Princess Freya and The Fairy
Short Story
By Kirsten Miles
“What is the matter with you?” asked Freya’s father, King Stephan.
“Yes, Freya dear, why are you not eating your bread and jam?” questioned her mother, Queen Andra.
Freya sighed and put down the one piece of bread she had in her hand.
“How can I eat after hearing such terrible news?” she asked, her long, strawberry-blonde hair falling in front of her face.
“You must stop with this nonsense,” said her mother, giving her daughter a reproachful look. “You have known your entire life that you were going to marry a king. King Mortison is perfect for you.”
“Perfect for me?” asked Freya, her pale face growing red. “The man is thirty years older than me! And he is not the least bit handsome!”
King Stephan sighed. “We love you, Freya, and we just want what’s best for you. King Mortison will be able to provide you with whatever you need, and it will strengthen our ally with Bernshire.”
Freya sighed, knowing that talking to her parents would be useless.
“May I please go to my bedchamber?” Freya asked, her lips in a pout.
Queen Andra sighed. “Alright, dear. But remember- we just love you, Freya. You are our only child and we have to make sure you will be taken care of.”
Freya only nodded. She climbed the grand staircase and down the hall until she reached her bedchamber. Standing by her mirror, she brushed her long, silky hair and stared at her bright green eyes. She knew King Mortison had chosen her on account of her looks. The King of Bernshire had not a clue to who Freya really was inside. She had only met him once and he merely glanced at her. She had tried to engage him in conversation, but that did not work and Freya knew she’d have a lonely marriage ahead of her.
Freya changed out of her stiff green dress and into her flowery pink one- the one she loved to wear outside in spring weather such as it was. She then flew down the staircases once more.
Dodging her parents who were still eating at the dinner table, Freya managed to escape from their conversation and tip-toed into the kitchen. Just as she used to do when she was a child, she dashed out of the back kitchen door and ran through the little garden and around to the big field. She ran and ran, tears streaking down her cheeks. It would only be a week until Freya had to marry King Mortison, and she knew this would be her one last week to be alone.
Upon arrival at the rose garden, she plunged herself onto the marble bench and sobbed into her hands. It was so unfair that she was forced to please other people when she just wanted to live and be happy.
Freya eventually stopped crying and walked around. Roses of various colors sprouted up from their roots- pastel-pink, sultry red, pale yellow, snow white- they all graced the garden with their beauty. Freya started humming a tune as she leaned over to smell a sky-blue rose. However, when she bent down, she stumbled back in shock. There was something in the rose! In fact, it looked a lot like- like a girl!
“Oh my!” cried Freya, thinking her eyes might just be playing tricks on her. That couldn’t be what she had seen!
She peered into the rose and gently parted the petals. There, sitting right in the middle, was, in fact, a young woman.
“Oh!” cried Freya again, moving backwards. “How on Earth-”
The little person climbed up on a petal and sat there expectantly, not in fear of Freya at all.
“You- you’re real!” Freya cried, her eyes going wide and her lips parted.
“I certainly am,” said the tiny person in an unexpectedly strong voice. “I’ve lived here all my life. My family lives in the hollow in one of those trees in the forest behind us. Have you not seen us?”
Freya was too stunned to speak. For a whole minute, she just looked at the young woman.
“I know it’s a surprise,” said the woman, “that fairies are real.”
“A fairy,” Freya said finally. “How- how do you exist?”
“I could say the same of you!” said the fairy.
The two stared in wonder at each other.
“When I was a small girl of about five, I think I saw you,” said Freya. “You were playing in the flowers! I believed in you then, but thought it was a dream once I grew up!”
Freya took a closer look at her. The little fairy was about the size of Freya’s hand and very beautiful. She had black skin that shone in the sunlight, rich black hair that was tied up in a blue bow, and full lips that displayed pearly white teeth. Freya had never seen anyone so gorgeous before.
“I’m sorry,” said Freya after another minute. “I’m just surprised. I thought fairies only existed in stories!”
“We are very real, miss,” said the fairy. “What is your name?”
“I am Princess Freya of Havenshire,” Freya answered in a proper voice. “And who are you?”
“I am Hélène,” said the beautiful fairy. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I have seen you several times when we were children. You would be skipping and singing in this garden very often. I always wanted to say hello, but my mother told me humans could be dangerous, so I wasn’t allowed to. Are you dangerous?” She began to hide back into the petals.
“Oh, no!” declared Freya. “Me? I wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
Hélène relaxed more and popped up again from the petals.
“You’re very beautiful, you know,” she said to the shocked princess.
Freya felt herself blushing. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen!”
Hélène smiled brightly.
“What is your age?” asked Hélène.
“I just turned twenty,” answered Freya, moving closer to the rose. “And you?”
“I’m just the same age!” said Hélène with a happy little laugh.
“Oh, how funny!” said Freya. “You say you have lived here all your life. Why have I never seen you?”
“Like I said, I was told to stay far away, Princess,” answered Hélène.
“Don’t call me ‘Princess,’” admonished Freya. “I don’t always like that title. You can call me Freya.”
“Freya,” said the fairy, beginning to slowly fly out of the petals. “That is a lovely name!”
Freya blushed again and sat down on the bench.
“Would you like me to go into the castle and get you something to eat?” she asked. “We had a banquet last night and there are lots of crème puffs left!”
“Crème puffs,” repeated Hélène. “I’d certainly like some. But first, let’s talk.”
Flying around a bit, Hélène finally came to sit on the armrest of the bench. She and Freya talked a lot- about the rose garden, about their families and friends, and of what they wanted to do in their future.
“I want to find true love,” said Hélène in a very matter-of-fact way, as if “love” were simply something someone could find in the woods, like a pinecone.
“I do, as well,” agreed Freya. “But I am very unlucky, as I am to marry King Mortison of Bernshire next week.”
“You don’t seem so happy about that,” remarked the fairy, giving her a sympathetic look.
“Oh, I’m not happy about it at all,” said Freya unhappily. “I do not love this man, and he is thirty years older than me! I fear I will be very miserable with him.”
Feeling sympathy for the princess, Hélène flew to her shoulder and touched her cheek.
“I am sorry to hear that,” she said. “Can you refuse him?”
“I cannot,” said Freya sadly. “My parents have chosen him for me, as our marriage will align our countries together. It is merely political. There is no love there.”
Hélène stroked her hair sadly. That little touch felt warm and kind.
“I am sorry to hear that,” she said softly. “That is one awful thing about being royalty, I suppose.”
Freya nodded. “You are lucky you don’t have to marry just to please your family.”
“Well, you aren’t getting married today, so we might as well take a stroll by the lake!” said Hélène cheerfully.
She started flying around Freya’s face as Freya stood up. The two then walked out of the rose garden and over to the big lake that stretched for miles. The sun made the water glisten like diamonds and the tree leaves blew back from the light wind.
Freya watched Hélène skim the lake with her fingers, Hélène looking mesmerizing under the sun’s glare and above the tiny crystal waves.
“I ought to get back,” said Freya after some time. “My parents will be expecting me.”
“Oh, I see,” said Hélène. As Freya cupped her hands, Hélène glided over to stand in the little shell that she made with them.
“I’ll bring you some crème puffs tomorrow,” promised Freya.
The two left the lake and walked back to the rose garden.
Freya nodded. “I will see you tomorrow!”
“Goodbye, Freya!”
And Freya turned around and skipped away, smiling to herself under the sun.
~
“You have brought me the crème puffs!” stated Hélène in excitement the very next day.
“I have,” said Freya with a grin, sitting on the bench.
Hélène flew gracefully over to the plate and started digging in with her hands.
“Excuse me if this is rude,” she said. “I haven’t eaten something so delicious in such a long time!”
Freya smiled, pleased to have made her new friend happy.
“I marry in six days,” said Freya sadly.
Hélène stopped eating and looked over at her.
“Maybe- maybe you don’t have to get married in six days,” she said in a conspiratorial tone.
“Oh, I do,” said Freya sadly. “It has been promised since birth. I wish there was a way out, but I can think of none.”
Hélène flew to her hand and caressed it gently. This touch made Freya’s whole body come alive.
“There is something we can do,” she said softly.
“What is it?” asked Freya, her interest piqued. “Oh, I can’t think of anything.”
“You could become a fairy and live in the woods with us,” said Hélène, her voice an octave higher in excitement. “I know we are small creatures, but we live a simple life of love and joy, and are very happy!”
“That sounds wonderful,” sighed Freya, imagining flying around the forest with her new companion.
“There is only one problem,” said Hélène. “The only way you can become a fairy is if a fairy kisses you- one that loves you and you love back.”
“Oh!” said Freya sadly. “I don’t know any other fairies but you. You said you have brothers?”
“Yes, but they are all younger than us.”
The two girls sighed and leaned against the bench.
Hélène looked over at her friend swiftly.
“I know I hardly know you,” she said, “so is it strange to say that I think I might love you?”
Freya looked over, surprised. No one had ever said that to her before.
“It doesn’t sound so strange,” she answered. “I think I love you, too.”
Hélène gave her a smile and tenderly touched her cheek.
“Let me kiss you,” she said. “If you’re sure you would like to be a fairy with me.”
“I would,” stated Freya. “I really would.”
Freya leaned in a bit as Hélène flew around her face. Both lips puckered, Hélène gave her a sweet little kiss on the mouth.
Freya hardly knew what was happening as her head started to spin and her body grew smaller. In just a moment, she was the same size as Hélène.
“It worked!” cried Freya. “You do love me. And I do love you.”
Hélène pulled her body closer and gave her a big kiss. Now that they were the same size, it was much easier.
Freya felt her skin begin to crawl with desire and she let herself close her eyes, enjoying the sensation of the kiss.
“I will say farewell to my parents,” said Freya. “Then I will come back to the rose garden!”
“Very well,” answered Hélène. “Don’t be too long! And be careful! Remember, you are very small now.”
Freya nodded. Using her wings, she was a bit unsteady at first but soon was soaring across the sky, gliding effortlessly against the breeze. It was a powerful, daring feeling, and Freya loved it. She knew inside that this was where she belonged- with Hélène, as a fairy, frolicking in the rose garden and living in a hollow of a tree by the glistening lake.
When Freya reached the castle, she hid behind a stone until a cook opened the door. Flying quickly behind him, she flew over to her parents, who had just sat down to dinner.
“Where is our Freya?” asked King Stephan.
“Oh, she must be somewhere!” cried Queen Andra.
“I’m here! I’m here!” called Freya’s little voice as she flew to the middle of the table next to a wine goblet.
Both of her parents stood up from their chairs, in equal shock.
“Freya!” cried Queen Andra. “What have you done!?”
“Daughter, what happened?” asked King Stephan.
“I became a fairy with true love’s kiss,” Freya explained, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling in happiness.
“How could you?” asked King Stephan.
“It was something I had to do,” Freya explained. “I have come to say goodbye. I must hide for my own protection. I am going to live with my true love- her name is Hélène, and she’s a fairy, and she knows me better than anyone now.”
Freya flew to her mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek before doing the same to her father.
“I know it must be a shock,” she said, “but you will get used to it, just like I’m getting used to flying! We can always visit each other. Now, I will go be with my Hélène and we will be very happy.”
The king and queen were astounded. They could do nothing but stare.
“I do love you both,” said Freya, “but I must go my own way now. I do hope you’ll forgive me someday.”
And then, Freya flew away from the dining room and out of an open window. Flying back to the rose garden, she found Hélène in her blue rose.
“I’m awfully glad we’re together,” said Hélène. “Now, nothing can separate us.”
“Nothing in the world,” Freya agreed.
And the two held hands as they glided above the roses, the sweet smell of the flowers intoxicating as the day turned into a cerulean darkness.
And they lived happily ever after.
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