#if this reads like it was written half asleep in my notes app at 12am

[lavender-laney]

drabble, untitled concept

...this is definitely not something I decided to start in my notes app after replaying tears of the kingdom and being filled with the need to write a dynamic like link and zelda... definitely not working on this when I should be working on my other projects...

anyway. hope you enjoy and hope this is even slightly comprehensible as it is midnight but I refuse to wait <3

Cool water laps over Enya’s ankles, her bare feet prickling at the sensation. She can feel smooth stones and soft foliage beneath her, and, when she glances down, the water is clear enough to easily see minnows darting around her legs. Distraction takes her for a moment, and she watches the fish. They’re unlike any she’s ever seen. Their bodies glisten, glowing like the fireflies that fill the air around her. Every time her eyes begin to focus on their forms, they dart away, sparkling and flickering. The movement nearly feels mischievous.

She draws her eyes away from the flashing scales, continuing on as she fights the urge to glance back at her mother. She would be met with only the same stern gaze she seems to find with every look at the queen. The edges of her dress lift with the water’s pull, though somehow she’s sure these marshes will leave no sign of muck on the pure white material. As it is, it hardly seems to affect the fabric’s weight, and Enya feels almost dizzy for a moment at the sensation of walking through air rather than water.

When she reaches the sculpture previously only described to her in scriptures, the water touches her waist. She takes in the sight before her, the sight she’s waited so many moons to behold, that her family has long prepared her to witness.

Stone steps before her rise into a platform in the center of the marsh, and between one blink and the next, the moon’s rays seem to focus on the fixture. Enya’s eyes hungrily roam across the ornate carvings that decorate the pale stone. First, Enya thinks them to be constellations, then soaring birds, then the fish that still circle her like flies buzzing around carrion. She refocuses. The center of the platform is laid with a circle of pale blue crystal of some kind, one that seems to glitter and shift under the celestial light. Enya does not recognize it from any of her lessons, and her father’s voice echoes in her mind as she imagines the ways he would ponder its worth rather than its composition. Past the crystal, Enya can see where the stone lengthens into a pathway, but she cannot discern any other details. It appears as though it simply vanishes into the fog, fallen away into a chasm.

The water stills. At once, the fish dart away from her form, managing to vanish despite the water’s transparency. The fireflies blink out one by one, and a single owl offers a long, mournful call before the landscape falls silent. 

Enya looks back. 

Even as she turns to do so, she can imagine the way her mother’s face will fall into irritation, the way she will lecture her during her classes tomorrow on the importance of appearing unyielding in the face of the beasts’ judgment. As Enya's braids brush against her bare shoulders, she doesn’t think she’s ever felt so vulnerable, so naked, despite the fabric draped across her form. She needn’t have worried about her mother’s reaction. The fog around her has grown so thick that she can hardly see the stretch of water behind her, and certainly not the bank on which her mother and handmaiden stand. Her heart clenches.

Turning back to the platform, she steadies herself, suddenly aware of the dozens of eyes that rest on her, unseen, unfelt. Not even a prickle on the back of her neck alerts her to their presence, but she knows they are waiting for her. Thus, when she lifts the circlet from her brow, she does so gracefully, poised, just as her mother taught her. She turns it, slowly, studying the citrine set in the center. The gem is nearly the size of her thumbnail, perfect from any angle, any light under which you study its form. She lifts it free from its cage, holding it in her palm for a moment, watching it glimmer in the pale light. When she lays it on the stone, its gentle tink is absorbed by the fog. The circlet is returned to her brow. Her hands clasp before her. Her hair drags the water when she bows her head, eyes falling closed with some reluctance. 

Then, she waits. It doesn’t take long.

Gentle steps disrupt the air’s stillness. Unbidden, the way her mother’s dress shoes tap against the castle’s marble floors rise to Enya’s mind. The simultaneously harsh yet melodic beats grow louder with each step, in tune with the princess’s pounding heart. She wonders if the creature can hear it fluttering like a butterfly clutched between palms, sunlight flickering through just out of reach, vibrant scales tarnishing and falling away under the unyielding grip. When the steps pause, Enya still finds herself unable to detect any presence. She can hardly be blamed, then, when she lifts her head before she’s meant to.

Enya's deep brown eyes meets ice blue, and the mysterious crystal flashes to the front of Enya’s mind. The beast's face is mere inches away from Enya's own, close enough that she can see the silver spots speckled across its fur so shockingly white it nearly seems to emit its own light. When her eyes land on its somehow brighter mane, she is abruptly filled with the desire to reach out and graze her fingers through it, positive it must feel like the most expensive of silks and the most lush of prairie grass, the softest of hares and the smoothest of trout.

Her attention broadens. Its body is comparable to both a young elk and a mare of royal lineage, rippling with power and grace but, to the untrained eye, delicate and soft. Enya can so clearly imagine it scaling the most steep of cliffs, dark hooves finding purchase in the smallest of crags, or endlessly galloping through open land, seemingly gliding across the ground in a flurry of hoofbeats. 

Its fur thickens and curls around its ankles and chest, similar to the tuft at the tip of its whip-like tail. At first, Enya can see no imperfections at all, and for a moment, believes with her whole heart the tales of creatures delivered straight from the heavens above, crafted in the painstaking hands of a mythical power. But, no, she realizes. Mud clumps around its hooves, fur hangs in disheveled tendrils where it's tail has dragged the ground, a pale pink scar mars its shoulder.

The creature blinks, long white eyelashes brushing its cheeks, and Enya’s attention is brought back to its face, to perhaps the most awe-inspiring detail, but the one she reflexively avoided like a child with a burnt palm shying away from a stove — its horn.

Enya doesn't know what color to call it, the way it shifts between lavender to salmon to silver to gold, opalescent. It spirals up, up, up, from the beast’s forehead, nearly long enough for it to touch the ground with a dip of its head. It culminates into a wicked point, and it sends a jolt of primal fear through the princess. 

She knows exactly what that horn could do to a mortal, and she knows exactly what it will do to her.

All in all, a majesty of beauty and strength nearly divine in nature. A creature that pulls your attention like butterflies on a bloated corpse: delight at the puddle of gently flapping wings, then horror at what lies beneath.

A unicorn. Her unicorn.

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I have big plans for this concept, my vision right now is something that emulates 80s fantasy movies (labyrinth, the last unicorn, the princess bride, etc etc), ofc a sapphic romance (the unicorn does in fact have a human form), and, like I mentioned, a dynamic similar to link and princess zelda <3 we'll see!! 🤗