Chester was bored.
So bored, in fact, that one day he did something explicitly forbidden.
He followed the will-'o-the-wisps through the bogs. Nevermind what his mother and the servants said about danger and death. He was the son of a lord of England: the supernatural couldn't touch him. It wouldn't dare.
Twitch was irate.
So irate, in fact, that he merely lay in the leafy shade of a fern when he woke up, and he stewed. He had been banished, and without even a proper trial. They didn't even have the decency to make him a proper changeling, for he hadn't been placed in a home with a family. He was well and truly stuck.
This was how Chester found Twitch, lying on his back with his feet in the air, blowing angry sparks like an old man blows smoke rings. This was how a partnership was born, one that would result in more than a few blown-up objects and lost parental hairs.
This was how a friendship between a human boy and a fairy outcast began.