Dev didn’t remember what year of the war it was, but he was glad it was finally over. All this bloodshed over something that could have been resolved with simple diplomacy. Whether it was humans, elves, or fae—none were keen on sharing—that much was certain. 

Today, he was stationed in a small shack of a room, filled with dust-covered books and files better kept hidden from the rest of the realm. This room was mostly reserved for King Oberon, Queen Titania, and members of the reigning House of Eglantine, along with those who served directly under it. It had fallen into a state of disrepair over the years, slowly losing its purpose and place in the grand scheme of things—something he could relate to, in a way. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dev said, his wavy black hair bouncing as he sat at the edge of the bed. “That used shoe salesman really had it out for me.” 

“Why’d he think a fae prince would want a used shoe?” his illusion—a one-to-one scale replication of himself—asked. The difference between his illusions and others was that his creations didn’t have the characteristic translucency or the occasional flickers that gave away its false nature. He has essentially perfected his illusionary abilities, more of a side effect of his upbringing rather than intentional training. 

“I mean, I do lose my shoes a lot,” Dev replied. “Flying around and such.” 

“It’s true. People lose their shoes. Some more than others,” his illusion said, wearing a clearly pointed expression on his face. “A common occurrence, really.”

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I detect?” Dev asked. “I thought you were the nice version of me.”

“No, I’m the version of you that hates listening to your stories.”

“Wow, rude,” Dev said. “You’re going back in my head, Sarcastic Dev.” 

“Aye aye, captain.” He saluted, then his form shimmered for a moment before falling to the floor in pieces of pink glass that soon turned to dust.

Another illusion popped up. “Listen, I know I wasn’t summoned, but…” He rubbed his thumbs over each other, looking unsure. 

“Let me guess, you’re nervous.”

“How did you know?” He breathed a sigh of relief, then paced the room. “Yeah, I’m really nervous. I mean, the wedding? It’s today.”

“Sure is,” Dev said.  

“And…that involves getting married.”

“Sure does. You stressed out about it?” 

“Mmhm. I don’t even know how to ki—”

“Ay, ay,” Dev shushed. “Someone might overhear. Keep that stuff under wraps.” 

“You got it, Dev boss. Boss Dev,” he said, walking over to the window. He stared out at the city below as he leaned his elbows on the sill. Colorful banners in myriad colors were draped across the alabaster spires of the domed buildings that were ever so present throughout the area. Crowds of people gathered in the streets, partaking in the delicacies that the dozens of visiting vendors offered. During the conjunction of realms, which usually occurred during harvest season, even humans found themselves drawn to the brilliant fae homeland. “What a view. This always calms me down.”

“Me too. You can almost see the entire city from here. I’ll miss this view.” 

“It’s okay. It’s only for a short time.”

“Yeah, a quick trip to the big ol’ tree, then we’re done.”

“Do you think she’ll like us?”

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m the prettiest prince of the fae. No one can resist my charm.”

“Our charm,” corrected his illusion. 

“Maybe if we were talking about Confident Dev, but you could use a little work, Nervous Dev,” he responded. 

His illusion looked down at his feet, dejected. He seemed like he was about to break into tears at any moment. 

“Wait, nevermind. You’re good too.”

“Really? You mean that?” 

“No,” Dev said, waving his hand. The illusion fell apart. 

He stood, reaching for his embroidered coat. Draping it over his shoulders, he made his way into the hallway. On foot, this time, because he’d been keen on walking whenever he could. All so that the princess would be impressed by how grounded he was compared to other fae folk. Though, it was hard to navigate some of the buildings, because a grand total of none of them were designed to accommodate people that traveled with their feet making contact with the ground. 

Some of the citizens shot him strange looks, murmuring quietly to themselves as he passed. Walking was mostly frowned upon, intended for the lower branches of society, non-fae folk and outsiders—which he was, at the end of the day. It felt that way, at least. The human merchants yelled out to catch his attention, offering him goods of all sorts—breads, jams, fruits, and even stews with seasoned vegetables. Unlike many fae, Dev had a preference for the spicier, rather than sweet, side of cuisine. He had to resist for now, since there would be plenty of feasting and other debauchery coming up very soon. 

But then he whiffed the scent of a roast curry bun, making direct eye contact with a merchant that held his gaze. Him again. The same merchant, at every festival, always enticed Dev with those irresistible curry buns. The man had succeeded once again, and Dev had walked off with a freshly-prepared bun without a second thought. 

Worth it, the fae prince thought to himself. Definitely worth it. He bit into it, relishing the burst of flavor that made his brain dance in delight. The delicacy was gone in mere moments, not lasting him even a few dozen steps, and he found himself outside of his intended destination, the Palladium Court. It was the home of the most industrious, the most revered, and the most feared of the fae royal families, including his own. The doors opened on their own as he approached the building. 

As he entered the grand hall of silver-dusted globes that served as the conservatory of much of the magic in the fae kingdom, he encountered a sizable crowd awaiting him. Even the maintenance workers had stopped their tasks for a moment, their tools hung up on floating platforms that were held up by snakelike vines. 

He was about to ask what all the fuss was about, but then he saw a silhouette in the doors across the way. 

Dev sighed internally as he saw the Fae King enter with his usual pomp. Oberon flew in with purpose, exuding a presence that seemed much grander than his diminutive stature. The people around him bowed as he floated down the smooth, quartz ramp. 

The king came to a stop in front of Dev, giving only the slightest of smiles. His eyebrows were like stalks of wheat, and his pale hair resembled dry hay in the sun that filtered in through the translucent dome above. 

“Devesh, it seems you’ve finally been selected for a mission worthy of your station.” Oberon looked at his painted nails as he talked, not making eye contact with him. 

“Do you mean that?” Dev asked, somewhat stunned by the rare compliment. 

 “Of course I do,” Oberon said, then smiled. “Your station is about as low as it gets. We’ve had such a difficult time finding something suitable for you.”

“Ah,” Dev said. “That’s more like it.” He shook his head lightly, letting the insult bounce off him like a wadded ball of leaf-paper. “How’s mother?” 

“Busy. She has no time for the likes of you.” 

“You know, the mother I remember, couldn’t wait to spend every moment she had with me,” he said. “I was her favorite son, as she’d tell me.”

“All lies and bollocks,” Oberon said, dismissively. “Or perhaps she did feel that way for a short period of time, then came to her senses. In any case, she has forgotten about you completely.”

“Mm-hm.” A watch, like the humans wore, appeared on Dev’s wrist in a flash of purple. “Would you look at the time?” he said, glancing at his new wristwatch, ticking gears and all, pretending to read it. “It’s time for me to leave.” 

With that, Dev turned on his heels, then walked away, saying no more.

“Walking on the ground will not land you in their good graces. You will never be one of them, Dev,” Oberon said. “Although, you were never really one of us, either.” 

The king always had to have the last laugh, the last word, the last sordid prank. And yet, Dev couldn’t bring himself to be mad at him. 

Because Oberon had his mother’s love, just like he did. And she would never choose wrong. She had given her all to Dev, when no one else in the realm had even given a second glance his way. Her love was like the warm light of a summer’s day, sustaining him throughout the years, even if she hadn’t been around ever since her feud with Oberon. 

This alliance was his first chance to prove Oberon wrong—to prove that he was someone worthy of love, of recognition, of the true legacy of the illustrious queen of the fae, Titania.