They fell into each other’s arms at once, delicate hands pulling at petal-shaped petticoats and puffed sleeves. The full moon would not wait for them, slowly dragging its way across the inky sky in a constant reminder that time stood for no one, not even royalty.

Queen Calanthe shucked off the last of her fine silken layers, baring every inch of her jade skin for Varinia to touch. People in her kingdom said Varinia had soft skin, ‘the true skin of a princess, the work of fine handmaidens keeping her perfect’, but they knew nothing of soft. They had not felt the skin of a faerie. Queen Calanthe’s hands were tiny twigs coated in velour, the complexion of her face flawless, the thin skin of her chest, stretched over her pert breasts, was frictionless in its lack of blemishes or lines. Varinia knew she would never grow tired of running the pads of her fingers over every tiny patch of perfect flesh.

She did not have time for that though. They had one night, the one night they were gifted each month under a full moon to embrace and speak freely, undisturbed by their families, by war generals, by courtesans or nosey servants. A night spent in the queen’s private glade, shielded from the eyes and ears of the world by its border of enormous trees, taller than the spires of Varinia’s castle and so wide a human could never stretch their arms around the entire trunk.

Her own naked body was pushed to the moss-covered earth, small hands pressing into her skin, memorising her by touch. They knew her well enough already though and slid to her most sensitive parts first, in the crease between her legs where she had already begun to drip in anticipation, pressing under her slick lips and rubbing at her until her entire body quivered. She curved her body forward to sink her fingers into Calanthe’s quim, after all, pleasure is not quite as delicious when it isn’t shared.

They moved in tandem, bringing each other to the height of climax over and over with only the sounds of their panting breaths and their soft, soaked holes being filled to accompany them. That was Varinia’s favourite sound, above the calls of pretty birds or the ringing of church bells, above all else she adored the sound that accompanied her fingers sliding into the woman she loved, it was carnal and forbidden and perfect. When Queen Calanthe cried out at the same time it became a harmony.

She used her mouth next, lapping at the slick that she had drawn forth with her fingers, revelling in her own handiwork. Queen Calanthe writhed underneath her, clung to her, dug in her small nails and gasped through what had to have been her fifth orgasm at least, she always grew more and more sensitive with every one until she could barely breath for another climax. Varinia loved when she reached that point.

She still had some strength left in her slim body though, using it to pull her chest up and climb atop Varinia, pushing her to the earth and taking her own taste. There may have been plenty of stars in the sky to gaze at but Varinia had her own shining behind her eyelids when Queen Calanthe’s tongue climbed inside of her, curling in a movement that had her fingers and toes following suit.

When they had wrung every last ounce of pleasure and energy from their trembling bodies, they let their limbs be sucked into the soft ground beneath them, laying side by side, still utterly naked under the light of the moon, breasts heaving with exertion and excitement.

“Princess,” Calanthe whispered, “I must ask you something.”

Varinia gave her a strange look, wondering why the queen would call her by her title in this place, in this position. She did not answer.

Calanthe watched her carefully before continuing, “I don’t know how much you have been told, but your father has been enquiring after my male relatives, looking for a match for you.”

Varinia took a short and sharp breath of surprise, she knew nothing of this. Her father jested about her age and how she was approaching a time when she would need to begin considering offers from princes of other lands, but to go looking for a match for her, this she had never suspected. Humiliation blossomed in her chest, tightening over her skin like a net.

“I agree with him that we should tie our kingdoms together with blood, it will secure our alliance and allow us to help each other more freely.”

Varinia’s eyes stung with betrayal, shame, heartache. She had always known they could not continue their secret meetings forever, she had foolishly assumed Queen Calanthe would be the one to find a husband first. Never for a moment had she considered that her majesty would play a part in orchestrating her marriage.

“Before any of my cousins attempt to make offers, I wanted to ask you first.”

A sob was climbing Varinia’s throat, scrabbling its way up with sharp claws. The woman she loved wanted to know which of her cousins she wished to marry? Varinia wished to scream ‘none’ and flee, to never look back.

“Varinia, will you marry me?”

“Without a moment’s hesitation, your majesty.” Varinia breathed, tears choking her voice.

Calanthe smiled, her kind eyes twinkling in the moonlight, and cupped Varinia’s damp cheek in her hand, drawing her in for a slow, deep kiss. A kiss that carefully pried away the claws that had been digging into Varinia’s heart since the moment ‘marriage’ had been mentioned, soothing her through the warmth of her lips.

Varinia pouted when the queen pulled back to run her lilac eyes over her face.

“Of course,” She began quietly, “we would need to bestow upon you a fae name if you are to walk among the people of my land, you can not rule at my side without one.”

“What would be my fae name?”

Calanthe pressed her lips together, her eyes holding her smile, and hummed softly before answering, “Vinca.”

“Vinca?” Varinia said with confusion, she thought fae names were derived from plants, “I do not recognise it.”

“You humans call it periwinkle.” Calanthe explained with a scrunch of her nose to show her distaste.

“Vinca.” Varinia repeated, testing the name upon her tongue.

Calanthe nodded to herself, “The flower of purity and kindness. It was my great aunt’s name.” she added.

“I love it,” Varinia whispered sincerely, “thank you.”

“Of course, behind closed doors I will still call you Varinia.”

“Behind closed doors you may call me whatever you like, your majesty.” Varinia teased with a light laugh. Queen Calanthe joined her, giggling girlishly.

Soon the full moon would be gone, their night together over, and yet for the first time in her life Varinia could not wait for it to vacate the sky, for the dawn of her new future to spread across the heavens in a blaze of pink and gold.