- Messages
- 191
- Character Biography
- Link
The Fae did not have many rules.
Indeed, for most of their lives they would search for loopholes and gaps in the few they did have. But the one that nobody dared to touch or break was that of hospitality. Hospitality was a rule that many suspected went all the way back to the Gods murmured to have given a portion of their power to the fae all those years ago. It was theorised to have been purposefully left in the blood the Gods gave them, a way to bind them to humanity even if it was just a fraction, as if they knew the children they had created would fill the world with mortal bones when they left. Others claimed
The Erlking wondered if it was the fae themselves who had agreed upon it. That they saw the pitfalls of their immortal lives and knew they needed one core part of lore to anchor themselves too lest the Mists wash them away. To give the fae something to trust in their long lives of deceit and trickery. Midir was certainly sure it was the only reason why so many opposing forces had come together this night to share wine beneath the Summer Solstice moon, then speak of war with the Dawn.
He had had to act quickly when Lorcan had obliterated half the Summer Palace and murdered one of the Queens most trusted advisers. Letters had been sent by Wisp to the leaders and their councils he knew would be sympathetic - those such as Spring and Winter who already knew of Summer's quiet trespasses these past millennia - and to those who were an enigma - like Dawn. He was not sure who would show, nor who they would bring with them to this charade of a Solstice ball. Who would believe him when he had revealed the truth of the reason why Summer now demanded his sons head: that they had tortured his mate. The only thing Midir suspected the fae held higher in esteem than hospitality. He'd demanded that they both attend so that those still unsure could speak to them directly. His son would have been a terrible liar even if their blood didn't forbid it. One look at the pair and most would believe the story, especially with Maeve's scars still not fully healed.
Tonight they would decide as they sipped on wine.
Tomorrow those that chose to side with Autumn, would plot a war that had lain dormant for nearly 4,000 years. A war against Summer.
Indeed, for most of their lives they would search for loopholes and gaps in the few they did have. But the one that nobody dared to touch or break was that of hospitality. Hospitality was a rule that many suspected went all the way back to the Gods murmured to have given a portion of their power to the fae all those years ago. It was theorised to have been purposefully left in the blood the Gods gave them, a way to bind them to humanity even if it was just a fraction, as if they knew the children they had created would fill the world with mortal bones when they left. Others claimed
The Erlking wondered if it was the fae themselves who had agreed upon it. That they saw the pitfalls of their immortal lives and knew they needed one core part of lore to anchor themselves too lest the Mists wash them away. To give the fae something to trust in their long lives of deceit and trickery. Midir was certainly sure it was the only reason why so many opposing forces had come together this night to share wine beneath the Summer Solstice moon, then speak of war with the Dawn.
He had had to act quickly when Lorcan had obliterated half the Summer Palace and murdered one of the Queens most trusted advisers. Letters had been sent by Wisp to the leaders and their councils he knew would be sympathetic - those such as Spring and Winter who already knew of Summer's quiet trespasses these past millennia - and to those who were an enigma - like Dawn. He was not sure who would show, nor who they would bring with them to this charade of a Solstice ball. Who would believe him when he had revealed the truth of the reason why Summer now demanded his sons head: that they had tortured his mate. The only thing Midir suspected the fae held higher in esteem than hospitality. He'd demanded that they both attend so that those still unsure could speak to them directly. His son would have been a terrible liar even if their blood didn't forbid it. One look at the pair and most would believe the story, especially with Maeve's scars still not fully healed.
Tonight they would decide as they sipped on wine.
Tomorrow those that chose to side with Autumn, would plot a war that had lain dormant for nearly 4,000 years. A war against Summer.