Queen Mab (6 page)

"Of you," he whispered.

His answer took this queen of centuries aback.  She regarded him for just a moment as she paused, remembering his kind touch from hours before.  She had no reason to do it, but found her lips answering with her reply, "If that is what you wish to dream of, then so you shall have me."

She waved her rosewood wand and the tendrils of her smoke closed his eyes and silenced his mind. 

At once, she was within, resting within a dark room made of stone, a prison cell with dripping horrors.  Mercutio sat beside her, chained and in rags, weeping wounds marring his perfect flesh.

"Is this what you dream when you are left alone?" she asked.

He nodded, exhausted from the tortures he did bear, and pointed a manacled hand towards the door.  "Soon the jailor will come in to begin the chase, a game of hide and seek with death at the finish line.  It always ends with death."

Mab looked around the room, this landscape whose every color was a key to his troubled soul.  "And have you seen this place in the world?"

"Aye," he said, his parched throat swallowing painfully.  "It is where I was kept for a time, a place where I escaped from, and yet a prison to which every night I return."

"Then you must escape again," she replied.

His glassy eyes rose to rest upon her as she stepped forward fearlessly.  She took her hands and placed them on his wounds.  She touched the sores and scabs, these representations by his mind of the injuries no one could see.  Whenever she passed, the skin was healed as if never destroyed by blemish.  But deeper still, she cauterized the memories that brought forth these terrors in the night.

"The pain is gone," he murmured disbelievingly.

"All that and more."

The door to the prison opened and the jailor, a beast-like creature with jagged teeth and corded limbs walked into the room.  His bloodstained nails were like daggers, his gray, scaly skin like armor.  Mab pointed her hand at him, and in an instant, he was turned, shrinking until he was a kitten, playing and chasing after his tail until he danced off down the hall for adventure.

"You changed it," Mercutio said, blinking.

The shackles fell from his hands.  Mab pointed to the walls and they exploded in a burst of starlight, filling the air with beauty, showing that just beyond the walls was a land of verdant green with rolling hills, dotted with olive trees.  The sky was midnight and filled with the twinkling of the heavens.  He stood, tears in his eyes and a mighty sob catching his words before he could speak.

"Is this your home?" she asked him.

He nodded.  "From long ago.  It is gone now, but, yes, this is where my happiest memories once were formed."

He stared at the night in wonder, a man dying of thirst realizing the mirage might not be a lie.  He stepped forward, but before he went on, he reached back without a word and took Mab's hand in his. 

"Dear lady," he said.  His voice was breathless and he looked upon her as if espying a vision.  "Art thou real?"

"What is real?" she replied.

His eyes burned into her heart as his breath quickened in his chest.

"Art thou true?" he asked.

"Indeed, my dear Mercutio," she answered.  "I am truer than the blood which beats in your veins."

"Swear not by my blood, for it runs too warm."

"What else shall I swear by if not that which fuels your heart?"

"Swear by my heart itself which beats in constant rhythm, without which I would die."

"Then by thy heart, I do swear to thee that I am true."

They stood still, time ceasing its endless march for just a moment.  He drew her in to his arms, full of weary gladness.  Gently, he brought his fingers to her cheek and whispered, "Thank you," before sealing his gratitude with a tender kiss.

At once, Mab was back in his room, her breath stolen away.  She looked at Mercutio resting peacefully.

Perhaps it was that weakness, that moment of shared connection that made her whisper the blessing, but she gave it.  "I promise I give thee my protection.  For as long as thou drawest air, I will fight the very heavens to keep thee safe."

He did not stir as her words settled upon him like frozen bits of glimmering starlight. 

She stood back and felt an unwelcomed warmth, something that seemed to want to undo her strength and power.  A wish to steal this man and leave another in his place.

She stopped her thoughts, swiftly chasing all softness away. She would need the most of her cruelty to seek the endgame that Faunus and she played.

She quietly left the bed chamber and made her way to the rooms beyond.  Her footfalls became that of a monster stalking towards an unsuspecting prey.  She was ready to fill the minds of those beyond with dreams to haunt them with unease and fear even after the sun rose and on into the day beyond, to devour their sense of safety and gladness with the returning nightmares that no amount of thrashing or screaming could make go away—all this to hush the whisper of tenderness which mistakenly left her lips.

She would forget this Mercutio.  She would forget this moment of weakness.  She would retreat into the world of her own comfort, glad that none were safe from her.  None were exempt.  She saw all and knew all, and a peaceful night's slumber was hers alone to give out as she saw fit.

But still, she paused, her heart betraying her with the strange feeling felt only once before. 

"Oh liar heart," she whispered.  "Harden now for me.  Such bewitchment turns to affections unnatural.  Remember the lessons taught to thee.  Faunus, cruel teacher, schooled thee well.  The devastation love brings is a price not worth the prize.  Quiet.  Still.  Trouble me not with this siren's call.  The delights thou dost tempt with shall prove bitter in taste, and thy cries of woe when all turns sour is the pain of Faunus's lesson laid to waste."

She continued on, determined not to forget.  Stifling mistake's repeat would protect her from regret.

I
t was mid-morning as Mercutio entered the tavern, swagger and gladness in his step.  The thickly plastered walls and tiled floors of red kept the air cool and pleasant.  The establishment was empty but for Romeo, whose own thoughts seemed to be a thousand leagues away. 

Mercutio straddled the bench beside him and clapped him heartily upon the back. "How fares my friend?  Did the fair Rosaline give you reward for your pains last night, or did her attentions only stiffen the pains that a man must endure?"

Romeo stared into his empty cup.  "Ah Mercutio, endurance of such sweet agony is a worthy tithe for a moment in her love."

"Well, when it does finally flower, let us hope your long endurance does not quit upon that moment."

"A moment will be enough."

"Woe to any man who holds such sentiments hold true," Mercutio laughed as he called to the server, a short man with a bushy head of brown curls, motioning for drinks for both he and his friend.

"And what of you, Mercutio?  You look no worse the wear for the celebrations of last evening," said Romeo.

Mercutio took the glasses of warmed wine from the server's ready tray and handed one to his friend.  "Indeed, I slept most sound."

"Exhaustion from gentle sport?"

"Nay, my solitary bed was filled with dreams so sweet, mortal company would have been an unwelcome interloper to such unwedded bliss."

"Dreams of a particular maid?" asked Romeo.

"Bah!  Maids are best for milking and I desire not their fumbling fingers.  Nay, I dreamt of a stranger, a gentle lady I know not, but would fall asleep this instant if I thought I could conjure her once again," said Mercutio with a smile.

"It was a night for dreaming," Romeo stated as the server slowly cleared away the dirty dishes from the end of their empty table.  "I myself dreamt of Rosaline with illusions so strong I woke having to remind myself that they were not real."

"They were probably as real as any affections you can hope to receive from the likes of her."

"Such callousness!  Have you never loved, Mercutio?"

"Aye, deeply and longingly, and neither shall be had with Rosaline.  Good friend Romeo, do not cast your eyes about like a fisherman's net, declaring a mackerel the finest specimen you have ever seen only because it happened to get tangled as you passed."

"So says the man with an empty net."

"Believe me, I shall not starve."

"A man without meat upon his lips withers and fades away."

"Meat not to my liking shall make me wither, too."

"Do not speak ill of my love for Rosaline," Romeo pleaded.

"You are right," Mercutio replied, gripping Romeo's forearm bracingly.  "You must learn these things for yourself.  My warning should be taken as no more than the ramblings of a bitter soldier who has loved and lost too much.  A man whose mind wanders to a woman in his dreams and finds her more desirable than any he has seen in the flesh, perhaps because he knows for once that he shall not have to watch her die."

The silence spread as Mercutio's words hung in the air.  Romeo took a long drink from his cup before speaking.  "Strange, the dreams of last night." 

"Aye," Mercutio said. "Believe it, my friend, despite the cloud of gloom I wear, that I woke finding the sun shining a little brighter and the woes of the world light.  There was a comfort in these visions which lingers even into the day.  Perhaps it is just the return home which chased away the demons that haunt me, but I have not had such restful sleep since long before the war."

"There is no bed as sweet as a man's own."

"Most days I would answer that you have not been in the beds I have known, but this morning I am wont to agree."

"Perhaps it was the faeries, sorrowful that the prince's feast came to an end, and they swept through all Verona to continue the dance where merry feet and conversation could not tire in already sleeping heads," Romeo ribbed.

Mercutio laughed as he held up his glass.  "If that be the case, I shall tell my uncle we must levy a tax to play host to such welcome guests until the coffers of man have run dry."

Romeo raised his wine in fraternal agreement.

As their conversation continued on, Faunus quietly slipped into the back of the tavern and placed the tray of dirty dishes upon an empty shelf.  He let his disguise fade into his true form as he mused, "These dreams bear your touch, Queen Mab.  Is love the game you play?  Broken hearts to break a House's back?  I thought you and I exhausted this strategy before.  No matter.  Your first move upon the board is made, your fingers lifted from the piece.  I know well how to make the counter and to send you running from your sly attack to open defeat."

M
ab had not meant to come back the next night.  Indeed, the dream which she had placed upon Mercutio would last until the full moon rode again across the night sky.  Still, she reflected as she stood at the door of the prince's home, she was drawn here.  There was something which caused her to come, something that guided her feet like the cool breeze leads the traveler to the mouth of a cave.

Mercutio slept within his canopied bed as if nothing had altered from the night before, except for the peace upon his face and a bowl of milk and honey which sat upon his table, as if to make his evening guest feel more at home.

She dipped her finger in the bowl, tasting the sweet richness as she gazed upon him.  Her thoughts turned to the House of Montague, of how she must use this man, this beautiful human, to cause its fall.  She remembered the cloak of coldness she should wrap herself in, but the taste upon her tongue, the sight of him upon her eyes, such thoughts were chased away.

Perhaps she could spare one more night, she thought, perhaps she could fool herself into believing that her curiosity was to know how best to wield her champion. 

But she knew that this visit was, in fact, for something much deeper, for something which caused her deaf heart to ache. 

She sat down beside him, her gown rustling like blades of grass in the wind.  She passed her hand over his eyes as he inhaled the wisps of her thoughts.  She followed to see what form they would take, to see when her essence mixed with his, what dreams he wished and wanted.

"You returned," Mercutio said.  He was sprawled upon the ground with the ease of a school boy gazing at the sky.  He looked refreshed, the wounds of heart and soul gone, his face no longer screwed in the worry of the dreams before.  He held out his hand, as if waiting for Mab this whole time. 

Mab looked around the dreamscape.  It had not changed from the night before, not one leaf, not one star.  Strange that a dreamer... this dreamer... would hold so tight to the world she had drawn.

"It is all the same," she replied, motioning around them.  "You could have anything you wished."

He smiled.  "It was made by you, and so I wished it to remain."

Mab gave him her hand and slowly sank down beside him.  He took her arm and draped it across his stomach, the pulse of her wrist beating against the rise and fall of his breath. 

"Tell me what you desire," she asked.  "Riches?  Wealth?  Power?  I can give it all to you and more."

He reached up as he replied, pausing to tenderly brush back a lock of her golden hair.  "Just you."

With a wave of her hand, the night sky faded to pink and the sun rose.  The sea of grass was replaced by the green of the ocean crashing upon a summer beach.  A castle sat upon a hill.  A white charger stood close, hooves dancing upon the sand.  She waved her hand again and the sky became bright blue.  A merry stream danced upon singing rocks as nude dryads giggled and chased each other upon its banks.  They looked at Mercutio and called for him to join their fun.  Mab once more waved and the sky was bright orange and red as the sun began to set.  A throng of villagers appeared, applauding and clapping and singing songs of love for their lord.  They bore tables groaning with a feast and the air was filled with the smell of wine and suckling pig.

Mercutio shook his head, turning away from the riches she offered, and whispered once again, "Only you."

She returned the world to midnight, to the quiet of just them in the field with nothing but the sister moon to keep them company.