Don't cry to me.
If you loved me,
You would be here with me.
You want me,
Come find me.
Make up your mind.
She was sitting at her table, waiting. Waiting for the Solstice to come, waiting for him to come. Always waiting. She could not do this any more. She couldn't. Winter and summer shouldn't mix, thought the Winter Queen. I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't let him play with my heart. How the summer King loved to play with her heart. She was tired of him claiming that his heart belonged to her, where it really belonged to Aislinn, his Summer Queen.
A single tear fell from her cheek, for in her heart, Donia knew that her love would not come to her. He wouldn't come because it was his week with Aislinn. His week to play house with his queen. His time to be the father figure of the Summer Court.
Should I let you fall?
Lose it all?
So maybe you can remember yourself.
Can't keep believing,
We're only deceiving ourselves
And I'm sick of the lie,
And you're too late.
Her heart had to move on. She had to let the man who turned her into a girl forever trapped in the ice have his queen. I should be his queen. He wants me to be.
But it's too late. And I am not. I can't be.
"My Queen?" Donia's friend and subject, Evan, said.
"Yes Evan?"
"Keenan is here. He says that he want's to see you and it's important."
"Tell him to go away. That he's too late."
"He says it's is important for you to hear."
"I don't care."
Don't cry to me.
If you loved me,
You would be here with me.
You want me,
Come find me.
Make up your mind.
Being himself, Keenan came in anyways, in a rage. He was always in a rage. Always. Something that Donia would never understand. The volatility of the Summer Fey was not something that anyone could figure out. Rather, something no one really wanted to figure out.
"Donia," he screamed, "why the hell don't you ever talk to me? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Your damn Summer Queen- that's what's wrong with me! Have you even thought of how I feel about that bitch? She's so fucking annoying, always complaining! 'Oh, Keenan! Seth's gone! Hold me! He doesn't love me! I need to be loved!' BAH!" Donia was already mad at him, and he was wondering what was up with her? Why she didn't talk to him anymore?
She stomped up to her throne - not something that she really needed, but it came with the title - and plopped down. "I can't believe you Keenan. You actually have the nerve to come into my home and insult me? You really have the nerve to do that?"
"Yeah, actually, I do."
Couldn't take the blame.
Sick with shame.
Must be exhausting to lose your own game.
Selfishly hated,
No wonder you're jaded.
You can't play the victim this time,
And you're too late.
"Look who's talking," Donia laughed coldly. "The man who's always too drunk on summer wine to have a spine - unless he's asking for sex."
"And you're the girl that agreed to take a test for a man that she barely knew anything about," he countered.
"Well then." Donia turned her back on Keenan. "I'm sick of all your lies, Keenan. Did you know that? I'm so sick of them, and you, that I don't want to see you in my home. I want you," she pushed him, "to stay out of my life. And to go back to your little happy fru-fru Summer Queen, your supposed other half, and live happily never after, for as long as she's with Seth, she'll never want you to be more than her partner in ruling. You'll be nothing more, only getting love from your brainless Summer Girls, and I hear even they are not so hot for you these days. So get the hell out of my home and my life."
"Fine - Don't expect me to be here on the Solstice, either." Keenan stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Don't cry to me.
If you loved me,
You would be here with me.
You want me,
Come find me.
Make up your mind.
Donia shrank down her wall, sobbing. That was no big surprise - she still loved him, no matter how much he pissed her off. When they were together, it was better for her feelings. But it was not better for her in the least bit. No matter what, she always, always ended up in tears. No matter what she did to make him not leave, when Aislinn needed him (despite if Donia needed him or not), he chose her to spend time with, to heal. Never Donia.
Evan knelt beside her. "He'll come back - he always does. Whether you want him to or not."
"Not this time, Evan," she whispered. "Not this time."
You never call me when you're sober.
You only want it cause it's over,
It's over.
Outside of the Winter Palace, rather, Donia's cottage, Keenan sat in a rage. Come to Don in a rage, leave in a bigger one, he thought. He knew that she was right, she was always right about those kinds of things. But she could be such a bitch about it. Keenan knew that he was always high on life or drunk on summer wine, that much was true. But what could not be diminished was how much he knew that he loved her.
Why couldn't it have been her? Why did it have to be Aislinn that got picked to be my queen? There was no real answer to that, it was just the way it happened. Aislinn was, Donia wasn't. There was no fixing that. There was no way to fix that.
"It's over," he whispered to himself. "It's been over for a long time." There was nothing left for them except the pure lust that was there. Nothing except that. He'd have to accept that eventually.
Carefully, he carved the word goodbye into the snow next to him, knowing that Donia would find it eventually. His heat would ensure that.
With no great ease, he turned and left the Winter Court, knowing that this would be the last time he saw it for a personal matter, at the very least, until she took him back, if that ever happened.
How could I have burned paradise?
How could I - you were never mine.
Donia knew that he had left - the heat had gone. His heat, she thought. His lovely heat. Her tears were still flowing down her cheeks, freezing before they hit the floor, so they made a clinking noise when they hit.
How Donia sometimes wished that she had never met him, how she wished that he hadn't cast his spell on her. If she was still mortal, chances are she would be dead, but by this time, she would have been a happy grandmother and most likely great-grandmother. But she was not a mortal. She was a faery Queen, formerly a Winter Girl. That was what she was, an immortal being. She wouldn't die for a very long time, if ever. She knew that.
"Keenan was never mine," she said to Evan, who's arms were wrapped around her. "Not since I became the Winter Girl. I knew that this would happen eventually. I hoped that it wouldn't, though."
"I know, Don," he said. "I know. Former Summer Court, remember?" He smiled at her in an attempt to make her smile.
It worked. She smiled at him. Maybe Evan was better for her than Keenan ever was. It's worth testing, she thought.
"Would you do something for me Evan?"
"Anything, my queen."
So don't cry to me.
If you loved me,
You would be here with me.
Don't lie to me,
Just get your things.
I've made up your mind.
"Kiss me, Evan."
And so they did.