Arranged Marriage to the Fairy Prince

Chapter One

My name is Violette Fletcher and this is my story.

I was born on February 12th in the small fairy region called Phoenix. My mother, Hestia, always called me "ma petite fraise" because she thought looked like a strawberry as a newborn, all tiny and red.

My wings started growing at the normal time, but they were shiny and reflected all the colours in the sunlight, making them look like a rainbow. While other girls in my learning group had wings that were pink and orange, mine failed to show and signs of a solid colour, not that I minded, but there was always that little nagging feeling that would worry if I was sick or something.
They also bore a silverish tint, which led and older fairy, Dandelion, on our street to believe I was secretly a witch, switched at birth.

A year later, when I was 13, I was taken to the doctor about my wings. We were told I wasn't sick, it was just because my body had failed to produce the right pigment to colour them, but old Dandelion still kept her suspicions, even till she died.

Like all fairies, my hair matches my wings. It doesn't reflect sunlight, but it is silver. I have violet eyes to go with my hair, which is why I was called Violette (pronounced vee-oh-let) and I normally wear a pale purple dress, that is tight around the waist and then bursts out like a blooming flower. I would wear this with purple ballet pumps decorated with pom poms on the end. Generic, I know, but it did make me feel quite cute and floaty, like I could just jump up and dance at any moment, even though I never took ballet. Believe me I wanted to, but my mother always said it was a waste of money. At the time hated her for her refusing to let me have lessons but now I realise she was right. It's not like I was going to become a professional ballerina and I was hardly flexible.

I lived in a large abandoned wooden crate with my mother and Iris, my pet mini tortoise. The crate was painted white and a pale lilac door had been placed in the hole our neighbour had sawn for us. My mother had found old objects in the woods near our house and managed to transform them into lovely furniture, windows and toys and placed them in all the rooms. When that was done she gave it a quick sweep and our home was complete. A few years later, when I was about five, a rare miniature tortoise showed up at our door so we took her in and she was named Iris, after the Greek goddess of rainbows.

I never knew my father, but I was told he was an asshole. I still want to meet him though, but I couldn't even if my mother wanted me to. We don't even know what region he lives in, let alone a street number. According to my mother he just "flew away" as soon as he found out she was pregnant or something like that. Either way, he left and abandoned us both.

It was never really and issue for me, being fatherless, but sometimes when I watched the other kids with their dads laughing together, having fun I would just think, why can't that be me? Why can't I have a dad too? But then I would look at my mother. My strong, outgoing mother who sat through three hours of my learning group's pantomime just to hear me say my one line, who waited patiently in the rain when I go my detention and still took me out to dinner afterwards, saying my teachers were stupid anyways and I was a better person in the end, then I would forget about having another parent. And how could you blame me? If you met her you would know she was enough to make up for one million fathers. So for the first sixteen years of my life I convinced myself I didn't need, or even want a dad.

Which is why, on a warm April afternoon, I surprised myself.

We all carry that secret burden to earn our parents respect and mine was buried deep in my mind that day, when it suddenly broke free and begged to be fulfilled. I had spent my whole life trying to get rid of it, hoping I had got rid of it but it was always there, waiting for this moment to come.

*****

When the knock on the door came that would change my life forever I was baking walnut pies, oblivious to the fact that what was on the other side of the door was not the postman, or anyone that I knew for that matter.

I looked through the mini peephole in the door and saw man who I didn't recognise in his late 40s with ginger hair and violet eyes, a similar shade to my own.

"Mother!" I called, "There's a man at the door!"

I heard some shuffling upstairs and I saw her appear from the top of the stairs, red faced and puffy.

"Alright I'm coming," she said, walking over to the door and opening it with a light hearted expression. But when she saw the man the look on her face turned completely sour and she slammed the door shut in the poor guy's face.

"What is it Mother?" I asked in a concerned tone. "Who is that man?"

"That isn't just a man," she said, bitter, "That's the asshole that left me twenty seven years ago."

"You don't mean...!" I questioned, shock written all over my face.

"That man," She pointed through the door "Is your father."

This was bad.

Very bad.

But little did I know, in a few months time it was about to get a whole lot worse.

Shit was about to happen.

*****

Hello readers, I'm ninja_star! So tell me, what do you think? I was up till 1am writing this so I hope it was worth it. If you didn't like it, tell me how I could improve, and if you enjoyed it please feel free to like, comment and follow, it really helps!!

Question: If you were a fairy, what would your wings look like? (I would want the wings Violette had in the story)

Bonus Question: What would you want your region to be called? (I think "the unicorn region" must be a pretty good place for me since I absolutely LOVE unicorns!!)

Thank you for reading, eat cookies and try not punch annoying kids in the face!!! -Nina 😉