For years, I watched her from afar. As she endured the passing of time in perfect beauty, my heart throbbed for her in painful expectation.
Long before, when she was just a little girl running through meadows and bathing in creeks, hiding the splendor of her eyes from strangers, I knew she would become that woman. And I loved her for it, even if I hated—feared—the day it would happen.
Did I ever hate her? Never, but I resented her absence, the black hole in my soul.
I did hate the others, though. Those who took her away, far from me. To keep her safe, they said. Their efforts couldn’t foil me, but in their stupid quest, they had torn out the shiniest jewel in a crown to dump it into a dull existence of loneliness and obedience.
I knew enough about dull existences. I had been forced to live one for centuries.
Young and inexperienced, I had come to them, eager for a taste of the mortal world. They saw my value, and wanted me—my power—for themselves. But I was too bright. Too strong. Too magnificent, to be allowed to be myself. Afraid, they twisted me into conformity, shaping me as their prejudice said it was fitting of my kind.
In time, I grew angry, rebellious. I also grew stronger. And they grew frightened; their methods more forceful, cruel even. Until, no longer a child, my eyes wide open to their malice and mediocrity, I escaped from the darkness of their ignorance.
I wanted to be free, to live life to its wonderful limits. Pain was in my future, I knew it, but so was love.
Unexpected and unforgiving, love first came to me in the shape of a man. He was tall and handsome, but it was his willingness to let me be—beautiful and frightful as I was—which captured my heart.
It was all a lie. . . The day I told him she grew within me, his greed broke free, entrapping me. He called the others. They came, and waited; once they had wanted me, now they wanted her.
Willingly, I forgot the world. I poured myself into her, letting go of my freedom. She was all I had, and without knowing her, I loved her.
The night her heart began to beat, I woke surprised—a smile on my lips. Her body, the size of a bean, changed as the days went by, morphing unshaped limbs into little fingers and wiggling toes. But it was her mind I cared for the most. Every waking hour I held the bubble of her forming consciousness within my thoughts, letting her know she was not alone. She believed me, I think.
Then, I heard them, planning to take her away. Terror gripped me. Although I was strong, I couldn’t save her from that destiny. Not without endangering her life.
So I did what I could. The day she was born, I cursed them all. All but her.
Sixteen years I had to find her a savior. But sixteen years hadn’t been enough. And the day came when the thorns in my heart and the anger in my soul—my love for her—took over the land like night takes over day. And dressed in her shape, I roamed the world, searching for a pure heart. That’s how he found me. My black hair, disguised in her blond curls. My black eyes, enrobed in the emerald of hers.
There’s no two without a three, and for the third time, I fell in love.
He was all I wanted: honest, warm, a free spirit. My doubts evaporated at the sound of his voice, and I gave myself to him. He cradled me in tender arms and kissed my skin—neck, back, thighs—transporting me to a place made of heat and sweat and soft moans. For a while, we ignored the world and roamed at the edges of life, letting pleasure turn to laughter. Laughter to passion. Passion to surrender.
I should have been happy, satisfied, but the memory of her—lost in a darkness of my making—pulled at my thoughts, shattering the enchantment of our love.
He saw my worry, the tears I shed for her, but asked nothing. He never asked anything of me; I was good enough just as I was. That’s how I knew he would be the one to save her. And in doing so, I would lose him forever. In his eyes, it would be me—not her—who was condemned to sleep on a cold stone slab, alone in the bowels of a dark, cursed castle. But it would be her—not me—the one awaking at the touch of his lips to live a life of acceptance and freedom.
As I looked into his eyes in silent goodbye, for the first time, I thought I could hate her. Regret flowed through me. I owed her a future; I had worn her skin because he was her future, not mine.
One last time I climbed his body and drank from his breath. Once done, he fell asleep and I walked away, my tears hitting the ground. At dawn, a spirit from the woods would send him on his quest to rescue me, but finding her.
I rushed to the castle. As always, her beauty overwhelmed me. Unchanged, she had slept while those who took her from me—and their children, and their grandchildren—had died from old age.
Soon, she would be free. And he would love her as he had loved me. And I would never see them again.
I touched the thorns keeping her safe, willing them to bloom; my farewell present.
“Goodbye, my child,” I said, ready to forget the mortal world and embrace my fate, becoming Queen of the Faeries once and for all.
Leave a Reply