《· of fluttering secrecy ·》

～·～·～

196 years later,

The maiden stood against the lone tree—a gloved hand for balance, the other wielding a wooden sword. A whisper breathed the evening's autumn air against the salty beads of moisture on her neck. It brought much relief to the adrenalin filling her body like a steamed bath in waiting. Energy kept her muscles eager for more, so too, the light chuckle breathing out her amusement.

It didn't go unheard.

"Alyria. . . are you trying something?" questioned the wary voice of her older sister, Audrey. A wariness that kept her footsteps cautious.

Alyria secretly grinned whilst she innocently replied, "Of course not."

Audrey drew closer. Too close. Sword gripped in hand, Alyria spun around with an effortless swing that saw two swords clashing with might. Audrey gasped in fright. The sword flew, stunning its wielder long enough for Alyria to seize the opportunity. She dove sideways, rolling on her back to steal the discarded sword. Using the momentum, Alyria righted herself back onto her feet. Audrey could only gawk in surprise as her sister crossed the swords against her neck.

Mischief curved the maiden's lips into a devious grin as she relished in her sister's defeat. "Why would I dare such a thing, Reeree?"

Her sister responded with an eye roll, swatting the swords away like bugs in her face. "I don't see your thrill in playing swords, sister. It isn't fun."

Alyria chuckled, lowering one sword to her side while the other rested against her shoulder. "Of course, it doesn't thrill you, Reeree. You're losing."

"No," Audrey huffed. "You're just cheating."

"And you're gullible enough to fall for them."

"Ha! You don't deny it!"

Alyria only grinned that much more. "Neither do you."

A furrow knitted Audrey's brows like a quill's fine strokes creasing together. Alyria knew the look well. For it, she offered the sword from her shoulder, watching in twinkling amusement as Audrey glared at it; arms crossed tightly, and childish annoyance twitching her eyes. Alyria had her sister at a crossroads.

"I am not gullible," Audrey grumbled, then conceded by snatching the wooden stick. "I'm merely concerned."

Alyria rolled her eyes, effortlessly blocking Audrey's sudden swipe for her shoulder with a vertical counter. "Concerned for what, dear sister?"

She twirled around, arching her sword out for a swift cut that Audrey barely worked to block. Alyria sharply twisted her wrist, seeing fit to the sword playfully smack Audrey's backside. A surprise gasp left Audrey stumbling around with a careless, but strong swipe which pulled Alyria back with amusement.

"Surely the concern doesn't lay in your poor swordsman skills?"

Audrey groaned, "Why must you always seek to torment me, sister?"

"I recall doing no such thing."

"Oh? Is that why we play swords in avoidance of what needs to be discussed?" Audrey mused, ready to strike at a moment's opportunity.

The words threw Alyria off guard. "What?"

Audrey saw it. She eagerly struck, but Alyria saw that coming and effortlessly leaned back on her leg to dodge the vertical slash that would've seen her smacked over the head. Alas, the maiden didn't retaliate, for her gaze dropped, realising her sister's true motives.

Audrey read her sister's change in demeanour and she too, paused with reluctance. "Ria. . . your birthday is less than a week away. Twenty-five autumns, and yet you're still without even a suitor."

There it was, the words of berated irritation from the last few years.

A sigh released disappointment from her lips, and Alyria lowered her sword. Of course. Why did I believe any different? She teased Audrey for being the gullible one when in truth, it was her. She was the fool for not suspecting an ulterior motive behind Audrey's final cave to her pestering for sword practice. There was always a reason for two sisters to accompany each other. Never to just be sisters.

"Alyria," Audrey called, the firm tone of a mother. "You should have known this was coming."

Alyria did suspect such. She knew her ringless finger was a conversation to be had, one in which avoidance had triumphed every spare moment of her days. Errands to the bakery, horse riding with Mr. Payne, reading chapters down past the mill. Such a bustled schedule she had, far too crowded for a trivial talk of honour and marriage.

However, it would be a lie to say it didn't weigh on her mind. Most women would have already been betrothed before their femininity even began blossoming, much less the arrival of their sixteenth birthday.

Alyria was nearly nine years late only because her mother allowed the generosity to pick herself.

Although she wasn't the only maiden without a husband, her tally of suitors was nothing short of impressive. She had plenty fall to their knees, make the grandest of gestures, tell of promised prosperity, yet she found the appeal in none. To them, Alyria was merely an arable field, apt for fertilisation of one's seed sullied.

"Alyria."

The maiden huffed, turning to face her awaiting sister with a fire of defiance in her eyes. Until the time called upon a bride, Alyria would continue to reject all audacious enough to court her hand—against her family's wishes, and especially against her mother's, who most likely sent Audrey out on a gullible game of swords.

"How many times must we tire this conversation?" Alyria finally asked in exasperation, brushing her gloved hand upon the uneven terrain on her sword. There was a splinter yet to be plucked. "I see no thrill in playing housewife to a drunken orge."

"Do not try to twist and use my words against me, sister."

"I am not. I'm merely proving a point. You do not like swords, and I do not like marriage," Alyria replied as a matter of fact.

Audrey, being older, remained silent for a moment before taking her approach. The maiden eyed her carefully, watching her drop the sword and clasp soft hands on the maiden's shoulders. A gentle squeeze told of the earnest emotion that glossed wholly through Audrey's eyes—the colour of matured, golden wheat one would harvest on a summer afternoon, bright against her fair skin, yet warmed by the waves of her chestnut hair breezing down her back.

A striking contrast to Alyria's own features.

"Sister, what you hope for is love. The kind which is only told in fairy tales."

"And yet it's a wonder I read plenty so," Alyria snarked.

Audrey rolled her eyes. "Hush, already, before your sarcasm scares the horses."

Alyria sighed once again, the jest going without its hilarity. "Have you no desire for something more than a loveless marriage, Ree?

Audrey shrugged. Her beauty, although still unblemished, had grown sunless over the years from the likes of her husband. "He was my first suitor to promise me wealth and he's well respected. But of course, I didn't love him—a stranger—at first."

You speak nothing of love now. Where has it gone? Did it ever flourish? Knowing the type of man she married, Alyria wisely thought not.

She brushed her sister's misguided affection off, turning to toss her sword about in a careless manner. Whipping thuds came from the blades of grass which she lashed upon, annoyance being satisfied.

"I will not marry below my standards, Audrey. These men care only for their pride and ale, and boast such degrading comments to fatten their fragile pride so."

Audrey tsked in disapproval. "Sister, if Mother were here she would scowl at such words. You know it makes her ill."

"But, of course, sister," Alyria exclaimed, sickly sweet. "Let us not forget about mother's expectations to wed us to a man claiming O, how brave, O, how noble he is whilst he slaughters in different regions to claim prosperity. The very wealth to buy one's hand in marriage."

It was a snide remark toward Audrey's husband, yet Alyria felt no remorse. She did not approve of a man who saw fit to lay hands on the woman he called wife.

The accusation was lost on Audrey as her urgency pressed the distance between them. "Alyria, please. Do you hear yourself speaking such nonsense? You spend so much time reading fairy nonsense that you forget where your place is."

A different stone was thrown, yet the same ripple of berated irritation.

Alyria stroked the leathered bones of her knuckles along the wooden sword, admiring her handiwork with spite. "Careful, sister. Else, you'll sound like your mother."

Audrey's eyes narrowed. Alyria kept her gaze stoic on the wood when someone suddenly called for Audrey. She acknowledged it, whereas Alyria did not, knowing exactly whom the voice belonged to. It only further bittered her spite.

Atop of the pasture's knoll, stood Audrey's husband, Marcus Lanes; a reminder to the maiden that they weren't freely sword-sparring in the vast open land among the forrayse pixies, but rather, in a small pasture standing between the forest and the east side of the village.

"Audrey. It's time to come home." Marcus Lanes said, his voice as low as it was harsh, as if laying down authority to children past their bedtime.

Audrey quickly came by Alyria, embracing the maiden with a warm squeeze of her sandalwood scent. Alyria—despite her prickly mood—returned the hug tight, knowing it would be short-lived.

"She's your mother as well, Ria. You know I only wish to see your happiness," Audrey murmured in Alyria's unruly coils for hair. Another sandalwood squeeze had Alyria swallowing the lump in her throat. Audrey quickly pulled back, gazing with that wheat-coloured earnesty. "Perhaps, tomorrow, we can—"

"Now, Audrey. Before your foolishness leads to another miscarriage."

Alyria's gaze narrowed into a fine glare, locking her jaw to silence the words sour on her tongue. Perhaps, if you didn't lay a hand on my sister, she wouldn't be struggling to have her third first born.

Yet, as Audrey slowly peeled herself away, her husband's words finally registered into the sheer astonishment widening Alyria's eyes. "You're with—" she instantly looked down, seeing the revelation making a soft bump of her sister's belly. "Oh, Reeree. Why didn't you tell me?"

Audrey only smiled ruefully. The autumn's withering evening masked her features in shadows as she retreated. Alyria helplessly watched her sister scurry up—her skirt pulled up to ensure a swift return—before coming beside Marcus Lane's side atop the knoll.

Their figures dimmed into silhouettes. At their backs, twilight lulled the sun to sleep, leaving behind a burnt orange to stretch across the rim of the world like a darkened inferno burning the horizon. It paled the deep drench of blue, which blanketed the sky above, like a soft illuminance. Yet it wouldn't be long before the night bled into the horizon, swallowed behind the prickly abyss of trees.

"Congratulations to the happy couple," the maiden commented with an even tone, mustering the courtesy of acknowledging the husband indirectly.

Marcus Lanes returned no courtesy himself. He took Audrey by the waist with a possessive arm, sending the maiden nothing more than a silent sneer of loathe. Audrey looked down, offering a weak smile. One full of sadness and guilt.

"I don't want you making company with that wrench. She's become a bad influence on you," Marcus Lanes chided with a mutter loud enough for Alyria to hear.

"You can't forbid me from seeing my own sister, Marcus," Audrey argued as they turned away from the knoll's advantage over the maiden.

"Except she isn't your flesh and blood. Merely the dirt and filth like that skin."

A roll of Alyria's eyes saw the happy couple disappear into the village. Quietly, she stood in the pasture with the company of a passing breeze. It was brisk to the nose, carrying the scent of rotting leaves. The long blades of grass rustled a gentle sway, sullying the hem of her skirt grassy.

Such quietude settled bitter thoughts, ones that saw fit to a certain man's downfall. Mark her words; no man would simply help himself to her hand, certainly not one as arrogant as Marcus Lanes.

Another breeze—cool and crisp—wafted the ageing breath of pine into her lungs. An allure turned the maiden's dark gaze towards the longing forest. It brought with, a sense of twisted nostalgia.

Once upon a time, an age before femininity blossomed certain duty, two sisters used to dash through the forest, chasing little brown rabbits into burrows in the thick of a tree's roots, dancing with the autumn leaves with crunches that delighted them, and playing knights with mere sticks to save the princess—a pinecone with a leafy dress—from the terrifying dragon—a mud pile with leafy twigs for wings.

A time when, all day they played until their eldest brother came to fetch them, laughing at the sight of their sullied dresses. A time when improperness wasn't scowled upon by up-tight men. A time when, as children, they were simply that. Children.

It was how little Ria, at the age of twelve, made a most magnificent discovery. . .

The very discovery which beckoned her to the forest with twinkles of their light. Alyria tossed her sword aside, letting it clammer atop her other discarded one. Then her gloves, and she felt the cool wind against the newly exposed skin. Newfound eagerness curved Alyria's lips into a grin and, with her back turned, she sprinted to the forest, giving chase.

The settling adrenalin from before came rushing back like the hot wash of summer drench. Alyria broke through the outskirts, swelling her lungs with chilled pinecones left to decay. Giggles came from the fireflies that left trails of golden light in their wake as they zipped just out of Alyria's reach. Their giggles were infectious, making the maiden express her joy. She chased after them, free-spirited laughter echoing off the slumbering trees.

Nothing could take the feeling away from her.

The brocade of her aqua blue dress snatched up loose twigs, having orange and yellow leaves gust after her fast pace with muffled crunches. Mud still sloggy from the morning rain splattered at the hem like earth's blood. The golden-trailed fireflies teased the maiden, luring her deeper into the forest.

Alyria gained ground between herself and the first firefly—little giggles sealing his little fate. She quickly leaped up onto a familiar fallen log. It groaned under her weight. Air rushed against her body as adrenalin drove her off. In a slow, languid pace, she reached out, and curled her fingers around the firefly, caging its glow. At the last second, she tucked her cupped hands against her chest before being met with solid ground.

But the momentum was too strong. It shoved Alyria forward. She quickly dove onto her shoulders, rolling onto her back. The forestry ground rustled and stirred with the abrupt movement as the sky became earth. Earth became the sky. The maiden quickly righted herself back up and fell into a firm halting crouch.

Soon, it became still. Hushed. After collecting her fill of pine-scented air, Alyria tossed fallen curls off her face, relieved she let her handmaid French braid the long curls into a low bun.

Another breath saw Alyria sit back on her knees and gently pull her tucked hands away from her chest. Like an explorer opening a treasure chest, she uncupped her cage to reveal, not a firefly as they are disguised to be, but a pixie. A forrayse pixie, named Bramble, whose soft golden glow warmed her face and palms.

The chase was over, and the other two joined the maiden, settling themselves on her shoulder. However, Alyria's swelling chuckle quickly furrowed into delicate concern when noticing the little pixie on his knees, clutching his arm with a pout.

"Oh, no. Are you hurt?" Alyria asked softly, bringing her hands higher to inspect the damage she caused. The movement winced the pixie's expression, flinching away from her eyes. Alyria felt herself aching with guilt. "Oh, Bramble, I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me I. . . I didn't mean to. . ."

The other two, Rosaceae and Dandeberry fluttered off Alyria's shoulder, quickly crouching at Bramble's side in aid. Rosaceae, the eldest, touched Bramble's injured arm with delicate fingers, to which he recoiled with a pained expression. The girls glanced at Alyria, both stricken with worry as they huddled around Bramble, leaving Alyria with no other option than to watch on helplessly.

It pained the maiden to see him in such pain. But it pained her more so that she couldn't offer anything but feeble words of guilt-riddled apologies. She should have been more careful, more considerate. The pixies were only just the size of her fingers, delicate little beings.

Alyria pulled her cupped hands closer, trying to get a better look. "Will he be—"

The pixies abruptly lunged into her face, squealing out a joyous surprise. Alyria jolted back with a frightened gasp, blinded by their coalesced glow like an abrupt ray of sunshine. And while they all laughed, Bramble held his belly with much hilarity.

"Bramble! You—all of you!" Alyria grumbled, unimpressed with their shenanigans. Yet she was more unimpressed with the fact she was gullible enough to fall for it, knowing them.

However, their little bursts of giggles fluttering around her head had mild annoyance faltering. Alyria couldn't help but sigh in defeat and smile.

Dandeberry—the youngest—collapsed into Alyria's hand. Her long dress of lily pads slit up near her thigh in smooth folds of silky green. Just beneath the dandelion fluffs threaded into a corset. She rolled around on her back in a fit of laughter, kicking her tiny legs about whilst reenacting Alyria's reaction in mockery.

"Well, I'm glad to see someone's enjoying themselves," Alyria snarked, tickling her pinky fingernail against Dandeberry's little belly.

The youngest pixie squealed in breathless joy, curling around Alyria's torture with no escape. Alyria was chuckling deviously at her revenge being satisfied when Bramble fluttered up to her face; a charismatic smile as ever twinkled the mischief in his green eyes.

"Come to gloat as well?" the maiden teased with a pout.

Bramble only grinned that much more, her jest an invitation to fly closer, and he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. It was a ticklish speck on her skin, like the gathering mist after a storm. It was one of many the maiden received from the pixie. Thus, supposing she saw no reason to be annoyed with him.

"Oh, alright, I forgive you," she sighed. However, with a playful eye squint, she reached forward and tapped the blushing pixie atop his head of oaky locks. "But you mustn't scare me like that. You know I worry too much."

Bramble smiled sheepishly. His cheeks, already sun-kissed, blossomed a blushing pink warmth reminiscent of roses, suiting his attire like a bouquet of such flowers. His leafy breeches held a strapping belt of miniature pine cones with a matching leafy vest left unbuttoned. When his golden glow hit at the right angle, Bramble's clothing shone an exstique silver patterning—upon a squinted look, of course.

Alyria gave the pixie another affectionate tap on the head. "Now, where is. . ." Just as the maiden questioned it, she felt the eldest pixie settle on her shoulder. Alyria turned with a smile. "Ah, there you are, Rosaceae."

The pixie in question glanced up, offering a collected smile. However, her attention was mostly occupied by Dandeberry's spirited twirls weaving through loose brunette curls—a golden-trailed weave that illuminated the brown richness of the maiden's hair.

Alyria felt an abrupt tug on her hair, followed by Dandeberry's sudden shriek. The eldest pixie merely sighed exasperatedly at the youngest's cry for help, for she had gotten herself twisted up in brown curls no better than thorny bushes. Bramble flew to assist, all while Alyria felt the tugs from the side of her head.

Rosaceae merely leaned back on her hands, using one to dust responsibility off her dress. She had made her dress from the purest of white roses. Its petals were plump at her narrow waist, sewn by the tiniest threads of vines like a belt, while a singular petal wrapped tightly around her torso with its tip covering her chest. It was a beautiful contrast to her light brown hair sweeping down her back.

All three had transparent wings of delicacy, and forest green eyes as bright as the sunlight gazing upon evergreen's bliss. Dandeberry was the only one of the three with blonde hair falling to her dainty shoulders. It had to be kept short, else she would most certainly make a bird's nest of it.

And of all the pixies Alyria had met over the years, only Rosaceae had the tip of her left wing torn off.

Finally free, Dandeberry wisped up and away with a shriek, Bramble giving chase as they knitted illuminance upon the forest. Their firefly light played dancing silhouettes with whatever caught their sharp curls and sudden twirls, almost like villagers running through the forest with torches.

Whilst Alyria watched the two, she couldn't help but sigh. "I wish my siblings and I were like you three. Audrey especially."

Rosaceae turned to the maiden, tilting her head with a question fruitful on her tongue.

"Well, there's a reason you never gifted her pixie sight, Ro" Alyria retorted. "I know you think she isn't worthy of pixie sight, but I know in my heart things would be different if. . ."

Ro fluttered off the maiden's shoulders, hovering in front of her face with a sternness crossing her arms. Her fruitful words weren't as serious as she would've liked, for her kin twirling behind were rather distracting.

"I know not to dwell," Alyria muttered childishly. "But I'm a creature of habit. I dwell on the irrelevant, like what the outcome would be from Bramble and Dandeberry creeping up behind you."

Because, indeed they were, as quietly as they pixily could.

Rosaceae loosened her crossed arms with knitted-brow scepticism—the same wary look Audrey gave her when she, quote, cheated. Without warning, Bramble and Dandeberry jumped upon Rosaceae before she could fully turn around.

Squeals reclaimed the forest's slumber. A glow of coalescence sent shadows into flee, warming the maiden's umber skin golden as the scheming pair dropped their giggling weight over a huffing Ro's shoulders.

Alyria chuckled. However, the eldest hadn't the patience nor mood for it.

An elegant flutter of Ro's wings saw her flipping forward, throwing the pair into a tumble. When she righted herself, the eldest looked onwards, complacency resting indifference on her expression. Alyria had no doubt of Ro's self-satisfaction, seeing as, in her possession, she claimed a pixie each by the point of their ear, left dangling for their little lives.

Although they spoke gibberish, Alyria understood the faerie language perfectly; it came with the privilege she had been bestowed upon to see such magnificent, yet mischievous little creatures.

As such, she had the pleasure of listening to Bramble's hysterical accusations of the idea being Dandeberry's, whilst Dandeberry herself cried out for the agonising pain in her ear. Rosaceae sighed—she had heard it all before. Using her unnatural strength, the pixie tossed the pair back to whence they came.

Alyria huffed out her amusement, relaxing on her side. "I think the lesson has been learnt."

The comment was rewarded with a firmly risen brow of doubt.

"For a few hours, at least."

Ro's fruitful words agreed with a maffle of exasperation. She then fluttered over, dusting off her petals of golden-speckled immaturity before throning her perch on the maiden's shoulder; poised elegance brushing away a loose lock of brown.

Her glow always fascinated the maiden, for it felt like a serene ray of sunlight peering through the dense foliage on a spring day. But soon after, as the crisp wind nipped the goosebumps along Alyria's rather exposed skin, the village of Limroy beckoned for its missing maiden—in the form of a maid's fretful calls.

—

ヾ(￣▽￣)Bye~Bye~

~ Sonya ~

Word count excluding A/N: 3966