June, too stunned to speak, briefly wondered how this woman could possibly know her name. Until she remembered this was just a dream. Well, she supposed a figment of her own imagination would know her name. “Yes?” she asked.

The woman took a shaky step towards June, who took a very hasty step backwards from her, causing the woman to halt in her steps. “You…” the woman began, a strange look on her face. “How are you here? Alive?”

The woman’s voice was full of emotion as she took another slow, but now careful, step towards June. “It’s been centuries,” the woman began. “You always said you would return, but I had lost hope—after all, even my kind cannot come back from the dead.”

June frowned, a little unnerved. By the woman’s words, they should know each other. Also, according to this woman’s words, she apparently was dead. But besides having seen this woman in her dreams (in books, no less), June couldn’t place where she might have ever even met her before.

“I’m afraid that I don’t…” June began, as the woman continued slowly, shakily walking towards her, “Know you… Have we met before?”

The woman halted, tilting her head as if trying to understand what June had just said. She was only a few feet away from June now. With her free hand, the woman reached out for June’s face, her trembling fingertips brushing against June’s cheek. “You’re real,” the woman whispered. “You are not an illusion of my hope…”

June blinked a few times, unsure of how to respond to that. “I really don’t know you,” she repeated. 

The woman frowned, and she took a few slow steps backwards away from June. “Not at all?”

June shook her head. “I mean, if we have met before and I just forgot, I’m sorry, but I don’t remember.” She glanced at the painting on the wall again. The two of them looked so intimate there, and by the way this woman was looking at her, at the trembling care she had caressed June’s cheek with, June could only imagine that this woman must have mistaken June for her dead lover.

“My name is June,” she said, before feeling silly. This woman clearly already knew her name. “What’s your name?”

The woman tilted her head again, gazing at June with a focused look. “You truly don’t remember me?” she asked. “Not even a little?”

“I…” June began, unsure how to say I’ve dreamed of your image almost every night since I was eighteen that didn’t sound straight up stalkerish. “I kinda recognize you,” she said, and at the woman’s hopeful look, she added quickly, “But I don’t remember ever meeting or talking to you before, sorry.”

The woman’s face fell. “Well,” she said. “You’re here now. Unless I’m dreaming and this is all a figment of my mind.”

June almost laughed at that. “So…” she began, “Your name? If you don’t mind?”

The woman was seeming to take a moment to steel herself. Then she seemed to gain some composure and straightened her back. “A pleasure to meet you, June. My name is Moira le Fay.”

“Like the witch?” June asked, suddenly.

Wait… that was Morgan Le Fay. Right?

“Witch?” Moira chuckled. “No, I am not a witch.” She smiled at June, then, her smile widened, and her green eyes began to glow with a soft yellow glow. 

June took a few hasty steps away, bumping into the wall behind her. This woman’s eyes were glowing, and great dragonfly wings were materializing and unfurling from her back. “No,” the woman repeated. “I am not a witch. I am a Fae.”

June’s eyes widened, inhaling sharply at not only the display of power and magic before her, but the beauty of it too. Before she remembered this was just a dream—and lots of fantastical things happen in dreams. 

“You’re a fairy?” June asked, her breath hitching on her words slightly as she stared at Moira’s wings.

“One of the Grand Fae, to be exact,” Moira answered, as if this was something of great significance. 

“You’re not…like… I think her name was Morgan, or something?” June asked.

Moira blinked, her wings shuddering and flickering slightly before slowly dematerializing, her eyes returning to normal. “Morgan le Fay was my great-grandmother. If that’s who you are referring to,” she answered. 

June nodded slowly. “Ah, I see. That makes sense.”

No, it didn’t! None of this made any sense! 

June bit her lip slightly, before fidgeting with her hands a little. “So… you’re a fairy.” she said. “One of the Grand Fae.”

“Yes,” Moira nodded.

June nodded along with her slowly. She was going crazy. In her own dreams! This made no sense…But then again, when did her normal dreams make much sense either?

She glanced at the painting again. “And we supposedly know each other?” she asked. “Or at least, you knew someone with my name and looks.”

“That is correct,” Moira said, clasping her hands behind her back. The candlestick hovered in the air beside her. 

“How did you—” June began.

“—Magic,” Moira answered swiftly, smirking slightly. “I have forgotten how delightful it is when humans discover magic for the first time. When you first discovered your powers, you were like a lost little lamb. It was adorable. I remember enjoying being your teacher in the ways of the arcane. It was one of the many delights of my life.”

June stared at her. Well, she realized. That was that. This truly was just a dream. After all, there was no way a very average American adult would have magic. No matter how much June might wish for a more fantastical life. Magic wasn’t real, just a thing of the imagination. Just like this dream.

“And…this is, what, supposed to be Regency England or something?” June asked.

Moira tilted her head.

“The 19th Century or whatever,” June clarified.

Moira chuckled. “No, not anymore,” she answered. “It might look and appear and act like that time period, but it is the Twenty-First Century now. I presume it is the same in the human realm?”

“Yeah,” June said. “Well, technically, but, uh, it’s very different in the human realm… Human realm?”

“Approximately two hundred years ago, the world split into two realms—or dimensions, as you might call them,” Moira answered. “You don’t remember?”

“Uh, no,” June said. “I think I’d remember fairies and magic and like, living in the 1850’s or whatever.”

“1810s actually.”

“Okay,” June said, shrugging. “The world split in two? Is that why there’s supposedly no fairies in the…’human’ realm?”

Moira didn’t answer. Her face dropped. “I’d rather not talk about this,” she said, looking at the painting of the two of them. “It was a very difficult time for me.”

“Why?” June felt like slapping herself. The woman literally just said she didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m sorry,” she said, quickly, “You don’t have to answer that—”

Moira swallowed. “It was the same time that you were torn from me,” she answered. She looked at June now, and June was startled to see tears in her eyes. “That was when you…”

Died, was the word that Moira didn’t say, but seemed to echo in the room.

June looked away. “What exactly was she to you?” she asked. Then, she continued, “I mean, whoever she was, the person you’re mistaking me for must have been very important to you.”

“More important than anything,” Moira answered. She took a step towards June. Then another, until she stood so close that June could feel the heat of her body. June looked up at her, Moira being almost half a foot taller than her, and felt her cheeks heat up at how close they were now. Moira truly was beautiful—and not just in a supermodel or actress kind of way. She was flawless. Perhaps that was a benefit of not being human, but some kind of ethereal creature.

“You were—are—the keeper of my heart,” Moira whispered, smiling down at June.

June blinked repeatedly. So, she was right, whoever this woman was confusing her for, they were past lovers. “I…” she began, feeling herself flush at the imagery that came with that thought. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“But you’re here now,” Moira murmured, a soft, perhaps even loving, smile on her face. “My darling, you have returned to me.”

June swallowed again, for a moment wondering if Moira was going to kiss her. Not that she’d complain, kissing such a pretty woman had literally been on her bucket list since she realized she was gay. But… it didn’t seem fair or right to capitalize and take advantage of this woman’s grief. “I’m not her,” June whispered. “I’m sorry, but… I think you’ve really confused me for someone else.”

Moira shook her head slowly, a knowing smile on her face. “You just took your time to return to me,” she whispered. “My love.” She started leaning down, and June felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach, realizing that Moira was, in fact, intending to kiss her.

June wanted her to. It wasn’t just her otherwordly beauty. There was something about her that June couldn’t help but be attracted to. A magnetism that was almost suffocating. 

“This isn’t…” she began, feeling like she should stop the kiss. She wasn’t who this woman was truly in love with. She wasn’t who this woman was grieving for. Regardless of how much she might like to kiss Moira, it was truly wrong to take advantage of the situation like this—not when this woman had clearly been living in grief and loss for two hundred years. Even if this was a dream, and June’s dream no less, June had morals she stood by.

“My wife,” Moira continued, and June’s eyes widened in surprise.

Moira closed the gap between them, pressing her lips gently against June’s.