Original fic: That Merrie Month of May
May. 6th, 2020 07:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shallownessHistorical English setting. PG. May Queen/May King. 376 words. Written for the prompt ‘Any, any, five nights in May’, at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic.
That Merrie Month of May: shallowness
On the first night of May, the village crowns them May Queen and May King. Hand in hand, bare of foot, they dance around the Maypole, and there are moments when she thinks, 'This must be what flight is like."
On the second of May, some family and friends come to her family’s home. They eat and drink leftovers, and talk about yesterday's festivities with her parents. She stays quiet and tries to hide that her feet and spirit are restless.
On the eighth of May, she slips down to the field where they danced a week ago. The pole has been taken down. If you look carefully at the ground, you can see the traces of the celebrations. If you don't, it looks like a plain old field.
She sighs, which must be why she does not hear him approach.
“Hullo," he says. She starts, and perhaps blushes. He looks somewhere between his workaday self and the splendid young man she danced with. He will never look the same to her now.
"It's hard to believe the Mayday celebrations ever happened," he says, nodding to the field, reading her mind. But then, hadn't she thought that they had danced as one?
“Yes,” she agrees. “All that preparation, and now it’s done.”
Having found the one person who knows just how she feels, she doesn't want to leave him or the field, but night is falling and she must.
It is a mid-May night, but the village is celebrating the headman's birthday, and so everyone has licence to stay up late, to drink, to dance as much as they like, with whoever they like. The same musicians play, the music is wild and sweet. Her feet tap out an irrepressible rhythm. They only still when her king asks her to dance. When he takes her hand, she feels rightness wash over her.
One night before May turns into June, he is supposed to be walking her home, but they dawdle, taking the longest possible route. With every step, their bodies draw closer to each other. Although there is no music tonight, they follow the steps of a dance as old as seasons.
When her May King kisses the May Queen, all thought flies from her mind.
comment_fic.On the first night of May, the village crowns them May Queen and May King. Hand in hand, bare of foot, they dance around the Maypole, and there are moments when she thinks, 'This must be what flight is like."
On the second of May, some family and friends come to her family’s home. They eat and drink leftovers, and talk about yesterday's festivities with her parents. She stays quiet and tries to hide that her feet and spirit are restless.
On the eighth of May, she slips down to the field where they danced a week ago. The pole has been taken down. If you look carefully at the ground, you can see the traces of the celebrations. If you don't, it looks like a plain old field.
She sighs, which must be why she does not hear him approach.
“Hullo," he says. She starts, and perhaps blushes. He looks somewhere between his workaday self and the splendid young man she danced with. He will never look the same to her now.
"It's hard to believe the Mayday celebrations ever happened," he says, nodding to the field, reading her mind. But then, hadn't she thought that they had danced as one?
“Yes,” she agrees. “All that preparation, and now it’s done.”
Having found the one person who knows just how she feels, she doesn't want to leave him or the field, but night is falling and she must.
It is a mid-May night, but the village is celebrating the headman's birthday, and so everyone has licence to stay up late, to drink, to dance as much as they like, with whoever they like. The same musicians play, the music is wild and sweet. Her feet tap out an irrepressible rhythm. They only still when her king asks her to dance. When he takes her hand, she feels rightness wash over her.
One night before May turns into June, he is supposed to be walking her home, but they dawdle, taking the longest possible route. With every step, their bodies draw closer to each other. Although there is no music tonight, they follow the steps of a dance as old as seasons.
When her May King kisses the May Queen, all thought flies from her mind.
no subject
Date: 2020-05-06 09:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-05-08 09:50 am (UTC)No doubt! Thank you very much.