Emerging Rebellion : a Men of Myth short story

by Brandon Witt

  I never told him it was our mother’s decree that left me branded. That she not only maintained the expectations for the betrayal of her royal blood, but compounded them. Never told him that my wings were plucked—allowing him to believe the stubs were another result of the malformation.

  I convinced him it was only custom and tradition that dictated our family ties be severed, which was true, in the purest of senses. I convinced him he was in no danger of my fate. I convinced him all would be fine.

  Maybe I should have fled. Left Xenith alone. He would have forgotten me in time. Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted a child with our secrets. But I had, and Xenith had never intentionally nor accidentally betrayed me.

  Even as I stared at him in the clearing, despite his grown face and body, I still only saw my brother who had wept the night I returned, the child I held until he fell asleep. The child I vowed to love and protect for my entire life. Nothing good would come of the truth now. It was too late for the truth, it would cut him too deep.

  “No, Xenith. I shouldn’t be meeting with Flesser, and I am certain he does not feel the same about me, whatever my feelings are—”

  “See! You do have feelings for him. Let me talk to—”

  “No. Please. I know you mean well. Let me give this time.” I searched for an excuse. “Let me figure it out, to see if Flesser truly does care for me.”

  His brows furrowed in frustration. “Fine. But I am certain—”

  A snapping sounded in the distance, startling us both and cutting off his words. I shifted to be invisible. It wouldn’t fool another fairy if they were looking for me, but if they were unaware, chances were low that they’d notice.

  After a few moments and further gentle cracking, a young buck stepped out of the darkness of the trees. An arrow protruded from its upper flank, and its left hind leg was twisted causing the animal to limp. Dropping my invisibility, I stepped toward the creature, Xenith moving beside me.

  Xenith knelt in front of the deer, stroking his hand along the side of its cheek and muzzle. “It must have fallen down a hill or something when it was shot.” He motioned toward the velvet-covered antlers, one of which had snapped off halfway down. Dried blood crusted around the break and down the buck’s side from the arrow’s insertion. With each small motion, a trickle of fresh blood made its way through the crusted mess.

  I looked off into the woods, as if I could see through the trees. “I neither heard nor sensed humans.”

  “Nor I.” The deer nuzzled against Xenith’s palm. “From the looks of our friend, I think he has wandered a long distance.” He motioned me closer. “You remove the arrow while I keep him calm.”

  I did as he said. My blood ran cold as I saw the arrow’s point slide free. It glowed blue. Not a human arrow. Wrapping my hand around it, I absorbed its power. When I removed my grasp, the glow was gone.

  It was less than a minute’s work, using my power to effortlessly slide the arrow from the deer’s body, then lay my hand over the wound to encourage it to heal. In another instant, I’d also healed the fractured bone in the deer’s rear leg. I stroked along the animal’s side. The deer was beautiful and appeared to be a yearling. Still not losing the comforting contact with the deer’s hide, I again looked into the forest. Already I felt guilt for misleading Xenith, but I couldn’t cause him fear. “Should you go alert the guards to the possibility of humans?”

  Standing once more, Xenith gave a final stroke to the deer, then stepped away. “No. Our defenses are intact. We are in no danger.”

  I didn’t argue. I was certain Xenith was correct. But still, the deer’s injury, the way the arrow had so easily sliced into the strong beautiful creature, sent a chill of dread down my spine.

  Before encouraging the deer to be on its way, I moved my hand up to the injured antler. As the antler regrew, a soft glow from its core illuminated the darkness between the three of us like a small candle. The singular long spike reminded me of my own disfigured protrusions. Unlike the deer, there was no hope of those ever fulfilling their destiny. “Go along now, young one. Some day you will have a head heavy with your crown of spikes. Wear it with pride. May you never lose your majesty.”

  Four

  Flesser arched, letting his head fall back slightly as he moved rhythmically above me. I was near to orgasm but forced myself to wait, to be satisfied watching his body undulate. He began to stroke his cock with greater fervor and impaled himself upon me with such force that each impact hurt.

  Just as his seed shot across my chest, his grasshopper wings unsheathed. The crystalline front wings rising on either side of his head, the rust-hued rear segments unfurling from the sides of his back. The sight of his wings, more than his orgasm spraying across my skin, was my undoing. With a muffled cry, I let go of my resolve before Flesser issued a final groan and collapsed onto me.

  His whispered breath tickled across my chest. “Don’t change back yet. Let me see you one last time.”

  Shame washed away the peace that orgasm had brought. He must have felt my embrace stiffen around him.

  “You’re attractive enough in your true form, but I just want to see.”

  I managed not to scoff, outwardly in any case.

  Rising back into his seated position on top of me, Flesser gazed down, stretching out a hand to stroke my cheek. “You are one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s not real, Flesser. It’s all illusion.” I turned my head, adjusting so my cheek lost contact with his fingers.

  With a sigh he withdrew and sat back, letting his weight rest on my abdomen. “It is more than that. It is what should have been. You should have been the prince. Not Xenith. And I could have been your king.”

  The night breeze flowed over us, cooling our sweating skin. I didn’t respond. How could I? Which truth would help?

  Had my rebirth gifted a different destiny, I would never have glanced Flesser’s direction, much let take him as a mate. His own transition, though more successful than my own, had barely left him more than an outcast. Everything was proportional, and there were no malformations. Yet Flesser’s appearance was average in every way save one. Those glowing eyes had allowed him to stay part of our civilized society. They were gorgeous, like orange sapphires, but they were his only redeeming grace.

  Should I tell him that every time I shift my appearance to be that of Quay, the prince, the cuts on my soul deepen? That I am aware he never speaks the name accompanying my past form? That I know he does not love me? Worse, that despite his effect on me, I have fallen in love with him? That I hate myself even more due to that fact?

  Maybe I should let it all out, say it all. He would turn and walk away. Probably fly away as quickly as his insect wings would take him.

  I couldn’t understand why Flesser chose to be with me. It made no more sense than the first time he approached me so long ago. If he truly had some physical desire for me, he could use me at his whim, or should he feel the need to dominate, hurt, or shame, he could use my body for any such purpose. Though rare—we fairies are kind and gentle by nature, or so I used to believe—it did happen from time to time. At first, I fought against the occasional rape. No longer. There was no point. But none of that was what Flesser seemed to desire.

  In more rational moments, when I put aside my feelings for him, it made a strange sort of sense. Flesser was on the lowest edge of our society, of fairy society—I am no longer a part of it. He was nearly an outcast himself. I doubted there were any who desired him. At least I had been a prince. Could have made him royalty. At least in his delusions.

  To my shame, there was little I would deny him. Due to my own delusions, to be sure. Despite knowing the truth of that, there was comfort in nonreality. When his skin touched mine with desire, when the warmth of his body heated my own, when orgasm shattered all awareness, everything was forgotten. There was only that fragment of time. Only that feeling. Only that drug. All else disappeared. Almost.

  But I did withhold thr
ee things from Flesser. At both our arrival and our departure, I allowed my true appearance to be seen, a reminder of who he was truly with. Despite changing my face, I refused to adjust the reality of my wings. I did not allow him to share in what they were; I held that to myself. And I never revealed that I had contact with my brother. Flesser often directed is envy in Xenith’s direction, I did not defend Xenith or give any retort at all. I had fallen foolishly in love with Flesser, but there was no soul I would trust with Xenith’s and my crime of contact.

  Such considerations made Flesser’s presence suddenly bitter and his weight upon me nearly suffocating. No sooner had he shifted and lifted himself to stand above me than I longed for him to return to his previous position, to feel the comfort of his skin, the heat of his desire.

  I rose to a seated position, then stood beside him. I allowed him to see the illusion of my face for a moment longer. As a reward, he reached out and stroked my cheek once more.

  His jeweled eyes sparked with renewed hunger. “Tomorrow?” Even as he spoke, his other hand began to trace over my chest.

  Letting the illusion fall away, I stood in front of him, allowing the starlight to illuminate my imperfections.

  Flesser dropped his touch, and the lust passed from his eyes.

  Mortification rushed through me at his rejection, but I tilted my chin in defiance, calling on some princely arrogance that remained buried deep within me.

  He turned away. “Tomorrow, then.” With no further acknowledgment, he flew off into the darkness.

  Five

  Over the following weeks, I took to wandering the forest during the daylight hours. At first, I blamed not being able to get the arrow out of my thoughts. Possibly that was true, but my concern over the weapon’s implications were minimal compared to my growing sense of wanderlust. I wasn’t usually so careless. I wasn’t just an outcast fairy. I couldn’t just traipse anywhere I desired as long as I avoided any of the proper population. I was the abomination. There was no freedom for me. No moment where I might forget what I had become.

  I’d never broken any rule, save maintaining my relationship with Xenith. That relationship kept me compliant. I couldn’t take the chance of drawing attention to myself and risk losing him.

  However, that was before. Before what, I wasn’t entirely sure. But something had shifted. I left the royal confines before sunrise every morning and didn’t return until late afternoon. Countless hours were lost wandering through the changing leaves. Their beauty and the sound of my feet crunching through their ever-increasing depth on the forest floor never took from my mind who and what I really was, but the illusion of freedom did make my fate all the more agonizing. It made the invisibility within fairy society all the more piercing, the infrequent abuse more intolerable. It was torture. I couldn’t stop.

  In some ways I was creating my own punishment more than anything my mother could have come up with.

  It wasn’t just the limits of my station that began to crumble. Even my own rules lost meaning. I’d stopped forcing Flesser to see my true face, instead allowing the illusion of perfection I should have been be the only thing he saw. I’d kissed him goodbye, with perfect lips. Flawless, unblemished dark skin.

  Even if I would never give in to my desire to flee, the longing increased with every passing moment. Still, it could swell to the point that it strangled me, I would not leave Xenith.

  To my shame, Xenith was no longer the only reason I returned from my wanderings.

  I was in love.

  There were no delusions. I knew Flesser had no such feelings for me. I still could not understand why he chose to continue to have sex with me. I knew I was nothing more to him than a vile servant he could take if he demanded. There would have been little difference.

  Yet, I was in love.

  Flesser only loved the face I should have had. He couldn’t look at my true countenance with any less abhorrence than upon rotting fruit.

  Yet, I was in love.

  And that, more than a fairy arrow piercing a harmless deer, was what consumed my every waking moment.

  I had fallen in love with Flesser, but it was not that emotion that beat through my heart and mind in an endless rhythm. At least not what sounded the loudest.

  Disgust raged within me. Of all I had become, of all I had endured, this aspect was my true damnable crime. The past years had made me strong, fortified me in steel. At least that was what I’d believed.

  It was agonizing to discover it wasn’t so. I was weak. I was pathetic. I was pitiable. I was in love.

  It hurt more than the feather being ripped from my wings.

  More than my castration.

  More than my downfall.

  I was in love. I was in love and was a fool. And I knew it.

  The sun was less than an hour from its death on one such day as I began my way back to the royal boundaries. A rustling in the leaves ahead caught my attention. Stepping closer, the smell of blood reached me before my eyes made out the shape of the animal camouflaged in the reddish-brown leaves. The creature gave another shuddering lurch, brushing away some of the debris. A groan escaped me as I leaned down to pick it up. The small screech owl rolled its head, its eyes never focusing on me. Every feather had been plucked from its small rounded wings. The bones in its left wing were broken in multiple places, causing it to stick out in unnatural angles. It took a moment longer to understand why I smelled blood. Carefully inspecting the tiny creature, I realized both of its feet had been sliced off.

  A cry escaped its twisted beak. The sound cut through me.

  I hated humans. While I could never condone killing another creature for nourishment, I understood it was the natural way for many living things. But this was something different. Something evil. Wasteful. Cruel.

  There were few times I’d wished to have greater magic. I’d had little cause to need more. However, my power could do little for the owl. I could heal wounds; I could not regrow limbs. Even if I stopped the bleeding, an owl without legs had no other fate than starvation, or to become a meal for the next carnivore that wandered by.

  Without another second’s hesitation, I enfolded the bird in both my hands, willing its fluttering heart to cease. Instantly the life was gone from the owl, as well as the pain.

  Sickened to the core, I knelt once again to rest the owl in the leaves. It would still become something’s nourishment, but at least it would have no awareness. I started to stand, then paused. The two naked protrusions from the owl’s back made it impossible for me to leave.

  Was this what Flesser saw as he looked at me naked?

  Pointless as it was to the creature, I covered it in my hands once more. After several moments, I withdrew. Though one wing was still misshapen, feathers fanned out from the small body. I could not provide legs, life, or even flight, but I could give the owl back its dignity.

  After standing once more, I continued on my way to the only place I’d ever considered home. I only paused once, looking back at the new feathers. The desire to give myself the same gift washed over me with more power than I’d experienced in the past eight years. I could leave. Just fly away. Whether I lived as a fugitive for a day or a decade, at least I would be free.

  Flesser’s face emerged from behind my eyes, the thought of leaving him causing my chest to constrict in pain, closely followed by shame.

  Even so, it wasn’t Flesser who caused me to look away from the newly winged owl and continue on my destiny.

  Xenith—I would never leave him.

  Six

  The night was starless, the trees blending together in one massive black fortress. I had wandered the forest at all times of day throughout my childhood, never needing protection. Nothing in nature would harm a fairy, save for humans, but that wasn’t a risk, not here. Even as the disgrace I’d become, I’d had nothing to fear—at least nothing greater than what I’d experienced the night of my transition.

  For the first time in my life, however, fear licked the inside of my ve
ins as I made my way through the forest. The sensation was so unusual it took a while to identify it. I felt the need to run. Rush back to my dwelling as quickly as possible. I shoved the impulse away but cloaked myself in invisibility nonetheless. Even that didn’t help. Whatever was triggering my fear wouldn’t be dissuaded by magic.

  By the time I reached the place where I’d left the mutilated owl, my skin was coated in a sheen of sweat. I’d not been able to get the tiny creature out of my mind. Sleep wouldn’t come. The image of its stripped wings bashed against my mind, despite my effort to repair the damage.

  Part of me hoped it would be gone, carried off by a fox or weasel. Even in the darkness, however, the light brown of its wings were visible against the dead leaves. Without pause, I scooped up the stiff carcass and held it protectively against my chest. When I did run, I was unable to keep my feet from increasing their speed. Even the featherless talons on my back beat as if they could allow me to fly to safety.

  I made it back to my dwelling without incident or discovery. Stooping to duck into the earthen doorway, I finally managed to slow my pace and command my heart to calm. Despite the loneliness the small damp cavern had brought when I was banished to sleep outside the royal quarters so many years earlier, it had become my one safe haven. At least as close as any place could be. There was no door, and unlike the servants, who were allowed their privacy, I could be used to service here as likely as any other place. Still, if I left the place unlit, I’d discovered I was often overlooked or forgotten during the night.

  I strode to the far side of the enclosure, where I slept on castoff blankets, and moved aside my bedding. Moving on instinct, I willed a small hole to open in the ground. It was an alien impulse—we do not bury our dead—but it felt right. Before placing the owl in the earth, I inspected it one last time. What life had it lived? How many times had its wings lifted it into the sky? How high had it flown? How had it managed to be caught?