Have
You Ever Imagined What It Would Be Like To Ride The Wind’s Back At
Twilight And Soar Among The Stars And The Glittering Sunset Coloured
Mists As The Rest Of The World Lies Sleeping And Dreaming Beneath
You?
Have
You Ever Dreamed Of Dancing With A Faerie Creature Of Such Blinding,
Ethereal Beauty, To Music So Haunting And Sweet That It Makes Your Very
Soul Cry Tears Of Enchantment And You Feel That You’ll Die If The Dance
Ends And You’ll Die If It Continues?
Have
You Ever Imagined What It Would Be Like To Possess Immortality? The
Memories You Might Create? The Spectacular People You Might Meet And
The Incredible Events You Might Witness? Can You Imagine What It Would
Feel Like To Watch, Un~Changed, Youthful, Beautiful, Magickal, As All
Of Those Whom You Love Age, Grow Ill, And Pass On To The Spirit Realms
While You Endlessly Continue On? The Tragic, Terrible Romance Of What
It Truly Means To Be Immortal?
Have
You Ever Dreamed Of Having The Power To Seduce, To Enchant, To
Completely Bewitch ANYONE That You Desire? Of Having The Sort Of
Un~Earthly Beauty That Legends Are Built Upon? Soul~Shattering,
Otherworldly Beauty Which Men Would Kill Their Brothers In Duels Over
And Women Would Sell Their Souls To Claim As Their Own, Even If Only
For One Single Night ?
Have
You Ever Imagined What It Would Be Like To Sing With A Voice Which
Angels And Birds Can Only Envy? A Voice So Pure, So Achingly Perfect
And Glorious, So Innocently Sweet, Yet Rich And Vibrant As The Colours
Of A Hummingbird In Flight? A Voice Which Haunts Everyone Who Hears It
So That Ever After They Are Never Again The Same As Before? Or To Dance
So Lightly, So Gracefully That You Could Glide Along On A Cobweb Or
Turn Pirouettes On The Surface Of A Forest Lake? To Move With Such
Fragile Delicacy That Even A Swan Looks Clumsy In Comparison?
Have
You Ever Dreamed Of Shifting Shape? Changing Your Appearance At Will?
Gliding Silently Through The Night Sky As A Falcon Or An Owl, The Wind
Barely Rustling Your Wings? Running Swiftly Through The Fragrant Forest
As A Fox Or A Deer? Or Rolling Through The Ocean’s Shimmering
Waves In The Soft And Velvety, Sleek And Shining Body Of A Seal?
The Ability To Make Yourself Small Enough To Sleep Inside An Un~Opened
Rosebud, But Powerful Enough To Have The Elements At Your Command?
Have
You Ever Imagined What It Would Be Like To Remember Life After Life In
Different Times And Places? Lives As Queens And Courtesans, Princesses,
Peasant Maids And High Priestesses, All The Way Back Into The Mists Of
Time? Camelot And Avalon, The Courts Of Henry VIII,
Elizabeth I, Charles II And The Versailles Of Louis XVI And Marie
Antoinette? To Have Been Painted By J.W. Waterhouse, E. Blair~Leighton
And Dante Gabriel Rossetti? Immortalized In Poem And Prose By
Shakespeare, Keats And Byron? To Know That Strauss Was Inspired
To Write “The Blue Danube” After Waltzing With You And Gazing
Into The Depths Of Your Colour~Shifting Faerie Eyes? That Mozart
Created The Role Of “Queen Of The Night” In His Opera “The Magic Flute”
Especially For You, Because Your Voice Was His “Ideal”? To Have
Been There On The Long And Starless Night When The Great Lady, Titanic,
Met Her Death In The Icy Grey Atlantic Depths? To Have Fought The
Romans As A Druid Priestess On Mona, To Have Learned The Secrets
Of The Strega At Lake Nemi In Renaissance Italy And To Have Died By The
Witch~Hunter’s Cruel Hand In Scotland In The Tempestuous 1700’s?
Have
You Ever Dreamed Of The Moon Considering You Her Daughter? The Dryads
Of The Trees Bowing Down To You As You Pass? The Naiads Of
Streams, Lakes And Ponds Singing A Joyous Song In Your Honour Whenever
You Come Near? Wild Animals And Birds Flocking To Follow In Your Wake
And White Trefoil Flowers Springing Up In Your Footprints Wherever You
Walk?
Have
You Ever Imagined What It Would Be Like To Be Able To Travel Between
Worlds? To Spend Half Your Life In The Astral Realms And The Faerie
Courts And Half Your Life In What Mortals Know As “The Waking World”?
To Know That You Have Wings? To Know That Unicorns, Vampires,
Ghosts, And The Pagan Gods And Goddesses Are Very, Very Real Indeed And
That All Of The Old Myths And Legends, The Faerie Tales, Are Really,
Really True? And That They All Exist Today And Could Be Seen If Only
Humankind Would Believe In Them And Open Their Eyes To Allow Themselves
To See?
All
Of This, And So Much More, Is MY Life. My Name Is Wynne, And I’m More
Ancient, And Yet, More Childlike And Innocent, Than You Could Ever
Imagine. I Am A LeananSidhe, Also Known As “The Faerie Mistress” Or
“The Faerie Sweetheart”.
In His Famous Poem, “La Belle Dame Sans Merci” John Keats Wrote Of Me:
“I Met A Lady In The Meads, Full Beautiful - A Faery's Child, Her Hair Was Long, Her Foot Was Light, And Her Eyes Were Wild.”
Some
Would Call Me A Vampire, A Dark, Seductive Faerie Creature Who Sucks
The Blood From Overly Romantic And Beautiful Young Men {Such As
Keats, Shelley, Byron, Mozart And Countless Others} Who Then Burn
Brightly With A Creative Flame Of Poetic And Artistic Glory Only To
Suddenly Plunge Into The Darkness Of Dissipation And Die Young, Leaving
A Pale But Gorgeous Corpse.
This
Is , Of Course, As Many Legends That Have Been Told For Centuries
Are, A Slight Bit Away From The Actual Truth, So I Hope You’ll
Allow Me To Set You Straight! What I Actually Am Is What Might Be
Termed A “Psychic Vampire”. I Thrive On Lifeforce And Creative Energy!
And It’s Quite Easy For Me To Gather Enough Energy To Survive By
Performing And Drawing Upon The Creative Energy Raised By The
Performance And Amplified By The Excitement Of The Audience! No Need
Whatsoever For The Pale And Wan Corpses Of Lovelorn Young Poets To Be
Involved At All!
I
Am Part Of A Septet. A Performance Group, With My Six Half Sisters {All
Different Types Of Faekin, Whom You Shall Be Introduced To Shortly}
We’re Rather Famous As Singer/Dancer/Actresses And Models And Our
Septet Is Called “BeanSidhe’s Wail”. We Perform All Sorts Of Operatic,
Celtic, Pagan, Baroque, And Mediaeval Music And Do Concerts, Videos And
Many Other Creative Things. We Have Clothing And Cosmetics Lines
{Very Gothy And Fae~Ish In Feel} Our Production Company Is Called
“Wikkid Wench Productions” And Our Clothing Line Is Called “Dark Damsel
Designs”. Our Main Fan Base Is Young, Gothy, Glittery~Fae,
Pagan~Minded Girls. We All Adore Performing And Being In The Group, But
Our Real Reason For Being Here, Our True Mission, Is To Keep The
Enchantment Alive. To Bring Back Faerie Magick And Perhaps Make
The Veil Between Faerie And The Waking World A Bit Less Dense. To Get
People To Believe Again. To See The Wonder And Beauty That Is All
Around Them, Albeit Half~Hidden In The Shadows! Our Father Is A
Powerful Celtic/European River God And Our Mothers Were Seven Different
Types Of Faerie Creatures. LeananSidhe, BeanSidhe, Gwragedd Annwn,
Selkie, Vila, Rusalka And Corrigan. We Are Much Like Other Sisters. We
Have Our Rivalries And Our Spats, But We Do Genuinely Love One Another
{Although I Sometimes Wonder About My Sister Oonagh, Who Is A Corrigan
And Inherited That Race’s “Two~Faced”, Dual Nature From Her Mother} And
We Get Along Well For The Most Part. We Spend Much Of Our Time In The
“Waking World” On Septet Business. Escaping Whenever We Can Into
Faerie, And Sometimes Into The Astral To Re~Visit Our Past Lives,
Searching For Ways To Bring The Faerie And Waking Realms Closer
Together Before The Rift Becomes Permanent And We’re Stuck On One Side
Or The Other.
So Much For First Impressions. I’m Wynne, And This Is My Life. Welcome To The World Of “BeanSidhe’s Wail”.
The Announcer’s Voice, Rich And Deep, Spoke Over The Gothic Strains Of
A Bach Fugue Played On A Harpsichord. “Long, Long Ago, In The Mists of
Time, When The Veil Was Drawn Between The Mortal World And The Realms
Of Faerie, The Seven Sisters Of “BeanSidhe’s Wail” Were Given The Task
Of Keeping Faerie Magick And Enchantment Alive In The Hearts And Souls
Of Humankind!” Laser Lights Played Across The Stage In A Myriad Of
Colours. Shooting Star Patterns Representing The Symbols Of The Pagan
Wheel Of The Year And The Elements: Earth, Fire, Air, Water And Spirit
Written On A Midnight Sky In Whirling Elven Runes. “These Seven Faerie
Maidens Have Chosen To Use Their Beauty, Their Grace, Their Gifts Of
Song And Dance, To Carry Out Their Mission! And They Have Come Here
Tonight, At This In~Between Time Of Magick And Mystery, To This Place
Which Is Enchanted To Exist In A Dimension Of Sacred Space, To
Prove To You That Faerie Magick Is Alive And Well, In Them…And In YOU!”
The Crowd Cheered Loudly. The Lasers Took On A Strobe Effect And The
Harpsichord Music Grew Even More Frenzied As The Announcer Continued.
The Seven Girls Each Entered As He Called Their Names. They Wore Sheer,
Gauzy, Feminine, Floor~Length Gowns In A Pre~Raphaelite Style With
Long, Sweeping, Mediaeval Sleeves, Delicate Dancing Slippers In
Matching Shades And Renaissance Inspired Flower Chaplets On Their
Heads, Ribbons Draped Down Their Backs, Mingling With Their Long,
Flowing Hair. “Moira, The BeanSidhe!” She Had Long, Straight
Raven Black Hair, Large Brown Eyes And A Soft, Sad Smile. Her Gown Was
Two~Layered. Misty White And Wedgewood Blue, And Her Chaplet Was Of
Orchids. “Wynne, The LeananSidhe!” She Was Extremely Petite, Softly
Curvy, With Porcelain Doll Facial Features And Thigh~Length Cherrywood
Red Hair In Spiral Ringlets That Seemed Black When She Turned Her Head
One Way Under The Lights, But Glowed Like Fire When She Turned Her Head
In The Other Direction. Her Eyes Were Colour Shifting, Changing From
Pale Grey, To Sky Blue, To Sea Green, To Violet To Silver. Her Gown
Was Midnight Black And Crimson Red And Her Chaplet Was Of Blood
Red Roses. “Cerys, The Gwragedd Annwn!” Her Long, Curly Hair Was
Bright, Gleaming Gold And Her Eyes Were A Brilliant Cornflower Blue.
Her Expression Was One Of Angelic Serenity And Her Gown Was Lavendar
And Soft Moss Green. Her Chaplet Was Of Gardenias. “Marged, The Vila!”
She Was Taller Than The First Three, Willowy And Slender Rather Than
Curvy, Her Long, Straight Blonde Hair Was The Colour Of Sun And Moon
Together And Her Eyes Were Marble Blue. Her Gown Was Deep Forest Green
And Wheaten Gold And Her Chaplet Was Of Cherry Blossoms. “Regan,
The Rusalka!” She Was Also Taller, And Slender. Her Hair Was A
Straight Waterfall Of Deep, Rich, Chocolate Brown With Golden Streaks
And Her Eyes Were The Same Shade, With Golden Flecks In Them. She Had
An Aura Of Mischief About Her. Her Gown Was Peach And Cream Coloured
And Her Chaplet Was Of Lotus Blossoms. “Rowena, The Selkie!” She Was In
The Middle Of The Others, Not Quite As Tall, And Curvier Than The Last
Two, But Not As Petite Or Rounded As The First Three. Her Hair Fell In
Long, Chestnut Brown Spiral Ringlets To Her Hips And Her Eyes Were As
Large And Softly Brown As A Seal’s. She Seemed To Be A Shy And Gentle
Sort, Easily Startled By The Lights And The Crowd. Her Gown Was Seafoam
Green And Sunset Pink And Her Chaplet Was Of Moonflowers. “And Last,
But Never Least, Oonagh, The Corrigan!” She Was Also Petite, With Just
A Hint Of Curviness. Her Hair Was A Straight Mane Of Champagne Hued
Blonde With Darker Golden Streaks, Reaching Her Hips. Her Eyes Were A
Dark And Glittering Sapphire Blue. She Smiled, And It Seemed A Soft,
Dark Little Smile, Not Quite Reaching Up Into Her Eyes, Which Stayed
Intensely Focused On The Other Six Girls Standing On The Stage With
Her. Her Gown Was Burnt Orange And Pale Yellow, And Her Chaplet Was Of
Narcissus Flowers. All Of The Girls Were Extremely Pale. Translucent,
Radiant And Glowing, In An Almost Un~Earthly Way. They Joined Hands And
Curtsied To The Crowd As The Audience Cheered *Huzzah!* And The
Announcer Shouted Excitedly, “Welcome, If You Will, “BEANSIDHE’S WAIL!”
The
Septet Members Began To Separate. The Sopranos; Wynne, Cerys, And
Rowena To The Left. The Altos; Moira, Marged And Regan To The Right.
And Oonagh, The Lone Mezzo, To The Center And A Bit Farther Back Than
The Other Six. Wynne And Oonagh Began To Sing The Celtic Ballad “The
Cruel Sister” While Moira, Marged And Regan Sang Harmony Leaving Cerys
And Rowena To Sing Counterpoint. As They Spun The Tale Of The Dark
Sister Who Jealously Drowned The Fairer One To Steal Her Lover, The
Lighting On The Stage Became An Ethereal Heathery Blue~Grey And A
Pinkish Silver Mist Rolled In, Shrouding The Singers Feet And Ankles In
It’s Tendrils. Wynne’s Pure, High Coloratura Soprano And Oonagh’s Rich
Mezzo Soprano Voices Mixed And Almost Seemed To Compete With One
Another As The Notes Filled The Air Of The Auditorium. Wynne’s Voice
Was Filled With Mingled Innocence And Pain As She Sang, “Oh Sister,
Sister, Let Me Live, And All That’s Mine I’ll Surely Give!” And The
Voices Of Her Sisters Blended Like A Choir Of Songbirds As The
Girls Began To Join In A Circle Dance, Surrounding Oonagh As She Sang,
"Your Own True Love I’ll Have, And More! But Thou Shalt Never
Come Ashore!" The Lyrics Continued, “And There She Floated Like A
Swan. The Salt Sea Bore Her Body On.” Moira Picked Up A Harp And Began
To Play As A Solo Dancer, A Balletic Blonde With Misty Green Eyes Who
Was Especially Close To Wynne And Rowena, And Who Was Called Eliza,
Danced Across The Stage, Through The Mist, In A White And Silver
Sequined *Dying Swan* Ballet Costume, Complete With Tulle Tutu And
Silver Toe Shoes. The Dreamy Atmosphere On The Stage Was Enhanced When
Eliza Vanished Through A Trap Door And A Live Swan Flew Out Over The
Audience {To Be Caught And Put Into It’s Cage By Cordelia, The Girl’s
P.R. Manager} As The Other Septet Members Lifted Wynne Over Their Heads
As If Carrying Her In A Funeral Procession And Oonagh Fell To The
Ground As If She’d Swooned In Shock At The Words, “The First String
Sang A Doleful Sound. "The Bride Her Younger Sister Drowned!” Fa La La
La La La La La La La La La!" The Song Ended And The Lights Went
Out, Plunging The Auditorium Into A Momentary Blackness As Laser Images
Of A Swan And A Harp Swirled Across The Stage.
After
The Performance Ended, Oonagh Headed For The Green Room. Her Eyes
Narrowed In Anticipation As She Passed By The Stands Of Merchandise For
Sale. “BeanSidhe’s Wail” Cosmetics, “Dark Damsel Clothing”, Jewelry,
Temporary Tattoos, Bindi, Photo Books, CDs, DVDs, Even Fashion Dolls
And Soft Sculpture “Backpack Hanger” Dolls Of Each Of The Seven
Sisters. She Quickly Wove An Aura Of Invisibility Around Herself So She
Wouldn’t Be Noticed By The Throng Of Fans Milling About And Just As
Quickly Cast It Away Once She Was Inside The Green Room. {Which Was
Actually Decorated In Shades Of Pink And Lilac Velvet With Silver
Accents} The Green Room Was A Teen~Aged Girl’s Paradise. The Furniture
Was Queen Anne Style, Romantic And Antique. The Carpet Was So Thick
Your Feet Literally Sank Into It And The Lighting Was A Soft Rose Hue.
There Were All Sorts Of Chocolate Treats, Energy Drinks, And Salty
Snacks, A Frozen Coffee Drink Machine, A Dozen Different Types Of
Fruits, Cheeses And PrePacked Salads, Boxes Of Herbal And Chai Teas And
Bottled Water. There Were Pretty Baskets Of Cosmetic And Perfume
Samples Full To The Brim, Photo Books And Fashion Magazines Featuring
The Seven Sisters Were Everywhere And There Was A 75 Inch Flat Screen
Television Playing “BeanSidhe’s Wail” DVDs. A Fragrant Patchouli
Incense Was Burning As Oonagh Slipped Into The Room, Surprising The
Eight To Ten Young Girls Who’d Been Selected For A “Meet And Greet”.
She Smiled Sweetly. Again It Never Quite Seemed To Reach Her Sparkling
Sapphire Eyes, And Spoke In A Melodious Voice, Full Of Charm And
Merriment. “Hello, Girls. I’m Oonagh And The Other Members Of The Group
Should Be Along Shortly.” She Smirked Slightly As The Girls Stifled
Nervous, Excited Giggles. “But In The Meanwhile, I’ll Take You, Two At
A Time, To See Our Private Dressing Rooms And Costume Area.” She Picked
Out The Two Most Vivacious, Pretty Girls And Said, “You Two!
Shall We Go?” The Girls, Both Blondes With Colouring Similar To, But A
Pale Imitation Of, Oonagh’s Own, Followed Her. She Walked Slowly
Down A Dim Corridor And The Two Girls Gasped When She Traced The Shape
Of A Door In The Wall And A Glowing Archway Appeared. Oonagh Winked And
Said, “Don’t Worry, Darlings. It’s All Part Of The Magick!” She Opened
The Door And Shooed Them Into What Appeared To Be A Wall~Less
Room Suspended In Space Among The Black Velvet Sky And Silvery Stars.
Comets Whizzed Past And A Circle On The Floor Of The Room Began To Glow
With A Bright Green Light. Oonagh Handed Each Of The Girls An Amulet,
Celtic Knotwork Of Intertwining Trees And Birds, And Gestured
Them To Step Into The Circle. “Do You Know The Legend Of The Corrigan,
Girls?” She Murmered Sweetly. When They Nodded In Confusion, She
Continued. “The Corrigan Are A Type Of Fae Which Are Gloriously
Beautiful, Eternally Youthful Maidens With Enchanting Voices During The
Night And Hideous, Shriveled, Wizened Old Crones With Raspy, Froggy
Voices During The Day. And They Cannot Break This
Spell Unless A Human Boy Falls In Love With BOTH Sides Of Their Dual
Nature. Ugliness As Well As Beauty! And We All Know How Miserably
Addicted To Physical Beauty Most Young Men Are, Now Don’t We?” The
Girls Nodded Again And Oonagh Purred. “Well, Girls, I’m A Corrigan And
I Haven’t Yet Broken My Spell. Do You Know How Difficult It Would Be
For Me To Perform As A Singer, Actress And Model If I Lost My Voice And
My Beauty And Became An Old HAG During The Daylight Hours?” One Of The
Girls Whispered, “But How Can You Stop It, Oonagh?” The Amulets Began
To Glow With The Same Green Glow As The Circle The Girls Stood Within
And Oonagh Laughed, A Sound Like Crystal Chimes, But Somehow Brittle
And Hollow. “With A Little Help From My Friends, Dear! With A
Little Help From My Friends!” The Two Girls Suddenly Seemed A Bit
Less Vivacious, Less Pretty, Plainer, Drabber, Almost Colourless.
Oonagh Took The Amulets From Them And Said, “There Now, That Didn’t
Hurt A Bit, Did It? “ The Girl Who Hadn’t Yet Spoken Croaked In A Raspy
Voice, “What Did You DO To Us?” Oonagh Tucked The Amulets Into A Red
Velvet Pouch And Slipped It Into Her Bodice As She Chuckled. “Just
“Borrowed” A Bit Of Your Youth And Beauty To Sustain Me Through The
Days! You’ll Be Fine By Morning.” She Pouted A Bit In Mock Sadness,
“Although You’ll Never Be Quite As Pretty Or Quite As Energetic Ever
Again, Poor Things! Too Bad! So Sad! But Trust Me, My
Loves, It’s For A GOOD Cause!” She Opened The Door And Ushered Them Out
Into The Corridor Once Again Before Making The Glowing Archway Vanish
With A Flick Of Her Wrist. “A Very Good Cause Indeed! MINE!” She Put A
Slender White Arm Around Each Girl’s Waist And Whispered Seductively,
“You’ll Both Forget Everything That’s Happened Here Tonight Except For
Meeting Me And How Perfectly Divine And Beautiful I Am! Is That Clear,
Pets?” Both Girls Nodded And Intoned, “Yes. Lady Oonagh!” Oonagh
Rolled Her Eyes And Flagged Down A Passing Security Guard. “These Poor
Girls Are Feeling Ill!” She Said Tersely. “Please See To It That They
Get Home Safely.” And With That, She Flounced Away, Back To The Green
Room, The Amulets Glowing Warm Against Her Breasts.
Wynne
Was In The Dressing Room Area Just Left Of The Green Room. Each Of The
Seven Sisters Had Their Own Personal Dressing Room Setup Which Followed
Them To Whatever Venue They Were Currently Performing At. Wynne’s Was
Very “Gypsyish”. Red And Black Velvet, With A Persian Rug On The Floor.
The Light Was Diffused To A Soft Maroon Due To The Red And Black Silk
Scarves Draped Over The Stained Glass Tiffany Lampshades. There Were
Gilt~Framed Pre~Raphaelite Prints By J.W. Waterhouse And E.
Blair~Leighton On Three Of The Walls And A Tapestry Of The Maiden And
The Unicorn On One Wall. A Spinning Lamp With Stencil Cutouts Threw
Reflected Silver Stars Across Ceiling, Walls And Floor. A Cherrywood
Fainting Couch Upholstered In Red And Black Chinese Floral Satin And
Covered With A Large Fringed Shawl Of Paisley Silk, Nestled In One
Corner. The Antique Rococo Wardrobe And Dressing Table {Covered In
Cosmetics Jars, Perfume Bottles And An Antique Silver Brush, Comb And
Mirror Set} Resided In Two Other Corners And The Fourth Was Taken Up By
A Small Bookshelf Containing Wynne’s Most Precious Books. As She
Entered The Room, Wynne Exhaled Softly And Then Took A Deep Breath,
Inhaling The Scent Of The Rose Incense That Was Burning In The Silver
Dish On Top Of The Small Cherrywood Bookshelf. She Shivered Slightly,
Still Aglow With The Energy She’d Received From The Performance. Energy
Which Her LeananSidhe Nature Needed For Survival. She Quickly Removed
Her Stage Costume, And After Opening The Wardrobe Doors And Peering
Inside, Selected A Copy Of The Gown From Blair~Leighton’s “The
Accolade” In Rose Pink, Crinkled Satin, With A Matching Hooded Cloak
And Slippers. Not Wanting To Bother With Her Hair, She Muttered A Few
Words And Her Long Red Curls Instantly Twisted And Arranged Themselves
Into An Intricate Style Of Renaissance Plaits. Something Was Not Right.
She Could Feel It. With A Puzzled Look On Her Face, Wynne Opened A
Silver, Jewel Encrusted Case On The Dressing Table And Withdrew A Lapis
Handled Silver Dagger. She Used The Dagger To Salute Each Corner Of The
Room As She Twirled Gracefully In A Full Circle. “North, South, East,
West. Earth, Fire, Air, Water.” She Stopped In The Middle Of The Room
And Intoned Softly, “Centre And Spirit”. The Room Took On A Bright
Silver Glow, Tinged With Gold, And An Archway Appeared In The Far Wall.
Wynne Began Walking Towards It, And Was About To Enter The Doorway When
There Was A Knock On The Mundane Dressing Room Door. It Was Cordelia.
“Wynne! Everyone Else Is Waiting In The Green Room! We’ve Got A Meet
And Greet AND A Press Conference About The Renaissance Fayre
Tour! We’re All Waiting For You! MOVE YOUR PATOOKEY, WENCH!” With
A Wistful Sigh And A Longing Glance At The Lush And Gorgeous Faerie
Landscape On The Other Side Of The Glowing Archway, Wynne Grimaced
Slightly And Replied. “I’m Coming, Cordy! Hold Your Horses!” Before
Reluctantly Closing The Faerie Gateway.
The
Meet And Greet Was Over And The Press Conference Was Well Under Way.
Oonagh Was Flirting Shamelessly With A Young Reporter Who Looked Like A
Clone Of Diego Luna And She Seemed More Than A Bit Put Out That He
Directed His Next Question To Wynne. “Wynne, Do You Have A Boyfriend?”
He Flashed Her A Shy Smile And Before Wynne Could Answer, Oonagh Batted
Her Eyelashes At Him And Interjected. “Oh Wynne’s Heart Was Stolen Ages
Ago! Unfortunately They Can Only See Each Other Twice A Year! And It’s
A Shame Too, Because He’s A REAL Prince! Their Relationship Is Just
Like A Faerie Tale! Completely Spellbound, If You Know What I Mean!”
She Smiled Smugly At Her Sister Who Looked As If She’d Just Been Run
Through With A Sword. The Reporter Sensed The Undercurrent Between The
Two And Quickly Changed The Topic, Turning Back To Oonagh. “Errrr…Why
Is It That BeanSidhe’s Wail So Seldom Does Daylight Performances Or
Shoots? Is It A Style Choice On Your Parts?” Regan Flashed Wynne A
Comforting Grin As She Said, “Let’s Just Say That Our Oonagh Isn’t
Always…At Her…”Best” In The Morning!” Which Elicited Merry Giggles From
The Rest Of The Septet. Rowena Took One Of Wynne’s Hands And Moira Took
The Other As Cerys Replied, “And That’s The Understatement Of The
Millennium!” Marged Smiled Brightly At The Adorable Reporter And Said,
“Well, I Don’t Have A Boyfriend!” Which Caused Him To Blush A Bright
Crimson Shade And Stammer A Bit As He Asked Them About Their Upcoming
Tour Of Renaissance Fayres. That Was When Cordy, Looking Sweetly Geeky
In Her Black “BeanSidhe’s Wail” Corset~Laced T~Shirt, Purple Broomstick
Skirt, Doc Martens And Her Blonde/Brown/Red {Depending On Who You Asked
And When} Ambiguously Coloured Hair In Asymetrical,
Anime~Style Pigtails, Spoke Up. “The Tour Will Be Of Major
Mediaeval And Renaissance Fayres On The East Coast And Will Coincide
With The Release Of The Group’s New CD, “Renaissance Fair”. It’s A Play
On Words, You See…Fayre/Fair…As In “Fair Maidens”…” She Stammered A
Bit, Endearingly, And Looked Away, Proving That Even She, In Her
Businesslike Way, Was Not Immune To The Allure Of A Cute Boy. The
Reporter Asked A Few More Questions And Was Invited To An After
Concert Backstage Party For The Following Night. Then Cordy Nodded
Decisively And Said, “I’m Afraid That’s Got To Be All For Now! The
Girls Are Very Tired And Need Their Beauty Sleep!” The Septet Murmered
Their Farewells And Oonagh Sneered A Bit At Cordy As She Brushed Past
Her On Her Way Out Of The Green Room. “Beauty Sleep? As IF! Speak For
Yourself, Cordelia!”
Wynne,
Moira, And Cerys Were Still In The Green Room, Drinking Herbal Tea And
Watching One Of Their Videos Play Quietly On The Huge T.V. Screen. They
Were Joined By Rowena Who Had Brought Eliza With Her, And Wynne Found
Herself Lost In Memories As She Listened To Their Cover Version Of The
Blackmore’s Night Song “Catherine Howard’s Fate”, Thinking Wryly,
“And Just For The Record, I Spelled It *KATHRYN*!”
The Images Floated Across The Screen And She Slipped Back In Time, Into A Past Life As A Doomed Young Queen…
In
The Video, Wynne Was Kathryn Howard’s Ghost. Dressed In A Tudor Gown Of
Shimmering Blue~White, Glittering And Pale Like Andersen’s “Snow
Queen”. She Wore Dark Blue Lipstick. Her Skin, Translucent And Glowing,
Was Dusted With An Icy Blue *Diamond* Body Glitter And She Stood,
Alone, To One Side Of An Ornate Ballroom As Her Six Sisters, All In
Vivid, Jewel Toned Tudor Gowns To Offset Wynne’s Ghostly Whiteness,
Danced La Volta With Six Absolutely Delicious Faerie Boys, Three Blonde
And Seelie, Three Raven~Haired And Unseelie, But All Brought Into The
Mortal Realm Just To Shoot This Video. The Boys Were Dressed In Velvet
Tudor Finery, All Matching The Gown Of Whichever Sister They Were
Partnering And It Was A Glorious Image.
As
Wynne Sang, “Truth Within The Writing Of A Letter, Signed And Sealed
Poor Catherine Howard’s Fate!” Another Faerie Boy, Even Prettier Than
The Others, With Hair In Streaks Of Silver, Gold And Copper, And Eyes
Of Brilliant Green, Appeared On The Other Side Of The Ballroom.
Portraying The Ghost Of Tom Culpepper, Just As Icily White And
Glittering As Wynne, But Holding A Vibrant, Blood Red Rose, He
Walked Slowly, Deliberately Toward Wynne, And The Six Dancing Couples
*Froze* As If Suspended In Time, Leaving The Centre Of The Ballroom
Floor Empty. Tom’s Ghost Took Wynne By The Hand And They Danced La
Volta Gracefully Together In The Centre Of The Ball Room As A Clock
Struck Twelve, Un~Freezing The Other Couples. One Of The Unseelie Boys
Pulled Tom’s Ghost Away From Wynne And Oonagh, In Deep Sapphire Blue
And Ivory, Pulled Wynne Away From “Tom”, Dragging Them Apart. The Blood
Red Rose Fell To The Floor And Moira, In Emerald Green And Gold, Picked
It Up And Held It To Her Cheek, Sadly, As Her Dance Partner, A Blonde
Seelie Fae Who Was A Perfect Contrast To Moira’s Raven~Haired Darkness,
Held Her In His Arms. The Music Swelled As The Song Ended And The Other
Couples Began To Dance Again As Wynne And “Tom” Struggled To Reach One
Another, To No Avail. They Could Not Escape Their Captors. Torn Apart
In Death As They Were In Life…
“Truth Within The Writing Of A Letter, Signed And Sealed Poor Catherine Howard’s Fate!”
The
Memories Were Spinning Before Her Eyes, The Song’s Refrain Haunting
Her. Tom Culpepper. Tamlin. Her Lost Love. One And The Same. How Many
Times Must They Find One Another Only To Be Ripped Away From One
Another’s Arms?
Noticing
Wynne’s Stricken Expression, Moira Said Gently, “You’re Thinking Of
Him. Of Tamlin. Aren’t You?” Wynne Nodded And Cerys Put A Hand On Her
Shoulder. “It’s Not That Long Until Beltaine. And You Can Still Visit
Him, Even If He Won’t Be Able To…You Know…Appreciate It…”
Just
Then, Oonagh Sashayed Into The Room And, Fixing Her Dark Blue Eyes On
Wynne, Announced, “I’m Going To Check Out This Place Called “Sonnets”
Before Going Back To The Hotel. Do Any Of You Want To Tag Along?” Her
Smile Was Ingenuous, Almost Mocking. “It’s A Shakespearian Themed
Club. You Might Enjoy It, Wynne! After All, Shakespeare WAS One
Of Your Boy Toys, Wasn’t He?” Rowena Stood Up, Taking Eliza’s Hand And
Countered, “Oh Just Ignore Her! Let’s All Go And Have Some Fun, Shall
We? I’d Love To Dance A Bit Before Heading Home To Bed!” Everyone
Seemed To Be In Agreement, And Oonagh Laughed As She Reached The Door,
Calling Back Over Her Shoulder With A Smirk, “Meet Me Outside In
Fifteen Minutes. I’ll Have A Car Ready! Oh! And Rowena, It’s A Bit
Chilly, Dear! You Might Want To Bring A Wrap! Something Furry! SEALSKIN
Perhaps?” She Was Gone Before Rowena Could Respond And Cerys Rolled Her
Eyes In Disgust. “The Tragic Thing Is That She REALLY Thinks She’s
Funny! ” The Sisters And Eliza Shared A Giggle And Headed Off To
Get Changed For The Club.
Back
In Her Dressing Room, Wynne Quickly Changed, Yet Again, Into A Pale
Pink, Midriff~Baring BabyDoll T~Shirt With Glitter
Lettering Reading “Shalt Thou Compare Me To A Summer’s Day?” On The
Front And Underneath, In Smaller Letters, “HELL Yes, Thou Shalt!
If Thou Wisheth To Live Unscathed!” And An Ankle~Length Pink And Silver
Lace *Gypsy* Peasant Skirt Studded All Over With Silver Pearls And Pink
Ice Crystals. She Added Silver Ghillies {Irish Step~Dancing Shoes} With
Pink Ankle Ties, Silvery~Pink, Shimmering Body Glitter And Pulled
Her Scarlet Mass Of Ringlet Curls Into Two “Little Girl” PigTails Tied
With Pink Satin Ribbons. The Final Touch Was A Pink Ice Elven Star
Bindi On Her Forehead. Now That She Was Ready To Join The Others She
Realised That She Had A Moment Before She Needed To Leave, So She
Quickly Opened The Jeweled, Silver Case On Her Dressing Table And
Retrieved The Lapis Handled, Silver Athame. She Repeated Her Spin,
Called The Directions, The Elements, And Sighed As The Glowing
Archway Into Faerie Appeared Yet Again. Quickly, She Raced Through The
Door, Finding Herself In A Wooded Clearing At Sunset. She Heard The Cry
Of A Hawk And Saw The Bird Whirling Overhead. It Was A Magnificent,
Pure White Hawk With Brilliant Green Eyes. Obviously A Creature Of
Faerie Magick. It Went Into A Dive, Swooping Ever Closer To Wynne, Who
Held Out Her Arm. The Hawk Lighted Gently On Her Wrist And Began
Immediately To Nuzzle Her Cheek With Its Beak And Preen Her Curls,
Nipping At Her Ear With What Seemed To Be Affection And
Adoration. It Hopped Slightly, Adjusting Its Balance And Flapped
Its Wings Once Or Twice As Wynne Walked Gracefully To A Forest Pool,
Reflective In The Moonlight. She Gazed Down Into The Water, Seeing Not
Her Pink Glittery Ensemble And Pigtails, But Herself In Her Full
LeananSidhe Glory, Dressed In Red And Black Silk With A Full~Length
Velvet Hooded Cloak. She Exhaled Slowly, Seeing Not The Hawk, But A
Vision Of A Faerie Prince, With Hair That Was Streaks Of Spun Gold,
Silver And Copper Tumbling About His Shoulders. A Prince Who Slept,
Eternally, Like Endymion Beneath Selene’s Silver Light. A Prince With
Lips Like Honey~Meade And Eyes That She Knew Were The Most Translucent
And Brilliant Green Behind His Closed Lids. Wynne Bit Her Lip In
Frustration As She Stood Up Straight And Raised Her Arm, Setting The
Hawk To Flight. She Murmered, “Farewell For Now, My Love! My Tamlin! I
Shall Never Give Up Hope Of Lifting This Terrible Curse!” The Image Of
The Sleeping Prince Rippled And Vanished And She Walked Slowly Back
Through The Archway, Closing It After Her And Putting The Athame Back
On Her Dressing Table. Marged Knocked On The Dressing Room Door, And
Opened It Before Getting A Response. “Are You Ready? We’re All Going!
Even Cordy’s Been Tempted!” She Smiled And Her Blue Eyes Were
Concerned. “Are You Alright, Wynne? You Smell Of Faerie!” Wynne Nodded.
“Yes, Darling! I’m Fine!” She Wiped Away A Small Crystalline Tear And
Quickly Grabbed A Delicate Pink Battenburg Lace Shawl Embroidered With
Silver Thread, Slipping It Over Her Narrow Shoulders. “I Just Felt A
Sudden Chill!” She Put Her Arm Around Her Vila Sister’s Slender Waist
And They Left The Room, Closing The Door Behind Them.
Marged
And Wynne Caught Up To The Others In Front Of The Auditorium. All
Nine Girls; The Seven Sisters, Plus Eliza And Cordelia Piled Into The
White Mini~Cooper Stretch Limo With The Red Convertible Top, Down, Of
Course, Which Oognah Had Procured. Cordelia Drove, And As They Rolled
Out Of The Parking Lot, Regan Quipped, “Fabulous Wheels, Oonagh! Huzzah
For The BeanSidhe Mobile!” The Others Chorused “Huzzah!” It Was A
Clear, Star~Filled, Chilly Night. The Moon Was Full And A Breeze Rushed
Over Them As They Headed Onto The Highway In The Direction Of The
Restaurant. Cerys Began To Sing, And Within Moments, The Entire Septet
Was Giving An Impromptu Performance Of “Lady Marmalade” From “Moulin
Rouge”. The Sight Of Them All Together, In The Mini Cooper Limo,
Singing, Was Enough To Cause An Eighteen Year Old Boy Who Was Driving
Past Them, To Become So Distracted, That He Swerved Off The Side Of The
Road Onto The Verge, Causing Regan To Laugh Wildly As Moira
Playfully Blew Him A Kiss. Oonagh Leaned Out, Dangerously Far, Over The
Back Of The Car, Hair Streaming In The Wind, And Shouted, “In Your
DREAMS!”
“Sonnets”
Was A Huge, Tudor Style, Half~Timbred Manse Located In A Beautifully
Landscaped, Woodland Area Quite Far Off The Highway. It Was Brightly
Lit, And Marvellous Elizabethan Music Was Floating Out From The Doors
And The Leaded Glass Windows. Cordy Drove Up To The Valet Area And
Handed Over The Keys To The Attendant As The Others Climbed Out Of The
Car And Linked Arms To Walk Through The Fragrant Elizabethan Knot
Garden Towards The Front Entrance Of The Restaurant. Moira Took Wynne’s
Hand And Whispered, “This Is A Beautiful Place, But Gods Does It
Un~Earth Some Memories Better Left Buried! Leave It To Oonagh!” They
Stepped Through The Doors And Were Greeted By The Spectacle Of A Tudor
Great Hall, In All of Its Legendary Glory. Much Like The One At Hampton
Court Palace. Gleaming, Gilded, Carved Wooden Ceilings, Fantastic
Murals Of Gods, Goddesses, Angels, Mythical Beasts, Maidens, Knights
And Cherubs Painted On The Walls, Torches Burning Brightly. There Was A
Sweeping, Grand Staicase With A Carved And Gilded Bannister Leading To
The Upper Floors, And At The Far End Of The Great Hall, A Small~Scale
Reproduction Of The Three Sided Thrust Stage Of Shakepeare’s Famed
Globe Theatre. As They Entered, They Were Greeted By A Couple
Flawlessly Portraying Young Queen Elizabeth I And Her Lover, Robin
Dudley. “Welcome To “Sonnets”, Fair Maids Of The Faerie Glens!” Said
Lord Dudley Smoothly. “Pray Permit Me To Escort You And My Incomparable
Queen’s Majesty On A Processional About Our Small Domain?” He Offered
An Arm To His Elizabeth, Who Nodded Graciously, And The Other To
Cordelia, Who Was Quickly Jostled Out Of The Way By Oonagh, Who Claimed
The Handsome Young Actor’s Arm And Purred Up At Him, “We Would Be
Delighted, Good Sir!” While Batting Her Dark Blue Eyes And Fluttering
Her Golden Lashes. A Bit Startled, At Her Overt Manipulation, And
Obviously Flustered By Her Fae Beauty, He Stammered A Bit And
Responded, “The…Pleasure…Is All Mine, Fair Lady!” Moira Rolled Her Eyes
In Wynne’s Direction And Quietly Fell To The Back Of The Group,
Observing The Visual Feast Around Them.
Dudley
Continued To Speak, An Excellent “Tour Guide”, As They Walked,
Exploring The Different Themed Areas Of The Restaurant. There Was An
Opulent Egyptian “Antony And Cleopatra” Room. The Servers Were All
Dressed As Sexy Egyptian Slaves And From A Raised, Platform, Marc
Antony And Cleopatra Presided Over The Entertainment, Exotically Garbed
Belly Dancers And Acrobats. There Was A Twilight Hued Enchanted
Forest Straight Out Of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” Complete With Pastel
Coloured Mist And Twinkling Faerie Lights Everywhere. The Woods Were
Inhabited By Faerie Servers And Oberon, Puck And Titania Told Diners
About Their Various Schemes And Plans To Meddle In The Affairs Of
Mortals {Which Of Course Elicited Lots Of Giggles From The Seven
Sisters} The “Prospero’s Island” Area Actually Had Streams And Brooks
Running Through The Room. There Was Even A Small Pond. There Were
Sirens, Mermaids, Water Sprites And Naiads Dancing , Singing And
Cavorting In The Water, Mischeviously Playing Tricks On The
Diners Who Were Watched Over By Prospero, Miranda And Ariel. The Garden
Area Was “Julius Ceasar” Themed. Sexy Servers In Roman Chitons And
Togas, And Living “Statues”, Actors And Actresses In Convincing
Body Paint, Who Every So Often Became “Animate” And Interacted With The
Diners In Amusing And Mischevious Ways. Their Final Stop Was The
Renaissance Italian Themed “Verona” Of “Romeo And Juliet”. There Was A
Central Plaza With An Ornate Fountain, Surrounded By Facades Of The
Montague And Capulet Villas. There Were Swordfighting Montagues And
Capulets, Street Singers Performing Renaissance Love Ballads, And The
Wait Staff Were Dressed As Either Montague Or Capulet Servants. In The
Central Square, Romeo And Juliet Lay In State Upon A Stone Bier, Strewn
With Flowers, Dressed In Their Wedding Clothes And Beautiful In
“Death”. Robin Dudley And Queen Elizabeth Led Them All Up A Winding,
Circular Staircase To A Sumptuous, Baroque Chamber That In Many Ways
Resembled An Opera Box Or Sky Box. They Had A Breath~Taking,
Panoramic View Of The Entire Restaurant. “This Is Our Private V.I.P.
Room.” Said The Young Actor. “It’s called “Juliet’s Balcony” And We’d
Be Very Pleased For You To Dine Here, Ladies.” There Was A Large,
Polished Mahogany Table, With Huge Silver Candleabra On Either End, And
Throne~Like, Blood~Red Leather Upholstered Chairs. The Room Was
Attractively Lit By Torchlight And There Was Even A Quartet Of
Musicians Playing Lively Elizabethan Music From A Curtained Alcove To
The Right. A Young, Gypsy Dark Waiter With Curly Hair And Flashing
Eyes, Dressed As A Renaissance Era Pageboy, Entered With A Tray Full Of
Frosty Pewter Goblets Filled With Honey Meade. Wynne Took One From Him.
Almost Absently, Noticing The Admiration, Almost Bewitched
Befuddlement, In His Large Brown Eyes. He Smiled Shyly At Her And Said,
“Looking At You Makes Me Want To Burst Into Song Or Write A Poem In
Your Honour, But Nothing I Wrote Could Ever Do Your Beauty Justice!” He
Blushed, Embarrassed By His Fervant Outburst, And Bowed, Almost
Dropping His Meade Laden Tray. Wynne Smiled At Him Sweetly And Said
Gently. “You Look Like An Aspiring Musician. Are You?” He Nodded.
“Actually I Am! My Name Is Mason, Milady.” The Dazed Expression Had
Spread From His Eyes To His Smile, Which Was Ear To Ear. Wynne
Touched His Shoulder And Whispered, “I Think You’ll Finally Be Able To
Write That Song That’s Been Haunting You Now, Mason!” She Brushed A
Chaste Kiss Across The Boy’s Forehead And Said, “For Luck.” He
Gasped, As If He Were Almost Afraid To Draw Breath, Lest This Magick
Should End, And Wynne Gently Turned Him Toward The Rest Of The Sisters,
Eliza And Cordy, All Of Whom Were Soon Served Goblets Of Meade As
Mason’s Eyes AND Smile Grew Bigger And Brighter With Each New Lovely
Maiden In Turn. As He Backed Out Of “Juliet’s Balcony” He Muttered,
“The Guys Are NEVER Going To Believe THIS! And I Don’t Even CARE!”
Oonagh Sidled Over To Wynne, Who Was Standing With Moira And Cerys,
Looking Out Over The Sights And Spectacle Of The Restaurant And Said,
“Whyever Did You Let HIM Get Away, “O Faerie Mistress”? He Was
Delicious! I Wouldn’t Have Tossed Aside A Pretty Toy Like That If I
Were You, Wynne! After All, It’s Rather Difficult To Make Love To A
HAWK, Isn’t It? And Honestly, Why You Haven’t Given Up On Him AGES
Ago Is Beyond Me!” Moira Shot Oonagh A Black Look And Cerys
Hissed “Mind Your Tongue, Corrigan!” Wynne Merely Looked Oonagh
Straight In The Eye And Said, “Because, “Cruel Sister”, I’m NOT Like
You!” She Shook Her Head Sadly, Took Moira And Cerys By The Hands And
Led Them Away, Singing Softly, “She Walks In Beauty, Like The Night, Of
Cloudless Climes And Starry Skies. Wantonness Is Her Delight. She
Kisses Boys And Makes Them Cry!” “Damned Bloody Right I Do!” Oonagh
Shot Back. “Weaklings!” She Downed Her Meade And Perched Upon A Leather
Chair, Arranging Her Burnt Orange Taffeta Petticoat {Worn As A Skirt}
Artistically, And Flicking Her Long Fall Of Shimmering Golden Hair Over
Her Shoulder.
The
Actress Portraying Queen Elizabeth I Cleared Her Throat And Spoke. “It
Is A Rare Occasion When We Are Graced With The Presence Of Guests
Having Such Celebrity Status As Yours, Ladies. Therefore, We Would Be
Most Honoured If You Would Accept Your Revels And Feasting Here This
Night As The Gift Of The Sovereign And The House!” “Dudley” Chimed In.
“So Speaks The Queen!” The Sisters Nodded In Gracious Acknowledgement
And “Elizabeth” Continued. “HOWEVER, We Do Realise That Your Special
Talents Would Be Most Appreciated By Ourselves, And Others Of Our Noble
Guests, And We Would Request That After Your Own Meal Has Been Finished
And Cleared That You Might Take The Stage At Our Globe Theatre In The
Great Hall And Indulge Us With A Small Performance?” “Well, Well,”
Oonagh Laughed Merrily, “A Royal Command Performance!” Regan Curtseyed
To The Queen And Said, “Absolutely, Majesty! If I May Claim A Dance
With Lord Dudley Later!” Lord Dudley Seemed Quite Amused When The Queen
Nodded And Agreed. “So Be It! But I Warn You, Mistress! No Fae Trickery
Or I Shall Have My Court Magician Exorcise You Straight Back To
Elphame!” There Was Laughter All Around And The Sisters Looked To
Cordelia For Confirmation That It Was Alright For Them To Give A
Performance After Their Meal. She Nodded Her Assent And Dudley Seated
Each Of The Sisters, Cordelia And Eliza In The Comfortable Overstuffed
Leather Chairs. Oonagh Had Already Seen Fit To Claim The Head Of
The Table. Queen Elizabeth Clapped Loudly, Calling “Let The Fete
Commence!” She Took Dudley’s Arm And Smiled Up Into His Handsome Face.
“Come, Robin. We Must Continue To Greet Our Guests And Prepare The
Stage For Our Faerie Entertainers!” They Glided Regally From The
Private Dining Room As Several Pages And Maids Entered To Serve A Feast
Fit For A Covey Of Queens. Mock Turtle Soup In Steaming Silver Tureens,
Partridge Stuffed With Mushrooms And Quail’s Eggs, Pokerounce
{Honey And Pine Nuts On Toasted White Bread} And Poached Pears In
Burgundy Glace. Wynne Found Herself Remembering Other Feasts. Feasts In
Real Castles. Hundreds Of Years Ago. She Remembered Being Isabeau De
Hever, One Of The Two Beautiful Daughters Of Hever Castle In Kent,
England, In The Early 1100’s. And Presiding Gracefully Over Her
Father’s Table After Her Lady Mother’s Death. Deeply In Love With Her
Chosen Knight, And He With Her, Until Her Cruel Sister, Margaret, Acted
Upon Her Selfish Desire For Wynne’s Beloved, Resulting In Wynne’s
Murder At Their Abusive Father’s Hand. She Remembered Being A
Queen, The King’s “Rose Without A Thorn” Pampered And Petted By
All. That Is, Until Her Fall From Grace. Until She Was Stripped Of Her
Finery. Condemned And Executed For The Horrible Crime Of Being Young,
Passionate, And In Love.