You and Cardan had adopted a child. A small one, with stone grey skin, moss hair and big green eyes. Her beauty was unique, as was all faes’ beauty.

You had named her feverin, she had taken the last name of your and your husband.

You and Cardan were married, having been on the throne for almost a century now. Cardan was a good ruler, even if he didn’t intend on being one.

Having children was never your plan, realistically you knew as far you’d likely never reproduce. Yet, when you found a young girl promising through the crooked first— near the palace. She was alone. Wearing a potato sack like rag. Her moss hair tangled with sticks and flowers. Mud and scuffs on her small body. She was no older then two.

She was terrified of everything at first, as though a feral animal. But very quickly she warmed up to you and Cardan.