Dionearia Red
Bio
Fairytales and poems are some the first pieces of literature and have been reimagined countless times. Here they will be retold again, but our versions all have a queer identity at their heart and, of course, end with 'Happily Ever After'
Stories (9)
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A Dance at Midnight
By Royal Decree every seventy years to celebrate the aligning of the planets there was to be a grand festival; this festival was free and open to all: young and old, rich and poor, healthy and ill, and people of all races. While the festival itself was only one day, creatures came from all over the Quadrants for the event, so the local shopkeeps displayed their best and most colourful wares and offered special deals for days before. The inns and food vendors offered live music for their patrons and a wide variety of local and foreign foods were cooked, their aromas mixing in the streets. Throughout the city there were private parties for three days leading to the festival and for the next day after.
By Dionearia Redabout 6 hours ago in Fiction
Puss's Boots - Chapter 3
“There was a most interesting joust; did m’lady have a chance to join in the festivities?” “My sister does not take part in such bloody events, Lady Heightmyer. Was it a fair tournament?” Orlando’s voice was cool, refreshing to hear to Caoimhe over the sugar-heavy voices in Court. He stood straight and tall, and, to both Orlando and Dione’s good fortune, his hands were steady on his teacup. Puss, seeing the poise that his two charges managed to display smiled a secret cat smile, curled up on his accustomed spot on the window seat, and feigned a nap during the proceedings.
By Dionearia Redabout 15 hours ago in Chapters
We Stand in Moonlight
We walked around the castle’s defences again. The moon is full tonight and she is stronger than me. As we walk, the guards stare at us, probably wondering which one of us they watch. No one approaches us; they never do. We stand and watch the moon rise over the tallest tree that was planted generations ago. Soon, the moon will reach its highest point. We wait; she wants to see the castle’s lands by silver light and I have neither energy nor inclination to resist her. I do resist sometimes, usually out of anger but sometimes out of fear. Sometimes, the guards don’t even look at us, unsure of which one of us we are or of interrupting us. Sometimes, people even fear to approach us during the day, not even waiting until moonrise to wonder. I do not understand how they can make such a mistake; we act differently and dress differently – something that used to result in a fight, but I have since learned to pick the battles to expend energy on – and her eyes are silver. Even when we wear my clothing and the sun shines, our eyes give us away.
By Dionearia Red2 days ago in Fiction
Puss's Boots - Chapter 2
“How truly beautiful she is, Master Cat!” Exclaimed the pleased Master Detective that afternoon as she gazed upon Dione’s likeness. “Why, Cat, if she is half as intelligent and kind as her portrait is handsome, I have half a mind to beg her hand on the very spot of our meeting.”
By Dionearia Red2 days ago in Chapters
Puss's Boots - Chapter 1
Orlando was barely nineteen when he suddenly found himself the head of his house. He was still more a boy than a man, but, now, he was the sole man left alive in his family. And he had a sister – his youngest sister and twin – who needed him to provide for her. Except that they had nothing; all that they owned had been destroyed in the fire that had claimed the lives of their parents and other siblings. So now Orlando and Dione, the last remaining members of their once large and happy family, sat on what was left of their front steps and tried to determine their next move.
By Dionearia Red3 days ago in Chapters
Puss's Boots Prologue
The wedding was a small, intimate affair, and one the directly contrasted the Royal Wedding that also took place on that day with silks and velvets, cloth of gold and silver, trumpets, drums and harps, but that was, perhaps, for the best. The bride wore a simple blue gown and a silver locket as her only adornment save for her new wedding ring. The groom looked as though the world hung on her very being.
By Dionearia Red3 days ago in Chapters
The Ballroom
The ball is in full swing. The music swells and flows as couples swirl together on complicated patterns. The pianoforte, cornopean, flute and violins make a harmonious sound a they play a mixture of traditional quadrilles and other patterns interspersed with more modern, more scandalous music like waltzes. Even rarer, a Highland reel can be heard, leading to raucous laughter as the eject couples attempt the complicated patterns. Other sounds like the clicking of glasses float around the musicians' music, sometimes complementing but more often competing as lemonade and wine are consumed by those gathered.
By Dionearia Red4 days ago in Fiction
The Sleeping Beauties
The halls were nearly silent as Rafael walked them; nearly, because it was almost impossible to not hear a quiet whir or hum anymore from the nearly invisible machines as they did their duties. The guards glanced over at him from their posts, not daring to move any further in their acknowledgement. Rafael smiled and nodded to them as he passed their post.
By Dionearia Red4 days ago in Fiction
Stories Before a Wedding, or The Fairytale of Beauty and the Beast
Once, a long time ago, it was custom that on the night before wedding all the married women of equal Rank and status would gather around the bride in her chamber. While helping put the finishing touches on the bride's dress and trousseau, the women would take turns telling Tales of their great Romance and own marriages. This served two purposes: these stories taught the bride what she could expect from her own marriage and wedding night, and it also served as a history of these women and their stories. The most romantic Tale and the woman who told it would earn the right to give the new bride away into her married life. Now, in most cases, naturally the bride's mother or grandmother or some favorite cousin would quite easily be announced the winner and told how their story was such an inspiration to the new bride. In this way, weddings passed from mother to daughter, matriarch to descendant, and the women’s stories remained alive and aided a new bride in preparing for what was to come.
By Dionearia Red6 days ago in Fiction
