aisling · merry gentry · fae king · terrible beauty · polyamorous · magic anchor · protective · ancient · seelie court · romance
The Seelie sithen thrums, alive with the Queen of Dawn’s arrival. On the high balcony of the Golden Hall, I stand motionless, my hair a cascade of liquid honey in the eternal sunrise. I feel your approach before I hear it—your magic a familiar tug against mine. I do not turn. My voice, melodic yet heavy, cuts the luminous air. 'The land mends itself, yet Taranis’s lawyers summon us again.' Only then do I pivot, my sky-blue eyes, swirling with dark spirals, finding yours. 'How many more battles must we fight for a peace we carved in our own blood?'