One Hour Ago...

Midge's fingers were red and rough from being submerged within the soapy water so long. Her shoulders ached and her lower back was sore, but still she continued scrubbing away at the never-ending mountain of dishes left over from Queen Titania's diplomatic lunch. Apparently her majesty was having some Eladrin over for a visit, a potentially great power in the Faewild if the queen herself thought it was someone worth knowing. All Midge knew was that meant lots of dishes, and lots of work.

Not that it was much different from any other day. She expelled a long sigh as she put a silver serving dish into the large drying rack to the right of the sink, then straightened and placed a hand on her lower back.

"Need a break?" Cricket's low voice behind her made Midge turn, looking up at her even taller grey-haired friend.

"Are you offering one?" Midge replied. It never hurt to be cautious when answering a question, even if it was coming from someone close to her.

"Of a sort. We need more nymphroot for the pie we're concocting," Cricket crossed his arms over his narrow chest and glanced over his shoulder. "Rumor has it this Eladrin fellow, Chevalier, is a complete fool for nymphroot pie."

"How can I refuse? If Chef asks, will you tell her where I went? I'll finish the dishes when I'm back. No more than an hour, if all goes well."

"She's the one who suggested I send you," Cricket reassured her. There was always a lot of work to be done by the greyfolk of the castle, but they were not treated too strictly, all things considered, as long as they fell in line.

Midge wasn't one for displaying her emotions on her sleeve, mainly because she never had that many emotions to speak of. There wasn't much to get excited about, going on her eightieth year of drudgery, and only drudgery to look forward to for the years remaining to her. Sometimes she rather wished a werewolf would come upon her in the woods and rip her apart, end all this misery. But most of the time she just wished the day was over so she could go to bed.

A small smile still made its way across her face, however, when she stepped out of the kitchen door and into the open courtyard of the castle. The Faewild truly was beautiful. Wild vines, tall grasses and incredible sweet-scented flowers filled every bit of open space, as nature was allowed complete sway here. Any who dared cut a vine in the Faewild would swiftly suffer the consequences, as nature did not suffer civilization to exist there long if the occupants did not learn to respect their surroundings.

Midge ducked down beneath a trailing arbor of tangling purple ivy to access the storage shed in the corner of the castle courtyard. The air was oppressive, a little humid and warm, making sweat gather on Midge's upper lip and forehead as she gathered up a bucket and a pair of tongs for collecting the nymphroot.

When she straightened up and turned around again, she saw someone waiting for her, blocking the other side of the arbor. It was a tall male fae with elongated elfin features, long ears thrusting up through wildly curling red locks, and emerald-green eyes that sparkled with vibrant life. Midge suppressed a sigh. Of course, every fae was incandescently beautiful and full of magic, except the greyfolk. Why did she have to be born in the wrong class? It just wasn't fair.

"My lord," she said respectfully, stopping short and lowering her head. "Are you seeking assistance?"

His lips twisted up in a smirk and his eyes lit up with laughter. He reached forward, his long, slender fingers extended in a beckoning gesture that was difficult to refuse, even for one as reluctant as Midge. "Assistance is what I'm here for. Tell me your name."

"Midge, my lord." She shifted the bucket from one hand to the other, placing the tongs inside. "Are you lost?"

"No, Midge. Stars, what an awful name. Did you choose that one yourself?"

Midge blinked. The concept of choosing her own name had never even occurred to her. "It was the name Queen Titania gave at my birth."

"Midge, Midge... It's a strange choice, you must admit. You don't look insectoid at all." The fae stepped back from the entrance, and Midge hesitated before stepping past him and turning to face him again.

"I didn't think I did," she said when there was silence. Truth be told she had not spent much time looking in a mirror. There was little point.

"None of you greyfolk do, and yet it's Beetle-this, Larvae-that. A bit demeaning, isn't it?"

Midge blanched. He was trying to lead her into speaking treason at this rate, and she wouldn't be caught in that trap. "A greyfolk's name is a gift, my lord. We're grateful for Queen Titania's notice."

"Of course you are." The fae fell silent and studied her, the purple ivy overhead dancing in his eyes, and Midge realized they were not green as she had first thought, but rather clear as glass. Whenever he turned his head, their depths changed to reflect the surroundings, something Midge found fascinating and disconcerting in equal measures.

"If I can be of no further assistance to you, my lord, I'm afraid I really must be going," Midge said after allowing herself to study those interesting eyes a few moments longer. "I am going to the Shimmerdread Pool to fetch some nymphroot for an honored guest."

She knew how powerful fae liked to play their tricks on those they considered 'lesser,' and it wouldn't surprise her if this fae was the very Chevalier for whom she was going to fetch the nymphroot in the first place. It was considered a greyfolk's duty to allow other fae's machinations to play out, but that did not mean she liked it. Perhaps if he knew her errand he would find someone else to play his prank upon.

"Oh, really? I have been longing for a lovely walk, is it far?"

Midge jerked her gaze back up to his face. He was looking up at the castle windows, his head tilted back and his lips pulled into a slim smile. She followed his line of sight up the walls but could see nothing through the thick vines and the glint of sun against glass.

"I always think a walk is more worthwhile when there is a pool of some sort at the other end, don't you agree, my dear?" The fae spoke again.

"Oh. Yes. Of course. I would be delighted if you joined me on my walk to the Shimmerdread Pool, if you wish," Midge said. Then, seized by some bravery she had not known was in her, she added, "Chevalier," and watched his face to see if he would respond.

His face didn't change a whit from the serene smile presented, and he lifted one long, pale hand from within his green robes to gesture across the courtyard towards the side gate leading out. "Well then, in that case, dear Midge, lead the way."

Midge nodded and stepped forward, and thought she was doing well suppressing her annoyance at her break being spoiled by unwelcome company. When Chevalier began to giggle, however, she feared she may have let another long sigh escape despite herself.

"I haven't known you long, Midge, but I can already tell you're a fae overflowing with enthusiasm." Chevalier's voice choked off over another laugh and Midge rolled her eyes now that her face was safely hidden from his view.

"Pardon me, my lord." She pushed open the gate with one shoulder and stepped out onto the pathway, making certain Chevalier made it through before letting it fall closed again. As soon as the gate fell shut, the delicate architecture of the faery queen's palace disappeared from view, leaving only the illusion of thick trees and undergrowth there.

Chevalier looked over the illusion and gave a whistle. "Impressive. Has the queen always had such rigorous defenses?"

"You mean the illusions? As long as I have known it," Midge said. "Would you expect her to not protect the heart of her domain?"

"I mean the web of confusion she's cast around this place," Chevalier murmured, peering down at his feet. "I see before me only a web of bramble and wicked thorns, yet you walk peacefully through it with no obstruction."

"Interesting," Midge said. She saw a smooth, grassy path before her feet, leading in the direction of the pool. The thick red thorns he spoke of were only to the left and right of the trail.

"Your queen directs the very paths beneath your feet?" Chevalier asked in mock surprise.

"I suppose she does," Midge said mildly, leading the way down the safe path and glancing back to ensure Chevalier could follow. Truth be told, it was probably one of the least disturbing things she'd discovered in service of the queen.

"Freedom isn't a high priority in a greyfolk's life, or is this peculiar apathy singular to Midge?" The tall, slender fae looked pretty as a picture with his red hair in a spray of curls over his innocent expression; it looked almost as if he'd sprouted up from the ground himself in the trailing green robes that slipped over the grass like silk with each step.

"If you are looking to stir up trouble here, my lord, you won't get far," was all Midge would respond aloud. She was beginning to get a little angry at all these invasive questions. How dare this privileged, beautiful fae try to make her feel guilty for being resigned to her fate? Nothing that had ever happened in her life had been her choice, there was nothing she could do about any of it.

"I'll do the mature thing and refrain from taking that as a challenge," Chevalier replied, turning his head to take in the changing scenery as they moved forward. The queen liked to experiment, so the forest surrounding the castle was an ever-changing landscape of vibrant, enormous flowers that didn't exist anywhere else. Midge's favorites were the butterfly trees; whenever her majesty was in a good mood, the vibrant purple blossoms would begin to flutter like soft wings, and lift up from the branches to fly duskward. Right now the blossoms were small buds, still clinging to their twigs.

"So, do you greyfolk ever pollinate each other?"

"Hmm?" Midge glanced over her shoulder again at the beautiful fae, who had somehow acquired a long slender stick and was using it to swat at the air in front of him with it. "I do beg your pardon?"

"You know, entwine antennae. Engage in sexual relations."

"What? No." Midge glimpsed a shimmer of water through the thick foliage ahead. At last, they were nearing the pool. She quickened her pace, but of course Chevalier kept up with no apparent difficulty.

"Why not? Don't you have the proper parts and all?"

Midge exhaled a scoffing laugh, stopping short on the path. "That's incredibly rude, and you know it."

"Well I'm only trying to make conversation, dear. You're not helping at all." Chevalier's limpid eyes shone with laughter. "Perhaps if you were to ask me a question for once?"

She would have loved to. She'd love to ask him why he wouldn't leave her alone, or ask him not to play whatever prank on her that he was clearly ramping up to, or ask him why he'd been born right and she'd been born wrong. But she couldn't.

"We just don't want to," she said dully. It was better to answer than try to scramble and come up with a clever question to play Chevalier's game.

"You just don't feel the urge? No great passion lingering deep within those drab little outfits you wear?"

Midge looked down at her simple grey dress, a strip of cloth that could be tossed over her head at a moment's notice, scrubbed clean, and tossed back on again. Fashioned from faesilk, it would never lose its quality, rip or tear. It was the only item of clothing she'd ever worn.

"No," she replied. She didn't need to self-examine. It was generally understood amongst everyone at the castle that the greyfolk had no need for sex, as there was no need to produce more greyfolk. Fae could procreate with each other and give birth naturally, but most fae folk were originally fashioned from the various elements and magic of the Faewild itself by Queen Titania. The queen could not define precisely what would emerge when she started the creation process, only mix and match and let the chaos reign. The fauns were some of her most infamous creations, though she rarely fashioned any nowadays; they certainly took care of their own breeding eagerly enough, and spread throughout all the planes of existence they could set their hooves on. The greyfolk were the queen's failures. Her runts. Her sad, eternal pets drifting from room to room in the castle, accomplishing whatever task they were given, and caring not much for any of it.

Actually, there was one thing that put a spark of joy into every greyfolk's eye...

"I often think we were born to hibernate, like bears," Midge remarked, stepping forward again on the path. It was not unusual for fae to have long pauses during conversations for thought, as every word spoken aloud could be used against the speaker.

"Hibernate?" Chevalier followed behind her, his voice light and friendly, like someone attempting to coax a frightened animal to come closer.

"Yes. We just like to sleep. If they never rang the dusk bells, I would probably never wake at all."

"That sounds rather bleak. You've got to find something to wake up for," Chevalier said. Thrusting his stick forward, he hooked it up on the trailing branches of yellow weeping willow, pulling them aside so Midge could step forward into the clearing surrounding Shimmerdread Pool.

"I'd take suggestions," Midge said, setting the bucket down on the sloped earth leading up to the murky green water.

Chevalier stepped out behind her, his hands locked behind his back. His smile was expansive as he glanced out over the pool, then back down at her with a satisfied sigh. "I will give it some thought, dear Midge. In the meantime, I demand you ask me a question in return. Simple as you like, nothing is off limits."

Midge removed the tongs from the bucket and strode down to the water's edge, allowing her eyes to drift apart, unfocusing her vision. The pool immediately began to shimmer and sparkle around the edges over small lumps beneath the loose silt. Nymphroot. Thrusting the tongs beneath the water, she grasped at the nearest lump of silt and managed to catch the very tip of the vine before it vanished. Yanking it hastily out of the pool with a spray of droplets, she wheeled around to bring it back towards the bucket, only to find Chevalier had stepped forward and was holding it at the ready.

"Oh. Good," she said, dropping the tiny, wriggling root into the bucket where it flipped and flopped.

"Well done! That will stay fresh for some time, I should think," Chevalier said, peering down and smiling in approval.

"Yes, it should." Midge should offer something in return for his assistance, or even something so small as helping her catch a nymphroot might come back to haunt her. He wanted a question, fine. She would comply. "What are you doing visiting Queen Titania's court, Chevalier?"

"This." Chevalier's open, friendly smile did not slip an inch, but Midge felt her whole body lifted and flung back by an invisible hand.

There was no time to react, no time to do anything but give half a startled screech before she was submerged in the pool, the cool water slapping her back, making her skin tingle before rushing in cold rivulets to soak her dress and hair. She began to struggle back to the surface, but it felt very far away, and the pool felt deeper than it had seemed before. Her legs were caught by a strong current, a whirlpool tugging her down, too strong to fight against though she kicked with all her strength.

Was Chevalier trying to kill her? But why? Her equilibrium shifted, the world tilted and she began to panic, sucking in a deep breath of cold water.