Here's an alternate history for Changeling. I think it explains a few things, and sets up some stuff I'll discuss later...
So, the beginning of the world….yeah, I wasn’t there either. Of course, no one was—there was nothing made, right? So all we have to go on for that is the Tuatha de Danann’s word. That means “children of Danu”, by the by—so if you can’t tell, they weren’t there either, only the Great Mother, Danu was. Let’s just assume the world got made and keep going, allright? Good.
So anyways, in the beginning everything was the Dreaming. The world was crystal towers, mighty seas, forests that would streatch to the stars, and everything was bigger and better. We, the Fair Folk, were but one of the races there. As I said, we came from Tuatha de Danann, or the Gray Lords—the heroes of battle that drove off the Formori into the deepest nightmares, and brought the Fir Bolg to hide deep in the earth.
These was another race, one that it seemed no one really watched after. Funny old chaps—they were simply known as Man. They were allright, but a bit primitive; most of their sorcery was crude and simple compared to our cantrips, and he had to labor. But he did things that no one else did. He made tools out of rock and wood and bone, and he reigned in the plants he needed. He taught us a great many things, and they got along allright, even if no one really thought about them that much.
The other kingdoms and realms and whatnot didn’t pay that much attention to Man—they weren’t as long-lived as the Trees, or bright as the stars, or as altogether nifty like we—but one black day they made sure that from then on, all would remember the name of Man.
From what we’ve heard there were two brothers. One was a farmer, one was a rancher, and like that old Oklahoma song, they should have gotten along. But they didn’t. We can’t remember why it was done, or who did it, but one brother got so angry, so enraged with his twin, that he picked up a crude tool in his hands, and whith one blow struck down his own brother. His own kin’s blood dripping off the iron ore…The First Murder.
Hold on! No, you’ve got to understand this. There was death back then—it’s not like a lion’s going to eat parsley, right? But that’s for eating, that’s for purpose. There was dying and aging, even if she was a bit more lenient. There was even War, because even with golden ages of magic and power, people will still argue with one another and throw rocks. But a murder…that was killing that didn’t make sense. That was worse than stealing, worse than anything. The Pooka say that one of their kind saw it happen, and he was so shook up by it that it made them all start lying. Because if they lived in such a world where that could happen, what was the point of talking straight?
So the brother tried to hide it, but failed. He couldn’t, because the iron screamed at what he had been forced to do. It echoed out over the world…and then Iron fell silent. Everyone was terrified of what happened. Just taking a life for no reason didn’t sit well with anyone—even the Dreaming. After the Murder, it began to rain in the Dreaming, for days at a time, as the sky and the earth wept for what terrible thing had happened. After thirteen days of bad weather we fair folk, the Nunehi, the Jade Kingdoms, the Rich Lords…everybody went deep into the Tree of Worlds, where the Three Rulers of the World sat. We told them of what happened, and even the greatest of us all was shocked.
What to do? Some said that it was one bad apple…but others said if one could do that, they all could. Some said it was an issue in Man’s court, but everyone was scared by a creature that could do that to their own. Some said we should kill them all, but then wouldn’t we be just as bad? It’s not like they ALL did that…
Finally, the three gods decided on their punishments. The Fairest Lady decided that mankind would be cursed, and that his sorcery would bring little more than strife and suffering. The Green Lord declared that mankind would no longer be a neighbor to any, and sealed him off from the Dreaming with a wave of his hand. The Silent Knight declared that man would have no memory of death, and would fear what was coming.
After the sun set that day, it grew dark. The moon didn’t rise and neither did the sun again. For a year and a day it was dark and quiet, and we all waited…then it was done.
When the sun rose again, finally, we could all feel it. Mankind had been given a tiny sliver of the world all their own. It was cold, it was hard, and they were kept from us by a veil. Some folks went through to see what happened, and they couldn’t get back. The three gods had made two worlds—the Dreaming, and the Cold World. Mankind forgot all the secrets we taught him, mostly. He had to work hard, die, and struggle without hardly any magic at all. As things kept moving we saw the two worlds slip away from each other, with the Far shores moving farther away from the world, and the world becoming more different. He had been cursed to live in a world of darkness and pain, where there would be no magic or sorcery ever again…
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