Midsummer's Dream (+Season 8/9)

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With all that had happened leading up to the Ascension, it was hard to believe a moon had already come and gone. Merla knew she was no longer bound to return home once a moon cycle, but she longed to be in the Lands of Eternal Summer and what better time to go than during the second biggest celebration for the Summer Court – Midsummer.

The Daughter of Summer was bathing in the adoration and attention of the Summer Fey, getting reacquainted with the nobles of the court, drinking endless glittering glasses of feywine and dancing until she was senseless in balls the Master of Revelries had spent the last moon planning. Things were finally settling down, the tension easing away from within her and in the Court. The air no longer had a hyper tense sensation with every breath that had the distinct smell of licorice. Merla laughed more, felt her heart sing more, and definitely stole more kisses from Kruxeral than she had ever done so before.

“Come away with me, just for a little while,” she breathes against his skin as she runs her hands down his toned stomach.

“Where would we go? I cannot go far, I have my duties to attend to,” Kruxeral says. He brushes her hair back from her neck and starts leaving a trail of kisses.

“Find me in the maze,” Merla whispers, her lips brushing his ear before slipping from his arms with a giggle. He tries to reach for her but she is too quick. He grins and her stomach flutters with desire and delight. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I will listen for your Song.”

Merla was just stepping through the grand double doors that led to the Palace’s Garden Maze, searching for a private alcove where she and Kruxeral could spend some quality time together when a little robin alights on Merla’s shoulder. The little bird bobs its head this way and that, chirping cheerfully. She hardly notices it, so caught up with the warmth of the sun and the heat in her blood to pay attention to much else. When she eventually does, she notices the bird is singing a little differently than a normal one would, whatever normal really means in the Feywild.

“You are a curious little one.”

It leans toward her ear and says in a deep, gravely voice, “Lord Emmantiensien is waiting for you in the glade. You know the one.”

Merla barely has time to be surprised before it takes off. The heat of passion starts to cool down quickly as she knows why the Keeper of Secrets would be summoning her. She looks back to the Palace, deliberates about something and then sends a quick message to Kruxeral.

“I must follow a bird to see an old tree. Keep the spot next to you warm for me.”

“Curious. But what I have planned can keep, for now.” It is like Kruxeral is in front of her, seeing Merla flush when he chuckles. “I will find you in the maze when you return, arael'salif.”

She reaches the place quickly enough. The old treant, along with the familiar hulking shape of Roxane are already waiting for her. As Merla approaches, Roxane sneers somewhat, but then nods curtly in greeting.

“Greetings Lord Emmantiensien. A little birdie told me to meet you here.” Merla gives a lingering look to the tall fey warrior before finally returning the nod. “Roxane. You are looking well.”

And she does look well, despite the stiff set of her shoulders. Merla thinks that is Roxane’s default status, always tense, ready for action. It must be exhausting. Tall and muscular, the lines of her face sharp as if chiseled from granite. Her eyes are wide awake and look at Merla warily.

“I am, now that I’m back. I hear there has been trouble during my absence. Trouble not caused by you, for once…” she trails off, but a quick glance to Emmantiensien has her biting her tongue. She grimaces and then continues. “I understand you have done a lot for the Queen. For the Court. And managed to strike down the Unseelie scum at the same time. Their ways are wicked and you saw through that. I may… have misjudged you.”

Merla raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting just a fraction. “You are not the first to have done so Roxane, so I will not take it personally.” She glances at the ancient treant. “It is good to see you returned, though. Lord Emmantiensien informed me of your… sabbatical.” The ghost of the smile on her face fades away as she speaks. “What did you learn?”

“That this war has carved terrible scars into the Feywild that will be slow to heal. Some may never fade. I have heard what happened at the Court of Glory. What happened to Amber…” The familiar surge of anger returns to her features and she turns away for a moment, gathering herself. “I wish I could have been there. Maybe there was something I could have done. But I was left to hear the cheering and celebrations when the news spread in the Glacier City. It made me sick! What happened there was unforgivable!!”

She stomps her foot on the ground. Merla feels the vibrations travel up her legs. Roxane stares at the crack in the ground her anger created for a moment, before continuing.

“But then I also heard how the Summer advance across the Coldstream and into the Frostjaw mountains unsettled the Winterlings. The fear and panic in the city was palpable. I fear there is nothing good that came of all of this, for any of us…” She fidgets for a moment before looking up, with a grim smile on her face. “Except for the witches of course. Guess they played the situation better than any of us.

“As for my mission…” She throws another glance at the old treant, who nods “…I learned nothing that would be of any consequence now. I was looking for a weakness to exploit, but the war ended before we could make use of it. Probably for the best…”

Merla nods, a deep sadness pouring through her. “These scars as you so aptly called them will linger, yes. The marks of irrefutable change…”

Her brow draws down, an unexpected and concerning thought coming to mind.

“Did you happen to see or hear about Lady Alanaya while you were in the Winter Court?”

Roxane frowns at the mention. “Aye, I saw that treasonous bitch. They paraded her around, and her using that lovely voice to give sickening speeches about how the war is bad, the need for peace and how it’s all Titania’s fault. Fucking disgrace!” She spits on the ground, her anger receding again. “Guess the fame and glory got to her pretty head. But what can you expect; a socialite, a choir girl, yesteryear’s Oberon! To think that some ever thought her to be Titania’s match… It’s ludicrous!”

Merla blinks, her concern growing. “Wait… are you saying Lady Alanaya was the Queen’s recent- as in this past year’s Oberon?”

Emantiensien clears his throat as Roxane fumes.

“No, not the recent consort. But the defection… The loss of Lady Alanaya has been keenly felt. She still is a popular figure, very charismatic, persuasive and much loved. Her campaigning for Queen Morinn has been… difficult. It caused much confusion…

“When Queen Titania chose her as Oberon many years ago, there was much talk of a new era, an age of advancement and cooperation. Lady Alanaya had much to offer to the Queen and the Court at large… They made a great couple… But when the Queen eventually chose a new Oberon, some among her advisers sighed with relief. We thought Alanaya too influential with the Queen… But she was much admired and much pitied for her sudden fall from grace as well. ‘The Monarch That Was’ they called her. A sign of the times… Now the Oberon is rarely more than a ceremonial figure.”

How did Merla not know of this? The only conclusion she could come to was that it had happened well before her arrival to the Summer Court. But not once did she hear a word breathed of it, even in passing. Not even by Kruxeral.

It just goes to show how capricious the fey could be, even her Mother.

“It is for the best that Alanaya is remaining at the Winter Court now,” Lord Emantiensin continues. “Her return would be awkward… and I doubt Queen Morinn will allow her to continue her speeches now that the war is over. She has served her purpose and I expect Alanaya to fade into obscurity. A fitting end for the first Coloratura… even the greatest voice has to fall quiet at the end.”

“Will she?” Merla challenges. The ring of gold in her forget-me-not blue eyes blazes bright like sunfire as she looks between Lord Emantiensien and Roxane, matching the light in the gem of her circlet. “It would not be the first time a scorned fey lover – jealousy, anger and hatred pervading their lives from whatever perceived slight happened – has turned to a darker path, one they may not come back from. Like hearing a melody you never could before, one you cannot or will not ignore…”

It had been many moons since she had felt any pain, real or otherwise, from the scars, but as she spoke, Merla felt a cold talon of dread press into her back. Whether it was a memory or her intuition she could not say for sure. Whichever it was, the similarities were too many to ignore. Could it be her Mother’s old lover was walking down the path of the Unseelie Fey the same as Kruxeral once had?

“Alanaya’s time with Winter may be over, but who’s to say she will stay with Morinn?” Merla says in a low voice, half to herself. She shouldn’t dwell on this. Perhaps another conversation at another time will be had but not now. Merla puts her concerns to the side for the moment and tilts her head as she looks up at Roxane.

“I think I begin to see why you do not like me. To you I must have seemed much like Alanaya. A mortal girl pretending to be a Fey court lady whose only perceived goal was to use her relationship with the Queen to gain status in the Summer Court – and woe be to those who got in my way.” Merla arches an eyebrow as she places a hand on her hip. “Sound about right?”

“Right as rain,” the big woman answers, lips curled up in a sour smile. “But I suppose I may have judged you too hastily. Or at least that’s what Lord Emantiensien says, and he is a good judge of character, if nothing else.” She laughs. For the first time there is no sour note maring the song of joy. “Aye, you may be mortal; and more like Alanaya than I’m comfortable with; and you were involved in the death of one of our greatest warriors… but maybe you aren’t quite the mayfly I had you pegged to be at first.”

Merla’s grin is as playful as it is sharp. “Perhaps you aren’t the brash and obstinate cur I thought you to be either.”


Roxane extends her hand, her arm thick as a tree trunk.

“Truce?”

“Truce,” Merla says, grasping her arm firmly. Her fingers barely curve around the large female’s forearm whilst Roxane’s hand completely encapsulates Merla’s. The fae-bard’s smile widens.

“Perhaps one day we might even become friends!” she adds, throwing Emantiensien a wink. Merla lifts her head a little higher as she continues, “You were wrong about one thing though.”

“And what’s that?” Roxane says with a grin.

“You said nothing good came from the war. I would disagree. We have learned. We all have grown. Together, we thwarted the Unseelie and we have moved forward into a new era. The witches may have come out on top, but the Moon cannot shine without the Sun.”

Roxane huffs. “See, this is the kind of intellectualism that tells me we will never be friends, little princess. But no matter, I leave you to take care of the ballroom dancing and high minded speeches, while I do what I do best. Someone has to take care of the inglorious tasks as well.”

She winks at Merla, then bows to Emantiensien and begins to head out of the grove. Merla watches the tall warrior leave, her soft footfalls fading away before she is gone from sight.

“You are more glorious than you know, Roxane,” Merla says softly, then lets out a small sigh. “I am grateful you called to me, Lord Emantiensien. Roxane may say a friendship isn’t possible but I suspect she may feel differently in her heart.”

There is a small, secret smile on her face as she speaks, eyes lingering on the spot where Roxane had disappeared to in the Enchanted Forest. Merla turns to the Keeper of Secrets. “If there is nothing further…?”

Emantiensien nods, the old wood of his body groaning at the movement, before he turns his attention to what the birds and roots have to report.

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It was the following day that Merla was able to seek out her Mother. Queen Titania had been busy sorting out the winding down of the expansion and consolidation of the new borders for the Summer Court, which also involved many processes of meeting new leaders. Merla had no wish to interrupt her Mother, indeed part of her wished she could have sat in on these meetings, but despite still being called Princess by May and Cay, Merla was in fact not that. She had status in the Summer Court now, there was no doubt of that. But where exactly she fit was still a mystery to her.

When Titania was finally free that’s when Merla appeared and her Mother’s joy at seeing her was tangible. She was much more ‘the Summer Queen’ aspect rather than ‘the Warrior Queen’ she has been leaning into for the last six moons, for which Merla was very happy to see.

As they spoke, Merla began to catch her up on what she had been up to. It did not take long before she got right to the real reason why she wanted to speak to her Mother.

“Remember I said I wanted to find my mortal family? Well, I have. I met them,” Merla tells her. They are in a smaller chamber, one of the Queen’s personal rooms in Perihelion Palace. “It was… a nice reunion. Strange, too, because I remembered something I didn’t know I forgot.”

She has been looking at a painting of a halfling man singing in a field of buttercups. Merla turns around and meets her Mother’s gaze.

“Femaer, why did you make me forget them?”

The question halts her. Sigh, Queen Titania looks around to find the words. She waves a hand – the walls shimmering with energy – as she makes sure they are alone.

“The difference between the little girl who was deposited in my court and the woman who stands before me now is... truly remarkable, Merla,” she begins. “I had no inkling then of who you would become – just that a mortal child had arrived who could hear what she should not.” Titania looks down at her pointedly. She sits down reclining her back against a great golden-marble pillar, still in her larger twelve foot tall form.

“They had tried to use you to destroy me – because of that strange connection you have. You obviously could not return home – you were dangerous, and frankly the Feywild is simply not in the habit of giving children back, take that how you will. So I kept you close and, yes, cleared your mind of thoughts of home.” She frowns, face twitching with sudden displeasure. “I do not regret my actions, Daughter,” Titania clarifies, looking away, eyes narrowing with focus on an important point. “I am the Queen, you were a dangerous child, and this is the Feywild. And for what you have become – for everything that has happened since, especially since you first returned to the Material Plane – I am not sorry. But…”

Her voice trails off, hand waving as if searching for a point she could not grasp. Merla realises that her Mother – in a very rare moment – does not have the words to express the pain she feels at causing Merla harm.

She takes a small step towards her Mother.

“I was asked by my mortal mother if I regret following the Song I heard. I told her… I do not regret leaving.” She takes another step closer, waiting, letting her words sink in. “I don’t regret it. My life has become so much more than I could have ever dreamed of. I can understand why you did it…”

She trails off, the thought incomplete. Merla has come closer still but now, filled with her own uncertainty, she thinks of how best to put to words what she wants to say.

“I can only imagine what it must be like, living through the ages as you have, seeing so many come and go from the passage of time alone…” Merla feels her throat want to close up, but it’s not for the words she is speaking. “It must get lonely. Sure, there are the other Archfey but they are rulers of their own Courts. Can they truly offer solace from such a life? As Queen you have so much you have to protect. ‘There is always something,’ as the saying goes. It might be that you do not realise what it is you are wanting. Perhaps, by sealing away my memories as you did, you were not only protecting yourself but… seeking the chance to have something that could help banish such isolation…?”

Titania laughs softly, like a joyous afternoon.

“Indeed. At first a curiosity and entertainment, maybe I did see a glimpse of who you could be – of who you could be to me, Daughter.” She pauses. “My only Daughter,” she repeats, emphasising, speaking more to herself. She shakes off the momentary reverie and turns to face Merla properly, the blazing smile of her radiance coming back in full force.

“I am glad you do not regret this, and I am glad you have reconnected with your mortal family, and… I am glad to have such a bright star at my side, in you.”

Merla’s expression brightens in kind, a similarly radiant and loving smile appearing on her face.

“The length of my mortal life may be that of a faerie sigh, gone in one moment of your brilliance. But however long my life will be… I am overjoyed to be your Daughter.” She closes the distance, reaching up to rest a hand on Titania’s beautiful face. “I love you, Mother.”

Titania’s face shines with a glow that was almost blinding – bright enough to hide tears perhaps, but who would dare claim so?

“I love you too, Daughter.”