The Lady of Underhill

They say the Lord of Underhill lost his heart to a child…

She had been ten when he had knelt before her, a man grown. “When you are of age, come to the Stones and make an offering. I’ll be waiting.”

Twenty-five now, she had come each year since she was eighteen to ask entrance to Underhill. She had spilled blood, offered all manner of treasure, and had found only silence. This year, she knelt weeping in the middle of the circle of standing Stones and simply said, “Please.”

Mist and light gathered before her, spun into a door and back lit an antlered man. He stepped forward and looking into the lambent green eyes of the King of Underhill she knew him for her beloved.

“Why?” she whispered.

“To be certain,” he answered, “To love a Fae is to lose your humanity, but you would be Queen here. Should you still want me.” She knew then he was afraid she’d say no.

“Then let me be lost,” she stood and kissed him.

On a spring night, one might see the Lord and Lady of Underhill dancing in the moonlight.

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