Some things about being queen of a Solstice Court never changed. There were cases to preside over and judgment to be passed. There were political maneuvers veiled as urgent business and half-truths spoken with candied smiles. There were endless hours of paperwork and foreign affairs and military updates. Her days seemed endless, and so was the work. To say Mab had grown bored with the whole routine was an understatement.
Yet, she was bound to it. Mab could not leave her underworld city, even on the rare occasion she wanted to. Social invitations amassed alongside the concerning reports from her generals. Things were happening. The world was changing. Terrible things were beginning.
So, with few opportunities to escape, she whittled away sleepless and dreamless nights with visits to friends. Mab haunted Cee’s dreams most regularly, an invasion that was welcomed and loved. They lounged at faraway scenic parks, nibbled delicacies that only existed in dreams, and gossiped and laughed to make up for the years they’d been apart. Mab drifted through Ruosin’s colorful dreams, riding unicorns on puffy pastel clouds and training to be knights under the tutelage of the Erlking and his friends, the fierce dragon race – an unlikely team that amused her. She no longer visited the Erlking himself, since she so loved to exasperate him. She tagged along on all sorts of silly and dramatic adventures with her friends.
Tonight, however, she had planned for a long journey to a dreamer far from Underhill.
Mab was dressed in her dreaming clothes as she left her rooms for her private garden. She wore comfortable, loose robes that would be warm without becoming sweltering as she meditated. Walking carefully along the stone pathway and crossing a narrow bridge that arched over the still surface of the pond, she arrived at the island pergola at the garden’s center. Wards shielded the open-air sanctuary from the noise of Underhill, leaving only the quiet of the pond, the birds, and the wind. The Maw yawned over this part of the palace. From her garden, Mab could see out into the mountainous forests, the fog rolling between mountains, and the icy northern sky.
Inside the pergola was an array of cushions and pillows. Blankets were neatly folded or haphazardly strewn across mounds where she’d left them. By the bridge was a single surface, where staff had left a carafe of clean, cool water. Otherwise, the space was hers, inviolable.
Mab fussed with her nest until she was comfortably sprawled. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and let her mind quiet as she began to meditate.
Wulren was, as expected, an easy target. His mind was well-guarded, as expected from the retired Hound. He was more intelligent than her peers gave him credit for, placated by his boyish charms and coarse manners. Mab was not fooled. She’d spent enough time in his company during his Wild Hunt years to know his family’s budding Court was a powerful ally waiting to be formalized.
With wicked delight, Mab spun a dream and waited for Wulren to sleep. When at last she felt his dreams stirring, she took a mental step to the side, she slid into his dreaming mind as if invited. Because she had been invited. Wulren had extended the invitation himself. How had their exchange gone?
“As for our next soiree, you are of course more than welcome to share our halls. It'd be quite a pleasure to welcome you into our home," Wulren said.
“A pleasure, indeed. I shall endeavor to call at your earliest convenience," she had replied.
It was now convenient to visit.
Mab whispered with magick and let Wulren’s mind build the scene. A tavern you enjoy, she instructed his subconscience. Mab has finally come to visit.
A barstool popped up first, offering her a lovely spot to observe as Wulren’s dream built itself around her. With a giddy kick of her feet, Mab waved her hands over herself and fashioned an ensemble more suited to the occasion. She donned black trousers and sturdy boots fit for travel and gods-knew-what Wulren's imagination might summon. She wore a loose linen blouse with puffy sleeves and a short, embroidered vest. Her streaming hair was tied back and flowed behind her in a single, oily tail beneath a fun, wide-brimmed hat with an exquisite red feather that complimented the folk embroidery on her vest.
This was already promising to be a great time. Now all that remained was to wait for Wulren to complete the dream and arrive. Mab waited with rare excitement in her silver eyes.
Yet, she was bound to it. Mab could not leave her underworld city, even on the rare occasion she wanted to. Social invitations amassed alongside the concerning reports from her generals. Things were happening. The world was changing. Terrible things were beginning.
So, with few opportunities to escape, she whittled away sleepless and dreamless nights with visits to friends. Mab haunted Cee’s dreams most regularly, an invasion that was welcomed and loved. They lounged at faraway scenic parks, nibbled delicacies that only existed in dreams, and gossiped and laughed to make up for the years they’d been apart. Mab drifted through Ruosin’s colorful dreams, riding unicorns on puffy pastel clouds and training to be knights under the tutelage of the Erlking and his friends, the fierce dragon race – an unlikely team that amused her. She no longer visited the Erlking himself, since she so loved to exasperate him. She tagged along on all sorts of silly and dramatic adventures with her friends.
Tonight, however, she had planned for a long journey to a dreamer far from Underhill.
Mab was dressed in her dreaming clothes as she left her rooms for her private garden. She wore comfortable, loose robes that would be warm without becoming sweltering as she meditated. Walking carefully along the stone pathway and crossing a narrow bridge that arched over the still surface of the pond, she arrived at the island pergola at the garden’s center. Wards shielded the open-air sanctuary from the noise of Underhill, leaving only the quiet of the pond, the birds, and the wind. The Maw yawned over this part of the palace. From her garden, Mab could see out into the mountainous forests, the fog rolling between mountains, and the icy northern sky.
Inside the pergola was an array of cushions and pillows. Blankets were neatly folded or haphazardly strewn across mounds where she’d left them. By the bridge was a single surface, where staff had left a carafe of clean, cool water. Otherwise, the space was hers, inviolable.
Mab fussed with her nest until she was comfortably sprawled. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and let her mind quiet as she began to meditate.
Wulren was, as expected, an easy target. His mind was well-guarded, as expected from the retired Hound. He was more intelligent than her peers gave him credit for, placated by his boyish charms and coarse manners. Mab was not fooled. She’d spent enough time in his company during his Wild Hunt years to know his family’s budding Court was a powerful ally waiting to be formalized.
With wicked delight, Mab spun a dream and waited for Wulren to sleep. When at last she felt his dreams stirring, she took a mental step to the side, she slid into his dreaming mind as if invited. Because she had been invited. Wulren had extended the invitation himself. How had their exchange gone?
“As for our next soiree, you are of course more than welcome to share our halls. It'd be quite a pleasure to welcome you into our home," Wulren said.
“A pleasure, indeed. I shall endeavor to call at your earliest convenience," she had replied.
It was now convenient to visit.
Mab whispered with magick and let Wulren’s mind build the scene. A tavern you enjoy, she instructed his subconscience. Mab has finally come to visit.
A barstool popped up first, offering her a lovely spot to observe as Wulren’s dream built itself around her. With a giddy kick of her feet, Mab waved her hands over herself and fashioned an ensemble more suited to the occasion. She donned black trousers and sturdy boots fit for travel and gods-knew-what Wulren's imagination might summon. She wore a loose linen blouse with puffy sleeves and a short, embroidered vest. Her streaming hair was tied back and flowed behind her in a single, oily tail beneath a fun, wide-brimmed hat with an exquisite red feather that complimented the folk embroidery on her vest.
This was already promising to be a great time. Now all that remained was to wait for Wulren to complete the dream and arrive. Mab waited with rare excitement in her silver eyes.
|| Wulren ||
