Where lie my maiden weeds
Willow had seen countless men over the past month, all of them unable to impact upon her even in the slightest. But this mousey haired boy with a slender frame and feminine face caused her cheeks to flush.
The boy bowed awkwardly, introducing himself as Donald, Crown Prince of Maclay. Willow laughed at his uncomfortable presentation of formalities.
She turned to her mother and whispered, “I like this one.”
Tara was to stay in the castle for an extended amount of time, first there would be the courtship, then the official announcement of engagement and finally the betrothal ceremony, binding Willow and Tara together for life.
Tara sat next to Willow at the head table for dinner, whenever their hands would brush they felt a sort of electricity run between them, connecting them. Conversation flowed like a stream, Tara and Willow felt incredibly happy in each other’s company, sharing common interests in books and botany.
When the meal was almost over Willow slipped a note to Tara.
'Meet me by the violets at Midnight, we must talk alone- W'
Tara nodded at Willow, confirming that she would be there.
Willow arrived first, anxiously waiting for Tara to arrive. When she saw Tara asked if she would sit with her. Tara and Willow sat under starlight among the wild violets, wet grass soaking their nightwear.
“Donald,” began Willow, “I need to tell you something but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Tell me, I can take whatever it is you want to say.”
“Donald,” She continued, “I like you a lot, more than anyone I have ever met, but there is a reason I am unmarried. I have never felt attracted to a man, only ever women. I believe I could never love you like you deserve due to this. I understand if this brings an end to whatever this is.”
Tara nearly cried. She had fallen for Willow and thought that her being a woman is what would tear them apart.
Tara removed her nightshirt. Underneath were cloths binding her chest flat. She slowly removed them to reveal her breasts. Realising she was suddenly topless she looked away from Willow, embarrassed to be so visible.
Willow moved closer to Tara, she held Tara’s shirt out to her, and helped her to put it back on, without the bindings. When Willow had finished doing the top button she pulled Tara’s face to hers with the help of her shirt and kissed her, their lips fitting together perfectly, as if they were made to be lovers by the Goddess herself.
When their mouths parted Willow laughed, “I don’t even know your name.”
“Gosh, true. My name is Tara, Princess Tara of Maclay.”
“Who’s Donald?”
“My brother.”
“I’m glad that it was you that came instead. Tara of Maclay, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
“I am and shall always be yours.”
The two Princesses remained together amongst the wild violets and watched the sun rise for the first time on a world that they shared.