The girl in red is dancing among snakes and the spiders, whipping her dress around like silk. The men cry out as she dances boldly, smiling at fine suitors and letting down the men. The new king watches the beautiful girl move around; the rose among the thorns. The men don't dare to touch her, touch her luscious skin or her flipping curls of yellow.
The king gets up slowly, being drawn to the girl. Still the girl remains dancing, she is like a butterfly, daintily flitting among the heathers; the bees watch her enviously. The men try to catch her attention, try to charm her, but she ignores them, drawing in more men as the bodies gather closer to get a scent of the sweet rosewater or the good look of her blue eyes. One daring man reaches out, stepping out of line, to grab one of her curls.
Come not near our Fairy Queen, the men chant angrily, viciously, aggressively, faces turning red as the circle loosens up, giving the girl more freedom, Come not near our Fairy Queen, you spotted snakes with double tongue!
The girl can't hear a thing, she is dancing to is the song of her soul and the beat of her heart. Spinning on her flats, her red silk whirls and she puts her hands in the air, moving her hips and flaunting her body. The king is struck in awe at the girl's boldness, something that had been only revealed to him in signs of anger. He steps closer to the dance room, and the guards move out, striking their spears on the marble floor.
The girl is beginning to demands more room to dance, striking her hips faster and quicker, stepping too close to the men, and the clad leather feet move slowly. She is dominant, she won't be meek or quiet, she is Queen, she can get as much dominance and leadership she wants. She spins daringly, almost falling, but maintains pristine balance. The girl tilts her head defiantly, coolly smirking at the men. Her message is clear, Watch, but don't touch.
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby. Never harm, nor spell, nor charm, the man sings, their voices deep and long, rumbling like the roaring waves of the ocean, come our lovely lady nigh, so good night with lullaby.
The girl begins to tighten her dance moves, not dipping too far or moving so wildly. She is graceful, slowly swinging mesmerizingly, drawing in the men like thick honey. Her dancing is subtle, but the king loves her either way. His feet move slowly. He is only a few feet away from her. Now he can see the pin-point details; the dip of her dress, the charming braid that slides down her back.
She is really beautiful now, she's evolved from the angry girl to a lady. He is starting to watch her every movement, whether small of big, like the pale heels that click on the ground, or the subtle curl on the piece of gold falling from her hair. The sweetheart dress shimmers like running water, minus the blue and the stillness, and the crown of flowers on her head hides, but not to the ones who watch carefully. The flowers on the crown are primroses. The king takes a breath.
Watch her dance, but those beware, the king says slowly, his breath shuddering, voice trembling in majestic awe, The fairy princess tall and fair...The girl has stopped dancing, watching the king with her blue eyes fixed on the man. Her eyes are like melted ice, the king notes. Her skin is glowing gold, not wet from her fast-paced exercise.
Watch her change, the treasured scene, the king says loudly, stepping towards the beautiful maiden, she is my Fairy Queen. With that, the king paces to her, shoving a hand into his curly hair. He gasps in awe as he sees her close up. Her eyes are indented with smokey eyes, her lips are red as the sky. Her dress is red as fresh drawn blood, her hair in ringlets of spun gold.
He can't take it anymore. He grasps her face and kisses her on the lips. She's tense, rigid and surprised, but she seems to slowly melt like snowflakes. The girl pushes a hand into his hair and the king grabs her tighter, closer.
You're beautiful, the king murmurs on the queen's lips, and she shudders, I've never seen you like this, Grimm. The girl seems to smile now, and the king smirks, whispering sinfully against her lips.
Maybe if you stop infuriating me, you'll see me more like this, the girl mumbles, and her open mouth makes an entrance for the king's tongue. She giggles; it's their first, most intimate kiss.
I'm good, the king replies, I'm king, I get what I want. The girl shifts her hand in his hair and murmurs back, And I'm queen.