Psssst congrats for the milestone!! For the song prompt : Deep In The Meadow from the Hunger Games I'm curious to see how you intrepret it 👀
thank you Kae <3 <3
deep in the meadow
Ever since Dean was young, the forest has always called to Dean.
under the willow
The Fae have called to Dean.
a bed of grass
He can hear their song. Just faintly, lingering at the very corners of his consciousness, but it’s there.
a soft green pillow
It’s always there.
~
When Dean was little, he’d wandered away from his home.
In the way that toddlers often are, he’d been tempted by warmth, and sunlight, and the butterflies that danced across the garden and away towards the trees. They were so pretty, and he’d wanted to get close to them, to see what it was like to be one.
And so he’d toddled through the grass, following those little coloured spots that seemed always just out of reach, fluttering away from his grasp. They’d taken him through the grass and into the trees, until he’d turned around and realized, too late, that he could no longer see his little house.
He was entirely alone in the forest. There were no sounds. No people. Just him, and the trees, and the light dappling the forest floor.
And that was when he’d first heard it.
The song.
It was beautiful, more beautiful than anything he’d ever heard before—and that included the lullabies that his mother sang to him to get him to sleep. It sounded like more voices combined in more harmonies than his little brain could possibly hope to imagine.
For a long time, he’d just stood there, listening.
And then he’d ventured further into the forest.
Eventually, the trees gave way to more grass, to a meadow that was bright and sunlit and warm. He felt like he was being watched, but not by bad people. No, this watching felt like when mother watched over him while he slept. Like when father gave him a tiny wooden sword and laughed as he swung wildly at the air.
This watching felt safe.
He had made his way through the daisies, until he’d gotten tired—it had, after all, been an awfully long way for his little legs to carry him. And so Dean had laid down in the grass, in the middle of the daisies and beneath the watchful gaze of the people who he could not see but knew to be there, and he listened to the song.
And he slept.
When he woke up, he was back in his own bed.
~
His parents had known that something was amiss. That something had called their son from their home that day, enticed him out into the forest.
The Fae are dangerous, they had said. You are not to go out there again.
Who are the Fae?Dean had asked.
They had not answered.
And because they did not answer, Dean resolved to find out the answer for himself.
~
From that day onwards, Dean has always heard the song.
Most of the time, it’s quiet, but sometimes it’s loud, so loud that Dean can hardly concentrate. Can hardly hear himself. And it’s always, always coming from the forest.
He goes out there whenever he’s able—whenever he can slip away from his parents and his chores, and go in search of that music. Because even though his parents and the folklore tales all insist that whatever is out there is dangerous, Dean knows that it’s not. Not towards him, anyway. He can hear them, hear them calling to him, and that means something.
It means he’s special.
~
Dean grows up hearing it, that same melody over and over again, and he grows up searching the forest. He knows almost every inch of it by now, every tree and burrow and hill. He knows the meadow—has walked that meadow more times than he can count, looking for answers to questions he doesn’t even know how to ask yet.
He sleeps in the meadow.
While many other memories of his childhood have faded, that one remains stark and clear in his mind. He knows he’d fallen asleep in the grass, amongst the daisies in a place that had felt so safe and welcoming and serene… and he’d woken up back in his bed.
But it’s never happened again.
He wants it to—gods, does he want it to. Anything for the chance to catch a glimpse of the beings who tease him with their watchful gazes and their beautiful music, but that stay so tantalizingly out of reach. He’s never even caught a glimpse of the Fae, let alone gotten the chance to properly meet one.
And then, one summer afternoon, that changes.
A long time has passed since the first time Dean had been guided out into the forest. He’s older now, has filled out across his shoulders, is almost of age. He’s more than old enough to make his own decisions, and his parents can no longer stop him from venturing into the forest. He’d snuck out there before, but now he spends so many of his waking moments there.
Watching.
Waiting.
He’s in the meadow when it happens.
His feet are bare, sunk into the grass, and his face is upturned towards the sun, his eyes closed. The song is loud today, unusually so, and Dean revels in the way the harmonies within it feel like a caress across his skin. This secluded spot is just for him, and so is the song.
The golden light of the sun glows even through his closed eyelids.
When he opens them, there is a man standing in front of him.
Well, not a man, per se, and in more ways than one.
He seems to be about Dean’s age, if the Fae age in the same way humans do. There’s a glowing quality to his blue eyes, though, and a point where his ears should be rounded, and there’s a simple silver circlet sitting atop his mess of dark hair.
He’s beautiful, and for the first time in… well, since Dean can remember…
The song changes.
here your dreams are sweet,
and tomorrow brings them true,
here is the place
where I
love
you.
The Fae reaches out his hand to Dean, palm up, and there’s a gentle smile curving his lips.
“Hello, Dean,” he says, and his voice sounds like that same music. “I have been waiting for you.”
