think I am to be forgotten? Rotting in a drawer somewhere until I fade away?"
"Lynette, I'm sure it was just a mistake. If you-"
"Oh yes, it was a mistake. Don't worry, I'll go. Tell our sisters you can go on without me, I want my first entrance in a while to be grand."
"Lynette, please don't do anything rash."
"Rash? Me? My dear girl, I wouldn't dream of it. Now, don't we all need to get ready?"
"We'll…see you there, then," Rowan said uncertainly at first, then rallying. "I'm ever so glad you're coming. We'll all have such fun!"
"Oh yes I will have fun," muttered Lynette darkly after she'd gone. "No one forgets a fairy."
