A Faery Tale
by E. A. Smith

Sean Kennedy watched the full moon rise behind the trees, sending slivers of light through the branches to shine like searchlights on the water. The lake was nearly still, only a few ripples raised by the light breeze that blew past his bench near the shore. The faint, shimmery light only seemed to highlight his dusky mood, revealing and enhancing the solitude of his surroundings.

Sean only came to this lake, situated in a isolated corner of a park not a half-hour’s drive from his home, when he was feeling lonely. Sean came here a lot. He couldn’t even explain why he did it, as he couldn’t remember it ever making him feel better, and the scenery looked more likely to make him feel worse; but for some reason, he so often found himself drawn back here, watching that same full moon rise behind those same trees. It always seemed to be full when he was here, but Sean credited that to an actively romantic imagination, which wanted to cast the past in the most effective mise en scéne. And watching the water now, when the moon was in fact full, he knew how effective that little extra bit could be.

Sean had to admit to himself that anyone watching his life from the outside would be puzzled as to what all his fuss was about. He had plenty of friends and family, and had even had a few romantic relationships as well (none of them having ended well, or he wouldn’t be here, but many people could share that story). There were those he loved, those he was close to, but somehow none of them seemed to be quite . . . enough. There was a gap, an empty spot in his existence. Some place where something was supposed to go. But what? Or who? And how was he supposed to fill up that hole when he didn’t even know what was supposed to fit into it?

The moon rose above the highest of the treetops. Now unobstructed, its light flooded the lake and the ground around it, turning darkness into silvery glow. Sean felt himself and his surroundings bathed in the moonshine, transfiguring an ordinary park and an ordinary man into something otherworldly. Sean looked down at himself and was almost surprised to find the same figure he saw every day of his life. But the moonlight did not leave him completely unchanged. The reflected glow washed out his imperfections and flaws, and nearly washed out his humanity. He felt as though the glow was coming as much from him as from the orb in the sky above his head, as though he had transformed into a being of glory and grace, even though underneath that light he remained the same person he always was. A spot on his left ring finger caught the light particularly well, and for a moment it looked as though the moonshine were reflecting from a band of silver around his finger. Goosebumps raised on his skin. His eyebrow suddenly itched, and he raised a hand to scratch it, only to find another hand already there.

He turned, and beside him sat a young woman, though Sean did not think that he could have missed her arrival. She was tall and lithe, but something about her conveyed a sense of rightness and grace that belied what should have been an ungainly height. Her skin was very fair, almost translucent, contrasting sharply with the jet-black hair that streamed over her shoulders. Through that hair poked two ears that ended in just the slightest suggestion of an elegant point. Her features were sharp, but tempered by a tender smile. And her eyes were the brightest green, so bright they seemed to shine in the moonlight. Sean’s breath caught in his throat, but then the tension and surprise faded from him, and he smiled contentedly.

“Hello, my love,” he said, and leaned in for a kiss.

* * * * *

Afterwards, they lay on the grass, snuggled naked together in sleepy warmth. The woman was curled up next to Sean, her head on his chest, her fingers tracing patterns over the skin of his arms and his torso. Sean held her tightly, as he always did, knowing this moment would end too soon and hoping, he knew in vain, that maybe this time he could hold her firmly enough to keep her at his side.

The woman raised her head to look at him, her eyes uncommonly solemn.

“Do you regret this?” she asked, her low, musical voice not hiding a tremor.

“What we just did?” Sean replied, trying to raise her spirits. “Believe me, that’s the very last thing on the list of my potential regrets.”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” she said, her faint smile showing that she appreciated the joke, but she wouldn’t be deterred by it. “Do you regret me? Do you regret taking a wife you can only be with, only remember, when the full moon reflects upon the water?” Her voice and her face betrayed a real concern, so Sean put aside his joking manner. He raised himself up on one elbow, the better to look full into her face and show her his sincerity.

“No, I don’t,” he said, matching her serious tone. “When we are together, I don’t regret it for a second. I love you, no one else. It’s only when I’m with you that I’m fully aware of what the word ‘love’ even means. And I’ll take a few stolen hours with the woman I truly love over a lifetime with her first runner-up any day.”

“I fear you hold it against me. I fear that what I have left you with is only half a life. I fear that whatever I may offer you is not enough to repay what you have given up.”

“Never think it,” Sean said. He took her hand and held it to his lips, then his heart. “I chose this life; I chose you. I knew what I was getting into. You’re worth more to me than every moment of my life without you. You bewitched me, my love. Your faery magic captured my heart and now I can never let you go.”

“There was no magic involved and you know it,” she replied, trying to sound serious but betrayed by a giggle.

“That’s what you think,” Sean said, “but you cast a spell over me as surely as if you had commanded my heart to be captive to yours. I can only be left to wonder how every man, mortal and faery, could not be your captive.”

“Many pursued me, but none caught me until you. And I am caught, Sean, as surely as you.”

“Do you regret that?” Sean asked, wondering and fearing that he had discovered what had truly been on her mind. “Do you regret taking a mortal for a husband? My life is just a speck next to yours. It would destroy me to lose you, even if I couldn't remember why, but you knew from the beginning that you would lose me. How can you bear to think of that?”

“It is nothing that some of my people have not faced before me. I have spoken with many faery women whose mortal husbands are long dead. Few of them regret the decision.”

“But do you?” Sean asked, noticing with alarm that she had not answered his question. For a moment or two, the only reply he got was a mournful sigh as she pulled herself even more tightly to him, but turned her head down, her eyes hidden from his own. She replied in a heavy voice.

“Sometimes. Sometimes I do. Not because I do not think you worth the sacrifice. But I wonder what you are doing in your world, without me, without the memory of me. What dalliances are you having, with what women? Maybe I should be pleased that at least you can have some comfort, but I am too selfish to be so generous.” Sean briefly closed his own eyes in sorrow, then, tilting up her chin, looked deep into his wife’s unearthly gaze.

“Never think it,” he said firmly. “It’s not selfishness to hurt when you think I might be with someone else. Even ignorant unfaithfulness is a horrible thing to do to one you love.” Sean could feel his breath catching in his throat, blocked by the lump that was forming there. “I’m so very sorry for all that I have done to you in my forgetfulness. I do have one regret: that my choice to be with you has brought you pain. I am the selfish one. Please forgive me.” He ran a strand of night-black hair through his hand, brushing her neck in the process. She caught her hand in his, and brushed it gently with her lips.

“My love, there is nothing to forgive,” she said. “You are not to blame.”

“These other women . . .” Sean continued. He could not accept absolution so easily. “They’ve always felt empty to me. Deep down, I knew there was something missing.” He placed her hand over his heart. “I’m only complete when I’m with you.”

“I understand, Sean. I feel the same. That is why I chose the way I did.” Her lips curled in a shy smile, though it could not completely dispel the haunting in her eyes. “Let us leave this talk of fear and regret behind. I want to enjoy my time with my husband while I can. My foolish worries have stolen enough of it.”

The faery woman raised her hand to Sean’s face, her touch as delicate as leaves on water, wind on grass. A silent apology. But Sean did not hold her fears against her, nor did he begrudge the time it took to console her as best he could. Despite her assurances, he keenly felt the imbalance of their situation. For her sake, he wished that, when they were apart, she could forget him as much as he forgot her.

Sean hated the magic that kept them apart, hated that the men of her race feared mortal men so much that they would so punish their women who loved them. But his love was right; to dwell on these thoughts was to steal from them both the few moments they had together. However well spent, much time already had been lost, and he could never be sure of when they would be together again. Sean leaned over to answer her touch with his own, to be with his wife as fully as possible for the time they had left.

Overhead, the moon moved behind the oncoming clouds, and she was gone.

* * * * *

Sean sat on the bench by the lake, wondering yet again why he kept on bothering to come here. Somehow, there was always a hope in the back of his mind that this place held the cure for his feelings of isolation and emptiness, even though he always came away feeling even more hollow and confused than when he arrived, sensations coupled with a strange lassitude of body that only magnified the melancholy. He rose with a sigh, forcing his reluctant body into motion, a body weighed down by more than physical weight. Hope unfulfilled was a heavy thing indeed.

Sean turned his back on the now-still lake and walked away. Even as he went, though, something inside him made him pause. He turned halfway back and took one final glance at the shadowed water. He knew he would be back.

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Author's Note: This story was inspired (more in spirit than in content) by two other works I recently read: Susanna Clarke's magnificent (and massive) Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, and a short story by Parke Godwin entitled "The Lady of Finnegan's Hearth".