The Microfic/Drabble Meme
Prompt: "Endless Sibling Love"
Flower: White Irises
It all started with, and perhaps by the same token ended with, a fox.
A red fox it was, and it wasn't, in any way, different from the hundreds of other foxes that frolicked through the meadows and valleys and forests of Bern. It was young, just a baby, and, of all things, it was a present. A frisky little baby with a bright red bow, deposited carefully into the arms of a very happy, very beautiful little girl.
It wriggled in the child's loose grip and would have fallen to the ground, if not for a sudden tightening of fingers, and a sloppy wet kiss against the top of its head.
A wonderful gift, strange and beautiful and exciting, nothing like the frilly dresses or the strings of gold and silver that she was used to receiving. This present licked her fingers and nosed against her collar. This present was warm and furry and alive!
Her father asked for the animal, and she gave it to him before leaving the courtyard. She only followed his orders, as any good, obedient daughter would do. As she skipped away, she tried to decide on a name for that happy, wriggling mess of fur and slobbery kisses. It needed to be a good one, she thought.
Years later, she found the bow; it was wrapped and tied around a pile of bones, the red of the ribbon faded and filthy from lying on the forest floor.
As an adult, she would look back on her past and wonder where everything went wrong. What happened to that sweet brother of hers who brought her presents and doled out handsome smiles every time she so much as spoke to him? What happened to the love that she could see in every word, in every gesture?
The dull brown of the wooden cross that marked his grave was a stark contrast to the cloudless, endless blue of the sky. She watched the sun for a moment, closing her eyes to drink it all in, to think, to remember. He had died long before his heart stopped beating.
Perhaps he died alongside the fox, she thought, and tied the red ribbon around the middle of the cross.
I intended this to be more about Zephiel than Guinevere, but it kind of took on a mind of its own after the first sentence. The title might seem to contradict the story, as it wasn't just the fox that started or ended things. But the fox was, in many ways, the straw that broke the camel's back. (So to speak.)
Thank you for reading! Please leave feedback if you have the time.