Post by Spiderfly on Mar 5, 2009 18:53:15 GMT -5
(if you can, please listen to this song as you read <3 www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIzuSi3dEqI )
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It had been several years since that fateful day. The day that Donnie had taken over the Court of Spades and killed Lysaras. Lleur had left almost immediately afterwards, missing the soft companionship of the former Queen. She had been truly happy at the court. Playing music all day, taking care of her son.
But he had been old enough when it happened, he was well taken care of, so she left. She set off to head back to the Villa en Miir, her home. It was such a relief when she finally saw the mountain-side again, stark and sheer with it's beautiful buildings and music. Wonderful.
She worked hard those first few months back. The chipmunk's court earnings were enough to build a small house outside of one of the outlying communities.
Lleurela was a regular contributor to the local studios and playhouses. She enjoyed it, but she also enjoyed the sounds of birds outside her window every morning. The smell of sap in the fall when the trees split from the change in weather. The sugary sweetness of the sap, especially on the seasonal nuts and seeds that she found. This was home, this was happiness.
Mostly she kept to herself, and enjoyed the land around her. It was many a decade later when the graying chipmunk went to bed one night. Her worn pennywhistle sitting next to her bed in it's velvet lined box. She felt the urge to lift up the instrument, and though her breath control wasn't great anymore, she played a small song. Apples in Winter. Her favourite.
Lleur's mind wandered back to the Palace of Hearts, when she'd played this song, and she'd been much younger. She remembered meeting the Queen of Hearts, of finding her way into the courts. Lysaras, then Donnie. The happiness of returning home. She remembered her young life and all the plays she'd had fun in. The song ended and she set down the whistle with stiff arthritic hands before curling up quietly into her bed.
She sighed happily before drifting off to sleep.
Lleurela drifted away that night, tired, and happy with her full life. A neighbour came by the next day with a pie, as he usually did, and found her smiling in her final sleep. He smiled gently and touched her forehead with fondness before leaving the house and informing the village.
Her passing was not mourned, instead her life was celebrated. A great play was put on in her honour, the local prodigy played Apples in Winter. And all there knew she was happy in her afterlife, as she was everyday during life.
