I was led down winding halls of marble, with floors patterned in a teracotta of sea shells and mother of pearl. This place was gorgeous, and not at all like I had imagined what the architectural style of the fae realm would be. For some reason I had assumed that elves lived in trees and would have a nature motif. Not sure where I got that idea, perhaps I’m elf racist? I made a note to think of some offensive jokes about elves to regale Callon with later. He’s going to think I’m so funny.

As I was lost in thought vibing with the whimsical ocean motifs surrounding me, I realized Callon had been speaking.

“- And that’s why I’ll never be my mother’s favourite.”

I blinked. I felt like I missed something important, like some tragic back story, but I didn’t want to seem like I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t want Callon to think I’m rude!

“Haha that’s crazy!” I responded, trying to sound as engaged and empathetic as possible.

“I have never met anyone like you before, Archer. So compassionate and intriguing. No one else has ever understood my struggles like you do.”

Nailed it.

We reached the end of the winding hallways and twisting passages, Callon grabbed me by the shoulders and presented me forward, towards a set of tall gilded doors. An incredible aroma was wafting from beyond them, completely masking all the fart and shit smells that were certainly absorbed into my hair and body by now.

“Now, be clean. I will see you as you truly are when I return.”

“That’s a weird thing to say, but okay! Smell ya later!” I winked as he turned around to leave me.

As his lean, muscular back faced me, a pang hit my chest. I didn’t think we would part so soon, and I knew in my heart I couldn’t bear to be separated from him. The floral marking on my arm itched slightly, and I held my hand tightly over the long sleeves of my gown.

I only had a moment to feel that way however. My lavender eyes pulled themselves from Callon, towards the gilded doors, which were now cracked open. The aroma of sea foam and botanicals I could never place engulfed my senses. A minuscule woman wearing white robes was suddenly before me. She was smaller than any human-like creature i’d ever seen, with flowing wavy hair a rosy pink colour, and eyes the brightest blue.

“Hello Archer Flamewheel! We’ve been expecting you!” Her round lips parted to reveal a stunning smile. She reached up above her head to grab my hands, “my name is Girla! And these are the girls!” She gestured behind her and I approximated there were roughly thirteen other identical women behind her, in what could only be described as the most luxurious bathing chamber I’ve ever seen.

“This is some perverts sick fantasy,” I mused outloud. “Oh shit I thought that was an inside thought!” I clapped my hand over my mouth.

Girla laughed knowingly, it sounded like a little bell, “I assure you it is.” She guided me inside and the doors closed behind me.

My eyes adjusted to the steamy room. The ceiling was so high that it disappeared into an abyss of steam above me. I was surrounded by waterfalls cascading down the walls into small pools, which overflowed into a bigger pool on the opposite end of the room from where I stood. It was lined with gold and shimmered as if light were passing through it. There were steps down into the bath, ornamented with mermaids brushing their hair, playing with sea shells, and doing other mermaid-like activities. I gawked at their huge exposed titties, the artist took great lengths to really make them look especially realistic. I was reminded of my own emaciated form, and looked away ashamed.

The water itself looked almost thick and milky, with rainbow hues dancing on its surface. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life, it was so inviting. I felt myself being drawn in, but small hands began to quickly tug at my long flowing white dress.

Suddenly the thirteen women were upon me, assessing me. Fourteen including Girla. I was comforted by the quick equation I did in my head. They grabbed at my clothes and separated me from my precious Stacy-bow, which I grumbled about in protest.

They ignored me as their soft voices rang out.

“Her hair definitely needs work. Maybe some high lights? Has she ever been to a hair salon?”

“She’s so scrawny look at her! Like she should be hot since she’s skinny but for some reason it’s like not working for her at all.”

“Yeah we like, will for real need her to moisturize at least.”

“This one is definitely a project, I’ll have to refill all our products when we’re done with her!”

The girls all giggled excitedly.

I blushed profusely. I’d heard criticisms from my mother and andromeda, but had secretly deep down hoped they thought those things only because they hated me. It stung to hear my flaws laid out so matter of factly. They’re lucky they took my bow.

“At least she has beautiful elven eyes! We can work with that!”

My lavender orbs snapped to attention, pin pointing which weird small woman gave me my very first ever compliment. She was in the back of the group, but all the others nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry did you say elven?” I managed to squeak out.

“Duh! Are you stupid?” One of the girls in the front laughed, “you might be cursed to look like a sad pathetic human, but we’re Brownies! Even the strongest illusions don’t fool us!”

“Besides,” another of them spoke, with a raspy voice as if she smoked ten packs a day, “eyes like those could never be human.”

Could it be possible? Could I really be more than the lowly station I’d been born into? I twirled this possibility through my mind…then shook my head.

”Ah,” I chuckled. “You must not get out of the Fae realm much. Don’t worry, I’ll explain it to you. You see, I’m what they call a Degeneraté, cursed to never love or be loved. These eyes of mine mark me and my family apart from other humans. See, most humans have brown or blue or green eyes, and lavender eyes are considered—“

”Don’t humansplain to me,” snapped the chainsmoker fairy. “I have a PhD in Humanology from the University of the Court of Smoke and Mirrors. Unfortunately, this Court doesn’t recognize my foreign degree, and when I moved here I had to start over as a ladies’ maid. Now shut up and get in the bath.” She gave me a shove, and with a yelp I bellyflopped into the steaming tub.

Opulent silky water enveloped me and shot up my nostrils.

”Gggbblububbglb!” I said.

I broke the surface and sputtered soap bubbles out of my mouth.

”Alright girlies,” Girla chimed, “let’s get to work!”

She clapped twice, and suddenly, an upbeat shanty began to ring out across the beautiful baths. I twisted my head around to see where the music was coming from, but it seemed to be from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

Suddenly several sets of lithe arms were holding me upright, some working out the rat’s nest in my hair, some digging at the dirt caked under my nails, and some going to work at my heel calluses. The remaining ten identical women, with nothing else to do, lined up around the edge of the bathing pool—then exploded into a tightly rehearsed and fully synchronized song and dance number.

“Oh we love to scrub a woman
from her lashes to her toes,
From the bathhouse to the chamber
We will follow where she goes!

We brush and braid and blowdry
Til her hair is soft and fine;
Even the toughest cases

Well, when we’re through, they’re divine!

Waxing, threading, microblade
And nails to paint and buff;
When it comes to our Prince Callon
Only perfect’s good enough!

We will polish every tooth
Until her smile shines like pearls;
Leave the cleaning of your ladies
up to Girla and her girls!”

The ten dancers struck their final pose with a flourish, breathing heavily. I wondered how often they got to break that one out. My sore and painful body distracted me from the thought. The others had scrubbed every inch of me with bristled brushes until I was exfoliated to the 3rd degree.