Dry leaves trickled across the sun-warmed stone floor of Queen Titania's bedroom, and the breeze brought with it a whisper; the whisper of a secret Her Majesty was not yet intended to discover.

She stirred, her long lashes lifting from her dusky cheeks to reveal luminous eyes, black and full of stars. Rolling to her back in one languid movement, she flexed her body against the silk-soft sheets, lifting both hands up to brush the vines curling around the headboard above her.

"Chevalier," she whispered, and her companion lurched upright, his red hair a curled mass that tumbled down to tangle in the sheets. Picking up a single lock of that hair, she pressed it between her thumb and forefinger. So soft. So smooth. "I would like to keep some of this, when you leave."

Any other lover would have smiled, cut off every hair on his head and given it to her on a golden platter. Not Chevalier. No, he merely gave her a liquid smile, his glassy eyes sending her own reflection back at her, and shrugged one slender shoulder. "No offense, my queen, but I do not trust what you would do with it. I wouldn't like to see a lot of little Chevaliers running around the Faewild unattended, you know. We're quite a troublesome bunch."

"But think how interesting it would be, to see what the hair from such a being produces," Titania whispered. Her eyes danced with the imagination of a creator.

"You will not find any of us willing to take the chance," Chevalier said, beginning to gather the long ribbons of his hair together and bundle them at the nape of his neck.

"If you Eladrin would give up your caution and embrace the chaos, the Faewild would be much more fun." Queen Titania swept her own iridescent hair back from her face. She wore it short, today, trimmed into soft wisps across her forehead and temples.

"I disagree. If you always got your way, Your Majesty, then it wouldn't be very fun at all." Chevalier winked - the sheer impudence of the fae - and flung the crumpled sheets away from them.

Titania watched the same breeze that danced in her ears chase the sheets up, sending them billowing through the open roof of the queen's bedroom, standing against the soft dusk sky like pretty, fluffy clouds.

On a whim, she exerted but a small droplet from her oceans of magic to dissipate the sheets into mist, making their likeness to vapor a reality. They floated up higher and higher, turning the clear evening to cloudy with a chance of rain.

"Very pretty, my queen, but think of all the picnics you'll ruin." Chevalier tapped her nose, then rolled out of bed, reaching down to pick up his green faesilk robes. "And now you need new sheets. Whims only take you so far, you know."

"So it wasn't a whim that made you kidnap one of my greyfolk?" Titania leaned forward, her voice never straying from its customary sweet murmur. "What game are you playing with my pet, Chevalier?"

"Pet? Don't you always say you consider your creations to be your children?"

She should have known he would be too practiced in the games of court to be surprised that she had caught him out. "The greyfolk are not like the rest of my children. They are ugly slaves, with no feelings or true purpose. I put them to use as best I can. What would you have me do? Kill them at birth?"

Chevalier laughed, incredulous, spinning to her in one fluid movement and pausing with both hands on one hip. "I don't know, Titania, set them loose?"

Titania laughed with him, and nearby vines burst into bloom with a shower of crimson petals. "I have tried that once before, Chevalier. When I first unwittingly created one of the sorry things, I set it free to roam, as I do all my creations. It meandered, listless, starving but for the magic of the Faewild coursing through its veins, and it was killed by wild beasts within days. The poor things don't even bother to eat if we don't keep them on a rigid schedule. I ask you again; what would you have me do?"

Studying her for a long moment, Chevalier's offended demeanor relaxed abruptly. He approached the bed, slipping down to Titania and nudging her back, slim thighs straddling her hips, and glossy lips pressing against hers. 

She closed her eyes, savoring every moment of this gorgeous thing alighting upon her like a butterfly, before nudging him away with an indulgent smile. "I won't forget this so easily." 

He tilted his head to one side. "Everyone believes you to be such a flighty thing, but you are at your heart a keen-minded fae who appreciates reason. Proof. Evidence. Stop me if I'm wrong."

"You're not wrong." She stroked her palm up over his flank, appreciating the dark, sparkling sheen of her skin against his alabaster luster.

"Very well. Then let Midge be an experiment, hm? I don't mean her any harm. I'll have my fun, and if my theory is proven correct, I'll explain all."

They both knew that was never going to be good enough for Titania. "Chevalier, I don't wish to get angry, but I will if necessary. Tell me where you've taken it."

He shook his head, his lips descending upon hers again for more of his addictive kisses. His robe provided a tantalizing tickle against her skin, dragging across the delicate silver chains that connected the hoops piercing her nipples. "If you do get angry, don't let it be over this. This is the one thing I cannot tell you."

"I command you as your queen; tell me," she said, her fingers still exploring beneath the robes, finding his soft, vulnerable places and invading them with practiced movements. He shuddered, his own body arching over hers.

"I cannot," he gasped, bracing his forehead against hers and looking into her eyes. "I give you my word. I do not know where she went."

No fae could give such a promise in vain. Titania crushed her lips into his, and all attempts at conversation were over, for a span of delicious time.

When Chevalier slipped from her bed the second time, she allowed him to go, remaining reclined, sated and smiling on her pillows. She took her time to recuperate from the exertion, calling her attendants to refresh her; she did not have greyfolk as her personal servants, but rather fauns who were well paid for their services.

They left her bathed and pampered, with a tall flute of moonlit cordial cooling her fingers. Sufficiently recovered, she turned her mind back to the problem at hand. Promises or no, Chevalier had been extremely impudent, and in fact, verging on treasonous. The Eladrin were not technically her subjects, but rather allies, and though she needed to maintain control, she could not attack them on these grounds. Her best move was to find Midge and bring the poor thing home, where it would be safe.

So decided, Titania slipped from the bed, the very air around her diminutive form beginning to shimmer with iridescent colors, thickening and cloaking her body with conjured faesilk that rippled over her like a waterfall. Her bedroom descended in stone tiers, with her bed at the top tier, and every inch of the space was covered in wild vines, with thorns and blooms in equal abundance, fountains, and one enormous sycamore tree thrusting up in the center of the room. Surrounding the base of the tree was a constantly trickling moat of crystal clear water, splashing and gurgling in a merry, eternal chase.

Titania made her way to the base of the tree, reaching forward to brush her fingertips over the rough bark. Then she sank into a crouch and placed her palm against the surface of the water. If Midge was still in the Faewild, it would take only seconds to locate it.

At her touch, the trickling water slowed from its swift whirlpool movement to perfectly still, reflecting the leaves of the sycamore tree above. Leaning all the way down, Titania kissed the surface of the water, barely brushing it with her lips. The touch was just enough to send a series of ripples cascading out from the center of her focus; in the heart of the circle, a pale green light began to form.

Titania concentrated on the pale green light, bringing to mind the image of Midge, tall, gaunt, grey, just like the rest of them. She anticipated the light to become transparent and reveal the image of a greyfolk, stumbling through the undergrowth or shivering in a cave somewhere. Instead, the light remained opaque and unchanging, before the ripples faded completely, and the light did too.

She sat back on her heel and tapped one fingertip on her chin in thought. Could Chevalier be preventing her from scrying? But there hadn't been a block upon the casting of the spell; the spell had simply found no purchase.

There was only one explanation for that. Midge was no longer in the Faewild at all.

"Oh, Chevalier. What have you done?" Titania asked of nobody in particular.

Fixing this just became much more complicated.