(Author's note: Let's be real, if sugar apples and fairies existed in the twenty-first century, capitalism would have taken over everything and mass-produced both sugar and sculptures. Except to a small number of people, sugar sculptures have lost all sacred meaning or symbolism, just being seen as purely decorative desserts. The vast quantity of sculptures is made by machines in factories now, with hand-crafted sculptures being both rare and very expensive.
Now there's the question of the fairies. What I imagine happening is, since fairies can't seem to reproduce on their own, and can't be willed into existence by a corporation, their numbers would naturally decrease as more forests, fields, and land is seized by humans and destroyed for their own means. More pollution and less animals around to see fairies being born also means a decrease in their population. Realistically humans would try to increase their numbers, but when that failed, the remaining fairies would also be super rare and expensive, especially warrior fairies. Only the wealthy and elite could own one (or more than one if you're mega-rich), so fairies function as a sort of status symbol now. They have the same rights as pets- you can't legally torture or kill them on a whim, but they are your property and can be bought or sold as their owners' desire.
Sugar artisans are famous, just like well-known chefs in our world. Some host tv shows and post on social media. The best of the best, however, are quiet figures who work for wealthy, powerful clients like monarchs and heads of state. It's still a men's-only profession, but only culturally; women can legally become Silver Sugar Masters if they want. It's just insanely hard for them to go anywhere in the industry.
I'm changing Anne Halford's mother to father, who was one of these Silver Sugar Masters who worked for the country's elite. Anne was his only child from an illegitimate union in his younger years. As such, she took her maternal last name and was raised away from the city's court. I've also aged Anne up to twenty-one; she was eighteen when her father died. He left everything to her, saying that when she reached maturity, she would receive all her inheritance. She's rich, but not stupidly so, and doesn't have any other family. Her father had one condition in his will that she buy herself a warrior fairy, to act as a guide and guardian in his absence.
This story starts in a major city in the world. I picture it to be a cross between Toronto and London (UK), but it can be New York, LA, Washington, Paris, Chicago, Barcelona, etc. Just imagine this is happening wherever you want. Although the countries are different than ours.
Told from Anne's P.O.V. Enjoy!)
Highland, modern day:
My eyes fluttered open on their own accord; I didn't bother setting my alarm last night. Despite my monthly allowance being quite sizable now, I didn't upgrade out of my one-bedroom apartment. I did want a queen-size bed though, which was a god sent. Sitting up on my bed and yawning, the side of my hand wiped the sleep out of my eyes. Ugh today…. Today I'd have to go downtown to meet with Dad's solicitor. Now that I'm twenty-one, everything will finally be left up to me.
My mornings were routine by now. I got out of bed, opened the curtains, brushed my teeth and washed my face, put on the kettle, and checked my phone. There was no news waiting for me- there was never any news. Oh well, not that I'm complaining. Then, while sitting at my desk with a bowl of fruit, a green smoothie, and some freshly brewed tea, I scrolled through some pages of upcoming sugar artisans. Their creations were always so beautiful and full of life…. Many of the smaller- and unpaid- artisans were women on the app, which brought me an amount of joy to see. Yeah, women still weren't monetarily compensated for their talents, but it was nice to see them finally get their sculptures out there for the public to enjoy…. I couldn't see myself doing that personally; my art was still very private, but I was happy for them.
Yawning again, I finished up with breakfast, changed out of my pyjamas, and grabbed my bag. My door locked on its own when it closed, so I always double-checked if I had my key. Letting the door slam shut, I was about to head off when a familiar voice caught my attention.
"Anne!" "Oh, good morning, Jonas," my heels turned so I could face my old friend. Jonas was my age; we'd known each other since we were kids. His parents were well-off in themselves, but his uncle, one Marcus Radcliffe, funded his nephew's extravagant lifestyle. As long as I could remember, Jonas wanted to become a Silver Sugar Master, but couldn't for the life of him tell you why when you asked. I always assumed that it was pressure from his family, but I never questioned him on it. He ran over to me from down the hall; his room was close to mine. Once he reached my door, he stopped to plant his hands on his kneecaps and heave in some much-needed air. I merely grinned at him, slightly assumed that he tried so hard to catch up to me- literally and figuratively, if you catch my drift.
"You could have called me, you know. I would have answered before I left." "God, you're terrible, Anne! Why didn't you tell me you were going downtown today?!" "I did! Many times. But I'm not going for fun; I'm going to see Dad's solicitor about my dad's will." Jonas perked up, still seemingly a little upset. "If I knew you were going beforehand, I would have changed the timing of my seminar so I could go with you," he huffed and I rolled my eyes unimpressed. Never mind that I DID tell him a hundred zillion times before now…. And I shook my head.
"No, this is better. You shouldn't skip school on my account." "I wouldn't be skipping! I'd be going to a different seminar." "But it's already too late. You have a class to get to and I have a train to catch. If you want, we can meet up later and go out for dinner somewhere," I offered and he glanced away, somewhat remorsefully. "I uh…. already have plans with the guys tonight." "That's fine. We'll hang out another time! We live literally next door; there's no shortage of time we can spend together," I remarked back comfortingly and he peered back my way with lower eyes now.
"Ok then. Have fun downtown today. And be safe, ok?" "I'll be fine. I might get in a bit late; since I'll be near Victoria Station anyway, I might as well pop in for a cookie," the marketplace just outside of the station made the BEST cinnamon bun cookies. Jonas grinned and I took off, waving back at him from over my shoulder. "Have a good time tonight!" "You too!"
Ah, Jonas. How to describe such a guy? He and I used to be really close when we were younger. As we grew and went to middle and high school, however, we drifted apart somewhat, which is understandable. He befriended some…. interesting boys while I stayed mostly to myself, practicing my sugar sculpting every chance I got. The wedge between us was really set in stone once he got accepted to a local university to study sugar sculpting. I'm ashamed to admit that I was a little jealous, especially considering that the school refused to admit any girls. On top of that, Jonas didn't take his classes seriously at all. He was always goofing off and skipping lectures; his grades were unsurprisingly abysmal. I guess the jealously came from the fact that he was squandering an opportunity I would give my right arm for- heh, metaphorically speaking. He couldn't see how lucky, how blessed he was to be given such a position….. And here I was, trying to learn sugar sculpting all on my own. I guess I shouldn't complain too much; I'm no different from any other woman who wants to be a sugar artisan, after all. But I can't help but admit…. There was a touch of resentment there between Jonas and me, and I think he knew….. He just didn't care. Jonas, like nearly every other guy to ever exist, thought women shouldn't- and couldn't- become Silver Sugar Masters. We're too "weak, delicate, and feminine" to endure such a chore. Heh, that was just an excuse to thin out of the competition, in my humble opinion.
By some fortunate, I managed to just barely catch the next train heading to the city centre. It wasn't long of a ride for me; only fifteen minutes or so. Sometimes twenty during rush-hour. Downtown was bustling, with people hurrying every which way. Clinging onto my bag, I got out of the station and found the lawyer's office building. I hadn't been here in nearly three years….. Not since Dad….. Banishing that horrible thought from my head, I went inside, letting the security guard check my bag before I made my way to the elevators. Dad's solicitor was on the nineteenth floor- talk about high-status. He had this impressive office with a single, long, dark wood desk at the back, right in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside you could see the tops of other buildings and lots of the city. This guy charged a TON by the hour, but Dad said he was well worth the money. After greeting me with a handshake and offering me a cup of water- which I took- he sat back down at his desk and pulled out a big file, which I assumed was my father's folder. Opening it, he proceeded to spread out lots of documents before him.
"Well Miss Halford, I've gone through Mr. Bates's estate once more and everything looks to be in order." "Thank you, Mr. Grinds. I appreciate you taking the time to examine my father's effects so carefully." He nodded and flipped through some papers. "As of today, you have full access to your whole inheritance. There're a few options to consider going forward…." More paper shuffling before he continued. "As of now, the remaining money is in one trust fund. Would you like the bank to transfer the whole amount to your existing bank account? Or would you prefer to receive a monthly allowance? We can make it an annual allowance if you want." "No, monthly's fine. I'd like that money to be kept separate from my original account, if that's ok." "That's fine, I'll send that along to the bank," Mr. Grinds scribbled something down onto a sheet before looking up at me from across the desktop again.
"And the assets?" "Uh, sell them, please. I have no use for cars or boats. I'll use that money to buy a house someday…" "Very good; I'll notify the bank of that as well. Well! That covers the monetary portion of this interview. Now all that's left is this pesky clause you father put into his will." "Clause, sir?" My eyebrow raised and Mr. Grinds sat back in his seat while closely examining a paper he was holding up.
"Mr. Bates wrote that it is imperative that you purchase a warrior fairy once you turned twenty-one." "A what?!" This news made me practically leap out of my seat, slamming my hands onto his desk. I hadn't mean to have been so loud or over-the-top; it was just utterly shocking to hear this. Dad never mentioned anything about purchasing a fairy before….. Beside me never having the money for one- until now, anyway- it's just something I never thought of doing. It's like buying a monkey or a whale as a pet; it would never cross your mind as a possibility. I mean, I DIDN'T want a fairy! I wasn't a master! I was quiet, mousy, and submissive by nature. I was, by no means, an authoritarian of any kind; I doubt I'd even be a good mother cause I can't imagine myself punishing anyone, let along an innocent fairy enslaved to mankind. Knowing me, I'm probably give them their freedom back as soon as possible… The idea of owning a fairy was akin to owning another person; it just seemed totally immoral and impossible!
Mr. Grinds must have read all this on my face as he lowered his paper a tad to peer my way consolingly. "According to your records, you appeared to testify in court when you were ten years old, correct?" This caused a cold, stunned shiver to creep down my spine. My eyes widened and my cheeks grew pale. It's not like it's a secret; it's just that…. I didn't think I'd be reminded of THAT here, today. Lifting my hand up to my trembling face, my head gave a gentle, reluctant nod. "Y-Yes….."
My father's attorney's eyes lowered understandingly. "Since you were a child and that…. happened, your father has been anxious that you have…. have some extra protection around….. so there isn't a repeat of….. well, you know." "I….. I understand where he's coming from, but I'm not a child anymore. I can…. I can take care of myself," I declared, but my voice was shaky. Mr. Grinds shook his head.
"You told me before during our first meeting that you planned to go to Lewiston when you turned twenty-one; the legal age to participate in the Royal Candy Fair." My cheeks flushed again… I did tell him that last time, didn't I? God, why was I so stupid? Why couldn't I have kept my big mouth shut?! In absence of a verbal response from me, he went on. "The main trainline from here to Lewiston is called the Bloody Highway for a reason, Miss Halford. I doubt your father would have wanted you to travel it alone." "Then I'll take the bus!" I fired back desperately but he shook his head in disagreement before flashing me a stern look. "You think that would be any safer?" He was right, of course, and I sat back down, slinking in my chair miserable. I didn't see what choice I had….. Not if Dad included it in his will.
After watching my sullen reaction for a second, Mr. Grinds softly smiled. "You are a remarkable young lady, Miss Halford. Lots of girls dream of being sugar artisans, but you are defying conventions and going after what you want with all your might. Your wealth and your father's status may be enough to secure you a place in the competition, but to have any chance of winning, you'll need to work ten times harder than any male participant. In order to win, you'll have to create the most illustrious sculpture the judges have ever seen." "I know you are right….. And…. And while I'm not happy with my odds of winning on account of me being a girl, I'll just be thankful to enter the contest…" My lips trembled here as I struggled to breathe. My head was swimming, and not in a good way….. It took a second for my mouth to finally part open again.
"But I can't buy a fairy…. It's so wrong. The practice should be illegal!" "I agree with you, Miss Halford. BUT it is in your father's will that you must purchase a warrior fairy and, speaking as a father of two daughters, I can't say I blame him." "Mr. Grinds!" My head shot up but he met my stare with a firm, sincere one of his own. He folded both his hands in front of him, giving him an authoritative posture. "Be realistic. You are a young lady who has no parents or family backing her. You are also about to enter a ruthless, cut-throat, male-dominated profession, and they'll do everything in their power to elbow you out of the ring. You've already seen the ugliest side of humanity before… Do you really want to go to court again to testify on the stand in front of your attacker, Miss Halford?" He asked candidly and, after a moment of stunned silence, my chin fell down in defeat. Staring at my bunched up hands, it took everything in me not to tear up or start crying. He's right….. Deep down, I know he's right. I breathed lowly, and he knew he'd made his point, leaning back in his chair again.
"Warrior fairies are hard to control; finding an agreeable one will not be easy. But they're also very strong and fiercely loyal….. once they grow accustomed to their new owners. If you can befriend your fairy, and prove to him that you respect and value him as an equal, then you should have no trouble," nearly all warrior fairies were male, so his use of pronoun made sense. That's how their usually spoken of. Still, I hesitated….
"But what if…. What if he wants to kill me and steal his wing back….. so he can be free again?" I queried and Mr. Grinds chuckled, shaking his hand one final time. His eyes gently shut before he addressed my question. "Such a thing hasn't happened in years. I'd be very surprised if that's how it turned out for you." "Mmmmmm, but how can I make a fairy believe we're equals if I'm technically his master and he's my slave? He'll know we're not on equal footing…. Legally wise," I hesitated and Mr. Grinds's eyes slowly opened to look back in my direction. He looked at me a minute and smiled. "Just be your good, kind self to him. He'll know the position both he and you are in… He'll also know that you have no intention on hurting him….
When he sees your sweet, innocent smile."