[Status(P)quo(d)]

A book sits on the dresser of the Duchess and Duke-Consort's bedroom.

It begins like so;

"Once Upon A Time..."                                  .          

"Once Upon A Time..."

"Once Upon A Time..."

.                                "Once Upon A Time..."

Once upon a time, there was a Beautiful Queen that ruled over the lands of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd. Her gossamer tresses fell past her waist like rivers of molten gold, and her wings glittered with a light that rivaled the most brilliant diamond of the Daystar. Every morning, her seamstress would weave a gown made from the stars plucked from the night sky, and the Queen would roam across her daybound kingdom with these constellations stitched into her dress. The stars would marvel at the sights of the world they had been too scared to see for themselves, and in return for such beauteous sights as the lands of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd, they would whisper secrets that only the Queen could hear.

Once the sun would begin to set, the Queen would take the hand of the King of the Weald at the edge of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd and dance. In the noble Weald King's arms, she would twirl and spin and scatter those stars back into the encroaching night sky, twinkling brightly with all the sights and sounds of her majestic kingdom, scattering dreams to the sleepy folk of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd.

Her handmaids and servants watched the Queen, awestruck and inspired by her beauty and her grace, and would follow her home as the dance reached its end. She held these little ones' hands as they fluttered and buzzed around her, bombarding her with questions about the secrets the Stars gave her. But the Wise and Beautiful Queen would smile and shake her head, telling them all that the secrets are hardly worth sharing.

Once the Queen had been escorted back to her chambers to sleep until the next morning came, four of these little Fae - the most peculiar and curious of all - would meet to ponder about the secrets of the stars.

"I bet they're about Love!" Said Peaseblossom, the oldest of the four. She wore flowers in her hair and dressed in maidenly white. Wherever she flew, rose petals scattered in her wake, and her voice was as sweet as hummingbird nectar. "Who is in love with the Queen, who the Queen loves, who is courting who- That kind of stuff!" But the other three Fae were hardly in agreement.

 "I bet they're about the Weald!" Said Moth, the most clever of the four. She kept her dark hair tied up in ribbons, and her knees were scuffed with dirt. Her bright gold eyes could be seen in the dark from any distance, and her voice was like the hum of a bumble bee. "The Weald King must have plenty of stories in his home, and the Queen wants to know them!" But that did not sit well with the other three.

I bet they spy on Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd." Said Cobweb, the most logical of the four. He covered his face in a thick blue scarf, and wore dark glasses over his eyes. The robes he wore shimmered like glitterwing bugs, and his voice rasped like a ghost's whisper. "They watch us all the time at night, and SURELY there must be folks who are plotting while the Queen is asleep." That did not fill the other three with confidence.

"?" Said Mustardseed, the smallest of the four. She was plain, and wore plain dresses, and kept her hair tied up in a ponytail with a rope that would never break. "...!" She continued, and the other three simply nodded in agreement.

"Sure I guess!"
"That sounds boring."
"I mean maybe."

And even though the other three saw sense in their littlest friend's words, the curiosity of what those Stars whispered to the Queen ate away at them, night after night, day after day.

.

Until one day...

.


... To be continued?

[Status(P)quo(d)]

The first of the four to devise a plan was the oldest. Peaseblossom fluttered up over her companions and placed her hand on her chest, her bright smile enough to lighten their hearts. She gave each of the other Fae a wink before explaining her plot.

"I'm going to go out and have the Seamstress sew a dress for me with her Majesty!" She declared, fully confident. "When the Queen takes me with her to see the sights of the city, I will follow her lead and take some of the stars for myself. Then, I shall dance for the King of the Weald, and release those stars back up into the night sky!"

The other Fae were shocked, each of them speaking out loud in an attempt to dissuade Peaseblossom from her plan, but the maiden in white with the flowers in her hair heard none of their words. She was too enthralled with the romance behind it, that all of their fears fell on deaf ears.

The next morning, it was Peaseblossom alone who woke up the Queen. She presented the Queen of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd with a bouquet of the most brilliant flowers, their petals lush with morning dew, their scent as sweet as honey and candyfloss. With a heartfelt plea she begged; "Your Majesty, please... Let me join you on your walks today!"

The Queen's compassionate eyes never faltered, and never strayed- she let the Fae sit in her hands as she listened to her flower maid.

"Your Majesty, I wish to wear a dress that is woven with the stars like yours. I wish to call down the constellations and hear the whispers of their hearts, and the love in their souls. I wish to adventure, and frolic, and share with them my own secrets!"

For a moment the room had grown silent as the Queen contemplated such a request. Yet as always, the kind and compassionate Queen nodded her head in acquiescence. She said unto Peaseblossom,

"Then I shall have the Seamstress weave for you a gown to rival my own. I shall teach you the way to call down the stars, and together we shall cross this kingdom, side by side. But fair warning, my sweet and gentle Peaseblossom..." The Queen reached out and pressed her finger against her nose, causing fairy dust to shimmer around her. "... No matter what may come, as the day comes to an end, you must return those stars to the Heavens."

Peaseblossom's head bobbled and bowed before her Majesty, and so the two left hand in hand to the Seamstress. A pair of dresses were then made, if not equal in size, then equal in their beauty- And from the heavens did the stars come tumbling down, caught in the fabric of each gown and shimmering with all the splendor that those skies bore. The little Maiden minded her manners, happily introducing herself to the stars that scattered across her dress.

"Hello, little ones! My name is Peaseblossom, Handmaid to Her Majesty!" She chirps, her wide smile growing amidst her rosy cheeks. She twirled where she stood, shimmering stardust gathering at her feet. "Please, do not be shy- Tell me all about yourselves!"

Yet there was only silence in response. Her Majesty spoke in a hushed tone with her own starlit guests, and seemed more than familiar with them- Yet for little Peaseblossom, there was no reply to be heard. Her crestfallen heart threatened to break, yet it was a little voice she heard from her dress that seemed ready to buoy her spirits.

"... Do not fret, Milady Peaseblossom," Said the voice, like tinsel caught in a gentle breeze. "We stars are a shy sort... And with a maiden of such beauty calling to us, many cannot help but hesitate to answer."

Peaseblossom's attention turned to the little star, her eyes alight with wonder, her heart singing with excitement. She bowed to get a better look at this little star- Dazzling in its light.

"Yet they count you among them, do they not, little star? One who is so bold as to call a Maiden of her Majesty a 'beauty'?" Her voice rang out in gentle giggles, and the star's light brightened if only for a moment.

"I am different from my peers- As I am not part of a constellation like them. It is a dreadfully lonely life, milady."

"Then I shall have you accompany me in earnest, Heavensent Guest, and I shall show you the beauty of Her Majesty's Lands, and Her Majesty's people!"

And so the two did indeed join Her Majesty as she crossed her city of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd. Peaseblossom showed the Little Star the great towers that rose above the land. She introduced them to the people- The grocer, the butcher, the farmer- To the citizens, to the knights, to the other servants of the Royal House. She introduced them to the rivers that ran along the city, to the fields of flowers that bloomed, to the distant forests wherein lay the lands of the King of the Weald.

And the Little Star did tell her tales that she remembered of lands far and wide, of times that were long past even the Little Star's life. Of lands beyond even the Weald, where little distant people lived out their little, distant lives, thousands and thousands of miles away. The two became enraptured with each others stories, and the day whittled away as they followed Her Majesty to the boundaries of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd and the Weald.

Peaseblossom watched as Her Majesty stood before the King of the Weald: His mane was groomed and finely combed, and he wore a suit of black spidersilk and glimmering moonsilver. Flowers adorned his head, as deep and rich as the color of his eyes. And though the splendor of the Great City lay before him, beyond the form of Her Majesty, the Flower Maid saw how those eyes would only stare at the Queen as if transfixed by her majestic beauty.

A pang of sorrow raced through Peaseblossom's heart, a feeling she had never felt before as the King took the Queen's hand in his own and the two began their dance. For there were no hands for her to take in her own, and no one to dance with. She felt the tears trickle down her cheeks and splash against the dirt beneath her that marked the boundary, catching the Evening light of the Daystar before it set and welcomed the night.

"... But there is no one here to dance with me...!" She lamented. "How will I help return these stars to the sky if I cannot welcome the night with someone to hold?"

And the little lonely star, so enamored with the Flower Maiden, shone so brighly as to dazzle those tears away. The Queen and King halted their merry to approach them, and Her Majesty knelt down before her little Peaseblossom.

"... Little Flower. It seems as if you have a dance partner with you already." She mused, her painted lips curling into a warm smile. "Would you not welcome them to join you this evening?"

Peaseblossom was taken aback by this, and shook her head as hard as she could! "The Little Star...? But if I did that, who would help him return to the Night Sky?!"

And the Queen turned her benevolent gaze upon the Little Star that shone so bright and so lonely on the Flower Maiden's dress, and so addressed his light.

"Little Star. I humbly apologize... But may I ask you to stay another night, and help your companions return to the Heavens? The night will be a little colder without them, and I fear they may not return to the home they desperately seek."

Yet the Little Star did not hesitate. "Your Majesty, you do not need to ask for my forgiveness. For what you ask of me is my heart's desire. I would like to be given hands to hold Peaseblossom's hands, and feet to waltz with Peaseblossom's feet. And a body to offer warmth to Peaseblossom's body."

"Then so mote it be." Unsurprised by the little star's answer, her Majesty plucked him from the dress, and the King of the Weald did offer him a vessel, and with their union did a sprightly young boy come into being. He wore silver across his garments like the King of the Weald, and his robe was awash in delicate shades of orange, red, and yellow that mimicked the autumnal trees. His eyes sparkled like gemstones, he smelled like the rain, and his smile was only meant for the little Flower Maiden.

"Might you honor me with this dance, Peaseblossom?" Asked the Star Prince, his hand held out to her.

Her astonishment would not stop her from accepting that hand, though she hesitated before stepping out to dance.

"A thousand times, yes...! Now and forever, I hope! But, what shall I call you?" She asked.

And so the Prince did turn to the King and Queen, who both offered their grace to him in turn. Unspoken until he himself spoke it into being, the Star Prince turned to offer his name.

"You may call me Caol."

And hand in hand, foot by foot, bodies close together, Peaseblossom and Caol did dance the stars back into the setting sky alongside the Queen and King.

Peaseblossom and Caol did part that night, and would come to meet each other every night after. Though Peaseblossom never wore the gown of stars again, she would continue to join Her Majesty under the evening sky to meet the Fallen Star again and again, and again. Whatever secrets the Stars might have held for her to hear were far from her concern.

... Though much to the disappointment of her fellow Fae, who stared in astonishment that she had come back empty-handed in their eyes.

"Good heavens, Peaseblossom! Really?"

"What was that about the Weald...?"

"...!"

... To be continued?

[Status(P)quo(d)]

The evening dances amidst the returning stars did not interest the second of the four. As Moth watched her companion walk hand in hand with the Star Prince, she was too busy spending her time in the gardens of Her Majesty's castle. The Gardener crawled around in the dirt, her knees and elbows as dirtied as her black dress. Glittering gold eyes peered through the shadow of the splendidly tall flowers, looking for the little bugs that were so often overlooked by the other Fairies. Under the morning sun, the buzz of the bumblebees would be her daydream lullaby, and during the night, the creak of the crickets would sing her to sleep.

She had no time for true love, nor did true love ever have time for her - and so while she adored her fellow Fairy, she could never truly understand what brought her to the edge of the Weald every evening. One morning, while Peaseblossom helped tie the ribbons in Moth's hair, she questioned her companion about the whys and wherefores of those evening strolls.

"Dearest Peaseblossom, every evening you come back from the edge of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd you are ever so tired, but with such a brilliant smile that could rival the stars themselves!" She buzzed. "You must tell me what it is you see. You have not shared anything of what the stars might have told you. What am I to assume?"

"O, dearest Moth," Peaseblossom spoke with the wisdom that came with being born first as she combed out the twigs and leaves from the other day's adventures. "It would all make sense if you were to see for yourself- What I have felt, and what I have learned you would never believe."

Such answers did annoy the Second of the Fairies, but knew there was some truth- No matter what Peaseblossom might tell Moth, she would never believe her. And so her resolve quietly built as the days turned to nights and days once more, until she herself marched to the Edge of the Weald.

Yet Moth did not wait for Her Majesty- Nor did she wait for Peaseblossom. Nor did she wait for the Stars to come down, nor did she wait to show them Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd. Instead, as the city bustled, she beelined to the edge of the Weald, where the woods grew poised to overtake the rivers, the valleys, and maybe even the kingdom itself.

For who better to show her the secrets of the Weald than the Weald King?

Her golden eyes scanned the trees and little Moth pouted in dismay. "The Weald King has not even arrived- What does he have to do all day that requires him to be elsewhere? Should he not be waiting for Her Majesty?" And struck with a spark of courage and impatience that she did not know she had, Moth marched her way into the depths of the Weald.

The canopy woven by the branches above her head grew tighter and thicker. And with every step further, the forest grew darker, and deeper. And the little spark of courage that lit the Moth's heart grew dimmer and quieter. The world she knew disappeared into the shadows of the Weald, and the gnarled wood reached out towards her, as if to close in.

Just as she could not bear to move any further, a sound snapped across the darkness, sending Moth fluttering in a panic into a low-hanging branch that was not there before. She tumbled and twirled, falling out of the air and landing in the soft and loamy soil that fed these ancient, wild trees. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Such secrets perhaps, were better kept a mystery indeed!

The sound of a song was what brought her back to her senses. There in the dirt, staining her elbows and legs and messing up her dress, she saw a familiar sight: Weevils! The long-snouted bugs that she so often helped sneak into the pantry of the Castle was here. And there were so many of them here, much larger than she had ever seen before.

Their song could be heard whispering through the leaves that littered the ground. A rousing song that had no words in the Wylden tongue nor any tongue spoken by humans, but one that Moth knew well. The song followed the band of weevils as they march towards the distant darkness. Her eyes, like a pair of shiny coins, followed these insects, and she too crawled after them. When she could finally work up the courage, she buzzed in her quietest voice to ask (as was respectful when speaking to the insects),

"Noble Weevils of the Wood, where are you marching to?"

The largest of these Weevils turned its snout towards Moth and chirruped in delight.

"Oh! So large a fellow bug to be joining us on our merry way! Though I do not know what to call you! What is your name?" It asked.

"My companions call me Moth, and I serve--" But before she could finish, the Weevils cricked and creeked as if to laugh at a joke she told.

"No no, I have seen Moth before," The weevil with the longest snout said. "And you are no Moth. Though you bear wings, you do not have their eyes, and you do not have her antennae." It stated proudly and matter-of-factly.

"Yes yes, Moth is already a name!" The smallest but loudest Weevil said. "If such a name was when you bore before, you may need a new one while you travel with us!"

"But," the Gardener began, "I have never known another name. What would I call myself, if not Moth?"

"Follow us," Said the largest. "And perhaps such a name may reveal itself to you."

The Gardener was confused, but the Weevils were the first kindness that the Weald had offered her. So she continued to crawl alongside them, keeping her head low as they made their way deeper and deeper into the Weald. She trained her eyes on the leaves that dampened her palms, and the roots that scraped her knuckles. She still felt lost and confused.

"How do you see through such darkness?" She asked them. "I can barely find what's right in front of me in these woods, and I am ever so frightened."

"Then let us lend you a spark of light, so you may have it carry you through this darkness."

And once again did the weevils sing their song. The tune was soft and barely audible through the gloom, but the Gardener did listen. The tune reminded her of the sweetest songs the bumblebees had ever hummed for her, and felt as bright as the stars that shone upon the crickets as they performed. The words still left little meaning in her head, but in her heart she felt a sensation she had only ever had described to her by the Handmaid.

Once the Gardener opened her eyes, she could see the glimmering lights that hung in the ancient trees that spread across the forest. She could see the way the other bugs and insects did flutter through the forest, all of them congregating at a distant, darkened glade. She could see the movement of monstrously large creatures with great big horns, whose feet stepped softly through the tangled growth despite their immense size. It seemed the curiosity that brought her here in the first place that she had lost in the dark had finally been found again.

"Do you see now?" Asked the smallest weevil. "The King of the Weald is holding Court. And we have all been invited."

"I do." Said the Gardener. "And I shall hold Court with him."

Then the Gardener stood up, scooping her little Weevil friends up in her palms. She let them rest on the collar of her dress as she clambered her way towards the light. The other Beasts and Bugs did part for her arrival, as the gloom-lit glade did open up to a most wondrous of sights.

Creatures from the Weald stood and sat and fluttered in a circle with all of them facing a most imposing figure. He did not wear the suit of black spidersilk and moonsilver. Instead, draped across his shoulders was a thick, moss-begotten cloak stained in crimson. Massive antlers rose above his head like a crown of ivory, and in his hand he held a lantern unlit hanging from a gnarled branch of an elder oak. His eyes fell upon the interloper, the Gardener with no name and so did he call to her.

"Little Fairy." His voice shook the leaves despite their soft and dulcet tones. "You have the honor of being in the presence of the King of the Weald. Many of my subjects have warned me of your arrival, yet I see no danger present in you, save for the curiosity that you now stand to satisfy. What is your name?"

"She hasn't got one!" Said the loudest of the weevils. "She said it was Moth, but she doesn't look like her. Too pokey!"
"Her eyes are not silver and blue!" Said the largest.

"And she has no antennae!" Said the one with the longest snout.

And though she stood ready to refute these claims, she found herself unable to argue.

The Weald King did not move. His eyes fell upon the Gardener expectantly.

"Is this true?" He asked. "Do you go by a name that is not yours?"

"... I fear this may be the truth, your Majesty." The Gardener dipped her head in deference. "But I have no other name to give you."

His Majesty did approach at this, his head held high. Each step shook the Glade, and the beasts and bugs did part to make way for his arrival. The Gardener stood fixed at the entrance, but could not flee nor turn away for fear of what would come next. The Weevils did not leave her however, and did point their snouts towards their Liege.

"But, but but!" Said the Largest Weevil. "She did not know of Moth, no no!"

"'Tis true! She does not act in defiance to your ruling, your Majesty!" Said the loudest.

"Her heart did join our song as we made our approach as well- Surely she means no malice if she can hear our call?" Said the one with the longest snout.

At first it seemed this call to stay the King's Justice held no sway on him. He stood now before the little Fairy. He smelled like the valley after a long rain in autumn, and his glorious mane fell about in wild tangles. His eyes were of a deep and dark crimson that stood out even amidst the shadows cast by the tree branches above them.

"To steal a name is a serious offence," He declared. "Accident or no, this must be brought up to the victim."

Was this it? Was she to lose her name forever? The first gift ever given to her by the Queen, taken away over a misunderstanding? Would she no longer be called 'Moth'? But who else could I be but me? She wondered to herself.

In a final act of fear and defiance, she rebuked the charges: "But it's the only name that the Queen has ever called me!" She blurted out, silencing the entire Glade.

A quiet voice fluttered from behind her, settling on her shoulder next to the Weevils.

"Who did you say gave you that name?" Asked the one known as Moth. Her voice was gentle and sweet like honey, her silver-blue eyes turning towards the Gardener. His Majesty went silent, as if expecting more. But one could see that powerful gaze soften under even the mention of the Queen.

Clutching the spark of confidence that the Weevils had shared with her, the Gardener continued.

"The Queen of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd." She said. "When I was wrought from silk and gold and honey, she had called me Moth."

"Well glad I am she called you this, for I owe her a great deal of gratitude for helping me." She murmured.

At this, his Majesty let out a most powerful laugh. It shook the trees so hard the leaves fluttered like streamers from their branches. He knelt down to offer his hand to the Gardener.

"You, little Fairy, trespasser in my Weald, and borrower of Names. Tell me again what brought you into my domain?" He asked.

"... I wished to see the secrets of the Weald for myself." She meekly replied as she climbed into his hand. "To hear the stories of your home with my own ears. To hear the truths of your Kingdom, so that I may know what is hidden in your domain."

"You who share the name of Moth, chosen by the Queen of Gleann na Gaoithe Àrd," the Weald King rumbled. "I would share with you anything you desire."

His lips spread into a wide and magnanimous smile.

"You need only have asked."

"I grant thee amnesty. And with Moth's blessing you may use your name in my Kingdom." And so too did Moth acquiesce. "Let us return you to your home."

Accompanied by the Beasts and the Bugs of the Weald, the King did escort Moth back to the edges of his Forests. He invited Moth, and the Weevils, and the Elk, and Moose, and Bear, and Wolves, and Centipedes and Butterflies and Worms and Bees a chance to share tales of their own with their guest. And while she did not believe all the stories they told, she did make them promise that they would show her such fantastical places within the Weald when next she came to visit.

It certainly came as a shock when Her Majesty, and Peaseblossom, and Caol - And even Cobweb and Mustardseed did await by the edge of the Wood for the Weald King to arrive, only to find that the person they were looking for was already there. Dressed in black spidersilk and deepest moonsilver, his crown of ivory replaced by a circlet of flowers, the King returned Moth to her Companions before taking the Queen's hand in his own and dancing the Stars back into the sky.

The Fairies embraced and wept with joy to see Moth come home safely.

"Don't go running off on your own again, Moth!" Chirped Peaseblossom, before leaving to dance with Caol.

"What did you see in there?" Asked Cobweb curiously, far more concerned about the dangers in the dark.

"...!" Said Mustardseed in obvious distress- Clearly pleased just to see the Gardener in one piece.

"I can't say," Said Moth with a frown. "But once I find out, I'll let you know and tell you everything."

Yet...

She never did tell them. For she knew in her heart that they would never believe it without seeing it for themselves.