Chapter Text
Once upon a time there was a lonely woman who longed to have a child to call her own. One day she paid a visit to a good witch, who gave her a tiny barleycorn. ‘Plant it in a flowerpot,’ she said, ‘and see what happens.’
The woman did as she was told, and by and by, a beautiful flower grew. As the rose finally opened, the parting petals revealed a small boy no bigger than the woman’s thumb.
The boy was gentle and sweet and his mother named him Marco. But being so small in such a big, big world came with many problems. Marco’s mother and all the animals on her farm helped and took good care of him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being strange and different. Was he the only person his size in the whole world?
One evening when his mother was reading another story about brave knights and princesses, Marco asked to hear a story about little people, like him. She opened the pages with a story about the fairy prince’s wedding. The fairies had wings and could fly, which meant they weren’t exactly like Marco. But their size was his. Marco watched the beautiful illustrations with shining eyes; the sight of the wedding between the loving fairies filled him both with happiness and a sting of longing. ‘Have you ever seen a fairy, mother?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I do think I did once,’ she replied, concerned for her son’s loneliness.
Sitting on the page and with his fingers tracing the lines of the fairy prince’s head, Marco sighed. It was only a story, and even if not, it was unlikely he’d ever meet any of them. Everything was so unfair, so impossible. How could he ever hope for a wedding of his own if he was so much smaller than everyone else? He wished he was big.
‘Oh no, Marco,’ his mother said, love and care gentle in her voice. ‘Don’t ever wish to be anything but what you are.’
Marco sighed again, but managed a smile in response. It was time for bed then, and he asked for the book to be left open so he could look at the pictures while falling asleep. His mother did as he wanted, wishing him good night as her thumb got a loving hug from him before he climbed into his nutshell bed.
Their dog soon fell asleep on his chair, and now alone Marco got up again. The moonlight shone in through the window, bathing the table in a shimmering gleam. Everything was quiet and magical, and standing in front of the life-sized fairy couple Marco started humming to himself. Allowing his imagination to run away with him to a world where the prince was real and there. Maybe if his heart’s wishes were strong enough, they’d come true.
Meanwhile out in the forests and meadows, very real fairies were colouring nature in red and orange. Autumn was coming, and it was their job to make sure the wheel of the year turned as it should.
The Queen looked out over the golden fields they flew past in their butterfly wagons, sighing deeply. ‘Don’t look now, love,’ she said to her husband, the King. ‘But our son is missing again.’
‘Oh,’ said the King. ‘I suppose he was embarrassed riding that white butterfly we gave him.’
‘Why would he be embarrassed about that?!’
‘You know, it doesn’t give the right impression on the young girls and boys.’
The Queen shook her head at her husband’s small smile. ‘But what about the impression on the court? I sure hope he isn’t flying around on that horrible bumblebee — he’s going to get himself killed!’
The King laughed gently. ‘Dear, have you forgotten how it’s like to be 16?’
Even if the Queen had forgotten it once, she was constantly reminded about it now thanks to her son. And as she had feared, the prince was indeed flying around on his bumblebee. He wasn’t really that far astray from the rest of them, but as he passed by a window a beautiful voice caught his attention, and the duty to catch up with the procession vanished from his mind.
Jean landed on the windowsill and told his bumblebee to wait outside while he inspected who was singing so magically. Pressing himself through the small opening in the window, he found himself in a bedroom. In it was a boy of Jean’s size, engaged in conversation with the illustrations of the open book standing on the table.
Smirking to himself, Jean flew in between the pages and awaited a good moment to announce his presence. It came soon enough; chuckling at his own pun he used his sword to slice open a hole in the page just where a window was pictured. ‘May I cut in?’
The boy, who was as beautiful as his voice with tiny flowers in his dark hair and freckles dusting his skin, fell silent in shock. He didn’t seem to appreciate the pun or its good timing. Instead he backed away from Jean before rushing to hide in the teapot behind him.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you!’ Jean flew after him and peeked inside the teapot. ‘Can’t you come out from there?’ Please.’
The boy looked up at Jean, expression still uncertain. But as Jean drummed his fingers on the porcelain, trying a both charming and reassuring smile, it was met with a small one in return.
Still not saying anything, Marco climbed out of the teapot’s mouth and back down on the table. He stared up at the small stranger, not believing his eyes any more now than he’d done when the other boy suddenly cut his way through the book. The winged boy. A fairy!
‘Ah, there you are!’ he said, flying down from the teapot to land in front of Marco, who again took a few steps back. The handsome smile was replaced by a puzzled expression. ‘Why are you staring?’
‘Oh uhm.’ Marco fumbled with his hands, glancing back at the book pages before returning his gaze to the stranger. ‘You have wings,’ he said, making a small gesture with his hands.
‘…Yeah?’
‘You’re like them.’ Marco pointed at the book. ‘One of the fairies.’
‘I am,’ Jean confirmed, eyebrow raised in confusion at the other boy’s strange behaviour. ‘What, you’ve never met one before?’
‘No, I…’ Marco hid his growing smile behind his hands, this time not moving when Jean came closer. ‘I can’t believe it!’
Confident smirk back on his face, Jean lessened the space between them with a slight swaying of his hips with each step. The boy’s cheeks were rosy, his eyes wide but in an inviting way now. So pretty. Jean had no idea how he’d never met any of their kind before, or why he didn’t have wings too, but Jean was determined to make a very good first impression.
‘I never thought I’d meet someone shorter than me!’ Marco continued, the delighted smile wide and visible through his fingers.
Jean stopped. What? He straightened his back as much as he could, which was pretty much as straight as it already had been, and measured their height with his eyes. Okay so maybe he was slightly shorter. Not much. Not something to comment on. He squinted at Marco, who paid no mind to his scowl. ‘What are you talking about?’ he muttered then. ‘It’s not even a millimetre difference!’
Marco had lowered his hands now and his soft smile was fully visible. ‘If you say so,’ he hummed.
The next moment a growl came from the chair beside the table. The family dog had woken up to find an intruder in the room with them and, on protecting duty as he was, he had no intention to let anyone uninvited bother Marco.
Jean didn’t know this, of course. All he saw was an angry beast threatening to attack, and he drew his sword again while placing himself like a shield in front of Marco.
Seeing the two of them ready to fight, both with the intention to protect him, Marco hurried around Jean and in between them. ‘Oh no, no, everything’s alright!’ he said, gesturing to Jean to lower the sword. Confused, Jean did as told, while Marco explained the situation to the dog. ‘He’s a guest, see?’ he said, turning back to Jean with a greeting bow. ‘It’s so nice of you to come visiting! I’m Marco.’
As the dog calmed down a little, Jean finally understood what Marco was doing. ‘Oh the pleasure’s all mine!’ he insisted, bowing as well. The dog squinted at him, growling again in question this time. But after a few more awkward exchanges, the dog was convinced and fell back into sleep.
Jean glanced at Marco, and was met by a nervous smile and warm cheeks. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said, fidgeting with his fingers again. ‘But to be fair, you did come in uninvited.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. I should have waited by the window.’ Jean sent the book a look, scratching his neck. ‘The real window, I mean.’
Marco was silent, and worried he’d ruined it all with his tactless entrance, Jean was hesitant to turn back towards him. But when he did dare it, he found the other boy was watching him with a soft smile, still standing only a few steps away.
‘Marco,’ Jean repeated then, confidence back and accompanied by a giddy feeling in his chest. He wanted to spin around on the spot, but figured he’d already made enough of a fool of himself. ‘It’s a lovely name!’
With a laugh as soft as his smile, Marco replied, ‘Thank you,’ his gaze falling shyly to the table beneath their feet.
‘I’m Jean,’ Jean continued, smirk growing with his confidence.
Marco’s eyes darted up, his features twisting into a cute frown as he tried to pronounce it the correct way. ‘Zhawn?’ he said, a giggle hiding behind his voice. ‘That’s a strange name! I—I mean…It’s nice, very nice. Perfect—’
Usually Jean would have been offended, but now he just raised an eyebrow, enjoying the sound of Marco’s nervous chuckle. He smiled in reply, showing him that he didn’t mind the comment. The pink in Marco’s cheeks deepened and again he averted his eyes. But he too was smiling.
The royal fairy couple looked back at them from the book page and Marco let out a dreamy sigh. ‘Can you tell me about the fairy court?’ he asked, turning and finding Jean much closer than before. He didn’t mind. ‘Is there a… a prince?’
Jean crossed his arms over his chest, amused. ‘There is,’ he confirmed, eyes on Marco’s distracted expression.
‘He must be terribly handsome!’
Grin widening, Jean let his hands fall to his hips, leaning closer into Marco’s space. ‘Oh, he is.’
‘Strong, and brave…’
‘None like him.’
Marco looked back at Jean then. At how close he was standing, the warmth from him and his smile burning away the chilly midnight air seeping in through the open window. ‘I’d like to meet him,’ Marco admitted, but even as he said it, gaze transfixed by Jean’s golden eyes, he wondered to himself if the prince could really be as handsome as Jean.
‘I’ll try to arrange that,’ Jean promised, his fingers touching Marco’s between them.
That was the moment the bumblebee decided it didn’t want to wait any longer. The annoyed buzzing from outside woke them both from their dreaming, and Jean sighed in frustration. ‘It’s my bumblebee,’ he explained in reply to Marco’s surprise. ‘He hates waiting.’
‘Why didn’t you say something?’ Marco grabbed Jean’s hand firmer and hurried towards the window, eager to meet his friend.
It was a mighty sight for sure. Marco let out a soft gasp, wondering how it’d be like to fly away on its back into the night. Jean understood his expression and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. ‘Do you want to come along for a ride?’ he asked, nodding towards the restless bumblebee.
Marco’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’
Jean stepped closer to his flying steed, nodding again and leading Marco with him. ‘I promise to take you back safely.’
Marco’s smile grew, his eyes shining. ‘Okay.’