Oleander
Oleander was the Prince of Fairies, heir to the throne of Queen Titania and her consort Oberon. Oleander had been a wild child in his youth, practically a disciple of the trickster Puck, getting into as much mischief as his ‘master’. This relationship was put to an end by Titania, who had the ultimate authority in their household. It had been her decree to name her only son Oleander, after a pretty flower, and in retaliation, after Puck’s constant nagging to name the boy after him. Oleander, who liked his name was just fine, was sure his father had never gotten over the stunning loss in the battle of wills, and having his son being named after a flower.
It hadn’t been a particularly quiet childhood, but it had been fun and wild, just the way Oleander liked it. Unfortunately Oleander was a prince, THE Prince, and would one day have to take his place on the throne and be an adult. Not that his parents always acted adult! One of their more amusing adventures had been immortalized in one of Billy Shakespeare’s plays, after Puck had kindly told him the story. Puck had been banished for a couple of decades after that. He got banished from time to time when Titania’s tolerance reached its breaking point, like after the incident which made Titania become aware of her son’s discipleship. No one was safe from her wrath after that, not even her husband, who had known of the relationship and not discouraged it. That had been a hard 100 years to live through after that.
Oh well, that was the past, and this was the present! Oleander was setting out on his last and greatest adventure. In order to be able to inherit the throne he had to spend at least 10 years traveling the human world, to gain worldly knowledge and maturity. Oleander doubted he’d gain either of those things, not with the plans he had set out anyway! His parents, who had both gone on fifty-year journeys themselves, warned him of the dangers of the changed world. This was no longer the time of the city-states or the Roman Empire. The world was very different. Humans did not believe in Fairies anymore. If he was discovered to be what he was, he would be captured and experimented on, or locked up for being insane.
They were worried for him, they begged him to stay in Europe, mainly on the British Isles, but he’d balked at being stuck so close to home. So they expanded it to Russia as well. He balked again, and they said he could travel farther away so long as he went to New Zealand or Australia, where he’d be safer. He told them, very firmly, that he was going to the United States, the place where dreams were made. They told him he could go, only if he’d stay away from large cities like New York.
When he headed for the airport the plane he’d hopped had taken him to New York. He’d lived there for a year. It was a nice place, crazy, violent, awesome, but he decided to travel more, so he hopped the first bus he could catch to go on a Pan-American tour to LA. He liked the U.S., it was interesting, wild, and more than a little naughty, just like him. LA was and was not different from his expectations, just as New York had been.
First things first though. He needed a job, he needed an apartment, and he needed a drink, the drink first. He stepped off the bus and checked himself into a motel for a week. It should give him enough time to find some kind of work. Everyone told him the economy was bad, but he’d found a great job his first day in New York: he’d served popcorn at a movie theater. He’d fallen in love with movies, and then with the theatre. He’d dated actresses, singers, and models, all of whom came to New York to make it big, though few probably ever would. That wasn’t his problem though.
Oleander had a book bag and a duffle bag full of his things. That was it. It didn’t bother him, he liked the experience, and he needed to travel light enough. He’d slept in the streets a few nights, and it was easier to look after your things if you could keep them close by. He hadn’t come to New York with enough money to afford housing for long, and it’d taken him a while to start earning enough to afford even a dinky apartment. Those few weeks weren’t fun. They really put a crimp in his plans to party. They’d started to make him a responsible and resourceful person, just what his parents wanted, yikes!
He liked New York. It’d been a fun year there, filled with parties, buying cool stuff, like the mp3 player he had blasting right now, punctuated by some work here and there. The bus ride had been harder than the last year of his life. After a while he realized that he wanted to go to other places. He saved up money and hopped a plane to LA. So here was, strolling down to the closest bar he could find, plugs in his ears blasting music, bad girly romance book tucked under his arm.
He was one of those guys, the guys who would read a book series just because girls seemed more attracted to him for reading them. The books were really shitty, but addictive and amusing enough that he’d gone out and bought the full set. They were laughably wrong, especially with what they called vampires. Real vamps were more like the ones in Dracula (though that wasn’t really right either, just closer to reality). He laughed his ass off at the bad vamp literature, fully aware that Fairy lit wasn’t any better. If nothing else he’d have a set of hilariously bad books to pass around when he got home!
Oleander found himself a seat at the bar, and smiled up at the pretty woman tending the bar. She poured him a drink right before she went home for the evening, her shift over. He sipped his drink, reading his book, trying to look cute while doing it. His plan succeeded, and he was rewarded with the phone number of a cute skinny blond girl who wanted to discuss glittery vamps. She was adorable really, but way too skinny. Fairy women were so thin, so waifish, so too skinny! He liked real women, women with a bit of curve. Fairy women and super models, they were both so skinny that he felt he had to wrap his arms around them to keep them from disappearing. He had to wrap his arms around curvaceous women for a different reason.
It was a night that seemed to be going his way. He was an attractive guy, he had red hair, brown eyes and tan skin, and odd combination, but he loved it. Fairy genetics were so completely unpredictable. He had a big wide charming smile, and a personality to match, he took after his ‘master’ Puck and his father, after all. So it was a good night. Then she walked in. His eyes trailed over the new bartender. She had nice curves, thick curly black hair. Her eyes were pink shaded, contacts obviously, but man she looked good. It took him three seconds to figure out she was a Witch, one second more than it took to realize that he wanted her.
He took her hand when she came over, and kissed it. “Hello, Lady, my name is Oleander. I’m Crown Prince of the Fairies, and I’m going to marry you.”
Dmitri
Dmitri Ravinoff, that was his name. He was currently riding the Atlanta MARTA train coming from a visit with his mother. He was headed to the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport to hop a plane back to Canada. He’d lost his last target there and he was now going back to see if he could catch her scent again. He had to catch his flight to LA, then another flight two days later to Seattle, and then a bus ride across the border. It was cheaper, his mom had said, and he believed her.
He flipped through his French Bible. Since he’d spent enough of his time in Canada trying to speak the French that he needed to learn, and because he’d left his actual Bible in some hotel, and bought the wrong language one when he’d gone to replace his old one, he was reading in French.
Dmitri Ravinoff was a strong believer in his faith. He loved his Bible, especially Exodus 22:18, “Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live”. That summed up his life’s work. He was a Witch hunter, and not the crazy puritanical kind. He was the real thing, and his last target was hiding somewhere in Canada. He’d find her eventually; otherwise he wouldn’t get paid by the hunter’s guild.
He shut the Bible, and turned on his Blackberry. He’d hated buying the stupid thing, but it was the best way to keep in contact with the Guild. He started poking around in his guild email (DRavinoff@huntersguild.com). He’d gotten an interesting one about a new kind of Witch recently and he wanted to look over it again. It was almost a month old. That wasn’t actually recent, but he’d never been one for dates, which is why his last target had gotten away: his mother’s birthday. If he’d remembered he had a plane to catch then he wouldn’t have let the stupid Witch get so far away!
Medusas. Sounded interesting, sounded fun! He ran his eyes over the memo. It seemed that they were more dangerous than normal Witches; well normal Witches were dangerous enough as it was, so how much worse could these girls be? They were all female, and apparently very good at hiding. He’d have to be extra charming for this one.
Dmitri Ravinoff, or Dimi as he was known to basically everyone, especially his mother who’d come up with the nickname, was a charming and handsome man. He was very tall, with a deep voice, and Mediterranean/Russian mixed looks. His skin was more tan than his father’s, more like his mother’s. His hair was a thick curly brown and his eyes were a dark brown. His father said he looked like Pushkin, which he supposed was a compliment until he’d actually looked the man up. Dmitri was clearly better looking than Alexander Pushkin, and his job was also clearly more important the job of any poet.
Sometimes “Dimi” had to be charming, flirtatious, and seductive enough to lure in Witches. His main sport was Witches, though he’d brought down a couple of warlocks before. Not every Witch could be simply brought in to the Guild alive and unharmed (The unharmed part being the hardest part), in fact it was normally just easier to kill the Witch. It wasn’t murder: Exodus 22:18 “Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live”. It wasn’t that different from slaughtering a pig, really. Guns were easiest to use, but knives were more discrete.
His job used to be so much easier when he could simply take weapons in his luggage. The crazy terrorists had made it such a pain now! He really couldn’t stand them. If he didn’t have a perfectly good job already he was sure he would have enlisted in the War on Terror!
Oh well, such is life! He had a flight to catch so he could sit around in LA for two days—as a general rule he really preferred not to hang around California if he could help it. It was so polluted! The only way he’d stick around LA (besides layover) was if a mark was there—well, if he found a new mark to make up for the Witch he had lost. He could always find that other Witch later. He had a very good track record. Every Witch he’d marked for hunting ended up dead within a year, either by his power, someone else’s, or just nature.
He’d had Holy Help before, he was sure of it. After all, he was doing the work of God. He helped rid the world of Witches, and who was going to say that God didn’t help him out sometimes? Well a lot of the other hunters did sometimes. It really stunned him, how a group of guys (and girls) who dealt with magic everyday could not believe in God, and in fact be hardcore atheists. How did that make any sense at all?
Dimi looked over the memo about the Medusas again. There was a high price on their heads, came mostly from the pocket of the Court of Magic—man, what a haul that would be! He could even help pay for his mom’s retirement. His mind headed off to la-la land with imagination of what he could afford with the money he’d get from bagging a Medusa. He could even just kill it if he wanted. Hell! It was highly suggested. These girls were really dangerous! It would be a great challenge, one that would get him recognized in the Guild.
Guild politics were ridiculous! They said it was a fair advancement system, but you had to be the descendent of Heracles or Perseus to be able to advance to King and Queen. He couldn’t even get to Royalty, and he had way more experience than the idiots who were getting advanced. He just hadn’t bagged the right head, and he also didn’t have good enough lineage. The Guild focused too much on blood lines…
Speaking of which…
Once more he started going through old e-mail. He had a note from an old girlfriend in the Guild Royalty (A second cousin to the Queen, stupid bloodlines). She’d send him good gossip from the Guild which (Guild gossip was the normal who-slept-with-who bull, but it was also really good information on new targets that had been spotted or were available. If you didn’t have an in, you’d never be able to get anywhere in the Guild) was very interesting. Apparently the heir to the throne of the Magic Court was out traversing the world. He was supposedly in the States—man alive, what a great catch that would be! Of course he couldn’t actually kill the Fairy boy, he was much more valuable alive. He could be used as a bargaining chip with the Magic Court—or he could be sold to an enemy of Titania or Oberon for a tidy little profit. Either way he’d score big off such a catch.
He shoved his phone in his pocket as he climbed off the MARTA train, and headed out into the still wintery weather, wishing it was warmer, but also glad that it wasn’t a Georgia summer yet--humid, Yuck! With that amusing little thought he headed off to catch his flight, sending up a little prayer that he’d bag a Medusa or the Fairy Prince. Either one would get him in to the Guild Hall of Fame.
Nadia
He took her hand when she came over, and kissed it. “Hello, Lady, my name is Oleander. I’m Crown Prince of the Fairies, and I’m going to marry you.”
Nadia could only stare at him. Her first inclination was to laugh, but she was sure it would sound panicked. She couldn’t really deny that he was wrong. After all she had heard of Crown Prince Oleander, and he did fit the description, down to a T. She could tell he was a Fairy, and he could obviously tell she was a Witch. It was the specifics of which were things they wouldn’t be able to tell, not with the limited amount of information they had on each other anyway.
“Fairy Prince, huh?” She asked with the little teasing smirk she’d been taught to deal with the guys who were drunk enough to flirt with her, but still sober enough to realize that what followed the smirk hurt. “Are you sure that you don’t want to propose to one of the guys around here?” she said with a flirtatious smile.
His smile never faltered though, and he simply took her hand, kissing it again. His grin seemed to grow broader even! “Nope, I’m the Crown Prince of the Magic Court, and I want you for my wife!” he said, sounding too pleased with himself.
Again she pulled her hand away. “Your wife, what would she want with me?” she asked, with that teasing little smirk again. Man, she was definitely not on her A-game that night! She’d just used borrowed material. She was normally better than that. It must be the Fairy sitting in front of her. It’s not every day you run in to the Crown Prince of the Fairies and then he asks you to marry him.
He suddenly turned very serious and grabbed her hand, not in the cutely forceful way he had before, but in a very serious, gripping kind of way. She had to will herself not to wince. His grip was really strong. He seemed to realize he was hurting her, and he loosened his grip. “Now let us be serious, Miss. I’m a Fairy, and you’re a Witch. Don’t deny it when I can obviously tell what you are. In fact I am the Crown Prince of Fairies, and I’ve just asked you to marry me.”
Once more she pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry; I don’t accept marriage proposals while I’m on the clock,” she said flippantly, turning her back on him, and pretending to go back to work.
“Then I’ll wait,” he said resolutely, and hunkered into his seat for a long wait. He opened his book again and started sipping the drink he’d been working on since the last bartender had come around.
Great! she thought, actually going back to work. He didn’t seem as if he was going to go away any time soon. Fairies were notoriously stubborn after all. What would her mother say if she could see her now? The Crown Prince of Fairies wasn’t exactly the type you bring home to mother, even if you’re not a fugitive on the run for your life, and so is your mother—if your mother is indeed alive at this point, it is. Nadia halted her thoughts there. No point in wondering about things she couldn’t change.
Instead she kept on working. Every twenty minutes or so she’d look up to see if the Fairy Prince was still around—he was!
Jesus it was getting late, he the fairy prince, didn’t he have a life or subjects to tend to or something? Why would he be sitting waiting for her to finish her work like this? She didn’t doubt that he was serious about his proposal, which made her very nervous. It didn’t matter if he ‘loved’ her (though she could hardly call love just meeting someone and asking them to marry you), he’d have to kill her, or turn her in once he found out… and he would find out if she agreed to be his wife. If he refused to turn her in than he’d be turning his back on his people, and wouldn’t be a good ruler, as the people would see it. No, she couldn’t allow him to stay around.
She waited until everyone else had gone, she was closing up tonight. Normally that would annoy her, but it meant they could have some privacy that wasn’t outside, and wasn’t either of their apartments (which would be a disaster). Finally she walked down to his end of the bar. She wasn’t stupid enough to ever let the bar not be between them. A split second had meant the difference between life and death for many a Medusa, including herself. “Alright Fairy boy, I’ll give you a few minutes of my time. You can’t go blabbing out in public about being magic.”
“Why not?” the fairy asked, looking confused. He tilted his head to one side, as if to say ‘I’m a puppy dog, I’m so cute, how can I possibly be wrong?’ It was both ridiculous and dangerous and done right. “I tell people that all the time, and it never bothers them.”
“Yes, but there’s a difference between claiming to be a fairy prince and claiming to be a witch,” she replied, starting to feel exasperated. “If you tell people that you’re a fairy prince at best they think it’s an adorable little joke, and worst they think you’re gay. It’s different for me. If I tell people I’m a witch at best they think I’m a weird girl who worships Satan, and at worst they try to kill me.”
His cute face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right; I don’t know why I didn’t consider that. I apologize.” He spoke so seriously. She had to wonder if he was bipolar… well it wasn’t really happy then sad, it was more a bubbly adorable façade to a surprising seriousness. If he’d pick one it would be less jarring.
Her thoughts were off on his suddenly personality shift so she wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing. With someone else this could very dangerous. The fairy grabbed her hand with both of his, squeezing lightly. “Let’s start over. I’m Oleander, I am the crown prince of fairies, son of Queen Titania and her consort lord Oberon.” He said formerly, like the royalty he actually was.
“You shouldn’t go around saying stuff like that.” She said disdainfully, jerking her hand away. She examined it as if to see if his touch had caused some kind of flesh wound.
“Because it’ll sound crazy to humans?” He asked, seeming just a bit offended at how she was examining her hand. “I’m not toxic!” He snapped, obviously miffed.
“No, because your parents have many enemies, both foreign and domestic. You really think they’ve been alive this long and haven’t pissed people off. You’d make a great bargaining chip to get your father’s head on a platter. Have you no sense of self preservation?” She snapped. He was so flippant about his own life? What was he a child? Didn’t he understand how the world worked at all?
“Oh… I never thought about it like that…” He said softly. He looked different when he was considering things, thinking. It wasn’t cute like how he normally was… in fact it wasn’t attractive at all. It made him look average, funny looking even, in a way that his crazy smiles and personality completely disguised.
“Clearly!” She exclaimed, leaning against the bar and looking at him. Hey, she might not even have to panic and move if she could get him to go away by bumming him out. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
“I’m on my odyssey.” He said, sounding proud, for, in her mind, no reason.
“Excuse me; you’re on your what?” She asked, cocking one eyebrow.
“My odyssey… look in order to be able to succeed my parents I need to do two things. One is that I need to spend ten years away from the Court of Magic, and not return until at least ten years have passed. The second is that I have to be married.” He explained, taking the opportunity to lean in more.
“So I’m just the random girl you need to marry?” She asked, not sure whether to laugh or be offended.
“No, if it were just a random girl I needed I could pick any chick from back home… but man alive they’re all such stick figures. No, they wouldn’t do… but there are plenty of more substantial women around, and I’ve met a few witches on my travels… but nope, they won’t do either. It has to be you.”
“Why me?” She asked, suddenly feeling like she’d been inserted in to some ridiculous fairy melodrama.
“Hmm… I don’t know, it just has to be you. I want you to be my wife, and that’s that. Anyway, since I can’t go back home yet I think you should come with me on my journey… not that I plan to leave any time soon. I think I’m going to stick around here for a couple of months, at least.”
“Wait, aren’t you going to wait for me to say yes?” She nearly shouted, feeling panic starting to rise in her chest. He assumed so much that it was startling, and terrifying, especially considering her circumstances…
“Why should I? I’m the crown prince of the Court of Magic, why would you want to turn me down?” He asked, well said really, though she was sure there were question marks somewhere on the end of his sentences, not that they meant anything.
Honestly, she was sure this would be hilarious if she weren’t stuck in the middle of it all. She started to contemplate whether it would seem more hilarious for a normal person, or for a magical person. She halted that train of thought, realizing that she was simply avoiding the problem at hand.
“You should try and understand that you’re a stranger, and I don’t know you, which is what it means to be a stranger.” Man, this was starting to sound stupid, she though, but he was watching her intently, nodding along, absolutely serious. “Look I don’t know you at all, how can I possible marry you?”
“Well then I’ll get to know you better, and then you can marry me.” He said, as if he understood. He didn’t get that she was trying to reject him, and had that he’d just brushed aside a great argument point.
“How are you going to do that, you don’t even know my name!” She exclaimed, stunned by his sheer will to have her marry him.
“I’ll know it when you tell me, but you dance around the question when I ask you.” He pointed out very calmly. “So I figure that you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Nadia let out an exasperated sigh. “Can’t you understand, I don’t want to tell you, because I don’t want to marry you?!” She finally snapped. He’d gotten right under her skin, with how calm he was about the whole thing.
Oleander was silent for a few minutes, letting her calm down. The silence stretched on and on, to the point that Nadia couldn’t even see comfortable on the horizon anymore. She was starting to wonder if she should say something when he spoke up first. “Why don’t you want to marry me?” He finally asked. During the whole silence he’s just watched her, he hadn’t even looked uncomfortable.
“Because I don’t know you-“
“Which will be solved by me getting to know you,” He replied.
“and I’m a witch and you’re a fairy-“
“That’s not really a good argument, because there was been warlocks and witches and kings and queens of the Court of Magic.” He pointed out, which they both well knew to be true.
“Can’t you understand why this is weird for me?” She asked, feeling desperate.
Oleander looked at her in silence for a few moments before reaching across the bar and putting his hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch and look up at him. “No, I suppose I can’t, but I won’t push the subject tonight. I’ll just keep coming back to see you until you agree to marry me. I am going to marry you, but it doesn’t have to be tonight, or tomorrow, or any time in the next hundred years. I have a long life ahead of me, and so do you, so I can wait.” He said with a thoroughly pleasant smile on his face.
“Now, I’d offer to walk you home, but I have a feeling you’d turn me down, yes?” He asked her.
“Yeah, that’s right.” She said, watching him warily.
He smiled at her kindly, “That’s fine, I live right across the street, apartment 327, come visit me if you feel like it. Take care,” he said, standing up, and tucking his book under his arm. He headed out the door, waving and smiling.
Nadia stayed perfectly still for a long time until she was sure he was gone, then she quickly went and locked the front door again. Her heart was pounding. In some ways the fairy prince had been very rational. She couldn’t even remember him raising his voice. If anything she’d been the one acting irrational.
She started to move around, making sure all the lights were off, and everything was cleaned up. As she worked she couldn’t help feeling guilty. She felt bad for turning him down, he’d been so polite about his questions, and it just felt like telling a child they couldn’t have something they wanted, especially if the child didn’t understand why what they wanted was wrong.
But he’d been so reasonable in so many ways. She just felt bad for saying no. Honestly it would have been an inviting offer if she hadn’t been a Medusa. But she was, and there was no changing that, not at this point, not ever. He was her enemy, his sticking around her meant that her life was in danger… and maybe even the life of others she knew. She knew where her best friend Cordelia was, thank goodness Medusas traveled in secrecy and seclusion… it could be very lonely, but it was also safer.
She stopped her thoughts there and turned off the last light, heading out the back door and locking it before heading home. She wasn’t going to leave her job and home just yet. She’d only been around for a few months, and it’d been hard to get a job last time. She didn’t have enough money saved away to survive on if she ran away, not with how crumby the job market was recently. She could hold off the advances of the amorous fairy for a few more weeks anyway, then she could quietly slip away and never have to see him again.
