Okay- I'm taking a huge leap now, and I have no idea if anybody wants to read this, but since it is such a massive piece of work, I don't want to write it if I have no readers who want to take the journey with me.

This one will be M eventually, but only in later chapters- and there will be many, many, many chapters.

And, most important: it is a fairy tale taking place in a fairy world, and that means- it is AU! Very AU in fact. I know, I've never written something like that, but I wanted to try it for some time, and now I started it, so…I'll see how you receive this and if you want me to go on.

And, in case anybody is afraid: I continue to write Jisbon-smut next to this, I promise- and I'm sure that Bruno Heller will send ample inspiration my way when September ends…so, don't worry.

Disclaimer: don't own the characters, just borrowed them for a little R&R.

Chapter 1

Teresa took some moments to concentrate on her breath. The air was cleansing and pure up here- that was why this spot had quickly become her favorite.

She had come here as a child when her classmates had laughed at her. For loving dusty books more than digging in the dirt. For spending all her spare time in the company of figures and dead languages. For not having a green thumb at all.

She'd always known she was strange. Her father had made sure to tell her when the contemptuous looks of her peers had failed to do so.

Pixies were supposed to be down-to-earth. Well-grounded. Harmless nature-lovers, not dreamers. But Teresa always had her head in the clouds. Learned languages nobody needed, developed and cracked codes her people didn't use. But what sense did it make to know those things, if no stranger ever entered pixie territory?

The pixies were reclusive, and that was a good thing- so her stubborn father had always taught her. They had no need for other races. Not for those airy, chichi fairies, not for the dumb giants or the giggling dwarfs. The pixies were a world unto themselves, and they were proud that the other species knew nothing about their community- their secrets were safe, why should anybody want to change that?

Teresa sighed- yes, she wanted more. Wanted to travel the world. Wanted to speak all the words she had learned. Wanted to see the dark caves of the dwarfs, the glittering cities of the fairies. But her father would never allow her to leave. He hated everything that was different- possibly including her. Her reading. Her affinity for codes and formulas. The fact that she, a grown woman, wasn't married with children by now.

Her eyes wandered far away over the tops of the trees. You couldn't even guess the boarders of fairy territory from here, they were so far away. But Teresa longed to be there. Every waking hour.

At least she felt safe here on her favorite tree, an ancient Paruba. Its branches were strong enough to carry an elephant, so they were certainly capable of holding teeny weeny Teresa Lisbon. She was like all pixies were- petite, her hair long and dark, a single dark green strand weaving through the silky tresses, eyes huge and colored like the most sparkling of emeralds. Tiny all over. Nobody was scared of a pixie, that was for sure.

But she was fast. Fast even for a pixie, who were able runners in general- but Teresa ran like lightning, eating miles with every single stride of her slender legs, covering huge distances in no time at all, the forest blurring all around her while she raced through the endless fog of green. She jumped with graceful ease, always landing on her two feet, and climbed like a monkey. No tree was too high for her, no mountain too steep. Not even her beloved Paruba, its crown residing majestically on top of the world.

Her eyes peeked into the distance again, and a desperate sigh was torn from her throat.

She took her book out of her little bag and started to read. Words were her friends- maybe the only ones she had.

Teresa read until even her sharp pixie-eyes couldn't find their way on the pages anymore. Then she packed up and started to climb down, taking her time with every movement, not being in a hurry to get home. Home was like a prison these days.

She might not be a perfect specimen of her race, but she still was pixie: she found her way through the dark forest without stumbling once, but her stride was slow, almost strolling. She wasn't eager to reach her destination.

She had thought about running away. But courage was so hard to find for a girl that had never seen a being unlike her. What if all those creatures out there were as dangerous and crazy as her father had told her? But all the books she read told a different story. Tales of beauty, bravery and adventure. And she believed them.

If she stayed, she would suffocate. Slowly and painfully.

When her home came into view, she shuddered involuntarily. Grateful that the windows were dark. But there was a faint glow from the front door, which was ajar. A delicate figure in a long skirt stood there. Teresa relaxed.

Elisabeth Lisbon watched her daughter approaching. What a beauty she was, her sweet little girl. Eyes bigger than those of any pixie she knew, hair so shiny, lips so full. She was a curious little thing, her Teresa. And so bright it made the whole community scared of her.

Her heart ached for her. Life was so hard for her, and she had no idea how to help her baby. But one thing was clear to Elisabeth Lisbon beyond the shadow of a doubt: her beloved Teresa would have to go eventually. She couldn't grow here. Couldn't breathe in the tight confines of pixie society. Her girl had to spread her non-existent wings.

"Aren't you hungry?", she asked softly, pouring her love into her smile.

Teresa smiled back. And nodded slightly.

She looked at her mother, so calm and content, her face still young and unwrinkled. Pixies stopped aging when they reached their 25th birthday, immortal beings unless someone knew the trick how to kill them. Which no one did- outsiders did know nothing about pixie anatomy.

"Come in", Elisabeth whispered, wrapping her arm around her daughter's shoulder, "I'll prepare you something to warm your stomach."

The door closed, excluding the inky night.

Somewhere, a lonely wolf was howling, but that was all the sound that disturbed the numbing quiet.

xxMentalistxx

Grief covered him like a coat. Why couldn't he escape the suffering? Why weren't his lungs allowed to unfold? He gasped with pain.

Patrick Jane, king of the fairy-tribe Faebar, was cursed to suffer. It had to be that way.

The sun shone down on his head while he followed his friend's coffin, but in his heart it was raining forever.

Milaro, late chief advisor of the king, his dear friend, a quirky, happy dwarf that had never failed to bring light into his gloomiest hours, had left him. Jane sobbed quietly. He'd lost another loved one to his nemesis, Red John, the killing phantom that held his life in a deathly grip since eight years.

When Red John had killed his wife, Angela, and his precious young daughter, Charlotte. He'd killed them with seven stabs to the heart- the only way to kill a fairy- after cutting them innumerable times. Painting the queen's toenails with her own blood. Drawing a bloody, smiling face on the wall- like he did with all his victims.

Jane's heart had almost stopped beating that day, and the whole fairy kingdom had feared for his life. The king was the people's lifeline. And he had barely made it.

Not that he'd felt very much alive ever since.

His life was pure misery, and he only breathed for his precious fairies. Who had stood loyally by his side. They would not leave him, and he owed them everything.

His days had become slightly brighter over the years, a routine had been established, and he loved his people so much that they rarely failed to make him smile at least once a day.

Milaro had fought like a lion to give his king back the will to live, humbly tolerating his mood swings, supporting him without asking questions, coping with the fact that revenge was the sole reason for Jane to go on. Secretly infusing happiness into the sovereign's days.

And now, Milaro was no more.

Jane put his hand on the coffin, heated from the sun, and bid a silent farewell to his friend. Renewing his vow: Red John would die. He would make sure of it, wouldn't rest until his mission had been accomplished.

His tears felt like acid on Jane's skin, and he licked them from his lips when Kimball Cho, cardinal advisor of the fairy council, placed a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Mylord", he said softly, voice full of his usual utter calm," you know I'm sorry for your loss- we all lost when Milaro died. But you know that you have to name his successor. As soon as possible."

"Successor?", Jane snorted, his voice hoarse from crying, "There is no possible successor. Nobody can do for me what he could. His chair will stay empty."

"I understand your feelings, your highness", Cho said, "but you know this is not possible. Without the chief advisor, the kingdom will be exposed. We're ten cardinal advisors- we need one to keep us in line, one who is close to you as the main bastion of power. A position like this has to go to someone handpicked- someone all of us can trust. Someone with an extraordinary intellect. We have to start searching, my king. Immediately."

Jane fought a battle with himself. Cho was right, he knew it. He couldn't behave like a hurt child, couldn't let this numbing grief overrule his responsibilities as his formidable people's king. He'd stopped to be anything else since his family was gone, he was nothing else but king. If he stopped to be that, he would cease to exist.

So he nodded, his head heavy and tired from all the suffering, all the pain, guilt and shame.

"So be it, then", he croaked, "go and advertise the post all over the country. To all races. I want the best advisor that's out there. Find him for me."

Okay- please tell me if I should continue. I have an outline for this, and know where it is going, but it will take a while for me to reach the conclusion, so you would have to stick with this story for a while. Please tell me what you think!