Fawn and Stag

I sit before my vanity, staring at the female who is supposed to be me. I know my reflection is a lie. The female looking at should be carefree and happy, about to get married to the love of her life. The female I am is not.

I reach up and touch the antlers that protrude from my head, draped in ribbons and accented with live butterflies. My delicately pointed ears have three silver hoops and a decorative tip on each; a spiral of silver with studs of amethyst.

The gauzy dress I am wearing looks ridiculous, with layers upon layers of lace and frills. How did I allow this to happen? I do not love Lochan. I love the King; Torin. Torin is tall, with golden hair, emerald eyes, and a genuine smile every time he laughs. He has antlers much like my own, only larger. He is a King, but he treats me like a friend, not a member of his court.

My hand drops into my lap as the male I love steps into the room, shutting the heavy door behind him with delicate grace. He strides over to me, giving me encouraging smile before he sees how I am. His face falls, and he rushes over, summoning a chair. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and stares at me intently.

I look down at my hands, embarrassed.

"What's wrong?"

I hesitate. "I-I don't love him, Torin," I whisper.

Tears fill my eyes as I speak the truth I kept from everyone. I should have seen my feelings declining, should have seen that Lochan did not treat me right.

He kept me confined to his manor, only bringing me out to be a decoration. I had begged him for freedom, and my pleas had been ignored, distracted by desire and gifts.

"I'm simply his prize doe," I say quietly. I chuckle softly at myself. I am a doe. My antlers, my white freckles, my slender form all pointed to my lineage; a child of the forest meant to live freely.

"Then don't marry him," he replies, frankly.

I turn to stare at him, my eyes wide.

"I-I couldn't just c-call off the wedding! Everyone has gathered, and there's already the preparations!" I exclaim, more tears escaping my eyes.

"If you won't be suffering for centuries, then do it. Hell, I'll do it myself. They cannot oppose their King," he says, his arm sliding to my waist. His magic sets to work unraveling the ribbon from my antlers and unpinning my hair from it's curled braid.

I blink; shocked. I could call this entire facade. Chase a male that would treat me right.

I dip my head, accidentally entangling my antlers with his. I curse, standing up to better rearrange. Torin stands with me, his arm still around my waist, and I place my hands on his chest. Our magic winds around the antlers, freeing them as I sigh with relief.

I realize the intimate position I stand in, and blink rapidly, trying to step back. Torin's hand pulls me closer, pressing me to him. I look up at him with wide eyes.

"Torin, I-we..." I trail off, mesmerized by his eyes. They seem to reflect a summer forest full of greens and golds and browns.

"The wedding will be called off. Do not worry, Verna," he says softly.

I blink again, my breathing hitching when I realize what he's about to do.

Torin chuckles, and his finger grazes my jawline, straying to the delicate tips of my ears. The jewelry is gone. He traces my lips as I stare up at him, still in disbelief.

My emotions get the better of me, and my gaze wanders to his lips. In a moment, they're on mine. The kiss is soft, a lover's touch. Passionate, yes, but not forceful; not demanding. I pull back, winnowing to the lounge on the other side of the room.

"I cannot. How will the rest of your court see me if I do this? A concubine using a male for his gifts and pleasure," I say, dropping my gaze to the floor once again.

Torin winnows to me, sitting beside me on the lounge and resting his hand on my knee.

"Tell them what he did. What did he do?" he asks, tilting his head.

"When he claimed I was sick and staying from banquets, balls, and parties, I was not. There was no one of influence that would be able to be wooed by me. He confined me to the property and treated me like his whore," I whisper.

Anger ripples off Torin and I look to see vines snaking around my knee. Having received no response, I continue.

"He would promise me dresses and jewelry and happiness a-and," I trailed off, hoping he would catch on, but his gaze lifts to mine, questioning.

"Bliss," I whisper.

"Then it is settled; you are not marrying Lochan. I, as the King of Fae, forbid you, Lady Verna of House Raka to marry Lord Lochan of House Anta. That is my final decision.

"Now, you're going to go out there, walk down the aisle and pretend there is nothing wrong at all. When you get to the altar, your dress will turn to white butterflies, and you will be covered in vines instead. You will speak the truth of Lochan, and refuse to marry him," he says matter-of-factly.

"But, what if-"

"No what-ifs. You will not marry him. It is the King's orders,"

I take a breath before lifting my head to meet Torin's gaze. I am not a prized doe; I am a Queen. Of what I have not a clue, but I am a Queen. I will keep my head high and expose my betrothed for who he is.

I rise from my seat on the lounge, the ribbons soaring through the air, and winding themselves around my antlers once again. I turn to the King of Fae, and curtsey as low as my legs will let me.

Torin squats to match my level, taking my chin in his fingers and smiling. He stands, and I rise with him, though I stand a good five inches shorter.

Torin slowly puts one hand on my waist, the other cupping my cheek and then kisses me briefly but passionately. He smiles encouragingly then winnows out of the room, leaving me alone. I stare at the blank wall, shocked.

"Did that just happen?" I ask myself, muttering.

I laugh to myself. Yes, it did happen. I am not getting married to a loveless tool. I smile and pivot swiftly, striding to the door with the air of a royal. I am a queen.