Fairytales? [boyxboy]

Chapter 4 - Secret

A/n first of all, this chapter isn't as long as i wanted it.... But I'm off on a small vacation this weekend and I wanted to give you something to read...

>>>>> Youtube: Secret by The Pierces >>>>>>

-------------- Meanwhile somewhere in Europe ----------------------

You’re standing on a hill, a green hill to be exact. Everywhere is grass, as far as your eye can see. It’s a sea of grass. In the distance is a little wooden barn, smoke is coming from the chimney. It’s obvious that they’re burning wood inside. The smell is all over the hills.

When you walk towards the house you hear people sing, singing about their anger and singing about their people. It’s something like this:

“Can you hear us people sing, singing a song of angry beasts, this gonna be a sorrow for those fairies and they end up dead!

Can you hear our secret song, about the end of their reign, they will be crushed and eaten and we’ve already one!”

Quickly you walk away…. You heard enough….

                                            ~~~~ Titania’s POV ~~~~

I woke up by a strange noise, “Who wakes me from my flowery bed? What stupid immortal made that noise!” I yelled before I opened my eyes.

Yes, I was known for my anger issues, yes, I am the queen of fairies here in Europe and yes I know everything. I opened my eyes and looked to the being next to me. But there was nobody, only a glass  sphere. I saw a few things in it. I had to yell for my servant, Cobweb. “COBWEB!” I screamed in a very high pitched voice. “Come here you mutt!”. I Stared into the sphere again and began talking:

“These are the forgeries of jealousy:

And never, since the middle summer's spring,

Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,

By paved fountain or by rushy brook,

Or in the beached margent of the sea,

To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,

But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.

Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,

As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea

Contagious fogs; which falling in the land

Have every pelting river made so proud

That they have overborne their continents:

The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,

The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn

Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard;

The fold stands empty in the drowned field,

And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;

The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud,

And the quaint mazes in the wanton green

For lack of tread are undistinguishable:

The human mortals want their winter here;

No night is now with hymn or carol blest:

Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,

Pale in her anger, washes all the air,