Episode Forty Eight
The light was becoming a little brighter, a little easier to bear. There was a soft gurgling sound as of water giggling over pebbles in a stream. The room was cool, a little damp but tolerable compared to the saturated cold of outside. She found she could move a very little, but she felt almost as if her limbs were in a thick peanut butter. She was sludgy and slow in her movements but she tilted her head around patiently to get a better view of her surroundings.
The Stag King had entered through the back wall and she moved her head back so that she was staring at the ceiling. He had watched her avidly for many days, fearful of her condition. Any mortal would have perished had so many wands been turned on them in malice. But this girl had somehow survived. Her will to live was stronger than any he'd seen and he knew that she had fey blood running in her veins.
He spoke the soft words over her again and again and noticed that she was gazing up softly into his shadowy face. He could not let her see his true face. It would terrify her, surely. He was so old, so wild. Older than human time and yet younger than the baby born yesterday. That was his own magic, his ability to defy time and age all together.
But while she was in his care he was careful to hide his appearance from her, keeping up his guarded shadows. He had given this girl a name not long ago. He gave names to all the fey, even the highly rare half bloods. This girl's line had been a strong one. Her ancestors had given much more of their faerie blood to their children than anyone suspected. Guenivere LeFey was the result and she took the king's breath away.
