Hazel’s Hayfever
Down here underground, amongst the roots of the Royal Tree, the magic was very strong. It filled the air, like a sweet perfume, making one's skin tingle at the touch of it. Each time Queen Forsythia took a step forward, flowers and grass spontaneously sprouted up around her bare feet.
Hazel lay peacefully on a pedestal of living wood. Her dress and hair floated around her as if she were underwater. A pillar of sunlight gently descended down on her from a window above. Floating flower petals drifted in and out of the light around her.
Kneeling beside the pedestal, taking her hand in his, was Balen. The Queen noted that he was still wearing his wedding clothes, which had become dirty and worn from weeks of wear.
"I'm told you haven't left her side since she collapsed," Queen Forsythia praised coolly.
Hazel began coughing. The first was small and smothered, then her hands came up to cover her mouth as she did a deep belly cough.
“Apparently she has awoken,” Balen chuckled as he looked at her.
“Oh, I'm sorry, this dust is giving me hayfever!” Hazel complained as she sat up.
“CUT!”
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