couldn't help but notice the eyes upon her. Though bored of mortals for the moment, she was delighted at the attention she detected – and from the regent of the Spring court, no less. She'd heard of him and about him. That he was the last of his own line, because he brought it to an end himself. All because one who carried his lineage dared to fall in love with a mortal.
Not because of something he wanted, but something he didn't.
It was the opposite of desire – Nairth detested
the notion of something so much, that it drove him to slaughter his own kin.
Perhaps it was for the best that she’d not kept close contact with those she'd estranged. Another justification to do so – that and the fact that she just didn't really care for them all that much. All they cared for was their tedious tradition anyway, and she’d long grown bored of those games.
Well, Maphessa hadn't anything to do with that. She was affiliated with desire
, not love
. She liked to see people persue things but didn't care for any actual enjoyment from the object of their desires. That
impeded the process of finding something new to desire. Still, the tale had tickled her nonetheless. Particularly because despite the bloodshed, he had doted on his half-mortal
grandchild, or so she had heard.
Not because of a pact, but simply because that's what the mortals do with their grandchildren. Varys was his lone living grandson. Now that
mystified her. Nairth had slaughtered the fae, only sparing the life of the lone, filthy mortal, of all things. The very same one whose existence had spurred his anger the first place!
It was no fae tradition, yet Nairth willingly upheld it. Heavy is the burden of rulership. Tradition always interrupted the things one wanted to do with the things one was obligated
to. Maphesa reflected on her newly found freedom, and carried little regret about leaving her summer court burdens behind.
“It’s pleasant to see you here, Maphesa. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be laying eyes on you or not.”
Narith spoke, and the statement elicited a smile from her lips. Already treading at a slow pace, she drew to a stop at his words to turn to him and deliver her warm reply.
“Quite the delight to see you join us this Athbhlain, too.”
Replied Maphesa with a smile on her lips and a gesture of her arm towards the mortals behind her, all of whom remained too busy marveling at the colourful bloom she’d conjured to notice.
“I am glad that you have, you look ravishing. Time has gifted you with beauty and grace.”
He replied. Surely the comment was shallow flattery, not that she was one to mind. She rather loved
“Such sweet honesty. How wonderful that the charming King of Spring could take notice.”
Maphesa replied with a long lock of her raven hair twirled around a finger, while a playful smile remained on her lips.