• Dark Carnival
    by C.H. Eskew
    Dedicated to C.E.S.

    Begin.
    And as they walked on the tightropes I saw the one object that could change it all: a key.

    I ramble a lot when I’m talking, I’m afraid. Gideon always deplored that habit in me; he’d literally whip me if I completely lost order in my speech. I can’t help it. As a scatterbrained human, I lack the brilliant attention span that the Pretty Ones possess. Still, try to keep up.

    They were a tenacious bunch of monsters with human faces and human bodies and human insides and a screech like a frozen pond. I’m not going to relate how this makes sense; you either got that or you didn’t. Keep up.

    They were walking tightropes and it was a circus, but not a normal one with clowns and elephants and cotton candy and kindred asinine entertainments. This was a proper circus. All about the horror. I don’t know. When you grow up in Faerie, you learn to appreciate these aspects. Gideon, he’s the loveliest, he was feeding me cherries again. I do so love cherries. And I had a feeling that I was part of the circus. And I was so very, very glad to be able to give these beautiful people a laugh. They thought I was funny! Really, me? A comedian? I’d never fathomed such joy! Here I was, spinning and jumping like an animal for another fruit, and heaven saves, how I reveled in it.

    Now, this is what was strange. The key? It was hanging in midair. And it was by the second mast. I know it’s the second mast because it was painted orange and everything orange is second, after red, always. The second mast was the furthest from me, and in between there were many perils. I did not fear. I would not fail, and if I did, it would all be in the satisfaction of the Pretty Ones, anyway, wouldn’t it?

    I left my ring, and Gideon did not ask me why, nor ask me to return. I looked back as I approached another act, this one far more amazing than my pathetic gaggle of viewers (not that my viewers were pathetic, of course) and slipped through the crowd, slightly hunched. After years of bowing, I was nearly always hunched. Isn’t it a beautiful emotion to know always, even when your master is not present, that you are a slave to Purity? Maybe Purity is the wrong word. Holiness. That’s better. Be quiet. I don’t care if you disagree, stop it! I’m not telling you this to know what you think of me, b*****d. You’re a mortal. And I am wholly unconcerned with such trivial beasts. It doesn’t matter that I’m human! You’re missing the point entirely! Keep up.

    That first act I had to go through was a gangling of faery dancers. They were oh-so pretty, believe me, almost so pretty as my Gideon. Of course, he isn’t mine; I’m not worthy of such perfection. Gideon belongs only to himself, and then whomever he deems worthy of his bed on a night-by-night basis. That never included me. I am too lowly for the bedchambers. When Gideon wants me, he always takes me in the Fourth Room at his Evercrisp Poppy Hall. If you know anything, you know the Fourth Room of every great place in Faerie is green, for green is fourth as orange is second and red is first. But, I digress, for none of these colours mattered in the disorganized and utterly gorgeous chaos that was the circus, except for the masts. There were just the acts, such as the first one that I encountered: the faery dancers.

    They were dressed in leaves and fruits and spider silk and nothing at all. Oh, the young lady with nothing at all was fairest to be certain, she had silver hair (like all of the Pretty Ones), upturned eyes (ditto the aforementioned), and a pale, creamy flesh that looked almost as lovely as deathskin. I was drawn through the crowd to her, too enraptured to realize that she was my first peril. She spun, ribbons in her hair flying in a cataclysmic whirlpool of beauty; they were lined with small razor blades that slashed anything that came near her. Her fellow dancers were not fey at all, proving the attraction’s name of “Shaman’s Delightful Faery Dancers” a mere formality. They were every bit so human as you, and they were helplessly enthralled in their business of dangerous leaps and pirouettes as the knife ribbons cut their skin in gorgeously grotesque curves and riddled their clothes with bloodstains. I joined in the dance without thinking. My quest was momentarily pushed aside, and, indeed, even the remembrance of dear Gideon was driven from my worthless head. I heard music from the sound of razor blades whipping through the air, and the tinkling laughter of the Pretty Ones around me, a song of Lust. I cared not for them, for once. I suppose my absorption in trivial preoccupations (trivial verses the grandeur of my master’s entertainment, anyway) like music and dancing warranted the punishment I received in the next second.

    A whip descended upon me. I had through my years of blissful servitude learned that no matter what state of unconsciousness I was in prior to a cracking whip, I needed to be widely and wholly attentive to learn a lesson once the instrument had been summoned. In the closest inner circle of watchers, dearest and prettiest Gideon snapped the whip over my back, looking annoyed. I stopped spinning and glanced at my skin, only to find it covered in dripping red wounds. Why had I come here in the first place? Why was I spinning? Oh, yes, I remembered, seeing the bit of rope one of the humans had about her waist. I needed that, to retrieve the key. I’d seen it at a distance before I’d been… distracted. Fully roused from the spell, I calmly, without meeting Gideon’s eyes, walked to the human, and petted its dirty head. It was a human girl-child, with vibrant red hair (strange, the Pretty Ones generally preferred ones that looked closer to themselves, fair and light-looking) and green green green eyes. I didn’t so much care for the plaintive look she cast upon me when I neared her, as though she were trapped in a torture she longed to escape. In a move that involved her small frame slowly bending backwards in a move that on a more voluptuous figure would have been enticing, I calmly reached forward and gouged out her green eyes. She couldn’t pause in her act long enough to scream, being thoroughly bewitched to dance until she fell dead, so I would have to incapacitate her by force in order to get my hands on that rope. Blood spewed from the holes in her face I’d created, and the Pretty Ones around us laughed heartily. I smiled slightly; I was going to be such a popular boy for this. I began dancing with her, shifting against her in the movements, now feeling the occasional whip of one of the hair blades. I was getting covered in blood. I put my arms around her shoulders, and she danced blindly against me. I had the feeling that whatever kind Pretty One that had magicked her in the first place saw amusement in my cruelty to one of what I’m ashamed to call my own kind, and limited her dancing to a fervent, harried grinding against myself. She spun her arms around me, and I laughed out loud. “Silly mortal girl,” I crowed, and the fey around me cackled. I brought a single hand to her neck and leaned in to smell the blood pouring from her face. I wanted to kiss her, to taste the rust on her lips, but I daren’t betray my Gideon in such a manner. Gideon. I wondered how he was enjoying my show. I crushed the girl’s neck brutally, thinking only of his smile. She was returned to herself in the last moment by that same Pretty One who’d altered her to dance with me. I caught his eye briefly; he was an old, jovial fellow. Very short and lithe. Not at all evil-looking. I felt the girl struggling against me, and I was getting my bare chest scraped at by the girl as she flailed. She had no hope. I strengthened my hold slowly, enjoying the look of desperation on her eyeless red countenance. I heard sweet Gideon’s voice arguing with the older Pretty One. “Don’t fear, master,” I called to him sweetly. “I cannot be hurt by the human girl’s attack.”

    With this I crushed her throat, and blood spurted from her eye sockets, drenching me. I took the rope from her waist and, leaving this Dance of Lust, walked through the cheering crowd on to the next circle, feeling confident. Here was a feast, but not for the Pretty Ones. Like before, they only watched on in amusement. I looked and saw dozens of humans gorging themselves on the feast, already hundreds of pound a piece. I watched an elderly man eat an entire pumpkin in one bite and grow fatter still before I wondered what exactly made this food so irresistible. I wanted to know why they would so eagerly kill themselves with this crop (to be sure, there was no meat), all the while knowing that gluttony was the most disgusting of sins (so long as the fruit was not one of those provided by my Gideon, which was a privilege to eat and should never be refused). I became curious, and sat down at the long feast table, all the while knowing the mistake might kill me. After all, even if I did die, the Pretty Ones would still be entertained, would they not? I set my rope calmly beside me on the bench. Still thinking of the key, I bit into a single orange without peeling it first. It didn’t taste at all appealing, but I bit again. It tasted like dirt. I bit again. It was putrid and bland in comparison with Gideon’s cherries. I finished it and moved on to a bowl of orange sorbet. It tasted cold, and nothing else. I ate the entire platter. I grabbed a bit of sweet potato casserole. It looked human-made because of the marshmallows that adorned the top. I ate the entire dish despite my disgust. I continued, not realizing what I was doing, only noting my displeasure at the unsavory meal. The man next to me fell dead, and I paid no mind.

    “Look at you. You’re getting all fat, piglet.” I heard my Gideon’s voice in my ear and stopped ingesting immediately, feeling absurd. He smirked, his long silver hair gleaming in the natural lighting and grey eyes narrowing in cold amusement. I sheepishly replaced the mango I’d been about to bite on the table and walk away from the table. Gideon followed me.

    “You’ve been very inquisitive today, pet,” he said, sounding bored. “Why don’t you come back to our ring and have a few more cherries? Or has your mindless indulgence left you full?”

    I was very sated, and besides, on a quest. I swallowed and told him so without stopping in my walking. I felt his glare on the back of my head. I’d never rejected an offer from him before. I had something to do, though. A key to retrieve. I continued to the next ring.

    There was a splendor here also irresistible to any human. Mountains of gold coins were stacked, and in the center, at the highest peak of the highest hill, was a yellow-golden crown.

    “Oh look,” the attraction’s manager said, observing me. “Another… contestant.” The fey crowd rippled with laughter. I shook my head. I would not fall victim to another prank. I had a quest, and I had wasted time already. Also, I knew that the gold was likely glamoured bottle caps, or the like.

    “Come, child,” the same Pretty One goaded me. “The one who reaches that crown governs all that gold. Riches beyond your wildest dreams. You could win any heart with a fortune like that.”

    At this I paused and turned slowly back to the gold piles I’d been walking away from. Gideon’s face crossed my mind. It could all end here, I wouldn’t need a key at all…

    I ran at the first hill, and the crowd cheered. I got over the first one with only a minor amount of struggle. The coins slid from under me, but it seemed to have a solid base somewhere deep down. Most of my descent was an accidental somersault downwards. I got midway up the second hill and felt a tremor under my feet. Was the hill collapsing, I wondered with a panic. I had already gotten halfway up without realizing, thinking of my future with Gideon the entire way. I couldn’t afford to start over on this hill, now. I’d come too far. The tip of the second hill, I could see as I looked up, was made of revealed grey stone, sharp and wicked-looking. Gold coins had probably covered it at one point also, but the tremors or other contestants may have knocked the glimmering treasure away. I remembered the rope in my hands that I hadn’t set down since I got back up from the Table of Gluttony. I lassoed the mountain tip and continued amid the falling coins up the trembling mountain. The shaking did not decease, and suddenly, I felt something ensnare my ankle.

    It is one thing to drown. It is quite another thing to drown, knowing your own greed brought you to it. I wasn’t about to let myself die here, however. I struggled. All the gold on the mountain (that, thinking back, must’ve been a glamoured tree, or something, because it fit evenly under the tent) fell on top of me, and I began to lose oxygen. I was being dragged downwards and I had nothing to hold but the gold around me, which, of course, helped me not at all. My ankle was set free for a moment, one moment only, and I struggled to clamber up. Quicker than my arm could moved more than a few inches through the dense golden sea, however, the tugging was reinstated and I was being pulled down once more.

    It was extraordinarily disorienting to break surface of the Sea of Greed feet-first (hadn’t I been going down?) and realize that the bond that held my ankle was the end of a familiar whip.

    “You,” my Gideon chided, “have been a very insolent pet. Return with me to your ring. Our audience grows thin and tired of the substitute, for she is not half so pretty as you. It is very reprehensible of the proprietor of the annual circus to hold such a dry little ceremony as throwing cherries to an allergic little brunette. Do you not agree, Solstice?”

    “Master,” I pleaded. “Give me leave for this day alone, and I shall play with a renewed vigour you’ve never seen the likes of… my kind… possess.”

    “Solstice,” he said, shaking his head and carrying me away from the gilded wonderland. “I took you from your pathetic mortal parents and gave you a beautiful name. Would you disobey? Would you go back to them to be their Alex?”

    “Oh, no, Master,” I said, gasping with horror. I couldn’t just abandon my quest, though! I’d acted so foolishly in the last hours, and I wouldn’t let that be without payoff. I wanted that key. The one that floated in midair, black and shiny and far-off and meant, presumably, for me. “Master, I beseech you. I am your toy forever, if only you’ll let me have my fun about the Circus for today alone.” Could I get to the key in one day? Gideon gave a long, hard sigh before setting me on the ground. I stood, making sure not to hunch for once. I came to his chin; I am not old enough to be so tall as he. I am sixteen and very, very ugly, for I am a human. His eyes finally returned to mine, and I saw my short blonde hair and light, huge grey eyes reflected in them. I am very small and very thin. Luckily, though I daren’t wave the knowledge about him, I happened to believe that Gideon had an inclination to be fonder of the smaller ones.

    “I’ll compromise with you, Solstice, but only because you are my dearest and prettiest pet. I will escort you about my Circus. What would you like to see?” Gideon had never called me his prettiest or his dearest before. I flushed with pleasure.

    “Master,” I said, “It would please me greatly just to roam whatever we encounter next on this traveling path together, and through the circus back to… my ring.”

    “As you wish,” he sighed. I smiled to myself. The key was a mere three circles away, and it worked to my benefit that my Master would be with me, for it would save me the journey back to reap the rewards of my struggles. He placed a hand on the small of my back and pushed me to the next circle. Here I saw the old man who’d ingested the pumpkin whole being literally rolled onto a dais surrounded by a magic barrier.

    “The Stage of Sloth,” Gideon whispered in my ear as we neared, laughing to himself. I smiled weakly and stared, wide-eyed, as the Pretty Ones that had rolled the old man onto the dais left.

    “He hasn’t been sedated,” the supervisor of this show informed his audience. “If he will get up, he is free to leave. The barrier you all sense only holds the beast in.”

    I nodded affirmation of this. In my years in Faerie, I’d learned the different feelings of faery enchantments, which, while simpler and less varied than a wizard’s, were just as effective. This enchantment would let me through if I desired it, and back out again. The only way this field could possibly be altered to keep him in was if the magic was meant for him specifically, which would severely limit the times this act could be repeated, as it takes a significant amount of time to cast barrier enchantments. Gideon would never have let such a show in his Circus, who prided himself on the talent and entertainment of his carnivals. The claim was an honest one. Of course, this information is all superfluous. Fey cannot tell an untruth to begin with, after all. Such interesting and wonderful creatures, aren’t they?

    They released the giant green lion with a flourish of a dark black cape. One moment there was air, thick and full of tension, and the next the great chartreuse beast was prowling about his confinements. He did not appear particularly hungry, but then, the stench of the human must have had the most delightfully greasy tinge to it, like an after-dinner cookie smells sweet to one’s nose, or an ice cream cone in one’s mind can conceptually certainly not add to the fullness in one’s stomach. Granted, there were several minutes before the creature pounced where the old man, even at his age, could have risen and moved away. It was his indolence that had killed him; the lion was just a catalyst for the inevitable. I laughed along with the rest. Such a clever pun, it was. Humans were such uncultured swine.

    After the lion had murdered the screaming man, entrails flying everywhere until the life fled from his eyes at last, the audience broke and continued about their respective ways, including myself with Gideon. I noticed now that all eyes were upon my master and I, whereas before I’d been almost completely ignored when not drawing attention to myself. Gideon was a popular (or at least, well-known) faery in his Unseelie social circles, and his protective (or at least possessive) hand on my back, or at times around my elbow, or the like, began a hearty slew of gossip among the fey. It wasn’t unheard of, even fairly common in the Seelie courts for fey to become romantically involved with a mortal, but in the Unseelie court it was a scandal, particularly amongst the gentry. I, of course, knew that I was nothing more than a toy to my dear Gideon. They, however, were ignorant, and presumed that a creature so wretched as myself could possibly have captured the heart of my striking master. For the first time, I felt resentment to the Pretty Ones. They dared make such assumptions about my master, when I so pursued humility before him? Besides, if I had my master’s affections, what could I possibly need that key for?

    We drew to the fifth ring from mine. Here, like the third ring, a work of nature had been manufactured through the use of glamour. A pond-- the clearest, bluest pond in existence-- glimmered under the darkening sky. The afternoon was fading into evening, and so the carnival was flourishing. Our people (or rather, my master’s people, I cannot truthfully call myself one of them, as much as I wish I could) were mostly nocturnal, and their activity was best suited for darkness. Any Seelie and solitary fey that had visited began leaving; at night, no one but a strict Unseelie-loyal faery would dare mingle in the chaotic festivities that were my master’s Circus. The act at the fifth ring was already in progress as my master and I drew near. Here were two men, both only a bit older than me, fighting to the death. One strangled his foe (once likely a friend) with as much venom as he could summon. In the next moment, the strangled man managed to tackle his captor into the water and begin to asphyxiate him under those calm, beautiful placid waters. I stared, angry, still unable to get the sight of pointing and whispering fey from my mind. An unfortunate bystander happened to notice my infamous master and I, and insolently and conspicuously nudged her comrade. This, as you mortals might say, ‘was the last straw’. I flew from my master and tackled the faery to the ground. A few people around us gasped and, more at racial pride than concern for the winged creature I dragged by fair hair to the waters, began beating me. I heard Gideon yell behind me “stop, stop!” I did not bother to turn and see whether he was addressing me or the Pretty Ones who were attacking me fruitlessly from all sides. I dragged the Pretty One to the pond and lifted it by silver locks to be level with my face. It screamed and swore. I ignored it.

    “Do you regret the comment you made about my master, the most handsome and holy Gideon?” I asked scornfully. The Pretty One paused in its violence only to spit in my face. I did not react except to throw her into the pond and, before she could resurface, trap her with my foot in the water. It looked as if this act would have a special bonus murder.

    A whip slashed my back. I turned and saw Gideon, looking more worried than furious, his grey eyes aghast. However, when he spoke to me, it was in the coolest of sneers imaginable, and I was sorely ashamed.

    “My disgusting little pet, see what you’ve done? You’ve gone and killed the customer. We will have forty lashes for this, lovely one.” Lovely one. He called me his lovely one, and despite my humiliation, my heart soared. I stepped from the pond, and met my master’s eye. He still did not look infuriated. I was rather confused. I looked over my shoulder before we left the ring and noticed dully three bodies bobbing in the pond. I suppose the struggle between the two mortals had not ended well for either of them, which of course came as no surprise to me. The audience would have not been satisfied without a maximum amount of death. They’d come for entertainment, after all, and what better for laughs than humans being executed left and right, mostly due to their own primal foolishness?

    We left the ring, and I prepared to turn back to my ring, where my master would surely whip me for everyone to witness. I shuddered, knowing how badly it would hurt, for sometimes nothing pleases my Gideon better than watching blood run down my back. I would never admit it to his fair face, but I am sometimes convinced he is rather infatuated with my pain. I am his most loyal toy, and would do anything to please him, which he uses to his advantage whenever possible. I do not resent this. I am merely exalting in my gladness that I can do something to amuse my sweet master. When he whips, I cry for him, and when he touches, I scream accordingly. When he wants me to dance, I wear myself exhausted. When he wishes me asleep, I am dead still and I have learned to drain the colour from my skin.

    Gideon did not, however, lead me back to my ring. He started in that direction, to be sure, but just as I noticed that we’d outrun all the watchers of the last event, he suddenly and forcefully whipped me behind a pillar that I would, after my daze cleared, recognize as the seventh mast, the violet one.

    “Daring little creature,” he hissed, sounding please with me. He took my face between his hands and pressed his body against mine, which was trapped between him and the mast. “My lovely toy Solstice protects my honour. Would the little knight like a kiss for serving its king so well?”

    I blinked slowly, wondering where the rage I expected was. “I deserve nothing, it was my duty, my love, my lord.” I said slowly. He grinned at me as if I were a darling genius-child.

    “Solstice, I named you for the longest night of the winter, because as an Unseelie faery, it is generally most acceptable for me to name my slaves with titles relating to our time of activity. You have brothers and sisters named Luna and Nox and Obsidian. But the solstice is also the longest day of summer. Likewise, my pet, you’ve shed no end of light on my days of darkness. You are my most treasured pet, and I thank you for your loyalty.”

    He kissed me then, and I really wasn’t certain whether I was happy to have earned some amount of liking from him, or disappointed to know that he would condescend to like me over something so naturally obvious as defending his name. The faery I loved was a crueler, less movable man. I loved him all the more for this new side, yet it displeased me to find him less perfectly unattainable than I’d imagined him.

    I’ve been kissed many times by Gideon. I am his toy, and the games he plays with me and his whip generally do not involve much clothing or room between our bodies. It has never been intimate, though. He has played with me and returned me, metaphorically, to my shelf, where I await his next whim and fancy that concerns myself. This kiss, however, was different from the normal ministrations. He kissed me as he might a beautiful she-faery, like the Lust Dancer if she were higher status. Like he was giving me a small piece of my heart. As he pulled away and lead me past the ring I had occupied earlier that day and to the ring on its opposite side, I was still torn between horror and bliss. As we passed other Circus-goers I saw from a distance two more figures grappling in the shiny Lake of Wrath. I shuddered (Gideon put an arm around my barren shoulders) and we hurried over to the ring that bordered ours. The attraction was not yet up-and-running, this being the first night and not yet quite evening of the Circus. Half of this ring did not fit within the tent, so I knew that whatever this act would be, it would be enormous. A little ways over I spied a Seelie man (easily distinguishable amongst the gathered fey for being darker, rosier-skinned and with beautiful red curled locks, not half so lovely as Gideon’s straight silver ones, but nice all the same) with his own pet, a young human girl with bright blue eyes and dark black hair. As I watched, the Seelie man laughed at something she said and bent down to kiss her. In public.

    I was not the only one outraged, but I’m certain I was the only viewer who was envious. Gideon glanced between the lovers and my face and laughed.

    “Crave romance all you want, little Solstice,” he crooned. “Love will only come through action. She must’ve acted at one point. She deserves the affections she has earned, so long as she hasn’t been rejected. I have always been more wont to play with my toys until they break but,” he glanced down and met my eyes, “I am not one to rebuke others’ ways.”

    I said nothing, but ducked my head into the crook of Gideon’s shoulder, shielding my eyes from the Seelie faery who dared disgrace himself and his venerable clan under my master’s tent. We passed the ring, the indigo sky burning into us for a moment, and arrived at the final ring.

    The tightrope walkers.

    Here, I realized with a start, was my key! I watched as the tightrope walkers, all human, were forced to walk the rope without any support whatsoever. The crowd laughed and pointed and attempted to startle the mortals off their perches. Whenever one did fall, the blood splatter was received with raucous cheering. I watched it all in dismay, because I realized that there in the center of the tightrope the key was tied, and to get it I had to participate in the game. Shaking my head, I looked at Gideon for what I feared could be the final time. Before, I had gotten into scrapes only to be pulled out again by him. Here, if I fell, he would not be able to help me.

    “Master, I am about to embark on a perilous operation to prove my eternal devotion.” With that, without waiting for a reaction, I pushed past everyone to the red mast, which had been lined with a rope ladder, and quickly ascended. The mast was a good one-hundred feet high, and it took me a dreadfully long time to reach the top, where a short wooden platform extended before the rope, which connected to the orange mast, which held a facsimiled platform. I cautiously stepped onto the rope, glad that Gideon had played many balancing games with me throughout my lifetime. I had expected jeers from the Pretty Ones that watched, but none came. I didn’t dare look down, however, and had soon reached the median of the rope. There I found my onyx key, easily freed from a loose knot simply by giving a gentle tug. I wondered why no one had grabbed it before. Suddenly, I began to fall. As I flew downwards, I felt curious more than anything; I was absolutely certain that I had had a firm hold on the violet wire with my feet when I’d plucked the key.

    Gideon caught me easily and set me aright. I smiled weakly.

    “I’ve gotten this key to unlock your heart, Gideon,” I whispered to him amongst the sudden uproar of clamorous faery commentary at our spectacle. I’d never called him by his name to his face before, and the sound of it thrilled me. I was filled with pride at my successful conquest. “This key that I saw all the way back in our ring.”

    He took my wrists in his and stared down into my eyes, his own pent up with emotion. “Little Solstice,” he said, trying to sound even. “That is not a key you have there. And neither would you need one to gain my love. You have it, and have had it,” he said tremulously, “as long as I can possibly remember.”

    He kissed me, and in confusion I broke away.

    “Forever?” I asked in awe. “But I… I’m only a human! I never once have gone on any quest before, or anything! Master, you flatter me, but certainly you hyperbolize.”

    “I do no such thing,” he objected, tenderly smiling at me. I blinked in astonishment, and glanced at the key. In that instant, I recalled his testament that it was not, as I had saw, a key. Verily, it wasn’t. It was a dagger. A black, shiny, onyx dagger.

    “I have always been filth,” I said slowly, shaking my head, not meeting Gideon’s eyes. “You have never had any business loving me.”

    “You have always been my pretty, sweet, dedicated pet, and my preferred lover. I am now not afraid to tell you so, now that you have that little object. It is made of iron, Solstice, and anyone who does not approve of our love can die by it.”

    “Iron, you say?” I asked, looking at its glimmering black point. I didn’t look to be iron. I wondered why they had put it in the rope to begin with. Likely to draw the captives away to compete in the game because they could not afford dispensable slaves of their own, I reasoned, referring in my mind to the owners of the particular attraction. With the knowledge that all humans that got the dagger would be thrown to the ground, no harm could really come to them, after all.

    I was not satisfied. Gideon had been in my mind, always, a picture of irreproducible grace, elegance, and refinement. He would never have loved me as a toy, as much as I had wanted him to. I was not contented. I loved Gideon the Faery, not Gideon the Lover.

    Gideon saw the change in my face and stepped away instinctively.

    “Solstice, what are you-?”

    There was a significant pop and spurt of blood as I shoved the dagger into his mouth and sliced his left cheek open.

    “Shut up!” I cried. “Just shut up!”

    Gideon began cursing, and reached for his whip. It brought back fond memories, but too little, too late. I stabbed him.

    “You hurt me, Gideon. More than you ever have before. I just wanted to love you, not your saintly twin. I love you so very much, the way you cut my skin into ribbons, the way you shove your sex into my mouth and make me gag, the way you make me cry from your lack of sympathy. You’re so perfect, darling, but now, you’re, you’re-“ I widened my eyes dramatically with passion as I spat the word, “Human.”

    I pulled the blade back and stabbed him once more, and again. I slashed his stomach, and blood splattered the ground. A single toadstool below him was saturated in blood. I laughed. Toadstools had always, I remembered from my boyhood years, meant the presence of fairies.

    “They say fairies can’t tell a fib, Gideon,” I said sadly as he fell to his knees, staring up at me in horror. I grabbed one of his hands to hold for a moment, just to see if I could spark the romance to life once again before I ended it for good. In his hand I felt nothing but sticky cherry juices. I cut off the wretched hand in disgust, and he was in too much pain to speak as he fell face-forward to the ground, choking on his own blood. “But you’ve lived a lie your whole goddamn life, haven’t you?”

    I stabbed him in the back, because in my eyes, he’d done the same to me.
    End.