Love's Martyr (Short Story Version) - Leona Faye (suggested reading .txt) 📗

      "I need you to contact the royal fairy family, so that I may give them my answer," Feronia ordered to one of Dragon clan's more gifted telepaths. He nodded, and made his way back to Dragon clan's quarters to carry out his task. Feronia sauntered to her office to await the royal family's arrival, so that she may inform them she will not be taking the prince's hands in marriage.
      The king, Devraj, and queen, Dynasty, did not take too kindly to her refusal. Dynasty fumed silently, while Devraj went into a violent fit. At his feet were the remnants of Feronia's cherry wood desk. Her computer was tossed across the twenty by fifteen room, and wires were yanked out of the wall where it had been attached. Her bookcases were also ruined, but thankfully the books of shadows were just thrown across the room. She would have been exceedingly displeased had the books been seriously damaged. The room was such a mess the group had had to move to the coven's meeting ground to continue their discussion.
      "I do not see why it is so difficult to promise us a bride. We have been trying to get one of you high and mighty high priestesses to promise a bride to my son for what feels like millennia. You are threatening the fragile bonds our kingdoms have formed!" Dynasty growled out at the Feronia. The fledgling high priestess pulled her dark robe tighter as she thought of how to respond to the pair before her. She had announced her promise to her fated to her coven and brother clan not three hours earlier. She was not about to throw away such a rare occurrence among her people merely to appease the prince.
      "To say I am the cause of these fragile bonds breaking would be a false accusation based on your husband's childish reaction to my refusal. It will take at least a week to repair the damage he has wrought upon my office, so I suggest you both tread carefully," Feronia warned with narrowed eyes. She glanced at the prince standing uncomfortably close to her, and ran a hand over her freshly waxed head.
      "It doesn't truly matter who is the cause of the broken bonds. It will result in bloodshed, and you know that it will not end in your favor should you refuse our wishes," the queen sneered, as bloodlust formed in her eyes.
      "If I may, and I'm assuming the reason you are refusing me is because of your beloved, you could promise your first born daughter," Aldric, the prince, suggested as he placed a hand on Feronia's shoulder.
      Dynasty's navy blue eyes narrowed before declaring, "There is a spell to alter the fated of your... spawn. You are looking at a war if you do not comply with these demands High Priestess." A smug grin made its way onto the queen's face like the jerky crab walk of a possessed woman. Feronia looked at Dynasty with a calculating look before her expression collapsed into one of defeat.
      "Fine, but the spell will only work if the child is a girl," she sighed, and could feel the spiders of anxiety crawl over her. She didn't know how she was going to tell Gwenaël, her fated and king of his homelands, the new fate of their unborn daughter. The high priestess did not know if she could bring herself to look her fiancée, with his mop of curly, ginger hair, in his gentle and brilliant emerald eyes, and tell him that his future daughter was promised to a 400 year old fairy. Feronia stood outside the door to her and Gwenaël's room, wringing her robes between her tiny hands.  Gwenaël opened the door as though he were going to leave, but froze when he ran into Feronia.
      "Thar yah are, love. I was just 'bout to go lookin' fer yah," he said as he pulled her into their room.
      "Gwen, I have some bad news," Feronia whispered not meeting her beloved's eyes.
      "Oh, darlin', no! Don' tell me yah have the cancer yer mammy had," he said with welling eyes, and pulled her to him tightly. Feronia pushed herself out of his arms and shook her head. A look of relief washed over Gwenaël's face.
      "I just avoided a war with the fairy realm," Feronia muttered.
      "Well that don' sound like bad news, love! That sounds like thar's cause fer celebration!" Gwenaël's brogue was particularly thick with joy in that instant. His words melded together.
      "It came at the cost of our first born daughter's hand in marriage to the heir to the fairy throne," Feronia's voice came out strong, but her spirit felt bound by the Goddess herself. The weight of the guilt on Feronia's shoulders was a bull balanced on a hippo, atop an elephant that rested on a whale. She wanted to cry all the tears in the ocean.
      "Why would yah agree to somethin' so ancient, me love?" Gwenaël asked with sadness in his eyes.
      "It was either that, or refuse our bond by taking his hand," Feronia growled, and turned away from the king before her. Her robes flared out as she made her way to the bathroom to cool down. The door slammed shut behind her. She undid the knot at her waist, so that her robes could pool at her ankles. She filled the tub, and sprinkled dried lilac and mint over the water. Once in the water her tightly wound muscles slowly untangled. Her stress and anxiety of the day melted away much like the polar ice caps. Feronia heard the squeak of the bathroom door opening, and cracked open one of her eyes. She watched as Gwenaël walked tentatively to the tub, and sat on the floor close by.
      "I'm sorry, me love. Yah know that particular family don' bode well with me family," Gwenaël sighed as he took the young witch's hand in his. "I suppose it be better to be in-laws with tha devil family than to lose me love to 'em," he added as he brushed his lips against hers.
      "I also have good news my love," Feronia whispered as she sat up to look her fated in the eyes. "I'm expecting, Gwen," she said misty eyed, as his face morphed from one of shock to one of joy and excitement. He pulled Feronia to him in a tight hug, without concern for his now soaking clothes.
      "Oh, Feronia! A wee laddie, all our own! You have made me tha happiest man alive, mo grá!" Gwenaël cried joyfully, so loudly the entire coven probably heard him. Feronia felt a nagging suspicion that this child was not going to be a boy, but she prayed to all the goddesses and gods, for the baby's sake, that it was.
      The pregnancy was going smoothly, and when the time came for the spell it worked effortlessly. Aldric was kept around for the remainder of the pregnancy because Feronia would grow irritable when he was gone for prolonged periods of time. This bolstered Feronia's unrelenting apprehensions that the baby was a girl.
      "You have one push left Priestess! You can do this," the coven's doctor reassured Feronia whose pained cries were heard throughout the coven and clan. Minutes later, the distressed cries of her baby followed. The child was cleaned and swaddled before being placed in its mother's arms.
      "It's a girl, Priestess!" the doctor all but wailed in happiness. Feronia knew this already, and couldn't bring herself to feel as joyous as she would've been had the child been a boy. Tears of guilt and sadness filled her vision, but they were mistaken for those of happiness.
      "My only solace is that Aldric will be your fated, and he will worship the ground you walk on. He will never break your heart because he would be breaking his own as well," Feronia whispered into the forehead of the small bundle in her arms. The baby's eyes opened groggily. She had brilliant dahlia red eyes like her grandmother, but with large aureate flecks. Her puffy cheeks reminded Feronia of a chipmunk, and her chubby, little hands curled into tight fists. Babbles and coos filled the room as spit bubbles formed at her full lips. Wisps of mint colored hair curl away from her head. She had much of her grandmother in her, and she took Feronia's breath away. Gwenaël moved so that he could have a better view of his daughter, and his bear paw of a hand cupped the baby's head affectionately.
      "Yer such a beauty, mo stór. Yer mammy did a beautiful job, and she loves yah with all her heart," Gwen whispered, and Feronia turned her head to kiss him with force and conviction.
      "She's beautiful," whispered a man from the entrance of the room. Feronia pulled away from her husband to see the awestruck gaze of the prince on her daughter, and could see all his anchors being tied to the small child in her arms. Aldric approached the bed slowly, as if expecting Feronia to attack him.
      "Would it be alright if I were to hold her? Does she have a name yet? Do you think the spell worked?" he bombarded the high priestess with questions, arms outstretched. She handed him the baby, almost laughing at his skittishness.
      "She will receive her name on the next full moon, and I don't feel the irritating need to be in your presence, Aldric. That answers your last question," Feronia replied watching him fawn over his fated. She still felt she had robbed her baby of one of the Goddess's most precious gifts, but, after seeing the prince's treatment of the baby, Feronia was happier knowing it would never suffer a heartbreak. She felt like she had defiled the Goddess's will, and was prepared for whatever punishment she saw fit for the priestess's tampering.

Publication Date: 08-13-2016

All Rights Reserved