Her Will

This is the complete text of a story I wrote in college.

The rickety wooden chair was a welcome relief to my aching legs. I dropped into it as quickly as I dared and let out some ungodly mixture between a sigh and a groan. Why did walking hurt so much? I’d only walked to the cellar and back! This baby was getting heavier by the day, and every joint in my body wanted to make sure I knew it. Emrys, of course, seemed to wish I would hibernate until our child was born. He kept trying to sneak out earlier and earlier and do all my chores before I got out of bed. The first time I’d gone to the field and started plowing had put an end to that! As soon as he realized I’d do his back-breaking chores in lieu of my cooking and gardening, he’d returned to routine. The cream from yesterday’s milk made a hollow splashing sound as I poured it into the churn. It was a soothing kind of sound, like rain on our little hut’s roof. As I started to enter the rhythm of churning, I turned to look out the open window. The view of our field and of the forest beyond was the only entertainment I’d have while I sat here, aside from my own thoughts. I glanced at my husband through the open window and smiled a little to see how hard he was working. He was a good father; he wanted to make sure our child would be well provided for. I was content to watch him for a few moments and dream about the future. But my moment of happiness didn’t last long. The trees drew my attention, as they always did, and I began to feel afraid. I didn’t know why, but the forest had always troubled me. As far back as I could remember -- which, granted, wasn’t more than a few years -- it had been a source of anxiety to me. I felt as though the trees were always calling me closer, and I wanted so badly to answer and so badly to run. This time, though, their call was different. As I looked at them now, I felt a sense of urgency, as though I had to abandon my churn and rush into the forest at full speed, running through branches and underbrush towards -- what? I stared into the forest for several long seconds, then realized with a jolt that I was starting to rise from my chair. I slammed the shutters closed and fell back into my seat, horrified to realize how close I had come to setting out for the forest. I knew realistically that it was a perfectly safe forest, that my husband always returned from checking his traps, but some deep primal part of me was sure that there was danger there. There was a quiet rap on the window frame, and I couldn’t suppress a shriek. Then a familiar voice said “Anwen?” I realized how foolish I was being. I opened the shutters slowly, sheepishly, and looked up into my husband’s concerned face. “Anwen, are you well? You seem frightened.” “It’s nothing.” I took several deep breaths and tried to tell my fast-beating heart the same lie. “Anwen.” He leaned in through the window to cup my cheek. “What troubles you? You’ve been so on edge these past few weeks. What are you afraid of?” I leaned into his touch. His fingers were rough from years of hard labor, but they could still be so gentle. “It’s foolish.” “I want to know. I want you to feel safe, Anwen.” I took a deep breath. “It’s just… I’ve been hearing, or feeling, something strange. Something that’s calling me into the woods.” Tears started to my eyes, but I blinked them back. I already felt stupid enough without crying over my delusions. “And lately I’ve heard it in everything -- in the wind, in the bird song, even in my dreams. I’m frightened, Emrys. Either I’m going insane or-- or--” “Shhh… shhh…” He leaned in further through the window to kiss the top of my head. “Don’t be afraid, dearest. The wind is just the wind, the birds are just birds, and your dreams are dreams. Nothing more.” I lifted my face to his, and he kissed me so tenderly that for a moment I forgot my fright. I even managed a little smile as he drew back. Looking up into his ice-bright eyes, I felt that perhaps I really was worried over nothing. “You’re right; I’m being foolish.” “Now, Anwen, I never said that. You’re with child. It’s natural to be a little nervous.” He leaned his forehead against mine. I felt a little of the tension between my shoulder-blades ease. “Just remember that I’m here, that you’re safe, and that our child will be here soon.” We kissed again, and then he went back to his work and I to mine. I would be fine. The baby would be fine. Everything would be fine. Every time I repeated these words to myself they felt a little more hollow. The next morning, after many reassurances that I would be fine without him for an hour or two, Emrys set off to check his traps. I watched him until he was out of view, unable to shake the same vague anxiety that had disturbed me the day before. After a few moments of staring after him, I turned to my newly carded wool with a sigh and began my morning’s spinning. A few quick twists attached the leader just above the whorl. I began to slowly lower my spindle to the earthen floor, watching as it twisted wool into thread. Soon I fell into the rhythm of feeding in new wool and began to hum quietly to myself. As I sat, spinning and humming, I gradually became aware that someone -- or something -- was watching me. I slowly turned to look out the window again, searching with increasing concern for the source of the prickling sensation at the nape of my neck. When I’d found it, I wished I hadn’t. There, nearly hidden by the dappled shade of the forest, sat a fox of an unnatural shade of black. Its amber eyes met mine across the distance. I wanted to turn away, to slam the shutters and cower in the dark, but I found myself pinned in place by its gaze. There was something both human and alien in its eyes. My horror grew as the creature stood, stretched, and began to stroll through the long grass towards me. I sat rooted by some strange mixture of fear and fascination, watching as it drew nearer and nearer. I didn’t even notice when the thread snapped and my spindle fell with a dull thud. When the fox had crossed nearly half the distance it began to change, silky fox pelt melting into skin, limbs lengthening and snout pushing in towards the face, until a man stood just outside my window. I would almost have doubted my senses, but his black curls were the exact shade of the fox’s pelt, and his gaze had not left mine throughout the transformation. “Anwen.” When he spoke, something stirred inside me, some memory that had slept until now. It surged to the surface of my mind and left my lips as his name. “Gwyn?” “Oh good! You do remember something! Hopefully it means you haven’t lost all sense.” He shook his head a little, and something sad touched his smile. “I told you she would miss you, little sister.” At his words I felt a stir of fear at some warning long forgotten. How did I know this man-- this fox-- this Gwyn? “Give it some time. It’ll come back to you.” He leaned his folded arms on the windowsill, which brought him much closer to me than I would have liked. It felt as though I was allowing a predator to creep up next to me. I shook my head, but he was right. Memories I’d thought I’d lost for good were beginning to resurface. The image of a forest glade and deer I watched like children rose unbidden to my mind. It was soon followed by another, this one of Gwyn, sprawled in fox form across my lap and enjoying a rare peaceful moment. I closed my eyes tightly, unsure whether I was trying to summon the memories or hold them back. It didn’t matter, though. One after another rose to the surface of my mind like bubbles in hot water, until they roiled in frenzied chaos across my consciousness. If I hadn’t already been sitting, I would have fallen to my knees. “Easy there, little one. No need to remember everything at once.” I couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t I stop? Why were there so many memories? “Anwen?” My eyes snapped open. “What’s happening to me?” “You set me as the keeper of your memories. You wanted to make sure you had a way to get them back, should you ever need them.” He tilted his head a little. “I don’t think you anticipated the shock to your system when your whole life came back to you in one moment.” I took one steadying breath, then another. “Keeper? What?” His wording suggested I had hidden my own memories away. But why? And how? “It would have been impossible to live around faeries as long as you did without gaining some small magical talent. Especially given your, ah--” He coughed, as if changing his mind about what he was going to say. “Given how much time you spent in her company.” “Whose company?” As I asked the question, the answer was already beginning to come to me. All her names sprang to mind at once, and I began to wish I had not looked for them. She of the Greenwood. The Smiling One. The fae Queen. All I could see was her face, every expression of anger or joy or love all swarming into the forefront of my mind at once. I suddenly realized just how great a mistake I had made. I couldn’t breathe. No matter how many breaths I took, an unbearable tightness constricted my lungs. How long had I been away? Three years, four? She must have known by now that I had left her, had intended to leave her for good. What would she do to me? How must she feel? I couldn’t seem to strike the balance between fear for my well-being and concern for her emotional state, between dread of the world’s oldest creature and love for her. I looked to Gwyn again, still breathing too quickly and too shallowly to do me any good. “She sent for me?” “She would have sent her gentlemen, but I insisted on coming myself.” He gave me a look that wavered between amusement and concern. “For goodness’ sake, child, stop that useless panting!” There was a tone of command in his voice that overrode my very physiology. I stopped breathing entirely and stared up at him, now as afraid of Gwyn as I was of my memories. He sighed. “Just breathe normally. Really, there’s no need for all this fuss.” I obediently began to breathe at a steady pace, but my fear still remained. “There isn’t?” “Of course not. I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve grown quite fond of you over the centuries, Anwen. I’m a busy beast, but I’ve made time to mediate for you.” He chucked my chin with such a fraternal air that I wondered how I could ever have feared him, even for a moment. And yet there was something false to his tone. “Just come to the forest tonight and talk to her. She loves you, Anwen! She won’t harm you as long as you’re careful not to anger her.” There was falseness there, too, though my mind was too full of new information to process it just then. “But what will I say to her?” “That depends entirely on you, little one. I’ll escort you to Queen’s court tonight.” “Must I go?” “You know the answer.” Gwyn smirked at me, somehow both sympathetic to my fear and laughing at it. “She’s decreed that your charade has gone on long enough and that you are to return home. If you don’t, some accident may befall your lover in the woods.” I pressed a hand to my stomach. How could my child grow up without a father? “She can’t--” “Be careful of your words, Anwen.” He wasn’t smiling now. “You know the breadth of her power. You know that she holds sovereignty over you. It’s a mercy she waited this long to call you back.” I shook my head. “I was only herder to her deer. What could she want with me?” “Don’t be stupid. You know the answer to that.” Warmer memories of my Queen came rushing back to me, but I shoved them all impatiently aside. “She could make another Anwen in an instant if she chose.” “Maybe, but she wants this one. Don’t pretend you don’t know why, I can tell you’re starting to remember. You know she would always have wanted you back.” “Then why now? Why not kill Emrys the day I left her? Why has she waited so long?” “Do not forget, Anwen, that the Queen is quite old. A few years is the blink of an eye to her. She thought you would remain for a little while, then tire of him and come home. Now that you are with child, however, she worries you will anchor yourself to this mortal realm and forget her forever.” He laughed a little. “Given the fact that you’d already forgotten all about her, I’d say it was a fair concern.” I scowled at him. “You helped me! When I told you I wanted to run away and live a mortal life, you helped me! Why would you help me escape her domain if you’d known how much she wanted me to stay?” He shrugged sinuously along his entire body, just as a fox might. “I thought it would be an interesting change of pace. Things are always of the same tone when you’ve lived as long as I have. It gets quite boring. A fae-kin turned mortal? That’s something new.” There it was again, that hint of falseness. “I’m glad I could entertain you.” “Do not be so cross with me, Anwen! You were much the same as I once, before you took it into your head to run off like this.” “And I will be much the same as you again, I suppose, if the Queen has her way.” I glanced down at my fallen spindle and recalled the first time I had seen one. It had been a few days after Emrys had led me from the forest. He had lived alone so long that he wove his own cloth. I remembered watching as he spun thread, remembered being completely hypnotized. “What is it?” I had asked after a while. He had looked at me with some surprise. “Don’t you know how to spin, Anwen?” “No, I was never taught.” He had smiled at me, amused and perplexed both. “You were never taught! What, did you spring fully-formed from a tree?” I had sat in silence for a moment, trying and failing to remember anything about my past. “I suppose I might have,” I had admitted at last, much to his shock. “You really don’t remember anything.” “No. All my memories, everything I ever knew -- gone.” He had pulled me to him then, smiling gently down at me. “Then we’ll just have to make some new ones.” As I thought back to that moment, I realized for the first time just how much I had given up to be part of his world. I’d lost the greater part of myself -- my calling, my knowledge, anyone I’d known or loved before him. I had become a paper being, a personality without memories to give it structure or stability. I wondered, staring down at that spindle, if I’d made the right choice after all. Had I realized at the time just how great a sacrifice I was making? Perhaps I should return to the wood. I met Gwyn’s eyes. He regarded me with an air of mild curiosity. I suppose he knew what my answer would be. What it had to be. “Please tell her Majesty that I will come to her tonight.” I was distracted at dinner with Emrys that evening. I ate little and said less. He, unsure whether to ask me what was wrong or to act as though nothing was, stayed just as quiet as I did. Just because there was nothing on my tongue, however, didn’t mean there was nothing on my mind. I wanted to ask him so many questions. What had drawn him to me? Why had he taken me in, when all either one of us knew about me was my name? I thought about that day, and thought about why I had left the forest to begin with. It was not for his sake I had left my eternal life, after all. It was for my own. I’d been so tired of the faerie court, so tired of eternal life. Though I had lived as a faerie for hundreds of years, I’d still kept certain undeniable urges from my original form. The doe I had been thought of two things: survival, and the need to make more deer. More than anything in the world, I had wanted a child. I tore off a little chunk of bread, dipped it in broth to soften it some, and chewed on it as I thought about that urgent need. How I had stolen children from their mortal mothers, with the fae Queen’s help, but found no joy in watching them grow. I hadn’t desired just any child. I had wanted to have my own, to birth and raise a little Anwen. I remembered trying to tell the Queen just what I needed. I remembered how little she’d understood me. She, after all, had never been mortal, and so had never felt what humans and animals alike feel when they begin to age. She had never known the need to taste immortality, to leave some lasting mark on the world, in the form of a child. But I had felt that urge, and it had driven me nearly insane. I gently stroked my swollen stomach, more to soothe myself than to communicate any sense of comfort to the life inside me. I had fled the court one day, more out of impulse than through careful planning. I had left my memories behind, just to make sure my love and fear of the Queen would not bring me back before I was ready. Then, left with little more than the continuing urge to have a child, I had joined myself to a man that lived alone on the outskirts of the forest. I observed him coolly across the table. I expected myself to be repulsed by him, this little human man, but instead found myself smiling as my eyes met his. It felt odd, though, to know that he had fallen in love with a woman who essentially no longer existed. I was no longer Anwen, the little human housewife. I was Anwen, ancient and faerie and unused to mortal attachments. I was aware now that I couldn’t remain here, with all these new memories, knowing I could never die. Knowing I would watch Emrys age alone. I would have to go back to the Queen’s court and throw myself on her mercy once more. Was that what I truly wanted? Emrys stifled a yawn. With a start I realized that it was growing dark outside. Normally I would have been just as tired as he was, but now I felt wide awake. Still, I knew he would stay up as long as I did. I provided a well-faked yawn and rose with some difficulty from my chair. “I think it must be time for bed, my love.” “I’ll bank the fire.” He stood and moved to the hearth while I readied myself for a sleep I had no plan of falling into. I curled up beneath the coarse blankets and closed my eyes so it would at least look like I was tired. My husband soon joined me. He cuddled up close behind me, resting his hand on my stomach as he slowly drifted off. As I felt him fall asleep, I steeled myself for the confrontation ahead. The Queen would not be happy with me, and I still didn’t know what I would ask of her when I saw her again. Emrys began to snore. I gently lifted his hand from my stomach and slid out of bed. “Anwen?” he muttered, still half-asleep. “I thought I heard Blodwen.” I was sure our cow was just as sleepy as he was at this time of night, but it was as good a lie as I could come up with. “I’ll check on her.” He started to rise, but I gently pushed him back down. “You’ve been hard at work all day, my love. Rest now, and let me take care of her.” I hummed him a little song I’d used a lifetime ago to soothe my herds to sleep. It worked better than I had expected. Soon he was snoring again, leaving me free to dress and slip out into the cold of an early spring evening. I had thought it would be easy to return to the Queen’s court. Now, as I stood on the edge of the forest, I wasn’t so sure. It would be so simple to return to Emrys, abandon our home here, take our cow and our plow off to some distant moor. Trade towering trees for gentle heather, faerie threats for a mortal life. But she would find me. Eventually, no matter where I went, she would find me, and the fact that I had run from her would make her all the angrier. Another easy choice: go back. Leave Emrys and the life I’d built behind for good. Take the child I’d always wanted and raise it in the faerie court. That didn’t feel right either. As unremarkable and as mortal as Emrys was, he was mine. Father of my child, provider for five long years, the man who’d kept me warm and safe and happy. If I left him now, I’d wonder forever what it would have been like to spend a lifetime with him. I hesitated there, halfway between time and eternity, and wondered to take a step forward or turn back. There were so many unknowns, so many questions I couldn’t answer. I didn’t even know what I wanted. How could I ask the Queen a favor if I didn’t know what that favor was supposed to be? But there was one thing I knew for certain I wanted. I wanted the best life for my child. Did I really want him to grow up in the fae Queen’s court? The few stolen children I’d raised there had matured strangely, had never quite fit in, had always been the butt of every nasty prank. Was that the life I wanted for this baby? When I asked myself that question, I knew the answer to every other question. I knew what I had to ask her. As I crossed the line of trees, I heard a little voice speak up beside me. “So, you’ve decided to come after all? I’m quite proud of you, Anwen.” I turned to look down at the little fox that stood beside me. “It wouldn’t do to miss an appointment with the Queen,” I said with a half-smile. “You’re quite right.” We walked together for a few moments. Gwyn had to keep slowing down to match my speed, as I was kept to a slow and difficult pace by my acute case of pregnancy. It began to wear on him quickly, and soon he stopped to look up at me. “Would you like some assistance, little sister? It may take you the whole night to get there at this rate.” “I certainly wouldn’t mind.” I wondered, though, how he intended to help me. He was much too small to ride; I’d likely snap his spine if I sat on him. “Good. Place your hand on my head and start walking again.” I did as he asked, and soon the forest was rushing by us at miraculous speeds. Any tree or bush that came into our path seemed to leap away to let us by, then jump back into place behind us. I laughed for sheer joy at our speed, and Gwyn grinned a vulpine grin. Within moments we were at the edge of a green-lit glade. I hesitated once again. How could I face her, after all this time? Gwyn gave me a gentle nudge forward. “Go on, Anwen. I’ll be with you to see there’s no foul play.” “Will she let you in?” I asked, surprised. I had never seen Gwyn in the Queen’s court before. I’d only ever spent time with him outside it, when I was tending my deer. He snickered unpleasantly. “She would be hard-pressed to keep me out, especially when I’m working. It’s my job to guard the balance between mortal and spiritual. Hard to see to the spiritual side of things if I’m not allowed in her court, isn’t it? This is, after all, the world’s center of mystical power.” “I suppose.” I took a deep breath. “Come on, then.” Already I could feel my hasty courage begin to fade, could feel my fears and doubts and every natural instinct oppress me once more. How could I win anything from her? She was so old that her name, if she had ever had a name, had been lost long before I’d known her. She had been born long before man’s rise, and she would continue to rule long after his fall. She was older than gods, older than time. How could I stand against such a creature? More than that, how had I ever been bold enough to love her? I took a trembling step into the clearing, letting my hand fall from Gwyn’s fur. Before me a crowd of tall, pale men parted, leaving a path straight to the one I wanted least and most to see. I passed between them, shrinking from their knowing grins. The gentlemen of her court had always made me uneasy, I remembered now. They were tall, too tall to be quite human, with pointed ears and pointed teeth and pointed eyes. They were pale, too, paler than any mortal ever could be, and their smiles stretched a little wider than they ought and showed a little more of glistening fang than was quite natural. They loomed uncanny all around me, closed in behind me as I passed, watched me as a gathering of cats might watch an unwary mouse. I would have run for my life had Gwyn not stayed by my side, fur lightly brushing against my leg. I feared them, and I hated myself for fearing them. Gradually I drew near to the center of the glade. As the last of the gentlemen parted before me, I found myself standing in front of her for the first time in five years. Gwyn sat beside me and looked between the two of us with some interest. I slowly lifted my face towards hers, and as our eyes met I felt her beauty sear across my vision, leaving black stars in its wake. I staggered, but did not fall to my knees, though the weight of her stare pushed me down with a force greater than gravity. She was light, she was air, she was the sun and moon and all the stars rolled into one. When she smiled, I felt my heart beat in time with hers across the distance between us. “Anwen.” I hadn’t heard her voice in so long; it was rustling leaves and birdsong and every moment of the immortality I’d forgotten. “Your Majesty.” I breathed the title, as familiar to me now as my own name. Before I had looked at her tonight I had not fully remembered, but now the last pieces fell into place. I lived anew every moment we had spent together, the years that had passed without aging us. I recalled all that she had been to me: mother, sister, and something more. “I had thought never again to see you before me, Anwen.” She lifted a delicate hand to my hair and let it glide through her fingers; I leaned into the familiar touch and felt more comforted, more at home, than I had in years. “Are you not angry with me, my Queen?” “Angry? I?” She laughed. “You have been too long in the company of mortals. Have you ever seen me express so hasty, so human an emotion?” I couldn’t help but smile. “No, my Queen. You have never been hasty.” “I wish I could say the same for you.” She gave my hair a gentle tug, pulling my head closer to hers so that she could look more deeply into my eyes. “You left in quite a rush, child.” I felt myself drawing instinctively closer to her. She was fire, and all the world outside was frost-touched. “I could not face you, Majesty.” I slipped my arms around her waist, daring to pull the eldest to me. She bent her back to fit the curve of my rounded stomach, seemingly uncaring of the drastic change to my figure. Our faces were so close now I could almost kiss her summer-soft lips. “Do you forgive me?” “Anwen, I have forgiven you steadily all these years.” I could hear the happiness in her voice as she let her lips drift closer to mine, almost touching; her breath stirred against my chin. “Best beloved…” Her lips came closer still. Just before they met my own, I pulled back from her for a moment as the unsettling thought of Emrys flitted across my mind. It was only a little flinch, but she reacted as though I had struck her; she recoiled from me and retreated to a safe distance as I attempted to steady my breathing. “Why do you turn from me?” she asked, so quietly I had to strain to hear it. It was not a broken, weak quiet, however. It was dangerous. I remembered at once that I stood before a being even older than myself and far more powerful. I glanced down at Gwyn, who sat by my side with an air of amused detachment. The Queen noticed the little look and turned on my companion as if she had noticed him for the first time. “You! What are you doing here?” “I came to watch the show.” He stretched to show his own lack of concern. “You never just watch, whatever you may claim. You were the one that took her from me in the first place!” “I only helped the poor deer out.” He snickered at his own pun, and I glared at him. “If you’re so angry that she left, talk to her about it, not me.” She turned to me once again, and though she claimed to never have been angry her eyes were flashing. “Why did you leave?” “Why didn’t you stop me?” “I thought it was a whim! I thought you would tire of your little mortal toy and come back to me!” I took a step back, but my retreat only made her more irritable. “By the skies, Anwen, you were mine.” The two of us stood regarding one another for a moment, sizing each other up. I was the first to break the silence. “I didn’t think you’d miss me, Majesty.” “Didn’t think I’d-- you!” She made an arrested dart towards me, as if she ached to strike me but valued her dignity more. “Ungrateful brat! I gave you faerie form, Anwen! I taught you the ways of the forest, taught you to tend my deer, treated you as my own daughter!” “You created me, Majesty. Couldn’t you have easily created another?” She smirked. “You knit a child in your womb, Anwen. If I rip it from you, can’t you simply grow its replacement?” I took another step back. If she dared touch the child I’d given up so much for, I might do something truly dangerous. “What do you want with me, Majesty?” “I only want your love, Anwen.” Her demeanor softened. “Come back to me, my darling. We can raise your little mortal child together, you and I. I can extend his life as long as you like, and when you’re done playing mother we can let him return to the mortal world.” I stared at her, speechless at such a suggestion. Steal my Emrys’ child away? Keep the baby only as a sort of plaything? Let all this work and loss go to waste whenever she got bored of my baby? I recognized again how far removed her own ways were from the mortal habits I had kept these five years. Had her callousness once been my own? She mistook my silence for hesitation and took another step toward me. “Leave that dreadful man behind, Anwen. You know how vile the mortals are; they are weak and governed by strange sentiments. Come back to me. Come back to my world, where everything makes sense, where everyone has a place. The human realm will not miss you.” She took my hand, but I snatched it rudely away. “Majesty, I left for a reason. You must have known I wouldn’t cast aside my life here on a whim. I love my mortal life, and I won’t abandon it so easily.” Her brows drew together. If I hadn’t been so angry, I would have regretted my rash words. “You would rather live in filth than surrounded by all the riches the forest can offer you? I gave you love unceasing.” “Love unchanging, unmaturing, love that stagnates into eternity — this is not what I desire, Majesty.” “You’ve grown tiresomely mortal, Anwen.” She turned from me. “Leave me, then. You’ll be back soon enough. When your husband grows old and dies, when your children and their children do the same, when you have watched generations of your descendants turn to dust while you remain unchanged, you will return to me.” She began to walk away, and I felt my thoughts begin to race, searching for any path other than that which she had provided. To return to her stifling love in an unchanging life seemed unbearable now that I had tasted the fleeting sweetness of humanity, but what could I do? Where could I go when Emrys grew old and died before my eyes? When my child had done the same? I would not send myself back into her arms. I reminded myself of the reason I had come. “Majesty!” I called, and she turned her head with a little smile, thinking that she had won. “Majesty, I would beg a favor.” “What would you ask of me, my love?” I took a deep breath. I knew that once I asked for it, I could never take it back. Wouldn’t it be better to simply become her lover once more? But no, I had made up my mind. With a voice that only trembled a little, I said “Take away my immortality.” The whole court froze at those words. Even Gwyn sat up straight and quirked his ears at me. With deliberate slowness, the Queen turned to face me once more. I flinched away from her angry glare. “Do you dare to repeat yourself, Anwen?” “You gave me eternal life, and now I ask you to take it from me. Let me live a normal human lifetime. Let me truly be one of them.” “Does your ingratitude extend so far, Anwen? Do you hate my company so much?” “I have had the benefit of your company almost since the world began, Majesty. Let me now have the joy of another’s.” “You wish me to give you a mortal’s curse? Do you really think you could stand it, Anwen?” She advanced towards me. “To grow older day by day, to have aches and pains in every limb, to grow wrinkled and twisted and blind?” The image she painted was grotesque, but when compared with an eternal life spent always in the same company, I had to admit it did have its charms. With a weak smile that attempted to placate her anger, I said “Yes, Majesty. It seems we immortals truly will do anything for a change of pace.” “Anwen, think! Think of what you ask! You could remain here, with me, young and beautiful forever. What could make you turn away from me?” “Majesty, if I truly wished to stay with you, I would not have chosen to forget my life here.” I saw that she did not understand. “When I left your court, I left my memories by the forest’s edge. I entered fully into the life of a mortal woman. Now that I’ve lived it, I know that my future will be with the mortals, one way or another.” “Your words cut deeply, Anwen.” The Queen folded her arms. “I will not grant your request. Live your years with the mortal man, but when you tire of watching your loved ones die, you will come back to me.” “Would you truly keep me captive to your love?” “You will change your mind eventually. You will be mine again.” “There must be some way—” “If all you intend to do is beg me for death, you should leave and save us both the time.” She smirked. “Your husband is dying by degrees as you loiter here.” I felt myself growing angry. “You must—” “Careful, Anwen.” She found her temper as I lost mine. “There are few beings in the world that could match me for power or will. Do not venture to tell me what I must do. Else I might forget that I love you, and then what might I do?” Beside me, Gwyn gave a delicate little cough. “Do remember, Highness, that she is here under my protection.” She glared at him. “Stay out of this, fox. You overstep your authority.” “Now, now, Highness. My sole purpose is to rein in your power and make sure you don’t throw things out of balance.” He grinned, showing off every glistening fang. True to his fox form, this smile was more threat than friendly gesture. “Don’t forget yourself.” She huffed impatiently. “Very well. But if she has nothing better to do than make absurd requests, you might as well escort her back to her little hovel.” She turned and began to walk away. My last moments with her were passing quickly, and I knew she would not see me again after this until I promised to return for good. What could I do to win a mortal life with my child? I began to grow frantic. Gwyn gave me a sidelong look. “You know this one, Anwen. What do mortals do when they dispute the faerie Queen? You’ve seen it happen a thousand times.” His little hint sparked memories of watching mortals quarrel with my mistress. Whenever one of them wished to win something from her, she would set them trials and they would solve them in clever ways to prove their worthiness. I smiled as I realized that I did, after all, have a way to win my mortality. “I would propose a game, your Majesty.” She grew very, very still at this. “Do you truly wish to try me, Anwen? Think again.” I grew more certain of myself. There was only one request she would always have to honor, and I had made that request. She could not deny me now. All I had to do was find the right terms. “A game, your Majesty, if you please. If you will not let me live a mortal life of your own free will, I will win it from you.” “A game, is it? I’ll give you a game, Anwen.” The only warning I had was a slight tensing of her shoulders. Suddenly I felt myself begin to change, and I realized with horror that I had gone too far. “No! Please, I beg you, I— eeeeeeh!” My throat warped, and my panicked cries stretched into a deer’s keening moan. The rest of me followed so rapidly that I had no further chance of begging her mercy; my hands and feet hardened into hooves, my neck and nose elongated, and a little tufted tail sprouted from my spine. Within moments I stood trembling before her, a deer once more. “If your mate can find you amongst your sisters, I wish you both all happiness.” She turned her head a little and gave me a cynical smile. “But he had best hurry; I think you’re about to give birth.” I shuddered under a sudden contraction and felt my heart grow cold within me. A woman may spend some time in her childbed, but a doe will drop her fawn in under half an hour. I knew that if my baby was born a deer, a deer it would stay, and so would I. I turned, panicked, to Gwyn, expecting him to tell her off, to change me back, to do something. Instead, he merely cocked his head at me. “What is it, little sister? Not the mortal life you had in mind?” I bleated pitifully. Would my only ally now turn against me, too? When he grinned this time, I did not find it comforting -- I found it chilling. It was a predator’s smile. Why hadn’t I noticed before? I took several faltering steps back. “I told you, Anwen, that I am guardian of the balance. When the Queen first changed you, she altered the balance by adding another faerie to the world. Faeries do not die, but neither are faeries born.” He flashed his teeth in another grin, but there was a hint of apology in it. “You will be the first of their number to do either.” I had not known before that deer cried, but the damp stains on my muzzle and the blurring of my eyes told me that this one could. I bleated again, full of pain and fear and doubt. This had never been what I wanted! “Don’t be so upset, Anwen! I’m sure the deer part of you will take over again soon. It’ll be like you were never a faerie at all. Just as it should be.” He seemed to want to genuinely comfort me, but I somehow didn’t feel much better. The little black fox regarded me for another moment, sighed, and turned away. With a swish of his tail, he disappeared into the underbrush. I gradually became aware that the court had vanished, too, faerie gentlemen and all. I was alone in a part of the forest I’d never seen before, and I was giving birth. I hoped there weren’t any predators nearby. Birth is strange. I haven’t fawned before. How odd at my age. Better eat the bloody leaves. Something bad might smell this and find us. Lick the fawn clean, too. How gooey he is! Fawns are as strange as birth, I think. Better lie down again, my legs aren’t working quite right. Lick some more. He’s actually a nice little thing. I like how soft his fur is. I like how he smells like me. Oh! Feeding a fawn is strange too. I’m happy my fawn is eating well. What a good little buck you will be. He is a strange fawn, though. It makes me uncomfortable. His eyes are blue. What deer has blue eyes? And his fur is white, at least around his head and neck. Maybe he will grow out of it. I hope he will grow out of it. A white head would be dangerous. What if something bad sees him and eats him all up? I had better hide him very well. Good thing there are so many bushes here. Maybe I should leave him here. He might make something nasty find me, too. Look at him curl up next to me. Feel him breathe. I think I will keep him after all. I don’t mind being eaten if I can keep my little one safe. Is he sleeping now? I think I will sleep too. I don’t smell or hear anything bad nearby. I just smell and hear this small deer, and myself. I will sleep. Birth makes me sleepy. Stay close fawn. Do not wander. There are things that want to eat you here. There are things that want to eat you everywhere. Things that want to eat me, too. I guess that’s just how things are. I thought I smelled berries near here. Berries would be a very nice treat today. Grass and twigs are getting boring. They fill me up but don’t taste nice. Not as nice as berries. Nothing tastes as nice as berries. What is this? An open space? Stay inside the trees fawn! Never go into open spaces. Anything bad that is nearby can see you clearly. Hold very still. What is this? A very strange clearing. Did someone pile up trees? Why? And why are there so many long grooves in the ground? It looks like a very big rub, but in the earth, and made with something much bigger than antlers. That deer beside the house is very fat. It also does not smell like a deer. What is that smell? Not the fat-not-deer. Different smell. Smells like… danger. Two legs! Bad! Bad! Bad! Run! Fawn, run! I hope the bad thing did not see us. Those are very, very bad. One of them ate my mother. I think. It was a long time ago. Life is strange. Memory is strange. I think that bad thing looked familiar, too. And I felt like I wanted to stay there, or even go up to it and smell it. It smelled bad, but also good? Like a stag you want to be around during rut. And a little like fawn. Wait. I smell the berries again! Fawn, this way! Berries are good and you will be so happy to try them. I will be happy to see you try them. You will love berries. Love? Berries. How big this fawn is getting. There are little antlers on his head. Growing is strange. I hope he will be a good buck. I am glad he is going to be a buck. It means I did a good job. The herd will grow stronger thanks to me. Good for me. I hope the rut will come soon. This fawn is almost too big to be a fawn now. I want a new fawn. A little one. I will teach that one, too, and help that one grow, once this one is gone. I will be sad to see this fawn go, but I suppose that is how things are. A rut will help me feel better, I think. A new fawn will help me even more. I like fawns. They smell good. There is a stag that has been following me and fawn. I think he would like to be here when the rut comes. I am happy to have such a nice stag for the rut. His antlers are very big. He smells very good, almost as good as fawn. But he doesn’t smell quite right, somehow. I don’t know. I need something. I need someone else. None of the stags this rut smell like what I’m looking for. How strange, because they all smell good. Just not right. Not like the stag I need. Do I need a stag? No! I need Emrys! I need! I need to find a safe place to sleep tonight. Fawn is getting bigger, but I still must protect him a little longer. At least until his antlers grow. What is the smell I’m looking for? Smells are strange. Maybe these bushes will make a good nest. Fawn left today. I don’t think he will come back. Fawn isn’t even a fawn anymore. A buck now, big and strong. He will find someone for the rut. Good. I am proud. I hope he will make good, strong fawns like him. Not fawns with blue eyes and white heads, though. It is so hard to hide those kinds of fawns from bad things. I should know, I protected one all growing season. The stag still follows me. He does not smell quite right. I will still let him mount me. It is silly to be too picky about these things. He is a big, strong stag. He will give me good, strong fawns. I don’t need anything else. I wish he smelled like my first stag. Who was my first stag? I can’t… I wish my fawn had not left me. I hope he will be a good stag. Like his father. I hid from the rut. What is wrong with me? I want fawns. I want more fawns! I can’t have fawns if I hide this way! No, I don’t want fawns. I want my fawn. Where is he? Why did he leave? He is grown. It is good for him to leave. It is good for him to make more fine fawns like him. It is the way things are. But he’s not a deer! He’s not a deer at all! He’s! What is he? What am I? Didn’t I have a name? Why am I so alone? It’s not natural, to be alone. I need a fawn. I need a fawn. Ineedafawn. Needafawn. Need. Fawn. Need Emrys. Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I can still find that stag, maybe! Need Emrys. Need fawn. Need, need, need! I am on the edge of that strange clearing again. Why do I keep coming back here? I will not have a fawn this year. I feel so empty. I feel so alone. The bad-but-good thing is there again. I should be afraid. I am not afraid. Will he recognize me? He’s looking this way! I should run. I should not have come back. I don’t see the thing anywhere. Where is the thing? I want to see the thing! I want it! I need it! Where, where, where? Emrys! Where? I should not be outside the trees, but I need to know. I need to find it. I need it to see me. I should never let it see me! It will PAIN. PAIN. PAIN. There is searing in my side, heat and hurt. I bleat in pain, and someone screams their own pain inside my head. What a strange voice it is. What an old voice. I can’t stand up anymore. Why don’t my legs work. The thing is coming this way! I need to run! Why won’t my legs work! Why does it hurt so much? Why can’t I see? Everything is so dark now. Night already? The thing is next to me now. Why are its eyes so much like fawn’s? Why does it look so upset? It has killed me. It has won. “Anwen?” I bleat again as I begin to change. The arrow is still in my side, tearing into my organs anew as I become myself once more. I am in Emrys’ arms, just where I have wanted to be for the past year. I can’t help but smile at that, can’t help but reach up to stroke his scruffy beard. “Emrys,” I breathe, speaking the first word I’ve spoken since the Queen transformed me what feels like a lifetime ago. “Anwen, how? Why? Where have you been?” He keeps asking questions, but they’re blurry and difficult to hear. How odd. I must be dying. In a way, I’ve finally been granted my wish. I always wanted to die at Emrys’ side. How strange fate is. His hands are in my hair now, and his lips are on mine, as if a kiss will keep me from leaving him again. Poor man. He will have so many more questions than answers. I see, through blurred eyes, a little flash of black at the forest border. I hope Gwyn is happy with what he has done to me. I hope he feels the balance is restored. I almost think I see his amber eyes, and see a little bit of regret in them. I can’t see much of anything now. I turn my attention back to Emrys’ face. It seems nice, to have it be the last thing I see. He’s still speaking to me, begging I think, but I can’t hear him. There’s one voice I can hear, though, speaking to me from deep inside but clearly coming from far away. That voice was present at the start of my life, and now it’s here again at the end. How appropriate. The voice of my mother, lover, and friend whispers sweetly “I’m so sorry, my love. Forgive me.” I only wish I could.