The chaotic melodies of the wood began to quiet, slowly fading into the backdrop of beautiful slumber in spite of the growing chorus of Lena’s song. It wrapped around him and suddenly a flame flew rampant through his chest. The burning was not unpleasant but more so an intimate embrace that made him feel light and airy. He could not explain the feeling nor could he escape it, so he simply fell under her spell and threw himself from the ledge of his desires so that he might be able to hide from his pain.


There was a slight break in the song, a moment in which the Queen drew the slightest intake of breath and so he opened his eyes to gaze upon her, silently thanking her for every word uttered and sung. A friend to him she was and though he would never be able to justify why she remained as such, he was infinitely glad that she did. Though he could not see her eyes in all the darkness that surrounded them, he knew that the life he would find there would be just as inspiring as the creature herself, so guileless and proud, innocent and pure. These attributes were only attainable by the virgin herself and for that he could not understand why she would taint herself with his impurities and his sin. At one time he found such qualities to be, though endearing, a mere mockery to the warrior he had once been. However, he wasn’t so sure that he was still the impenetrable beast capable of slaying whole families at the will of his own Father. Instead, he found that he had been softened somewhere along the way, now vulnerable to the insecurities that lurked just beneath the surface of his smooth veneer.


As her tune continued, Déodat calmed and began to lose himself entirely to her power. It was soothing enough for him to be able to relax each muscle until the tension had drained away into the entirety of the earth. Beneath him the ground was hard and yet it comforted him to know that it too seemed to cradle his essence in a cold embrace. Each pitch seemed to carry him high and then drop him low enough that sleep seemed to be waiting just beyond the cliff of his resolve. It swayed and danced along in the darkness as they stood and for a time the Blood Prince was content to watch it smile and laugh between chords. When it appeared that the song had ended, he felt dismayed, saddened to know that it was done. Shortly after, the dissonant voice of the wood grew in volume and the pair was once again plagued by reality and the lack of peaceful splendor. “Thank you”, he murmured. The words were so quiet, they appeared to have come from a different entity entirely, and perhaps they had.


Déodat was an ever-changing creature; there was certainly no doubt about that. But he was content with the changes that were headed his way, which included the softening of his hardened walls so that one day they might eventually be able to come crashing down. He had forgotten momentarily his irrational behavior in the presence of the skull-faced mare and instead thought openly about life and the many paths that lay before him. “Such a whimsical song. Where did you learn it?” He had turned to face the Queen in spite of the darkness that he knew would cloud her features from his curious eye. He listened intently, eager to hear her colorful notes paint the night in deep reds and blues, for she had been able to ignite a fire within him that had long ago died in battle. But perhaps he would find himself returned, if only with a bit of help from his only true friend and ally.