Original prompt: "Google "color palette," pick one, and write something inspired by it." I actually Googled "color palette public domain" to be sure I could use it and found the image on this post. I used the "floral" section for my inspiraiton.
The soft sunlight somehow didn't dim the shine of the fireflies. Such it was in the fae realm. Fern loved this time of day in the faewild where it wasn't quite day, but it was far from night. Fern frolicked alone in the glade as she was want to do. It didn't matter to her that her laughter carried itself alone on the breeze; she was content. She wasn't sure how long she'd been alone as she watched the suns begin to set, but it was pleasant in its own way.
But then, she heard a noise. It wasn't the noise of leaves on the wind or twigs snapping from some comforting creature. It was the noise of someone approaching with grim determination. Fern wasn't sure how to ready herself to greet someone. Was her hair windswept or was it more of a tangled mess? Was her dress still prim? Did the dirt under her nails convey her love of nature or a lack of care? She quickly picked a light pink flower and stuck it behind her ear before standing and smoothing her flowing skirts, picking a few burrs out.
A man burst into the soft light, shooing away fireflies. But fireflies were not easily offended, or so Fern had learned. The man was handsome, but had strangely human features for someone in the faewild. Not that Fern had seem many beings in the faewild, but she had interacted with enough to know that this one stood out. He was wearing an orange shirt that would soon match the sky. He looked around, somewhat bewildered before his eyes locked on Fern. His eyes grew large for a moment, but then he bowed, deeply.
Fern, unsure of why he was bowing, made a curtsey back. The man's brow went up and he finally spoke, revealing a gravelly and unsteady voice, "My lady, you flatter me."
Fern kept her composure. After all, she was alone in the glade with a strange man, better to play the part. "Forgive me, good sir, but I do not recognize you."
"Nor would you, my lady Fern, but I have been sent to rescue you."
"Rescue," Fern repeated. She did not recall needing to be rescued. But as she tried to think back on her life, she found large portions of it missing. Where had she spent her youth? Had she ever traveled beyond the faewild? How did this man know her?
"Yes, but quickly we must away before we are caught." He reached out a hand and in it was a small berry. "Eat this mortal fruit and we shall be able to return to the mortal realm."
The mortal realm? But why would she want to go there? It was so lovely and calm here in the faewild. She had only the most pleasant memories and the few scraps of knowledge she had about the mortal realm were frightening indeed.
"What awaits me in the mortal realm?" Fern asked measuredly.
The man blinked. "Why," he began, "your people. Your country. We have been without you for but a month and already the turmoil has worsened."
Turmoil. See? Fern knew she did not wish to go to the mortal realm. "No," Fern said simply and turned away from the man, trying to confidently stride into the forest surrounding the glen.
"But, my lady Fern, think of our need for peace. You were always a skilled diplomat. Your sister is too young and too volatile to handle the throne. We need you."
"Sister," she whispered and a whoosh of memories came flooding back to her. Of her nation, on the brink of war. Of her duties as queen. Of her little sister, frightened.
Fern snatched the berry and quickly downed it. "We must away," she said.
(Prompt by Kimisha Cassidy)
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