The Immortal Gazette: The Origins of the Fae – Tricksters, Royalty, and Chaos Incarnate
The candlelight flickered in the dimly lit studio of The Immortal Gazette. Alice leaned back in her chair, boots propped on the table, her fingers idly playing with the rim of a silver teacup. Across from her, Loki was sprawled in his usual careless manner, looking as if he belonged anywhere but here. Rumplestiltskin, ever the storyteller, sat with his fingers steepled, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Alright, mortals, gather around,” Alice announced, tilting her hat forward. “Tonight, we unravel the tangled, glittering mess that is The Fae.”
Loki scoffed, swirling a goblet of something suspiciously shimmering. “You say ‘Fae’ like it’s one thing. That’s mistake number one. There’s a whole bloody spectrum of them, and half of them would curse you for calling them the wrong name.”
Rumplestiltskin laughed. “Oh, and don’t forget—some will just curse you for fun.” He leaned in, voice dropping theatrically. “Now, where do we begin? The Seelie and Unseelie? The Tuatha Dé Danann? The shadowy fae courts hiding in the mortal world? Or the ones who steal children and replace them with changelings?”
Alice grinned wickedly. “Let’s start with the basics. Mortals love pretending fairies are cute little things with sparkly wings, but the truth? They’re as old as the gods, sometimes just as powerful, and usually twice as petty.”
Loki smirked. “And thrice as likely to ruin your day.”
The Many Faces of the Fae
Rumplestiltskin tapped the table. “Now, depending on who you ask, the fae have many origins. Some say they’re nature spirits—guardians of the wild, tied to the elements. Others claim they are fallen gods, cast out of the heavens but too powerful to become mere mortals. And then, of course, there are the whispers that they’re something other—creatures that simply were, before mortals, before time, lurking between the cracks of reality.”
Alice nodded. “And because mortals can’t handle anything simple, they split them into courts. The Seelie Court—the so-called good fairies—are the ones who’ll trick you with smiles, riddles, and contracts you don’t realize you signed until you’re dancing for eternity.”
Loki snorted. “And the Unseelie? Oh, they won’t bother with the niceties. They’ll just drag you into the dark and forget to let you go.”
Alice tapped her chin thoughtfully. “And then there’s the Wild Fae—the ones who don’t care about courts, rules, or politics. The ones who just are. The storm spirits, the solitary tricksters, the ancient beings that slip through cracks in reality and whisper in your ear when you’re alone in the woods.”
Rumplestiltskin grinned. “And let’s not forget the Tuatha Dé Danann—the divine fae of Ireland, warrior-king gods who walked among mortals before vanishing into the Otherworld. They’re the reason mortals still leave milk and honey on their doorsteps.”
Loki rolled his eyes. “Ah yes, bribing beings who neither need nor care for your snacks. Adorable.”
The Trickery of the Fae
Alice turned to the audience—the mortals. “Here’s the golden rule of dealing with fae: don’t.”
Rumplestiltskin smirked. “But mortals never listen, do they?” He leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “Here’s how they get you—deals. A fae never lies outright, but they will twist your words, take what you didn’t realize you offered, and leave you wondering how you lost a century of your life in a single night.”
Loki laughed. “Oh, and let’s not forget changelings. One of their cruelest tricks. They steal a mortal child and leave a fae in its place—one that looks the same but isn’t.” He tapped his goblet.
Mortal Folly and Final Warnings
Rumplestiltskin sighed dramatically. “And still, mortals insist on wandering into fairy rings, making wishes at the wrong wells, and thinking they can outsmart creatures who have existed since time itself was still yawning awake.”
Alice leaned forward. “So here’s your final warning: If you hear music in the woods when there shouldn’t be music? Run. If someone offers you food in a place that feels too perfect? Don’t eat it. And if you ever meet a beautiful stranger with eyes just a little too bright—"
Loki smirked. “You’re already doomed.”
Rumplestiltskin clapped his hands. “And that, dear mortals, is your introduction to the fae. Play with them if you dare—but don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
Alice grinned. “Next time, we’ll talk about gods and their bad habits.”
Loki raised his goblet. “Oh, that will be fun.”
The candlelight flickered, and just like that, the story ended—but the whispers of the fae lingered in the air, just out of reach.
