Random stories

This wasn't just a ball.

This wasn't just a gala.

This was....this was *indulgent.*

*Too indulgent.*

I'd had enough.

For three years, I, a mere mortal man, have been held at the whim of the Twilight Court in their enchanted, wild, and ethereally-bound lands. I've found love here. And last year, I found marriage.

I've found them through two different women.

In the United States, we have laws about accepting contracts of "sound mind." They don't have that here. I took a gamble.

It's a long story, but here's it quite short:

The price of Snowfall's safety was, unkbenknownst to me, a marriage to her...well, her sort of older sister, Azrielle.

But Snowfall and I have made a plan.

I'm going to escape Azrielle's castle, and I'm going to do it *this very night.*

Because *Azrielle thinks* she knows my name.

The plan starts now.

I linger at the door frame while the sounds of crisp violins sing the sharp ice shards of celebratory winter, and the court within dances the same dances they've done for millenia. It's cold, though the guests can only feel it a little. For me, the air is almost painfully cold. But it's brisk--like a slap in the face. Something to wake me up. Just a few miles away,

"Oh, dear Part," A voice says from behind me.

I turn.

Azrielle, with her pale skin and white hair, and eyebrows equally white. Her eyes are blue--deep, under-artic-ice, saphire blue.

She does have pretty eyes, admittedly.

Her sister's are prettier.

"Dear Part," she calls me again, folding her hands. "So many nights I've seen you linger by that doorframe, unable to pass through. That is the price of a name, my Dear Part. In these lands, it is control."

I nod.

"Guess so," I tell her.

Then I take a single step.

For the first time in a full year, I feel the soft crush of snow against my boot.

Azrielle, excuse the pun--freezes.

"Wh...what is this?" she asks.

The sky above begins to darken. I flick my gaze up for a moment. Danger. But Snowfall can counter it. We expected this.

"This is something that your kind is incapable of," I told her. "An outright lie."

I take another step.

"But...your name...your..."

Her perplexity is almost worth my sympathy. But she's not deserving of any.

"Your...your name isn't....Part Farticles?"

I shake my head sadly.

"But...but..."

I take another step outside.

"You can find love, Azrielle," I tell her, meaning it. "Someday, yoou'll find some guy who likes..." I wave my hand around at the ice castle behind her. "All this kinky shit, and being cold all the time, and galas."

"You don't like galas?" she asks, glancing back behind her.

I don't want to be cruel, but...but this woman has made me do things in the name of tradition that I had to smile and play along with, and *never* wanted to do.

So I lean in close.

"I don't like galas."

She lets in a sharp gasp of air.

"Neither do I," she says, quietly.

It's an *unbelievable* admission. Especially coming from her. Snowfall *hates* galas, but Azrielle is...she's all about them! This has to be a trick. There must be some other part of my sentence she's applying the "neither do I" to.

As if reading my mind, she says, "I don't like galas. I don't like this castle. I don't like any of these things. I'm just forced to do it because of my station. I...I can't break free of it."

The storm outside, still forming, begins to dissolve.

"Not without help."

I stare.

"For the last year, you've--"

"Me!?" Azrielle asked, shocked. "You've....you've been up for all of it! You've been wanting to! I thought you wanted all of this!"

My mouth goes slack.

"I mean there was the...the implication that...that..."

I think back to everything Azrielle has ever said to me. Did she...did she ever force any of it? Or did I just create a plan to "Play along" so early on, that she just genuinely assumed it was what I wanted.

I take another step outside, and freeze.

"We're still married," Azrielle says. "We can't...we can't divorce, unless....You'd need to free me from my station," she says. "If you do that, I can get you...whatever you want."

*Trick. This has to be a trick.*

"Okay," I tell her. Glancing outside, hoping that Snowfall can hear this. She should be able to. After all, Snowfall *is* Azrielle. Just not most of the time. And not for a year.

"Okay," Azrielle nods along. "We'll have to play the part, but...we can free me from this station, and you and my sister can be free."

"...Okay," I say.

Azrielle shakes her head. "You've fooled me once, Part. I need your real name. Only then will I trust you."

I pause for a moment to think.

"Fine," I tell her. "My real name."

Behind me, the snow falls cold in the land of the Faeries. The ice freezes cold in the palace of the winter court.

I bow, the coattails of the lavish costume they've dressed me in cutting lines against the snow.

"My name is Staff Sergeant Butthole O'Leary."

The fae pauses, eyes narrowing, studying me.

Then her whole body stirs, a movement that starts near her hips and ends with her chin raised at me, eyeing me with those sapphire eyes.

"In your world you were...a soldier?"

\---

\>.<

I'm sorry.

Thank you for letting me write fart jokes first thing in the morning.

Once again.

Sorry.

---

Submitted by ethanfeld on Thu, Dec 07, 2023 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

You tricked the fae, not giving them your name but instead making them take all of the embarrassing nicknames that people threw at you.