FEATURED BY @Retold
A fight for a kingdom that belongs to neither.
Aneira Guinevere was the fairest in the land - with her flowing dark tresses reminiscent of the midnight sky, and her delicate skin as pure as snow. Though the weight of her past l...
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The delicate fingers of the young fae - Freydis waltzed gracefully upon the resplendent strings of the Lyre. Poised upon her ornate chair, she serenaded her queen, Lady Pomona, with a song woven from the very threads of enchantment itself.
I plan on moving on
l plan to look forward but all you do is
Hold me back with false hopes
Hopes that will bruise me from within...
The mellifluous notes cascaded like crystalline streams, their harmonious dance a testament to the fae's virtuosity and devotion. As her ethereal voice intertwined with the celestial melodies, a moment of sublime unity enveloped the court, where music and fealty converged in a symphony of elegance and grace. Lady Pomona adored watching her fae sing. Faes, who were deeply enmeshed in the melodic tapestry of the natural world, wove threads of ineffable beauty into the very fabric of their songs, casting a spell of enchantment upon all who had the privilege to listen.
Hopes that fuel my desire
But the desire can never be held
My palm's reach is only so long...
She stopped.
As if caught in the delicate embrace of a sigh, the once radiant smile upon her countenance gracefully waned, dissolving into the ephemeral wisps of memory. With the gentlest of echoes, the final note of the lyre traversed the expanse of the room, lingering for but a breath's worth of time before fading into the tender embrace of silence.
"What ails you, Freydis?" asked the first queen, her perceptive gaze catching the subtle shift in emotion that graced the fae's visage.
A sigh of words escaped Freydis's lips, barely audible, like a whispered secret carried by the breeze. "It... It is naught but a passing shadow, your grace," she breathed, her voice a delicate thread woven into the fabric of the moment. Gathering her composure, she bestowed upon herself a moment of quiet reflection, her fingers tenderly alighting upon the lyre's strings once more. Yet, before the melody could rekindle its ethereal dance, Lady Pomona's stately hand intervened, halting the cadence with a gentle grace.
"Your song cries, dear fae girl," Pomona said, noticing the solemn look in the eyes of her handmaiden. "What is it?"
Freydis felt the weight of those words, like a soothing balm upon her soul. Her gaze wavered, and then, as if a floodgate had been released, her voice flowed forth like a gentle stream. "It is the melody of a memory, your grace, a note from the past that tugs at my spirit. A time when stars whispered secrets and the moon held our dreams. Yet, even in its beauty, there lies a sorrow, an echo of what was and what may never be again."
