A/N: In this chapter, I'm using a small part of Shakespeare's sonnet number 116 and also a few lines from some beautiful poetry written by my dear friend Mythers. The places where the dialogue is in bold are selections from her poems. At the end of the chapter I'll include the names of the poems I have used. For those who are interested, you can check out more of her poetry at
Chapter 12: Late Night Rendezvous
All of the hustle and bustle of the events of the season's festivities, the music, the feasts, the plays, were nearly forgotten in preparation for the impending wedding. The brightly hued wreaths were replaced with delicate white and cream colored decorations and all available flowers in coordinating colors were brought to the castle.
Amalthea watched these goings-on in disgust and despair. The placid disposition she had harbored for uncounted millennia still held her rigid, unable to do the things Schmendrick and Molly suggested she do to win Lir's heart again. She longed to make Lir open his eyes, to make him see, but it was obvious that he was blind to anything but Ariana. And so, this night, as she had done every night since her arrival, Amalthea drifted into slumber with bitter tears kissing the snowy skin of her cheeks to fall carelessly upon the silken pillow that supported her emotionally exhausted head.
Through the hazy fog of sleep, the unicorn battled the winged harpy that flew overhead with talons outstretched. Her horn shone incandescently as she fought off the harpy's attack. Suddenly, Lir charged into the fight brandishing his sword at the frightening mythical creature whose claws threatened the immortality of the unicorn.
Before the unicorn could blink, the harpy's claws slashed through Lir's skin as effortlessly as one would bite into the soft flesh of a peach. Blood began to pour profusely from the gaping wound in his body and Lir dropped to his knees and then fell to the ground on his stomach. Suddenly fueled by anger and revenge the unicorn quickly vanquished the harpy. As she rushed to Lir's side to heal him of his malady, the unicorn had a terrible revelation. She was no longer a unicorn; she was the Lady Amalthea, standing in the middle of the Midnight Carnival and Mommy Fortuna's homemade horrors. Amidst the cries of the satyr and the manticore, Amalthea sank to the ground next to Lir. As she cradled him close to her body and his fast flowing blood stained her lavender gown, she cried out to Schmendrick for help.
"It's no use," Lir croaked out from his tightening throat. "You can't save me Amalthea. You can't save me."
With those last words, Lir died in her arms.
Amalthea sat straight up in bed, her chest heaving in rapid breaths as she attempted to recover from her nightmare. Knowing any more sleep was futile, she rose from her bed and padded silently down the castle corridor. As she passed an open door, Amalthea heard Lir's voice.
"…Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds nor bends with the remover to remove. O, no, it is an ever fixed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken," Lir was saying as she approached the doorway.
"Your poetry has improved my lord," she spoke.
He looked at her for a moment and then blushed sheepishly. "It's not my poetry," he said.
"I didn't think so," she replied with a smile, "I heard an errant butterfly spouting the same lines once many years ago."
Lir was quiet for a moment, staring at her intently. "What was it like to be a unicorn? To be immortal?" he asked.
"I saw the world in its blandness with no colors, no hues. The stars were my friends for we were nearly the same age. We viewed the world with the same unchanging eyes, for nothing affected us. My home was deep in the forest near the base of a mountain and I was as soft and quick as shadows, rarely seen, except by imaginative young girls who happened to stumble into my woods," Amalthea answered.
His Majesty nodded and stepped out onto the balcony. Amalthea followed close behind him. Together they stood in the cold winter air gazing at the stars overhead.
"Celebrating in celestial twilight, the stars look down on an evening of fantasy gliding across their glass floor with movements divine," Amalthea said after a few beats of silence.
Lir looked at her and spoke, "That's beautiful."
Amalthea gave him a sideways glance. "Thank you my lord. A very long time ago, back when I was somewhat younger and looking for a forest of my own, I came across a near forgotten kingdom called Aracia. The princess of the realm, Xaleigha, was something of a poet and she often spouted her sonnets to me. Amazingly, they have remained with me after all these millennium," was the reply.
"Aracia… I've never heard of it," Lir commented. He was trying to keep conversation going to avoid the real topic that was sure to come up.
"I'd be surprised if you had. The kingdom was already diminishing when I chanced upon it. I'm sure that the land was divided amongst the surrounding realms," she answered and another awkward silence.
"What were you doing wondering the halls at this hour?" Lir inquired.
"In the bitter watches of the night, where my life seems to close in, dark have been my dreams of late," Amalthea responded.
"More dreams of the harpy?"
She nodded her head and told him, "Yes. But this time, you were there too. You tried to save me and I ended up causing your death." He said nothing to reply and suddenly, it finally happened. The topic they had been dancing around came to the surface. "Why don't you want me anymore Lir?" she blurted out.
"It's not that simple Amalthea," he said, pain enveloping his sapphire orbs, "You left and I moved on."
"What do I have to do Lir? Can I die a million times to prove myself, to watch your face as my heart shatters to the ground?" she pleaded.
"What do you want from me? I'm getting married in two days Amalthea. What do you want from me?" Lir demanded.
"I want you to speak of my beauty again with love, like you used to. I want you to hold me and feel my flesh with your hands and caress me with your fingertips. I want you to hold me forever Lir. I want you to me mine," she responded, placing a hand on his cheek.
"I can't do that Amalthea and you know it," he said harshly, roughly grabbing her wrist.
"But you want to," she countered, bringing herself closer to him. Lir made no reply as he tried to move away from her, but she countered his movements. He stopped and they stared silently at each other. No noise sounded in the room except their quickened breaths. Suddenly, they reached at each other and exchanged a desperate, passionate kiss. After this outburst of emotion, they pulled away breathless. Amalthea fell into Lir's arms and he held her delicate frame tightly against his body. Amalthea's lips rose to bestow more kisses on Lir, but to her surprise he stopped her. He dropped his arms, walked back toward his desk, and then with a frustrated cry he held his face in his hands.
"Amalthea," he said in a strangled voice, "I can't do this." Amalthea stood bemused at the window as the dawning sun rose on the horizon behind her.
"I made a promise to Ariana and I'm going to keep it. I proposed to her, Amalthea, and I'm going to marry her the day after tomorrow. This has all been a dream and just like you, I wish for something to drown it out. After this moment, I will no longer think of it again. I will marry Ariana and I'll have my happily ever after," Lir told her.
Amalthea's chest ached from holding her breath and without brushing the crystalline tears from her violet eyes, she fled from the room seeking sanctuary and comfort in Molly's soothing voice and gentle touch. Lir watched her run through the door with an emotionless expression on his face, but pain and regret like he had never felt was stirring in his heart.
A/N: Mythers poetry: Painful World;
Twilight's Song;
"I'm Sorry"