Verte stood among her brothers and sisters. Each held their power ready, regarding the enemies facing them. Between them and the monochromatic Winter fae were her father and Mab, Queen of Winter. Verte knew Bruno, wept for him when he was found, dead on Summer soil with a Winter dagger melting away in his back. Bruno wasn't one of her half-brothers, heir of Summer, but he was family.
The attack Summer launched and the defence Winter mounted created the worst clash between the faeries in eternal memory. The two had never been friendly and tensions constantly rose and waned as season after season passed and power shifted between them. The Winter faerie's unexplained death ended the peaceful opposition. Winter sought retribution on Bruno, her mate, which led to this—her father and Mab brokering a truce.
Rushing murmurs came from both sides as the monarchs bowed their heads to one another before returning to their armies.
“Done.” Tristan turned back toward his faeries. “I have need of volunteer from among my daughters.”
Verte looked to Goldenrod, Rose, and Violet. She was the oldest of them. Seeing fear in their eyes, she stepped forward.
“How can I be of use, Father?”
“Verte, always true,” he said, his large hand, the color and texture of centuries old bark cupping her cheek. His hair curled like moss on a stump. “I need you to be the sign of our truce. They lost a daughter to one of our sons. In exchange for peace, you will wed one of theirs.”
Her brothers clamoured and argued with him, angry at this turn of events. Her stomach twisted in a knot. Marry one of those colorless fae? Embrace Winter? Unlike humans, unions among faeries were eternal. She couldn't put him aside when she tired of him, or vice versa. Her father asked the impossible. And yet, it seemed the impossible—peace—was exactly what they needed.
Speaking loudly and clearly to be heard over her brothers, Verte said, “I can do this, but I can never be Winter.”
Verte is true and feisty! Hop around to all the other teases!