Tall Tales for Spring

The Grand Stage had seen many performances over the eons. Bards from all across the lands, from across the Realms would pay anything to perform in the Summer Court for Queen Titania. As much as Merla would love to have this concert be on there she knew she was not of a caliber that could be allowed on such a stage. At least, not yet.

The concert Merla planned for was taking place instead in the palace itself for Titania and her Inner Court of fey. The giant tree, hollowed out inside, has been outfitted with a platform where a grand instrument with dark and light keys stood on it off to one side, leaving the main and front part of the pop-up stage open.

The Court and their closest advisors, along with some of their families, were all gathered, mixing and mingling whilst Queen Titania was on her own, higher dais, speaking quietly to the Green Knight. Merla peeked her head out from behind a vine covered alcove, trying to glean what the mood of the room was, what her mother could be speaking about to her advisor.

“Nervous, are you?” says a sing-song voice behind her.

Merla turns and sees Durdys, her pink hair elegantly curled around a headdress that was on the kinder side of gaudy. She stands with one hand on her hip whilst looking at the other, examining her manicured nails whilst looking down her nose at the smaller woman.

“I would completely understand. You haven’t been here for a year. It’s your first performance in front of the Inner Court too…” Her lips pout in mock sincerity. “Are you sure you’re even up for it?”

“Unlike you Durdys I have been performing in front of varied crowds for the past year,” Merla says, walking back to where her harp sits, unfazed. “I have no doubt that we all will perform exquisitely. Everyone has been working very hard the past three days.” She spins, tossing her hair over her shoulders with a wink to her friend who scowls.

“Durdys, what are you doing?” Kruxeral’s sharp tone cuts off the snarky reply the eladrin was about to say. “You are supposed to be with the other dancers, leading them. Go to your place backstage.”

Durdys nods her head, flustered. “At once, Master,” she says. As she turns she shoots Merla a vicious scowl, then shimmies off to where the dancers are waiting.

Merla had hoped being away for a year would improve her friend’s confidence, maybe even give her a chance to spread her musical wings and find her place at Court. But if the last three days were any indication of how her progress was going, or lack thereof, the outlook wasn’t good.

“She has one more chance to prove herself. One. And then I am letting her go,” Kruxeral starts, coming up to Merla. “Her attitude alone is grating enough on my patience. If only all my students could be as gifted as you, little Mer.”

“Durdys does have her talents, though. She is flexible in ways I'll never be…” she sees Kruxeral smile and has to quickly look away, a flush creeping across her ears, “Ahh, what I mean is, she shouldn’t feel less for not being able to do more than what she can. Contortion isn’t easy and her dancing is, technically speaking, beautiful.”

“But technique only goes so far,” the satyr counters, coming around to peer through the vined curtain. “If one's heart is not fully in it, the audience knows…” He trails off and looks back at her.

Merla's brow furrows slightly. Why do I feel like he is speaking of something else... She comes closer to him as he continues to look at her, his face unreadable, placing a hand on his arm.

“Krux? What is it?”

He takes her hand from his arm, holding it between them delicately. Once again, he traces a pattern across her palm and she feels her heart tug, but something else niggles at the back of her mind.

It’s probably just pre-show nerves. No matter how many times I perform I always get them.

As soon as that thought crosses her mind he brings her hand up to his lips and kisses it, closing his eyes. She leans in, wanting those mischievous lips to kiss her again and again, thoughts of the performance she is about to do pushed from her mind.

I think I really am falling in love with Kruxeral...

He opens his eyes and they are brighter than before, a magic making their verdant green shimmer in the dimly lit curtained area.

“Your heart is always in your music, Merla,” Kruxeral says, stepping closer, pulling her towards him possessively. “It is what makes your songs so powerful. That cannot be taught or learned. You, your song…” He lifts her chin up so their mouths are a hair's breadth apart, all forms of temptation in his sensual smile. “There is no other like it.”

“Krux… I have to…”

Why is he telling me this now? We have to go on in a minute…

He gives a throaty chuckle and pulls away, the promise of the kiss that was about to happen falling away like autumn leaves. Merla feels her nerves pushed into overdrive by the way he had her melting at his words just now. She suddenly isn’t sure if what he said was honest or not. But he has no reason to lie to her. Does he?

Then an idea strikes her.

“If you play to your fullest today Krux, then you will see just how much of my heart is in my music. Unless what you said is a lie, then all you will hear is a pretty song.” She smiles at him, all fey and no part of it mortal, charming and mischievous.

---

The murmur of the fey quietens as she lightly steps out onto the darkened stage. The orbs of light around the grand instrument give a soft, warm glow bathing Kruxeral in a golden-hour like light, casting deep shadows across his face which makes his horns look longer and more sinister. None of the fair folk can see her though some of keen hearing can tell she has stopped somewhere near the centre. Some sort of magic keeps the part of the stage she is on in shadow, or maybe she is using illusion magic? Queen Titania holds up her hand and the last low voices fall silent, not even the beating of a butterfly’s wings can be heard through the Court’s hall.

Watch me, and listen to my song!

Symbols crash and drums are struck. A rhythm starts a strong and lilting three-four measure. The stage starts to shift, set pieces rising and falling hither and yon. Durdys appears with the dancers, tumbling and falling like the waves on a tumultuous and stormy sea. But still no sign of Merla.

Symbols crash again and Kruxeral starts to play the grand piano he sits at, the entire thing on it’s own platform. With the first note from the keys there is a corresponding burst of light and she leaps out from the shifting stage, an iridescent white dress that shimmers in the shifting light of blues and greens and golds as the waves continue to crash, her trademark wings gone.

Merla weaves through the dancers, sometimes joining into a pas de deux or trois, sometimes dancing solo. It seems like a playful game, but there’s a viciousness that gives it the feeling of a chase, of running away. But who is chasing whom? All the while, the Master of Revelries, absorbed in his playing of the grand keyed instrument, seemingly conducting the whole thing, watches his protégé being tossed to and fro, dancing between the lithe and beautiful forms of the fey chorus.


Then she begins to sing,

        God rest his head Sunday afternoon
        And the wicked in me is surely the wicked in you
        We pray to a ghost that we never met
        Time turns for a cure, from the signs it is for

        Madness, madness of the heart
        But you knew it, you knew it from the start

It is like she is speaking to the fey, though what pours from her lips is the most tantalising music. It beckons all that listen to join her in the madness of the waltz as she steps across the dancers and leaps across the shifting stage. Each word speaks of a secret that only she knows of, ancient and powerful.

        And Hawking will tell us no tall tales this spring
        Our minds hold the chaos that started everything
        Maybe it's fate, when the sadness takes hold
        Still stars through a window, will they ever know this

Everything slows, the air gets heavier and Merla’s voice starts to echo, like a half remembered dream. The shifting bluey-green light focuses on her as she appears to just float in a void of deep water, hair streaming out around her, her dress shimmering like a mermaid’s tale, pinpricks of starlight dotting the dark void around her. Reaching towards the fey of the court, to Titania, she sings out,

        Madness, madness of the heart
        But we knew it, we knew it from the start
        There’s a madness, a madness of the heart
        But you knew it, you knew it from the start

Merla falls back as the crescendo breaks, swept away on the wave of sound and light. The dancers tear away at her and the music seems to toss her about like she’s being consumed by it. All the fey are enraptured by her performance, so exposed and so visceral.

Then, emerging from the roiling mass of shifting forms, Merla steps out of the dark, a beacon of sunlight, her now shimmering, golden hair falls back from her face and the fey watching all gasp as they see the echo of Titania’s visage. Some even turn around to ensure that it isn’t the Queen herself on the stage. But they see the Summer Queen on her throne watching the child, and they turn back a little unnerved. When they look again they clearly see it is not their Queen, but her daughter – a true vision of a princess of the Summer Court.

As Merla sings, she lifts her arms and the fabric wrapped around them unfurls revealing wings of iridescent light that shimmers in her golden glow. She looks to her mother, the Queen of the Fey, and she sings to her,

        Stare a sleepy smile into a sunbeam
        Is this nothing more than a daydream?
        Colour stained glass cathedral
        Confess a past that won't let you go

Merla steps off the stage and seems to float down into the audience, the fabric of her dress billowing in a wind that only seems to be around her. They back up, some in awe, others in surprise, her presence commanding and regal. Some even notice a delicate feathered circlet around her head. She continues to sing, grabbing their attention with her voice. She is the conductor now, dominating the roiling sea around her with gestures and a look,

        God rest your head Sunday afternoon
        And the wicked in me is surely coming through
        And pray to a ghost that I've never met
        Still searching for someway out of this madness

As Merla moves back, she seems to step onto thin air, rising up and up. She clutches at her bosom as the dancers lift her higher and higher. As she sings she opens her hands and blood red dahlia in the shape of a heart rests within, which she shows off for all to see. She sings,

        It's the heart
        It's the heart

        And there's madness, a madness in the stars
        But you knew it, we knew it from the start

Merla tosses the dahlia up into the air and it bursts, the petals swirling around her as she dances. With the sunlight glow of her skin and the golden glow of the dancing orbs around Kruxeral washing the stage in a sunset glow, the petals appear like blood raining from the sky. She closes her eyes and follows the waltz of the music, conducting the dancers, the accompanists, everything with her sweeping movements until they too scatter to the winds.

Then it’s just Kruxeral on the piano and her, dancing in a single beam of sunlight. Her bare feet are stained red from the crushed petals under her feet. Even though he plays and she dances, to those watching it is like they are both playing the grand instrument and dancing together at the same time. Then, all too soon, the last note is struck, the last step is danced, and Merla’s radiant fey form is the only light left as the stage goes dark.

The days blended together, Merla lost track of how many it had been since the concert – such is the way of living in the Court of Summer. With spring on its way and the days getting longer there was more happening both inside and outside of the Inner Court.

She was not idle, the Daughter of Fae. Discreetly, so as to not give away her plans too early, she commissioned various artisans and textile workers, for items she needed or pieces that needed tending to. The craftsmanship of the fey was unmistakable and this time, when she returned
(I am going back. There is too much that needs to be done and I need to ensure none of it touches my home.)
she would not hide her origins, what she was starting to become obvious. Merla saw it in the way the fey she talked to spoke to her. She became fully aware of it that night after the performance when she had spoken to Durdys.

She had looked at me in awe? Or fear? I thought it was because of my words but...

A memory, sharp and clear comes to her mind:

Sunday rolls away from her and bounces back to her feet in one fluid motion, casually wiping the blood from her nose from the percussive note she had unleashed. Sunday stops short though when she looks at her as Sheryl feels the power of the Summer Lands coursing through her veins, altering her form. She leaps forward but Sunday, ever the stronger fighter, uses her connection to nature to throw her off balance. Her tumble is not as graceful and she falls back, the connection to her home breaking and she feels lesser. Sunday stands over her, a wary expression on her face and her voice sharp.

“Why did you do that? Was that your power… or hers?”

Could it be…

A light nip at her arm brings Merla back to the present.

“Ow! What was that for?”

Lumina’s scaled head tilts to the side. “You aren’t sharing any of the apple pie with me. You said you’d get me my own. Where is it?”

“I told you, I could only get the one. We are sharing Lu. It’s what friends do, share.”

“Maybe your mortal friends. But I am better than them,” the faerie dragon says. Her scales shimmer gold as her wings flap a little to show her indignation. “And so I am owed my own pie.”

“You will make do with half of this one. You do not wish to be so fat you cannot fly do you?” Merla gives her a look. “I know you sneak to the kitchens in the morning.”

The little dragon sticks its tongue out and gives a little hiss but goes back to delicately eating her portion of the pie, no longer eyeing Merla’s piece she has put to the side. They sit under the young Oak tree outside of the Garden Maze. Merla lays back against the trunk and closes her eyes, the sunlight through the branches casting dizzying shadows across her.

“What troubles you?” Lumina asks between mouthfuls, casually. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you making preparations to leave.”

Merla’s eyes snap open and she has a moment of panic, but she calms herself.

This isn’t like the last time. I have more to bargain with than I did before.

“So you are spying on me now,” is what she says, teasingly. The faerie dragon looks back at her, licking her lips of the sweet apple filling. Merla sits up shaking her head at her companion. She pushes over her portion of the pie, no longer interested in having the sweet dessert. Lumina doesn’t hesitate, starting to devour what remains of Merla’s portion. A few moments pass.

“Have I changed, Lu?” she asks out of the blue.

Lumina doesn’t answer, deciding to continue to eat the crumbly pie crust. It’s nearly gone.

“I feel like I have,” Merla continues. “I feel like I’m not the same girl who left a year ago.” She plays with her hair whilst looking at the change in its colour. “Of course the experiences I’ve gone through would have changed me, I know that. But what I mean is… When I was Over There, in Kantas, I trained with Sunday and there was a point where I- I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like I called upon the ’Wilds, upon the Summer Court itself and I became… more. Sunday said she saw the Queen when she looked at me. Since the concert I’ve had fey speak to me in such a way that it makes me wonder: Am I changing?”

Lumina pushes the plate away and gets up to come over to Merla. Her tail flicks back and forth as she steps onto the small woman’s lap and then up her torso so she is looking directly at her, eye to eye.

“Yes you have changed. You gave me your pie. You never would have before.” She leans in and nuzzles Merla’s cheek, her softer scales tickling. Merla laughs, lights and airy.

“You are right though,” she says, pulling back to hold the small dragon in her arms. “I am making preparations. It’s really bad out there Lu. I had to come back home before we could really find out anything. But if the people who want to sow chaos across the Planes succeed all of this will change. I feel like… I need to go back. There’s still things for me to do.”

After a moment Lumina says, “I will miss you.”

“And I you, my precious Lu,” Merla says, holding her closer. “I’ll be back though, I promise.”

---

“So you see, this is more than a simple cult wishing to open Gates across the Planes,” the small woman explains to the Great Seelie Queen, her hands helping to express her point. “There is also the involvement of these mysterious inter planar pirates, which seem to have ties to the very same nation which we fought to protect during the war. This may or may not be connected to the Seals and Gates, however it’s all too coincidental, with too many unknowns.” She takes a breath and gathers her courage. “I believe that if I can go back, if I can continue investigating, with people like Markas – the monk I told you about, who, like me, has found allies in this organisation, the Harmonious Order – we can get ahead of their plans and stop what they are attempting to do.”

Titania studies her for a moment, her expression severe, calculating. Merla had been speaking with her for a little over an hour, telling stories about her most recent adventures. She told the Queen of the Harmonious Order, of the Vanguard, of the Seals they were looking to break and the Gates they were looking to open. The Queen had asked few questions, letting the child tell her what she knew, and she had listened.

For her part, Merla had been both excited and nervous during the last hour. She had awoken that morning knowing today would be the day she would ask if she could go back to Kantas. She might not get the chance again. She had not seen Kruxeral in days, had not in fact seen him since they were both on stage, performing. Merla hoped she would see him again before she left, but she wouldn’t wait for him.

This is too important.

It was just the two of them in the Grand Hall where she had performed some days before, the space vast and empty. Titania, her ten foot tall, majestic and powerful form, beautiful wheat coloured hair tied back in a plait woven with leaves of orange gold and Merla, petite and curvy, a smaller, less resplendent reflection of the towering archfey, painted a very fascinating picture.

Merla knew it was just the two of them in the Grand Hall, but she still says the next part softly.

“I know I have only just returned to you, but I feel this is something I need to do. These schemes and threats are no small thing, and I can help.” Merla kneels down in front of Titania, putting her hand over her heart. “I would like to return to Kantas with your blessing, Femaer,” she says, bowing her head.

She stays there, waiting. Hoping.

A deeply tanned hand reaches out and lifts her chin up. Titania smiles softly at her and Merla feels her heart soar.

“Stand, Mirfae,” she says, her voice beckoning. Merla gets up and Titania considers her for a moment. “You have told me many things these last few weeks, some which concern me greatly.” Her hand falls to the pommel of the sword she wears. “I do not take kindly to anything threatening my realm or my people.”

The emotions that flit across Titania’s face reflect the storm clouds which have been seen circling around the Court. She closes her eyes and her face goes tranquil once more.

“Fortunately, I have the perfect agent who already knows the ins and outs of the situation.” When she opens her eyes Merla sees the Warrior Queen looking back at her.

“I will allow you, Daughter, to return to Kantas, on the following conditions,” the Great Seelie Queen says. “You continue to involve yourself in the occurrences that most threaten the stability of the Planes, but not to the exclusion of all else.”

As she speaks Merla feels the stirrings of powerful oath and binding magics swirl around her, being woven into existence with the Summer Queen’s words. Her heart quickens as she feels an answering call within her.

“You will return once every full moon to update me regularly of the situation,” Titania smiles bewitchingly, “bringing with you the latest stories and songs.”

Titania waves her hand and out of thin air appears a delicate feather circlet, the same one Merla wore during the concert. Except it now bears a small jewel embedded in the centre. The gem glows like a small sun as Titania holds it above Merla, who is mesmerised by the beautiful fiery oranges, yellows and pinks she sees flickering in its depths.

Like the heart of the Summer Court itself.

Realising what she intends to do, Merla bows her head and Titania places the circlet upon her. The oath magics shift, rippling over her, lifting her up whilst enveloping her in their inescapable bonds.

“This will bring you, and only you, back to me. All you need do is concentrate on the Song and you will come home.”

Merla looks up at the Summer Queen, surprised.

That is the first time she has ever spoken about it since–

The thought cuts off and Titania gives her a knowing look, like she read her mind. Merla lowers her eyes in acceptance and is about to speak but the Great Seelie Queen holds up her hand.

“You may perform for the mortals in their taverns, on the battlefields, even for the fallen soldiers laying on their deathbeds.” Queen Titania leans forward and Merla’s heart leaps as she feels the magic twist around her, winding its way up to her throat where her voice is, poised and ready. She does not flinch, holding her Queen Mother’s gaze. “But you will save your best songs for me, and no one else.”

Her face is level with Merla’s, the gem from the circlet bathing the Summer Queen in a beautiful orange and gold glow.

“Do you, Merla Copperkettle, Daughter of the Summer Court, accept these gifts?” Queen Titania, Archfey and High Lady of all Seelie Fae asks her.

“I do, Femaer,” Merla replies without hesitation.

Merla feels the magic slam into her, binding her tighter than any shackles. At the same time, the tendrils waiting for her word of consent, reach up and dive into her throat. She feels a tug and without rhyme or reason the need to sing out a part of the Song overcomes her. As she does, the magic grabs her voice and tears. If she was standing on her own she would have collapsed but the swirling magic keeps her upright. She watches spellbound as the tendrils come back out of her and hold a glowing ball of bright light. It floats up to Titania who reaches out and gently takes the glowing orb that echoes with the sound of her voice. As she holds it the light shifts, morphing into a small, shimmering sunflower.

The binding magics settle and Merla is carefully set back down on her own two feet. She feels unsteady but at the same time, exhilarated. She looks up to Titania who is carefully placing the sunflower in a fold of her regal dress, the breastplate she wears protecting it. Seeing it, Merla wants to reach out and take it back as she feels it calling to her, wanting to join its greater half. But she stifles that impulse.

A small piece to give to have the freedom I want to do what I need.

Titania looks down at her and smiles warmly.

“You have shown you are worthy of my love, Merla. Continue like you are and there will be more I can give you, in time.”

Titania places a gentle hand on her head. Merla feels the fey magics seep into her and she closes her eyes in bliss.