A crown heavy on her brow, her eyes moist with pride and grief, Saoirse Uí Neill, Queen of Mide, returned to her chambers. Her feet ached from standing, her ears still rang from the shouts, but she glowed with purpose.

It had been hard to move into her father's chambers, to take up his mantle alone. It had been hard to accept that Faolan and Siofra had not returned. It had been hard to turn away the second proposal of the Lord of Delba and the security it offered.

She had survived a winter of doubt and criticism. She had convinced the council to crown her without a king.

I think I will learn how to be a good queen before I take a husband, she had told them.

She smiled at the memory of their shocked expressions. The spring brought new life to Mide, and Saoirse intended to breathe the magic of change into her kingdom.

At the foot of the gilded mirror, tied with rough twine, sat a strange bundle of fabric.

Removing her crown, Saoirse picked up the dark weave to reveal its shape.

A rush of emotion flooded. The warmth of friendship, the strength of her father's memory, the promise of love.

In her hands, an otherworldly gown—spun with stardust, lined with moonbeams, stitched with sunshine—glowed in the firelight.

A note fell to the floor. The scrawl was hasty, familiar.

Just in case.

Complete: May 1, 2020

Final Wattpad count: 39,035 

Final Google Docs count: 39,442