Big oof

It was bound to happen at one point or another.
Every fifty years or so Sea Fairy was faced with that dreaded question. She hated it, she hated it more than anything else. Her hatred of a simple question came from one thing, one thing that she very rarely felt.
Fear.
Sea Fairy was a goddess, and a powerful one at that. She commanded the sea and the ocean itself. Water moved at her command, and it was a force to be reckoned with. She was too. There were very few things that she feared. But this question, this single question, was one of the things that managed to do it.
“How did we meet again?”
It was always spoken so softly. She knew that Moonlight was hesitant to ask, embarrassed that she’d forgotten this important fact once again.
But as much as Sea Fairy hated it, she always recounted the story for her beloved.
“You fell from the sky,” she’d begin, the story practiced and familiar. “You looked like the surface of the moon, covered in craters.”
And Moonlight would listen, a smile on her face as her wife explained the story of how they met. Sometimes she’d interrupt.
“Oh! I remember now!”
It always brought Sea fairy relief.
Sometimes when she remembered she would continue the story herself. Sometimes she’d insist that Sea Fairy continue because she “loved hearing her tell it.” Sea Fairy never doubted her about this, not for a second.
It was always sad, though. One day Moonlight would inevitably forget. There would be more stories that Sea Fairy would have to remember. Maybe one day she’d be telling stories about Peppermint, the child that they’d adopted together.
Maybe she’d have to explain even more.
For now she’d just have to ignore it and ignore the fear that one day she’d have to explain who she was.