Music: Bryd one brere
The evening rolled around far too quickly as Fiona feverishly stitched up a dress she'd accidentally ripped. It had been a clumsy mistake. She didn't mean to break it, she was simply practising graceful ways to jump from her bed. Readying herself for the possibility of her prince asking her to jump from her window with him, onto his noble steed. She'd stumbled and stood on the hem of her dress, ripping it as she found her footing and straightened up. This was exactly why she needed practice. In fact, it alarmed a small part of her that she hadn't thought of it until now. She was years past the expiry of her tower stay, the etchings into her wall behind the tapestry illustrated just how long past. Not that she trusted her own counting, nor her sanity. Surely it'd be any day now that her prince would arrive.
Still, upon ripping her dress, it had filled her with a sense of sad excitement; she had something else to do. Two novel things in one day was a luxury she didn't get too often. So, when her transformation came around, she didn't drop what she was doing and retire to bed as usual. She couldn't tear her attention away from her task of needle and thread, even though she knew this was a selfish act of hers in the moment. If she put it down then perhaps she'd leave herself something to do tomorrow, when she was back in her own body. But that set her in a state of reluctance… she didn't really need to fix the dress herself, after all her tower room was self maintaining, self repairing. Simply closing the dress into her wardrobe would fix the rip perfectly, as if it didn't happen. As if she were not even there. She couldn't risk the tear mending itself overnight by some extended act of magic. So, Fiona sat, hunched on the floor, against her bedpost, fumbling with large fingers and a tiny needle.
In all of her stuck concentration, looking at the small, neat stitchwork - no good for royal clothing, she almost missed the noise outside. Had she been human, she probably wouldn't have noticed the change in the atmosphere, the faint, faint sound of hooves on a track. It was a twist of irony that she'd have much preferred to not hear that particular sound in her current non-human state, as she ripped her attention from her precious task. Her eyes widened as she sucked a breath inward. The room seemed to tunnel in on her as she couldn't help but listen. Listen to that familiar hopeful sensation, the rare enhanced sound of feet sliding down the peak of the volcano into her deadly courtyard.
"No," she mumbled to herself, to the universe, to the rescuer way below.
Her nightmare.
She dropped the needle, head spinning to the window. Dress still in hand, she dragged it across the floor as she crawled to the window. She sat beneath it, breathing short, sharp breaths. A rescuer was here, and she was… She looked down, dropping the dress from her increasingly sweaty grasp. She was green, of course she was. She was a monster, one who deserved to be slayed. One who took the life and persona of the perfect daytime princess, who-
A melody pricked up Fiona's ears, silencing her whirling brain. It was soft, floating in through the window as if on a breeze. It was a string instrument, a lute of some kind, perhaps. Her brain couldn't hold a thought, only listen. It was being plucked in harmony, a set of a few notes, played in a slow, soothing rhythm. She found herself hypnotised by those notes, until the strings were plucked individually in a song. Her hitched breath released, terror slowly dragging its nails across her brain. The pleasant noise was all well and good now, but she doubted she would ever get to see it up close, no matter if the player succeeded or not.
On trembling legs, Fiona raised herself up, almost to the height of the window, before she ducked quickly, her brain catching up with her. She threw her hands to her ears, flattening them against her head. But that blocked out the soothing melody so she released them again. It had been so long since-
No. She looked down, grabbing the discarded dress. She had to disguise her silhouette if she were to enter the space in which he could see. She pulled the fabric across her head, so it hung on either side of her face and pulled each end down, flattening her ears. The sound of the lute softened and she lifted her head up and over the edge of the windowsill. Too short to see, on unstable legs she stood, hesitantly raising herself to see him. She needed to see him.
With enhanced vision, she could see a man stood before the swaying rope bridge.
"Bird on a briar, bird, bird on a briar…"
Fiona felt a knot immediately grow in her throat as she heard his distant voice accompany the strings that he played in her direction, for her.
"Kind is come of love, love to crave…"
His voice was soft, deep, soothing. She couldn't make out anything else about him, he was too far away.
"Blissful bird, have pity on me…"
Perhaps dark hair. Purple, definitely wearing deep purple. A colour of royalty and high status.
"Or dig, love, you dig my grave for me…"
Her breath was shaky as she lowered herself back to the ground. She pulled one end of the dress so it dragged across the top of her head, disrupting her hair, until it fell onto the ground beside her.
"I am so blithe, so bright, bird on a briar, when I see that maiden in the hall…"
Her eyes stung with tears, barely able to swallow against the knot. It had been so long. She pressed her back against the wall and lifted her legs to hug her knees. Typically she would assume this position whenever a potential rescuer would come along. Normally it would be accompanied by the covering of her small human ears, not this time.
"She is white of limb, lovely, true, she is fair and the flower of all."
Her face creased, she squeezed closed her eyes as the old meaning of her name - Fiona, fair and white - crossed her mind. She was quite ugly and very green in that moment. A tear escaped her aching eyes. Lovely, not that either. But true, she could surely have that.
He continued to pluck the six notes in the rhythm that held her mind captive in the loveliest way. She held him with a sense of unwavering certainty that he was indeed the true love she had been waiting for. The others had charged in, bringing her a hollow kind of hopefulness. Now she just let the dread trickle in, entwining itself with the sure melody. It wouldn't be long now, not long at all until he too would stop playing, would cross the bridge into his fate, or hers. The story of star crossed lovers made famous in her kingdom alit within her. Her story would end in much the same bittersweet tragedy, and yet a disgusting ogre wouldn't make for such sweetness.
As fast as she began to wonder if he might have a chance against the dragon, a memory appeared in her mind. A memory she hadn't thought about at all. Another novel thing for this day, how rare indeed. She recalled a distant cousin of hers, with a lovely face and yet a sharp tongue. She scathingly told a younger sister, Fiona's age, who dared swoon upon a musician at the royal ball - "There are two types of men in this world, gentle musicians who make for a good jester or fourth in line for the throne, and rough men, good at fighting, who make for a good king".
Fiona's eyes slowly opened again, prompting more tears to cascade in time with his gentle voice as he began the next verse. The purple of his clothing suggested he was more than a simple jester. The way he perfectly played the notes suggested that he was very skilled with his hands, but if what that girl had said was true… his swordsmanship would definitely come second. Surely in training to beat a dragon, one wouldn't find the time to perfect the craft of a musical instrument.
Her breathing slowed at her realisation. A deep breath into a sigh. The grip on her knees loosened, and she leant her head back softly against the wall. Her eyes closed again, intent to listen to the music as much as she could. Hold onto those words he sang so that she might remember them. It had been so long.
"Might I have her at my will
Steadfast of love, lovely, true
From my sorrow she may save me
Joy and bliss would wear me new."
The idea flickered across her mind to dance. Dance as she once had as a child, dance as she had rehearsed and practised in that very room. The melody was soft, slow, and lovely. As much as she might have wanted to, her muscles wouldn't move. She was held paralysed by the music; a state she savoured. She let the music sweep her mind free of thoughts, free of the same deep, grating boredom that had held her captive for so long. It was beautiful in that rare moment. She wanted to reach out and touch it, taste it, pull it around her as if it were an embrace. She wouldn't. The plucking slowed. Fear took the place of comfort, slowly taking over her mind as the notes came to a soft end.
The silence, raw and heavy, caved in on her like a blow to the head. The darkness seemed to seep in through the walls in the quiet, pouring over her. The room tunnelled around her and the loneliness struck each and every bone inside of her as it filled her up. All she could do was stare ahead, renewing the grip on her knees so tight she shook slightly. Waiting… every second feeling like a month more in that hellish prison. She wanted to throw her hands over her ears like she usually did, but she couldn't, still desperate for that sound to return. Waiting for-
The scream. She could still hear the timbre of his singing voice in the high strung, terror filled screech he gave. It echoed in her ears. Despite herself, she clung to it. It was the most she'd ever known of a person, a real person, since she'd been dragged up there.
. . .
I haven't updated this in so long, I've been distracted with life and BtB. Thank you for reading!
The song played to Fiona is "Bryd one brere" translated to "Bird on a Briar", the earliest surviving secular love song in English. It was fun finding it and its translation, especially in how it relates to Fiona.
Speaking about music… Happy Tortured Poets to everyone celebrating! The Prophecy by TS is very Fiona in these tower days. But Daddy, I Love Him is extremely Fiona further on in the timeline. I love being insane and finding silly little connections to these sweet characters in songs.
