Faeries Love Tea Parties

Faeries love tea parties. Everybody knows this, but not very many know exactly why. Is it the tiny portions, the cakes that are so light they could almost fly away, the attire usually associated, or something altogether different? I was determined to find out. Maybe too determined.

It began when I was a small child. Like many children, I held a number of tea parties for all of my plush friends. My parents (not knowing I could hear them) often said it was “cute” and that I was very “imaginative”. Had they come and inspected the teacups, they could have changed this whole story.

There was tea. It was real. I’ve sworn off of the stuff now, so I’ve no idea what flavour it was. Imagine your favourite flavour, and make it twice as good. Then you’re probably getting close.

There were also cakes, but they didn’t last long enough for my parents to see them. And, being faerie cakes, there were no crumbs to be seen.

Mr Fluffers was their first voice. He’s still around somewhere, maybe the attic? I don’t know. I can’t bear to see him anymore or get rid of him, so he stays out of sight and, hopefully, out of trouble.

Purple elephants, I’m told, are not usually actually capable of speech. Or conjuring tea and cakes, for that matter. That would have been good to know. Because, when you’re a small child and your favourite stuffy offers you real tea for your tea party, of course you say yes.

And then you have tea parties more often.

And you can rack up quite the debt.

You see, faeries never forget anything. And anything not explicitly “free” becomes a favour owed at a later date.

And I got years of free tea and cakes. Almost daily.

Then I started kindergarten. I missed having tea with Mr Fluffers, but I did enjoy having friends and playing games with them.

At night I’d still fall asleep snuggled right up to Mr Fluffers, and I’d tell him all about my day. I told him when Riley stole my crayons, and when Kayla made me laugh really hard. Hindsight being 20/20, I know the faeries brought about their own versions of justice. At the time, it just seemed like coincidence.

As I grew older, my parents started to get concerned about my attachment to Mr Fluffers. Apparently I was supposed to outgrow him. Part of me wishes they’d been more harsh, but I know that he was just a conduit. If he was taken away, they’d’ve found another way.

Skip ahead a few years to high school. The most popular place in town was this tiny coffee shop.

They had the same cakes I’d had at my tea parties. I should’ve been more suspicious, but I was so excited to have them again that I didn’t even notice that, without ordering it, I was usually just handed one with my coffee. If I did order it, I got an extra. My friends were never so lucky. They noticed, and decided the boy behind the counter obviously had a crush on me. I wasn’t allowed to date yet, so I didn’t address that idea at all.

Until, one day, he did.

“Amaya,”

How does he know my name? Probably heard my friends use it. I come here a lot with them and, if he does actually like me, he’d remember it.

“We need your help.”

With what, running the till? Cleaning tables? And if so, why me? Why phrase it that way?

The next thing I know, the coffee shop is gone and we’re in the middle of a clearing in an otherwise dense woods.

“What…. What just happened?” I start backing away from him. He’s standing awfully close now that there’s no counter in between us. “Where…” looking around, I don’t recognize any of the plants. Well, they look familiar, but not quite right. The daffodils are pink, roses blue, the maples have acorns, oaks have pinecones.

“The time has come for you to pay us back.”

“Pay….back? But what? I always pay for my coffee…”

“And the cake?”

“I thought… I mean… But my friends said….” My face heats up, and my throat clenches, not letting me finish the sentence.

“And the tea?”

Tea? But I don’t drink tea. It’s always been such a disappointment since… What.

No.

“Mr Fluffers?”

He laughs. It sounds strange. Like, really melodic. Real people just don’t laugh so… gracefully.

“Around here I’m usually called Dena’el.” He holds his hand out, clearly expecting to shake mine. My brain is still stuck in a short circuit, though, so we both just kind of stand there like idiots for a minute. Or an hour. Or a second. Really, I have no idea.

Eventually, he realizes the handshake is not happening and stops offering. I wish he hadn’t, because his face goes very dark.

“Down to business then?”

“Business? Like, the coffeeshop?” I’m not sure if I’m still honestly dumbstruck or if my brain just isn’t talking to my mouth, trying to fish for information. I’ve never been this dumbstruck before, even when a senior asked me to the prom as a freshman.

To be fair, I’ve also never traversed another plane of existence before. I wonder if that’s a standard side effect.

“Dena’el,” I thought it’d be harder to say, but his name just rolls off my tongue like I’ve known it my whole life. “What’s going on?”

“We, the fair folk, need your help. You, Amaya, owe us a debt of years of tea, cake, and other favours.”

“Okay, the tea and cake were offered with no strings attached, and what favours?”

“Did we say it was free? Or did you otherwise pay for it? If not, now is your chance to pay for them. And, really, your life has been blessed by so many faeries that you’re practically a Disney Princess.”

“This feels like blackmail.” And I feel incredibly small to be giving out this much attitude.

“Did you not enjoy your gifts?”

“Aha! Gifts! So they were free!”

That laugh again. I’m pretty sure it’s going to haunt me.

“You misunderstand. Check the dictionary. A ‘gift’ can also be defined as ‘a very easy task or unmissable opportunity’. Which, really, is you.”

“Easy? Excuse me?” I’m not sure my voice can possibly convey enough outrage, but it’s trying to.

“Not…” he sighs, “Shall I start from the beginning?”

“I don’t know. That sounds too logical for you.” I’m pretty sure I just felt a cold autumn breeze. Or maybe it was just the frost in my voice.

“When you were small, we saw great potential in you. So we invested in you. We gave you tea and cakes. We gave a voice to your elephant. We helped others to help you and hindered those who hindered you. We encouraged you to learn and grow. We blessed you with beauty and grace, naturally giving you an easier time in your world. Now, we request a return on our investments.”

I’m still less than convinced that I owe anyone anything. I’m surprised that he’s even trying to make an argument, but I feel like I should at least hear him out. Maybe the job’s super easy and I can put this whole mess behind me. “What kind of return?”

“There’s this dragon.” Okay, so not easy. My eyes must’ve gone wide; he starts trying to calm me down. “We don’t need you to kill it or anything.”

He stopped talking.

Is he scared to ask me, or trying to build even more suspense?

I’ve had enough faerie games.

“What, then?” I growl through clenched teeth.

“He’s a good friend of ours, actually. He’s just been feeling a little, well, depressed lately. Fewer and fewer places have princesses for him to kidnap, and the ones that he can find are apparently terrible hostages. Either rejecting the idea of needing to be rescued, or delighting in being freed from all of the rules of being royalty, or just making terribly dull conversation. We want to make you an honorary princess. You will sign up for a foreign exchange program. We will take care of the rest. Just play along and be a good princess when he kidnaps you.”

So, here I am.

Captive in a dragon’s tower.

My parents don’t know I’m safe. My friends don’t know this was planned.

And my boyfriend is going to regret ever asking me out.