This story contains no sex, it is purely a cute and romantic tale. I believe it has a much bigger claim to the NonHuman category than Non-Erotic, though, for obvious reasons.
It was originally written as a private story as a gift back in November 2020. But with their permission, I have removed all the personal details and then did some minor cleanup so that it could be posted here.
It doesn't follow any particular fae lore or universe, but I tried to fit it into the atmosphere from the Tinkerbell movies that my daughter and I watched endlessly. It is also the first story that I ever tried writing in first/second person, which adds its own flavor that I love. Hope you enjoy!
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I wish I could remember the first time that I asked about you. I know I was very young, far too young to even know what marriage was.
Our tribe was small, yours was a little bigger. Still less than forty adult fairies, I think. Our tribes had been strangers, almost enemies, when we first encountered each other. The children from our tribes had no problem playing together, but we always felt weird playing when grown-ups were around.
We had a favorite game that summer where we'd fly low to the ground and play tag among the flowers. We'd intentionally bump into the dandelions, covering our pursuers in fluff, making them sneeze and fall behind. I remember laughing so hard I could barely fly straight, tears in my eyes. But then I'd look over to the trees and see the disapproving look on my father's face. He didn't like us playing together but he never said anything out loud, the alliance between our tribes was necessary and still fragile.
When the weather grew cold, we had to part ways until the spring. Your tribe was nomadic, heading south ahead of the snow, while mine spent the fall storing up supplies and moving into the underground hollow for the winter.
I liked you, but I didn't really know you. We never talked, just the two of us. Either we were surrounded by the other kids, or had a concerned parent watching over us.
There was no official goodbye. One day you were just gone. It wasn't until later that I realized that I missed you. Being that young... The winter seemed like forever.
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There was never a chance that I could forget about you, though. We were betrothed, after all, even though I didn't know what that meant.
"Wipe your feet, Reed. I'm sure your wife is going to appreciate having a clean house!"
"How are you going to support your family if you don't learn a trade? Now pay attention to this lesson."
"Don't spend so much time with those other girls, you're already spoken for."
It was so confusing to hear. When I asked the other boys, they just shrugged, it was a mystery to them, too.
I got the impression that we were supposed to spend the rest of our lives together. Logically, this seemed like a good thing. But then, one of the older boys slapped me on the shoulder and told me he felt sorry for me. He said he was glad he wasn't in my shoes, "taking one for the team," whatever that meant.
The only thing I really understood throughout that winter was that I had no idea if I wanted a wife, but I did want a friend.
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As the snow melted, the work began anew. There was lots of cleaning, gathering, repairing, planting... and I was old enough to be given some difficult jobs. This year, I wouldn't be able to spend the summer playing tag, riding toads, and dropping acorns on unsuspecting animals. I was supposed to be "responsible" and learn about "being a man."
It wasn't all bad, though. I felt really proud of myself. With the new duties came new privileges. I was finally allowed to make my own bow!
The truth was that I wasn't one of the kids anymore. That didn't completely sink in until the men took me along on a fishing trip. I was the youngest there, to be sure, but I was treated like one of the guys. Mostly, I listened. I heard about stories from past trips. My uncle loved to boast about a minnow he caught once that was half as tall as he was (my father whispered later that it was a huge exaggeration, barely as long as his leg). Then the fathers would take turns talking about their children: either beaming with pride at some tale of accomplishment, or laughing and rolling their eyes at something truly naive that they had done.
Things got awkward for me when they began to talk about married life. I was purely a spectator for this conversation. It made me uncomfortable when they complained about women that weren't there to defend themselves. I began to feel that the only function of a wife was to nag at her husband. My future started to seem bleak.
I was dreading coming home from the trip. We were to be married as soon as your tribe arrived for the summer, and that could be any day.
We took our time, though. We cleaned every fish, salted the meat, set some out to dry in the sun, some was cooked over a fire to be eaten fresh, and the rest in a smoking oven that had been built near the river generations ago. The trip was expected to take weeks. We had two tortoises to carry our haul back, and we wanted them both almost fully loaded before we left for home. We were also planning to pick up some herbs and berries along the way. We even cut two huge white mushrooms to tie on. Not a necessity, but someone in the village would appreciate them.
As I watched our cache slowly grow, the guys would tease me, poking me with an elbow, telling me how my future wife was probably there at the village. Your wedding dress made, the altar erected in the clearing, decorations up all over. They would laugh at the imagined sight of me, flying out of the woods and right into the ceremony, covered in mud and reeking of old fish and wood smoke. They would act out my future bride, getting one whiff of me and running away screaming.
I'm sure I had plenty of fun while on that trip, and I know I learned a lot. I just don't remember the good parts. I only remember the dread.
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You were there when we arrived home.
The whole village halted what they were doing to come welcome the returned men. Greetings were cheerful, but brief. We all started the unpacking and unloading, moving our haul to the kitchens and to storage rooms underground. I watched as the smaller children danced around, playing, laughing, climbing the tortoises, and generally just being a nuisance. I found myself looking at every laughing face, expecting to see that young girl from last summer. My friend, who was also a stranger, and my future wife. But I didn't see you.
I was sad and confused as I carried my first load down to cold storage. My friends kept trying to talk to me, to ask me how my first fishing trip went. They wanted to know what it was like. I couldn't blame them for their curiosity since they would be going on a trip soon enough. I wasn't the only boy on the verge of manhood.
Eventually, their bright smiles and enthusiasm distracted me. I retold stories while I hauled packs of smoked fish down and came back with empty sacks. On one trip, I looked up and finally saw that face I had been looking for. Except, it wasn't on a child. This was a woman. There is no other way to put it. You were a woman, and you were beautiful.
Suddenly, I forgot how to function. My words cut off abruptly and my legs just gave up coordinating. I tripped over my own feet and found myself in the dirt with a group of kids laughing at me.
You hadn't seen me yet, but the laughing kids drew all attention. I was struggling to my feet as my mind raced. I realized why I hadn't seen you earlier. I wasn't looking at the groups of women. I gave you a feeble smile and an awkward wave as my friends kept me moving to get another load to haul.
You were busy with the women stocking the kitchens and pantries. There was also a growing pile of food on a table which I learned later was being reserved for our wedding feast.
Without realizing it, I found myself craning my neck to look for you with every trip. I caught little glimpses here and there, and I quickly looked away. After all, what could I possibly say to you?
When the last of the unloading was done, we were gathering up the empty sacks and rope when I saw you one last time. You were laughing and talking in a small group of young ladies. I saw you from the side. Just like I remembered, you had that great smile, perfect delicate wings, and long wavy brown hair. I looked down at myself, and knew I must look like a beggar. Despite that, I was gathering my courage to approach you and say hello. I lost my chance as your group turned and headed away.
And then, I was completely entranced. Your figure, from the back, was so different from what I remembered. This was a full-grown woman I was staring at. There was something about the movement of your hips while you walked that drew my eyes and held them. I was not in control of myself. I felt the surge of sexual attraction, not really even understanding what it was or what it meant.
One of the guys with me knew, though. He laughed and punched me in the arm, which snapped me out of my trance. "Are you seriously staring at her ass? Come on, give me a break. You'll have plenty of time for that later."
Ugh, how embarrassing.
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While I didn't exactly return home to walk into the wedding ceremony, I wasn't far off. Imagine my surprise the next morning to learn that preparations were already in full swing and that I would be married that afternoon.
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Everywhere was a flurry of activity. I saw very little of it, being stuck inside to be bathed and dressed. Mostly I think I was just being guarded. I had no siblings, so my aunts were there to bark orders at me to clean myself properly, and I wasn't allowed to dry off and get dressed until they had given their approval. They could tell I was skittish. They weren't going to let me go outside on my own and fly off into the woods.
My anxiety slowly grew as I felt trapped. At one point, I realized I would be so much happier doing anything else, being anywhere else. I even envied the scouts high up in the branches watching for predator birds. I'd rather go head to head with a red-tailed hawk than get married.
