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by Andrea Lena DiMaggio

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for Killashee Girl

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Ní scéal banphrionsa drogallach eile é
(Not ANOTHER Reluctant Princess story)

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Salem, Massachusetts on an October night in 2017

The house was dark but with an odd sense of warmth. Dara sat in the mostly comfortable wooden chair across from the fireplace, her legs barely covered by the flow of her claret robe. The flames had died down, leaving the room bathed only with the glow of moonlight peeking through the window.

“You promised,” she heard along with some moving about in the other room. A moment later she was lifted rudely to her feet and led not-too-gently into the bedroom… the spare bedroom.

“I…I’m sorry,’ she protested even as she was shoved roughly onto the bed. A moment later she had been stripped down to the silken nightgown that covered her.

“Do you even appreciate how much I have to work just to satisfy the insatiable?” Fianne practically shouted.

“I…I’m so sorry,” Dara stammered once again.

“I’m so tired of excuses. You keep apologizing and yet nothing…nothing ever changes.” The woman straddled her on the bed and shook her head.

“I’m not happy with the way things have been...how they have remained,” Fianne said as she pinned her arms down.

“It really isn’t fair.” The woman grabbed the discarded robe off the foot of the bed and shook it in Dara's face like some offensive fetish.

“Fancy yourself a lady…what’s in those stories you keep reading? Oh yes… Cailleach?”

“I…” Dara tried to protest, but the woman placed her hand over her mouth.

“No… not another word. You are not a witch. You aren’t even a bhean. But…” Fianne leaned close and whispered….”

“Not a lady! But you will be.”

Dara went to protest again but found herself even more subdued when the woman stepped off the bed, but returned swiftly with an armful of several scarves.

“No…No…I promise,” Dara… Darren said even as the woman thrust a knotted bandanna between her lips, silencing her once and for all, apart from the muffled gasps that escaped her mouth. In a few moments, she was bound to the bedposts.

“Not the magic you hoped for? No one to rescue you now!” The woman took one last wide silk scarf and covered her eyes as Dara pulled against the bonds.
Soft but firm, she thought, even as she was plunged into darkness. Why would that matter?

“Once and for all,” I am going to fulfill my promise even if you cannot...” Fianne laughed, but then leaned closer and whispered.

“Remember what we talked about, my dear?” Dara shook her head no almost furiously.

“You have sealed your fate,” she heard in an almost disembodied voice as she saw through the thin fabric of her blindfold that the room had gotten brighter, almost like sunlight, if that was even possible.

“Fate….” The word echoed in her ears as she felt the bed shake, but realized it was Fianne who was shaking… no…trembling.

"Obair cron air!" Fianne screamed.

“Yes,” Fianne exclaimed, but as her voice grew louder, there came a weeping.

“Yes,” she sobbed in travail.

Every bit of Dara's being felt as if it was being torn in two. Blinded and scalded by the light of ten thousand suns even as both women’s sobs filled the room with a symphony of sorts. A magical symphony.

A loving symphony? And in a heartbeat everything became quiet. As if eternity had hushed them both, but for the low sobs they both uttered.

“Are you…?” The woman gasped as her crying ebbed. She nodded.

“Let me?” Fianne released Darren…Dara from her bonds and untied soft ribbons, gently drawing apart the gown that covered Dara's modesty.

“It...it worked!” Fianne began to laugh. A near hysterical laugh but for the relieved tears that streamed down her cheeks.

“I…We did it! We did it,” she repeated. Dara stared into Fianne's face and beheld peace. She unbuttoned her slip all the way, revealing newness, Where before there was nothing, soft mounds heaved as she breathed in and out. Without a glance she reached down and found… almost nothing as the outer had transformed into inner; in a manner of speaking.

“You…you go ahead…” Fianne urged her even as she found her own hands exploring the newness of Dara that had always been hidden.

“They’re…they’re yours…my darling,” Fianne…said even as tears cascaded onto Dara's breasts...her new breasts.

“Is… Fianne? Why did it...how could this happen…?” She patted herself. The question felt odd, since it was what they both had wanted.

“Only a witch, of course, you knew that….” She laughed.

“My mother could only find one spell; how odd?” She touched her heart and leaned close.

“Maybe there are other spells? I don’t know? But this one was designed to transform only the reluctant. The frightened man who would hate what I just did to you?”

“Reluctant? How can this be? This is what I've always wanted...What we wanted. Are the spirits so easily fooled?” Dara asked as he…rather as the new woman patted her chest.

“I think perhaps the spirits, whomever they be, just might have a sense of humor. Toying with us? Either way thank Queen Maeve, my sweet brand new wife, you are finally whole.”

“Take me?” Dara opened her garment further even as Fianne began to disrobe. In only seconds the two were huddled under the satin comforter, comparing their naked bodies that finally matched.

“May I?” Fianne said softly as she placed her wife’s hand on her mound even as her own hand began to caress Dara’s newness. Touch turned to tentative kissing which in turn led to kissing all over. Fianne felt more alive as her former husband explored her in ways she had never once known. And Dara drank in the first of new glorious feelings as Fianne buried her face down below, probing and licking and savoring that part of Dara that had been transformed.

In a short while, the two were sound asleep, back to front. Resting in dreams never before daring to hopefor, both uttering blissful coos and sighs as the enchantment borne of their love finally had its way.

And somewhere far up and away, a tall, regal looking,bare-footed red-haired woman clad in a green gown laughed softly and said to no one and at once to all her subjects....

Ancient Pines
By Loreena McKennitt