Table of Contents
The Fairy Queen
The Fairy Queen
Chapter 1: Forward
Letter to the Audience
The First Act
Chapter 2: In the Beginning
Chapter 3: Somewhere The Creator Finally Stirs
Chapter 4: We’re Going To Do What?
Chapter 5: Abra Cadabra
Chapter 6: The Nightmare
Chapter 7: And So It Begins...
Chapter 8: We’re Not in Kansas Anymore, Toto...
Chapter 9: In Which Nothing Is the Same
Chapter 10: In Which Love Is Turned to Hate
Chapter 11: Gods, You’re a Nasty Lil’ Demon, Aren’t You?
Chapter 12: In Which a Fairy Begins to Let Go...
Chapter 13: I Killed Them All...
Chapter 14: In Which a Monster Learns to Love
Chapter 15: In Which a Fairy Meets a Bird
Chapter 16: In Which a Powerful Truth Is Revealed
Chapter 17: The Heart Knows
Chapter 18: In Which a Fairy Is Finally Ready to Let Go...
Chapter 19: The End Is Only the Beginning
Chapter 20: In Which a World Goes Boom...
Author’s Notes
About Jovee Winters
Want more Kingdom?
Marie Hall Books | Kingdom Series (Fairy Tale Romance)
The Fairy Queen
Copyright 2016 Jovee Winters
Cover Art by Nathalia Sullen
Formatted by D2D
My super seekrit hangout!
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events, or places is purely coincidental. Though if you should spot a cute fairy or a lecherous imp, say hi for me.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher, Jovee Winters, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Jovee Winters.
Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2016 by Jovee Winters, United States of America
The Fairy Queen
Cruel. Cold. Wicked. Just a few adjectives used to describe the most ancient of fairies—Galeta The Blue. But did you know, dear reader, that once upon a time, long, long ago, the Blue was the Benevolent Pink?
Few know the trials of the fae reviled by all, save for one. The ancient and wise Creator. Galeta is the Creator’s daughter, and It will stop at nothing to save her. The truth of who the fairy really is may startle you. She’s the heroine of all of Kingdom. A sad truth no one knows, not even the wee fairy herself. The journey to getting her back will be marred by pain, trials, and tribulations, and when it’s over, Kingdom will never be the same again...
Chapter 1: Forward
Danika
In this life, none has been wronged more than Galeta the Blue. I’m sure you never expected to hear that coming from me. But there you have it.
If you’ve read my own tales, then you know the trial I myself suffered under her iron fist. And not just I was affected by what she’d done. The lives and stories she altered simply by being there were many.
The Man in the Moon, Miriam the Gray, Violet Wolf, Gerard, and more recently Fable of Seren, characters in some of the Tales’ most legendary stories, but did you know many of their stories (their real ones) should have turned out far different?
A truth we have only just discovered. I won’t go in depth with those for now, because for some of you it could shatter your concept of happily ever afters, and Kingdom is a world built upon them—a world that survives and thrives due to the most powerful magic of all...love.
Fate is an interesting character herself, for nothing is written that cannot be unwritten, nothing is set that cannot be undone. She helped turn what was bad into good. And she can help fix again what’s been lost. If any fairy can do it, it would be her.
Though Galeta twisted much of what should have happened in this world, the happily ever afters prevailed. Some wound up as they should have; others never got the chance to meet. For a time, Kingdom was exactly as it should be. It was good. Not without its share of hurt, but happy and wonderful all the same.
Not everything turns out quite as we’d hoped, though. But we learn to move on, and eventually the sorrow merely turns into a “what if” on a cold, lonely winter’s night when thoughts turn inward and maudlin.
I could hate The Blue, quite easily, but had she not cast the die as she had, my Alice and Hatter, Hook and Trishelle—why, even Rumple and his Shayera would never have been, not to mention so many more. A fact I only recently discovered to be true.
The path The Blue chose allowed those happily ever afters to manifest. So can you really hate someone when such joy was derived from the sorrow? Who knows—I’ll leave that to you, dear readers, to decide.
Miriam the Gray, my oldest and truest friend, used to tell me a fantastical tale. A story of creation, of rebirth, and transformation. The story of how Kingdom came to be.
Of course I believed her—Miriam had the second sight. All Grays do. But it scared me too. I didn’t want to believe it could be true, didn’t want to think that a creature I’d pinned all my frustrations, rage, and fears on could be anything other than the conniving, twisted, and demented creature she’d become.
There is an old Earthen saying I’m quite fond of: “When a butterfly flaps its wings in one part of the world, it can eventually cause a hurricane in another...”
Basically, it’s sometimes the smallest and most inconsequential actions that can cause unbelievable pain and catastrophe down the road.
I had no idea at the beginning of my tenure as godmother to the villains that life was anything other than what I’d always known deep in my heart to be true. That people weren’t exactly who they appeared to be. I never really understood the degrees of layers or the fact that for some people, the truth of who they were was a lot like a tiny pebble rolling down a snowy hill.
By the time they reach the bottom, they no longer resemble who they once were. Galeta was that butterfly—she flapped her gossamer wings, and life altered forever. For the people. For Kingdom. But most especially for her.
I did not want to pen this forward, but mostly because it shames me. Reveals to me the painful truths of just who I am. I was willing to hate Galeta and pin all of my frustrations on her fragile shoulders, but little did I know that as I hated her there was another in a pantheon far away who knew The Blue for what she truly was—a heroine in her own right.
The path to pulling Galeta from the darkness and back into the light was not an easy one—in fact, it took many hands and many hearts, and in the end one would have to die so that another might live.
All I can say is this—be careful whom you judge, for you never know the heavy burden of the cross they bear...
~Danika Moon, one of the thirteen keepers of the true tales of Kingdom
Letter to the Audience
Galeta
I know very well there is nothing I can say in this moment to make you think kindly or differently about me. I’ve not been kind, good, or even simply decent. I’ve been none of those things; my sins have bee
n shown for what they are.
All I can say is this... I wasn’t always this way.
Once, I was good.
Once, I believed in the truths of what it meant to be a fairy godmother. What it meant to help bring about the happily ever afters to the denizens of this world. Once, I was even someone worth knowing. I didn’t remember that until just recently, but I’ll strive to never forget that again.
My sins are many.
There are no excuses for what I’ve done. Though I hope that by the end of this story you might think a little more kindly of me.
All I can do now is pen this tale as truthfully and unvarnished as possible and let you decide whether all “dark queens” deserve a chance at redemption and happiness.
Without further ado, I’ll begin this tale as I have every other one.
Once...
Upon...
A...
Time...
~The Blue, one of thirteen Keepers of the Tales
The First Act
If you do not change directions, you may end up where you are headed~ Lao Tzu
Chapter 2: In the Beginning
Galeta
Ten.
And then one more. One that did not belong with us, and yet had been born of us. It was dark. Cold. Foreboding. I shivered; not wanting to study that one too closely and instead turned my thoughts toward the colors.
I felt the beat, the pulse of all my sisters’ hearts in rhythm with my own.
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
I opened my eyes and looked around.
There was nothing but void.
Darkness.
An empty stretch of black that swept out into infinity and was coated in hypnotic winking lights of purest silver.
Around me, my sisters too blinked their eyes. Our souls were one. We were powerful, but we were so very, very young.
I knew nothing save my name—Galeta the Pink.
Blurry colors soon began to take form.
Gold. Yellow. Green. White. Gray. Red. Purple. Pink. Orange. Brown. All the colors of the world we were to fashion.
We’d been created by a hand far greater than our own. Though It never revealed Itself to us, we felt great love coming from It. A being that rippled as large and never-ending as the cosmos surrounding us. That being told us what to do.
I looked toward my sisters.
I did not yet know their names, only their colors. One looked like a living flame of brightest orange.
Strange that I should know what flame was when fire had yet to be designed. And yet I did. I knew everything.
The people who would soon fill the world we’d create.
The magic.
The love.
I sighed as the rest of my sisters did.
The Purple was a breath of fresh air. Her skin was as black as the night, and her eyes as pure as the flowers she’d one day imagine into being. She smiled at me and held out her hand.
“Pink,” she said softly, and I couldn’t help but smile back, taking her hand in mine and squeezing gently.
It was odd, the sensation of touch.
But I liked it.
Then Green grabbed my other hand. She was a beautiful woman dressed in streamers of ivy and who had nut-brown hair that fell down to her ankles.
“Pink,” she said to me too.
It was then that I noticed them all turning to me. Red. White. Gray. Brown. All of them looking toward me.
Suddenly I was surrounded by the lot of them, their hands all over me, touching me. It was then that I understood why. I was their conduit, the instrument of power. To harness their own gifts, they first needed to channel mine.
My energies pulsed like a bright wave; the blackness we floated in began to burst with color. Clouds of green, red, pink, and purple and every other color of my sisters.
The White’s eyes turned milky as a smile tipped the corners of them.
“Galeta,” she said, and then the others began the chant too.
Galeta.
Galeta.
Galeta...
My name echoed into infinity, and that was when I felt it.
The pull of power that came from our Creator through me. I closed my eyes and let them take of me, let them draw from me.
A bottomless wellspring of magic that poured from the crown of my head to the toes of my feet, and the more they drew, the more I had to give. It was effortless, and so easy that all I could do was laugh with giddy delight.
But as I felt the pulse of our Creator’s magic wind through me, I also felt Its voice. I could not call It a him. Or even a her. The voice simply was. The voice had always been. And would always be.
Galeta, can you hear me, daughter?
I smiled happily, nodding. I was in raptures; I was who I was always supposed to be. The vessel of Its magic in its most raw and purest form.
And as the ten pulled from me, I fed them the blueprints for life. Down to the minutest of molecular structures. How to fashion a leaf. A feather. A heart that beat. The Creator showed me how, and I, in turn, showed them.
Do you like this life?
I hadn’t had it long. But I loved it already. I nodded. Watching as the ten spun magic to life. As The Red created rivers of molten magma. As The Brown created fissures of earthen stone and rock, dirt, and seeds. As the White created strange, fluffy little pockets of water that she hung like gossamer threads in a darkened sky.
I love this, I answered It back. I love the colors. I love the endless creation and life of possibilities. I love it all.
I felt It smile, and my heart sang.
Do you know who you are? Who you really are?
Confused by that question, I took time before answering. Formulating my thoughts so that I’d not sound foolish to the Creator.
I’d just been born. I had no grasp of who I’d been, for I’d never been before. But I could peer through the veil of power and see deep into the future of where we were going.
I saw trees and hills, valleys, and rivers. And an explosion of life all around us. It was lovely... but something felt different too.
Blinking, I studied the pictures further. Peeling back the initial layers of beauty and studying the strata beneath. No, I did not only see one timeline, but two.
Side by side.
One filled with darkness. And the other with pain, grief, and sorrow but also joy.
At its center was a being. Like me and yet not like me. In the dark future, I was as I am now. Beautiful. Pink. Honorable. But I’d failed them all. I stood in a field of blood and bones. Weeping into my hands as a beast, a monster of darkness, consumed all we’d crafted.
In the other timeline, life was still beautiful. Still thrumming with power and love. And though there was pain and darkness, hope always endured. I lived in this timeline too. I saw myself. Though I did not know how I knew that, for I’d never seen my face before. But when I looked upon the stark beauty of that woman’s features, I recognized my own.
Unlike the lush beauty of The Pink, the other creature was frigid. Cold. Still beautiful, but untouchable. Unapproachable. She snapped at those around her. Hurt the innocent. She knew the fabric of love and spit in its face.
This person was bad. Very bad.
And she was a color I was unfamiliar with.
It is called blue, The Creator said with a voice grown deep and soft.
What is this? I asked It in a voice far steadier than how I currently felt.
The beginning. The end. And all the parts between.
It made sense, and yet it did not. For I was as confused now as I’d been when I’d asked It my question. My lips turned downward.
Would you like to hear a story, my beautiful one? It asked gently.
I would do anything to keep my Creator happy. So I nodded, though I did not think I would like the hearing of this story. Both futures scared me.
Once, there were others. I’ve crafted many worlds. But always things end the same. In blood
shed. Death. Famine. War. Plague. Hubris brings my creations down.
Even though I knew I should never interrupt The Creator, I couldn’t seem to help myself. There was such sadness, such longing in The Creator’s words, that it moved my soul to tears.
Then why do you continue to create? If the creation is so vile, why make more? Why not end your pain and simply let us kill one another off and be done with it?
Can I be aught but what I am? I heard Its smile in Its voice. You are my creation, and I The Creator. It is what I am. Who I am. I cannot be other than that. Nor can you. In you, Galeta, I believe I have finally found the one.
Though I’d just been born, I understood. For I too had been kissed by the divine. I had been built for one purpose, to help breathe life into The Creator’s designs.
But the thought that It believed me to be the one. I shivered. The one of what?
Its laughter echoed in the vastness of time and space.
You need not fear me, little one. For I come in peace. But I have a question to ask you. One that will force you to search yourself—
Search myself for what? I interrupted, feeling queerly ill at ease. I loved my Creator, having hardly even known It; I loved It and wished only to please It.
Its patience flowed through me. I’ve shown you the strings of fate. Two paths. But only one choice. You can become The Benevolent Pink, as is your right, and I will not hinder you your choice.
The Benevolent Pink. I smiled, liking the sound of it. I’d seen myself in that alternate timeline. Through all the years that led up to the wasteland of blood and war, disease and famine. Before the death of the universe, there’d been happiness. Love. But there’d been a great and terrible darkness too. One that spread like an illness, slowly but surely snuffing the life out of the creation. Twisting what’d once been good into something befouled and evil.
There’d been many, many, many good lifetimes in that alternate timeline. Joy. Marriage. Love. Births. But the inevitable ruin marched on, an insidious virus that spread its roots deeper and deeper still until there was nothing left and nowhere left to run.
Must it truly end that way? I asked with a thread of hope in my voice. Is it not possible that different choices could be made? That perhaps this time your creation will not fall, but stand strong? Could we not surprise you yet?
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