Kindness is Undoing

Once upon a time, there lived a young girl who had a braggart for a father. It was well-known by everyone in town that his tales were greatly exaggerated, and while many enjoyed listening to him, they knew better than to believe him.

His daughter grew up with his fantastic tales, as well. Grand tales about how her father had once saved a lord and then given the reward away to a beggar.

They didn’t have much themselves, not with how much time her father spent at the tavern night after night, but a beggar would have had even less, she thought, so what her father had done was very kind and selfless.

As she grew up, however, she understood that none of her father’s stories were true, that he was more likely to pocket the coin a beggar lost and drink it away than return it. He was only generous where others could see and only if it benefited him in some way.

"Don’t feed the strays," her father told her when he saw her toss out leftovers that he refused to eat. "They’ll only come back for more."

The strays did return, so the young woman only fed them when her father wasn’t around, sneaking them dry, hard crusts of bread, bits of cheese and vegetables and leftover bones. Whatever she could set aside for the animals, she gave them.

One day, there was a very ragged-looking bird. Only, it wasn’t a bird at all, but perhaps the shoddiest glamour in existence. It was a fae who was trying and failing to blend in. The young woman felt somewhat amused, though she also remained polite and cautious.

She fed the bird like she would have fed the others, and it left behind a little wriggling worm made of gold. She put it into the garden, feeling befuddled about what she was meant to do with a golden worm. It was alive, clearly, and she felt sorry for the helpless little thing.

The glamoured bird certainly squawked for quite a while when it noticed what she had done, though, strangely enough, she got the impression that it was glad rather than upset.

In return, the food she grew in the garden in front of their small house was always plentiful, the plants healthy and strong. Her neighbors complimented her and every bit of food she shared with them made them light up, the vegetables and berries tasting downright divine.

"My daughter can turn even rotten food into a feast," her father bragged and when, previously, the other folk in the tavern had smiled at his exaggerated boasting, this time, a few exchanged thoughtful glances.

While they didn’t think his daughter had the sort of magic needed to undo the rot of time, they still thought that there was something special about her food.

The young woman was none the wiser about such things, for she stayed away from the tavern, instead tending to the garden and dropping by the local seamstress to sell anything she had woven or sewn.

The fae bird seemed to have vanished, leaving only regular birds behind. Or so she thought.

The next time she ran into the fae winter had arrived and he was among the stray cats meowing in front of her door. He once again looked like a truly ragged version of an animal, a clear shimmer of glamour coating his scraggly fur.

It was certainly befuddling, but she let him into the house to curl up in front of the fire to stay warm just like the other cats, and she set down bowls of fish that a neighbor had traded for some of the jam she made from the berries grown in her garden.

There was more fish than she could eat, and for lack of storing and salting options, she offered them gladly to the animals.

Winter was a rough time for everyone, and her father loved to stay out until late at night, and, often enough, he didn’t come home at all, sleeping in front of the fire in the tavern along with the other local drunks, so she had the house all to herself.

She put out blankets and pillows for the cats, and in the morning, the ragged cat left behind a fish that shimmered and glittered like it was made out of jewels more beautiful than what even royalty owned.

She hurriedly scooped the fish up to drop it into a bucket she hastily filled with water. Unsure what she was meant to do with a fish, of all things, she got dressed, carefully covered the bucket, and tucked it under her coat to keep it warm enough as she shuffled out into the cold and snow.

It was a bit of a journey to the nearby lake, and she was out of breath and covered in sweat by the time she had hacked a big enough hole into the ice to let the fish slide into the lake.

It immediately brightened further, shimmering so beautiful it stole her breath away, and it circled just below the surface, where it would have been easy for her to scoop it back up.

She found herself smiling at the joy of the fish, and when she stepped back, it vanished into the depths of the lake with one last glimmer.

Smiling still, glad that the fish had a chance to survive and live, she trudged back home, seeing the fae cat on her way back.

It was hard to read the expression of an animal that wasn’t an animal at all, but there was something thoughtful to it. She bowed politely, and after a moment, the cat blinked and dipped its head back at her.

It vanished between one moment and the next, turning into breezes that blew away.

The fae cat did not show up again, and winter passed, calm and quiet and peaceful.

Even before the last snow passed, her plants already poked out of the earth, determined and hardy. They grew first out of all the other plants, and they grew faster and stronger, as well.

On her way to the seamstress’s house, the young woman passed by the lake, and each time the fish was there, bigger now than it had been before, glimmering and well-fed.

Each time she walked back from the shop, she had things left in her satchel that the seamstress hadn’t wanted. As she passed by the lake, the cotton and linen she had brought with her turned to silk and the simple embroidery thread became gold and silver.

The young woman never brought anything she had made directly to the fish; she knew better than to demand magic that wasn’t freely given.

Besides, this was more than enough already. She never went hungry now, her neighbors often trading the best parts of their own meals and hunts for her berries and fruit and vegetables.

The fine clothing she now traded away for other things, and soon the roof of the small house she and her father lived in was properly thatched, the chimney free of chinks, and her cupboards filled with honey and candles and herbs and spices.

Even traders began to stop by their small town to ask for some of her garden produce, or to ask if she had recently made any clothing that she was willing to part with.

She caught glimpses of the fae from time to time, either as a ragged bird or a scraggly cat, and she always bowed a little and left food out for it. The fae seemed puzzled, and soon, she had company as she worked in the garden or as she weaved bolts of cloth.

That cloth she sewed into clothes, offering them to the seamstress she worked for and keeping whatever the woman didn’t buy from her.

The fae was quiet, pleasant company, and for all that she knew to be wary of the fae, this one seemed strange. Once or twice, she wondered if this fae simply couldn’t do more than it already did, if it could only exist as a bird or cat and nothing else. Not everything magical was powerful, after all.

She didn’t mind, nor did she particularly care if her strange friend was special; she liked them well enough and told them so on one occasion.

The cat blinked and then curled up and fell asleep on the same patchwork pillow that it had claimed in winter. The young woman smiled and kept sewing. And if the cotton turned to silk under her hands and the dyed linen thread to gold, she only noticed so when she was done.

Her father was incredibly proud, boasting that his girl could turn rough, unspun wool into silk and fraying linen thread into gleaming embroidery. That she had turned all the copper in their household into gold.

The other patrons in the tavern exchanged glances and for all his exaggerated boasting, they did wonder how the girl got her hands on so many wonderful things.

She did not seem to be a thief, for no one in town was so rich as to own silk clothing, and no one’s gardens were as good as hers.

It happened then that a lord passed through their town on his journey back home, and he overheard the father’s boasting as he ate his fill in the tavern.

The lord was young and handsome and rich, but hearing the father’s boasting woke something greedy and callous and mean within him.

What a brazen thing, the lord thought, for a fool to boast of such magical things. But oh, if it was true, what a treasure he would have found in this backwater town. If it was true, he deserved to have it. If it wasn’t, he’d make sure to put a liar in his place.

"I will take her to my castle in the morning," he demanded as he rose, startling the tavern into silence. "Three days she has to turn my rotten food into a feast, my linen into silk, and my copper into gold."

The father, for just a moment, wished to protest, but there was nothing he could do after his loud bragging other than oblige.

Even if he hadn’t bragged, no one was allowed to deny the young lord anything. He was the most favored nephew of the king, and after the death of the king’s son, he was next in line. One day, the throne would be his and his power and influence was great.

"I will send her come dawn," the father said, resigned and nervous.

The young lord smiled and said, "No, I will have her fetched by one of mine to ensure she really arrives." He snapped his fingers, and one of his knights stepped away.

The lord dipped his head in a mockery of politeness before he left to retire for the night, feeling rather satisfied with himself.

The young woman, meanwhile, got quite the fright when a knight knocked on her door and demanded she come with him.

The knight allowed her just enough time to quickly pack her necessities, his shadow looming into her home from where stood by the door.

The young woman said nothing when the scraggly fae cat wriggled into her bag, unnoticed by the knight, before she was whisked away.

The young lord left early in the morning and reached his home by dusk. He had the young woman brought into a bare room with a tiny, barred window.

Upon his order, the servants and cooks brought up a platter of ruined food, smashed eggs and leftovers that would have gone to the pigs. He had them run into town to bring back fully rotting food, as well, and he swept his arm out grandly to gesture at the large, heaped platter.

"Your father said you can turn rotten food into a banquet," he said as the young woman stared, her heart caught in her throat. "I’m expecting my uncle to visit tomorrow, and I intend to have him served as he deserves. You have until morning."

As he walked towards the door, he said, "If you fail, your head is mine." That should teach her father a lesson, he thought.

He paused, and with a smile he added, "And if you succeed all my trials, I shall wed you and make you a noble lady."

With those words, he swept out, the door closing, and the lock sliding into place, ensuring she wouldn’t be able to run. The young woman stared at the platter in despair, and before she could take a single step, her bag wriggled and the cat tumbled out.

Mid-fall the ragged cat turned into the strangest man she had ever seen. The man looked like he had been sewn together out of various mismatched limbs.

One arm was too long, the other too meaty. His shoulders jutted out strangely, like they had almost become wings before deciding otherwise, and his fingers had too many joints. His legs were stick-thin, and his feet looked gnarled in his silk slippers.

His face was hideous, she had to admit. With large, watery eyes that reminded her of a toad, his nose was so bulbous it nearly touched his chin, and his skin had a strange texture, like it had been made out of raw dough that was not quite sure if it wanted to stay where it was.

The strange man made a little dance, bells ringing despite none being in view as he said in a scratchy voice, "Cry not, sweet maiden! For you, I have a deal! A deal to make out of everything rotten and ruined a kingly meal!"

He stopped dancing to dip into a far-too-deep bow, and she realized that his hair was made of wheat-blond and copper-orange and washed-out pale yellow and pinkish red. It was as though someone had put the colors beside each other without much care.

No one made deals with the fae, the young woman knew that. They were creatures full of trickery who could tell no lie, but who still managed to bring nothing but ruin for others and stolen, broken joy for themselves.

But the young woman did not wish to die, so she asked, "What would you have of me? I don’t have anything valuable with me, I’m afraid."

The man tapped his chin in thought, and she could not tell if it was an act, or if he was truly pondering on the reward he desired.

"A dance," he decided. "When the king comes to dine, you will dance your first dance with me."

The young woman blinked in surprise, then nodded, "Very well."

The strange man clapped his hands in delight. "How wonderful, we are in agreement."

He then snapped his fingers and the young woman watched in awe as the eggs grew whole again and the rot receded from fruit and meat and cheese until everything looked as lovely as though it had come straight from her garden and pantry.

Then the food began to dance as a cooking pot appeared out of nowhere, water starting to bubble without a fire present, and the young woman couldn’t help but laugh.

"Thank you," she told the strange looking man with a smile. His face seemed to look even stranger now, as if the skin was sagging into bulging folds down his cheeks, reminding her strangely of a bulldog she had seen once with its cheeks hanging past its jaws.

"No thanks needed; you have promised a price that will pay for everything." He grinned at her. "But if you run from your promise, all the food will revert into what it once was."

"I won’t run," she promised and couldn’t help but giggle as the eggs hopped along the floor to jump up into the pot, cracking themselves open on the rim, their contents sliding in to cook. Other eggs again hopped over to where flour was kneading itself into dough with the help of a cup of floating water.

After another moment, the young woman sat down beside the strange man who cast her a curious glance.

"You’ve been either a cat or bird all this time," she said and he made a low noise. "Why not show yourself sooner?"

"And make you swoon with this pretty face?" he said, but his smile rang hollow. "Lady, I could not reveal myself until a trade could be made."

It must be a magic thing, the young woman thought. She knew little about such things, aside from the stories people shared, many of them warnings.

"In that case, I have a few questions," she said, and the strange man waved at her to go ahead, his too-long arm getting draped over a stick-thin leg as he sat down, as well.

She smiled at him. "What do you want to eat the next time you visit my home?"

He blinked, and then he laughed, and it wasn’t a pretty sound. It was raspy and burbling like he was about to cough. Still, it was genuine, and she couldn’t help but smile at him.

As the food danced and cooked itself, he answered all her questions. He preferred perch and a cup of milk, and yes, he would not get sick like the other cats if he drank it. He also wished to eat her berries once they were fully grown. And no, he could not use magic outside of making deals, and he refused to elaborate on why.

He told her stories of his home when she asked, his tone turning wistful and melancholic, a quiet ache lacing his words that not even his scratchy voice could hide. He told her about hills rolling with emerald-green grass and crystal trees growing leaves made of gold.

He painted beautiful pictures of lands vast and magical, dangerous and exciting, of fairies flitting about and knights dueling to make their lovers proud.

Of the autumn king vanishing and his summer queen near-immediately inviting the high lady of the Winter Court to sit on the empty throne beside hers.

He laughed as he added, "We know the old king isn’t dead, for autumn would vanish, but whatever happened, our seasons have never been more beautiful and brighter."

He leaned towards her a little and whispered like he was sharing a scandalous secret, "And the spring prince has been quite flush with flowers."

She giggled, "So they all found their true love?"

He hummed, and even that sound was raspy. "It didn’t come without cost, but hearts are beautiful things that should be followed, even if they change everything in the process."

"And your heart?" she asked, her elbows resting on her knees, and her chin in her cupped hands as she looked up at him. "Has it been happy?"

This time, his smile was softer, and for all that his face looked like strangely thick dough that was about to slide off to vanish forever, he appeared almost sweet in that moment.

"Let me tell you of the Court of Stars," he said instead of answering, "and the fool who fell for an enchanter who made iron weapons. She nearly skewered him when they first met, or so the stories say."

The young woman fell asleep between wondrous stories about an adventurous fae prince saving his home and finding love in an unexpected place and stories about the last unicorn of the world discovering it wasn’t the last one at all.

When morning came, the door was thrown open, and the young woman startled to her feet, surprised to find a silk shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

In front of her stood a feast so grand it would have delighted even an emperor, served on bejeweled, silver platters, steaming hot, and a mouth-watering smell filled the chamber.

The young lord was delighted and sent the young woman to wash up as servants carried everything away. As soon as she finished washing, a beautiful dress was brought to her, and soon, the king arrived.

The young woman stood among the retinue of the young lord and when she saw a ragged crow land on a flagpole near her, she smiled up at it.

The king was a grand man with a thick, graying beard who greeted the young lord with great warmth and love and was received just as warmly, for the young lord truly cared about his uncle in return.

A feast was set up and served, and as soon as the dancing began, the young lady felt a tap on her shoulder.

"My dance," a raspy voice said, and when she glanced behind herself, she blinked.

The strange man standing there was hard to look at properly, with long silk clothing covering his body, a hat pulled deep into his face, and strange shadows hiding him from view. But it was unmistakably her fae, even as magic cloaked him from being recognized by others.

She easily took the hand he held out to her, and while he wore gloves, she felt his too-long hand with its too-long fingers that were made of too many joints.

Where she might have expected a stumbling dance, the fae swept her along, dancing more elegantly than even the young lord.

She soon found herself laughing as she was twirled and dipped, and when the song was over, her companion was gone, leaving her to dance with whoever approached her.

Before the festivities were over, however, the young lord took her aside and brought her to another chamber, the sun setting outside the tiny, barred window as he showed her chests full of clothing and unspun wool along with thin, fine thread yet to be woven into garments.

"Turn it all into embroidered silk," he said and left with another reminder of the price of her failure, as well as the promise that he’d wed her should she succeed.

The moment the door was locked, her secret companion popped up out of the wool with a grand noise and a raspy shout of, "Surprise!"

She couldn’t help but sag with relief and smiled at him, glad that her friend hadn’t vanished.

"What shall I ask for tonight," he said with an over-the-top, thoughtful gesture that made her giggle a little. "Oh, yes, tonight I will have stories from you. All the things you never told anyone before in exchange for my magic."

As they sat down once more, side by side, the wool started to card and comb itself before spinning into fine yarn that turned into even finer, shimmering silk thread as soon as it settled onto the spindle. The unwoven linen turned to silk, as well, as it wove into delicate bolts of cloth in mid-air. All the chests filled with clothing started to gleam and shimmer as the fabric changed.

"I never told anyone this," the young woman said once she could look away from the display of magic to find her friend sitting beside her much like she had sat beside him last night: his elbows on his knees and his chin in his strange hands.

She couldn’t help but laugh softly, and he leaned towards her a bit, looking like he was very interested in what she was going to say.

"Sometimes, I dream of leaving," she told him quietly. "Of going to places I’ve never seen before. I heard that the ocean is so vast you cannot see land anywhere."

Bit by bit, she told her friend all about her dreams and desires, and as she found herself running out of secrets, something else slipped out, aching and painful, "Sometimes, when he is drunk and doesn’t come home and causes nothing but trouble, I don’t know if I still love my father."

Her fae friend grew more serious at that, and after a moment of heavy silence, he said, "Those closest to us can hurt us the worst if they are careless. Your father does not see the pain he causes, for he is too busy nursing the wounds on his own soul. Until he has figured out how to heal himself, he will not cease to hurt those around him in small and big ways."

His gaze was serious as he added, "You cannot walk this road for him; he must travel it on his own. The best thing you can do is chase your own happiness in the meantime."

She gently nudged their shoulders together. "Thank you," she said quietly. "And thank you for being here. I’m glad to have your company."

Those words seemed to surprise him a little, but he sketched a bow where he sat. "It is no hardship at all, I promise you that."

They kept talking, and this time the young woman told her strangely-shaped friend stories of her own world, teaching him songs and taking him over to the narrow window to point out what stars and constellations they could see.

She fell asleep once more before dawn and startled awake, this time with a silk shawl heavily embroidered with gold thread draped over her shoulders. The young lord appeared a moment later to stare as his chests, which were overflowing with clothing rich enough to pay a king’s ransom.

"One more trial," he told her as he accompanied her to a room where she could sleep and rest, "and then you shall be my wife."

As soon as the lock clicked into place once more, her friend was back, looking around the small room with a displeased pout. "Truly, if he intends to wed you, he might as well put you into better quarters. What a lout."

She couldn’t help but smile a little, her grim and somber mood vanishing. Her companion made a great show of tutting over the room until she was giggling briefly and sat down on the bed.

"Now, my lady, you still need some rest," he said as he primly patted down his elegant vest. He was quite gallantly dressed, even if his clothes didn’t fit him right, bunching in places and stretched tight in others.

"Will you stay?" she found herself asking. "I don’t want to be alone."

"Of course," he said, his raspy voice soft, and he sat down in the only chair in the room. "Shall I sing for you?"

"That would be delightful," she said, and when he sung the songs she had taught him the night before, she smiled and curled up on the bed, falling asleep to a raspy voice singing about a god walking among stars and gifting miracles to those who needed them.

Her friend woke her as promised before the young lord arrived, and he vowed that he’d wait for her in the final chamber.

The young lord seemed almost excited now as he led the young woman down the hallway and said, "I know it is unseemly for royalty to marry a commoner, but if you succeed, you will make me the richest man in all the lands, and there is no one who could ask for a finer wife than that."

The final chamber she was brought to was the largest one yet and filled to the brim with copper. Everything from chests full of copper coins to displays of copper jewelry and stacks of copper decorations had been piled high.

She wouldn’t have been surprised if the young lord had demanded all the copper of his people to add to this treasure pile.

As soon as the door was locked once more with a promise of marriage should she succeed, her friend popped out of his hiding spot with a funny sound that made her muffle a brief giggle with her hand.

"Let’s get to it shall we?" he said as he noisily climbed down the mountain of coppery treasure. "Oh my, where did this guy find a copper chamber pot? I mean, not to rag on him, but even gold stinks when it’s, you know."

He gestured grandly, and she couldn’t help but snort and when it looked like he might slip on the last of the copper down to the ground, she stepped forward, ready to try to catch him.

"My, you are such a sweet one," he said, and from others it would have sounded patronizing or mocking, but he sounded like he meant it. "Alright, one last trade; I hope you know that I have to make this the biggest one yet."

She nodded in understanding as he stood beside her, and he opened his mouth only to not speak. He did it twice before he sighed heavily and said, "Your firstborn – you must promise it in order for me to both save your life and get you a king’s hand."

"I don’t want children," the young woman said and then bit her lip. It wasn’t very ladylike of her to say such a thing, and many had sighed and reprimanded her for it in the past. She’d change her mind, they would tell her. She was so young still, they’d say.

Her companion paused. "Ah. Well." He rubbed his chin in thought, then snapped his fingers. "In that case, if you desire to have a room full of copper turned to gold and a king for a husband, you must guess my name."

That sounded more like a strange game than a deal, she thought quietly to herself. "And if I fail?"

He clapped his hands together and smiled. "Then you shall marry me. Wouldn’t that be funny; look at how ugly I am!"

"Alright," she agreed immediately, and he blinked in surprise, as though he had expected her to haggle or decline or demand some other price.

"Someone is quite confident," he said. "Alright, you have all night, guess away."

He said so with a flourishing gesture, and behind him, the copper started to hum, like a low song that made her wonder if this was the sound the sapphire mountains he had told her about made.

"Hm, how about Holger?" she asked, and he grinned,

"Cute, but no," he said, sitting down comfortably.

"How about Gerard?" she asked, and he pretended to sit up straight with a proudly swollen chest.

"A grandiose name, but no, try again."

Name after name, she tried, and he seemed greatly amused by each one, and his responses made her laugh more than once.

Beside them, the mountain of copper kept humming as though in song as slowly, gold crept over every surface.

It was a great feat of magic, she thought as she watched him work.

It would be beyond a mere regular fae to perform three grand feats of magic one after another. It made her look more closely at her friend, at his mismatched body and doughy face, and as she wrongly guessed yet another name, the pieces came together in her mind. Or, rather, she was able to guess at what was going on.

Either way, she already knew the outcome of this wager, no matter if she was right or not.

She fell asleep somewhere between names and startled awake just as dawn crested, a shawl of silk around her shoulders, embroidered with gold and inlaid with gems. All the other shawls she had woken up with, the young lord had kept for himself, and this one she now clutched close.

As she looked for her companion, she saw him wipe his hands with a handkerchief that he haphazardly shoved into a pocket, only for it to tumble out again. As he walked around to inspect the copper-turned-gold, she quietly got up and picked it up.

A name was embroidered on the silk, gleaming gold and she folded and pocketed it.

"Ah, the lady wakens," he said grandly once he saw her up and about. "Three more tries you have before your pretty, young lord arrives."

"Reinhard," she tried, and he grinned.

"It feels as though with a name like that, I would have owned a gray dappled horse," he mused. "But no, guess again."

"Raoul," she said, and he sighed.

"Dreamy, too dreamy for a face like mine. Sadly no, one last try, my dear; you better make it count or I shall whisk you away with me."

Outside the door, she could hear steps approaching, swift and familiar. The young lord was on his way.

She knew the name on the handkerchief, and it felt like it was burning a hole into her pocket.

She smiled and said, "Damian."

He laughed and clapped his hands. "Wrong. Wrong aga– Wait." He stilled to stare at her wide-eyed. "What did you say?"

"I said Damian," she said and clasped her hands in front of her chest in mock innocence. "Dear me, it looks like you must whisk me away now."

"But, no, wait," he sputtered, and it looked like he genuinely had no idea how to react. "No, this is not how this is supposed to go. You are meant to guess my name and marry the young, handsome lord who will become king and make you a queen!"

She stepped forward to hold out her hands to him. "I don’t want him." He fell silent at her solemn, firm words. "I do not want a man who locks me up and demands impossible things, threatening me with punishment upon failure and forcing me into something I didn’t want as a supposed reward."

"You can’t want to marry me," he protested. "Look at me, I’m hideous, and I demanded something of you each night!"

"In return for grand feats of magic. I think that’s fair," the young woman answered and took another step closer, holding her hands out more insistently. "Now, will you take me, or will you go back on your word?"

They heard the key sliding into the lock and the fae reached out, his too-long hands grasping her proportionate ones.

As the young lord opened the door, gleefully eager, he saw an empty room and a last shimmer of gold that vanished, leaving behind nothing but copper that had lost all its shine.

It did not take him long at all to find out that all the food in his pantry had become rotten, all the silk and grandeur in his castle had turned into rough wool, and each and every piece of gold had faded into tarnished, lackluster copper.

The young woman, meanwhile, blinked her eyes open and found herself standing on a beautiful, elegant bridge made of snow-white wood and decorated by crystal lanterns.

The air smelled fresh and clear, and she heard the sound of the whispering woods her companion had told her about.

He stared at her, still wide-eyed.

"You know my name, don’t you?" he asked, and when she nodded, he sputtered, "You tricked me! You knew it, you knew my name, and yet you threw the wager on purpose?"

"Yes," she answered and let go of one of his hands to hold out his handkerchief. "Don’t you want to marry me?"

"That’s not it," he rushed to say, looking like his world made less and less sense. "You’re supposed to use me to get what you want, that’s how it always goes, that’s how it’s meant to go, don’t you understand? You’re meant to get what you want."

"What I want is happiness," she said. "And why wouldn’t I choose the man who brought me golden worms and jewel fish and kept me company? Why wouldn’t I choose the man who came when I most needed aid and asked for nothing I hadn’t wanted to give in exchange for great magic?"

"Don’t you know what I look like?" he gasped out. "Look at me, I am ugly! I look like the Fates ran out of pieces and stitched me together all wrong with what they had left!"

"You look like someone who is kind to me," she said and stepped closer to lean up towards him. "I choose you, and I know I won’t regret it."

As soon as she kissed his cheek, he cried out as though in pain, stumbling back a step. He reached up just as the doughy texture of his face started to melt down.

He fell to his knees with a wail, and the young woman hurried towards him.

His entire body seemed to shift, his face melting away like hot wax and his shoulder blades cracking as iridescent wings burst forth. His legs grew in thickness, his arms changed to fit his body, and the colors of his multi-toned hair melded and smoothed out until it looked like a golden, fiery sunset. His long, pointy ears poked out between his sleek, shimmering hair.

He started to sob as he reached for her with normal hands that still seemed just a tad longer than a human’s.

"I promise," he gasped out, and his voice sounded smooth and melodic as she pulled him close, and he clung to her. "I promise I will make you happy every day of the rest of my life."

His voice hitched, and he nearly choked on emotion as he spoke, and she leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his head. He smelled like wild winds and even wilder flowers.

"I’ll take you to all the sights you want to see," he promised as his sobs came to an end. "I promise I’ll make sure you’ll never regret choosing me."

She leaned back just enough to cup his face in her hands, wiping away the last of his tears on his now-pretty face.

"I think I might be halfway in love with you already," she murmured, and he smiled, bright and beautiful like the rising sun. "Give me a few more days to get the rest of the way there."

He pulled her close to rest his forehead against hers.

"I love you so much," he whispered. "All the time and more you shall have. Everything I can give you will be yours."

She couldn’t help but laugh with him and pressed a light kiss upon his lips, finding them soft and warm.

"All I ask is that we share our joys," she said, "and that we will forever go after what will make us happy." She kissed him again and pulled back. "And I want my strays and my golden worm and jewel fish to be happy."

He laughed at that and promised, "We’ll bring them here, and they will be as happy as we are." Then he kissed her silly.

When they left to fetch her animals, she left a letter for her father who had fretted himself into a frenzy about her safety. And when, months later, her father received an invitation to a wedding, he was picked up by a gleaming carriage pulled by horses with too-sharp teeth and too-smart eyes.

He was brought to a beautiful ceremony where his daughter was draped in silver silk and jewels and she was surrounded by happy animals that all carried a little gleam of magic inside of them, now.

The fae had kept his word to her, making her happy, and the day she married him, she got to hold the hand of a king, after all. For he was the long-lost king of the Court of Suns who had been missing ever since a terrible witch cursed him centuries ago.

They kept their promises to each other for all the days that came as they chased and found and shared joy, their love growing ever stronger.