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The cat was as old as the town.
He had long soot colored fur and eyes the color of cinders. His ears were ragged, and his long black tail flicked and curled idly, and he had a little pink nose and little pink paws.
He was called Enoch, and he was an elderly cat. He walked gingerly and lazed about in the sun like the old man he was. He was a tricky creature, one who used ancient magic as easily as he breathed. He helped himself to saucers of cream and, in turn, watched over both the young children and the rat population of his town.
But, it was said he granted miracles.
With a flick of his tail or the twitch of his ear he would grant the impossible.
Or so it was said.
When a little servant boy had been scolded by the lady of the house for going out to play, the cat had been nearby, lounging on a brick wall.
The cat had watched as the woman took fireplace sweepings and a bowl of lentils and threw them upon the ground before dragging her foot through the mixture. And the cat had watched as the lady of the house told the boy that he wouldn’t be allowed to play until he separated the lentils from the ashes.
As the woman walked inside, laughing at the cleverness of her punishment, the boy began to weep, fat tears rolling down his face.
The cat lept gingerly down from the wall and approached the boy.
“Would you like some assistance?” The cat purred, and its voice was deep and gentle, like an autumn wind stirring dead leaves.
The boy sniffled and wiped at his tears before nodding.
The cat hummed and turned and walked away, tail flicking, and the boy began to fight back tears once more, his lower lip trembling. He sat and began glumly plucking lentils from ashes and placing them in a pile.
At once, the sound of dull thunder filled the air, and the sky went dark. The boy glanced fearfully up and found a huge flock of ravens dappling the sky overhead, the beating of their wings so loud and their caws so annoying it made one clutch at their ears.
The ravens descended on the pile of ashes and lentils, and the boy waved his arms frantically to try to scare them away before they could eat all the lentils. The birds paid him no mind, though, and set to their task. When they alighted, spiraling back up into the sky, their duty done, two neat piles were left.
The boy was startled, but he would not dare to question such a gift. He gathered the lentils in his shirt to present to the lady of the house.
The lady of the house was flabbergasted at how quickly he had accomplished the task she had given him but could find no fault in his work and begrudgingly sent him out to play.
Later, when the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting the last of gilded fingers to paint the fringes of the world like fire, he would be running back towards home, waving at his friends as they all parted for supper, he would see the cat, napping in a sheave of sunlight.
The boy stopped in his tracks to observe the sleeping cat, whispering a quiet thank you.
That night, he left a dish of cream out on the back steps and found it licked clean by morning.
On another occasion, most of the adults of the town went to a market that was a day’s travel away, trusting the elder children to watch over the youngest. One angry father, who sought to teach his daughter a lesson about being lady-like, insisted that his daughter bake 200 loaves of bread before he returned.
That would teach her that her place was in a kitchen.
The girl was inconsolable, anger and distress a potent combination. The other children and servants whose master and parents had left for the market offered to assist, but it was a feeble offer. Even if they toiled all day, they would be too exhausted to continue baking through the night.
The girl stamped her feet and huffed, and the children and the servants set to work, for even if the task was impossible, they must at least attempt it.
The cat lay in the window, watching them work to knead dough.
“A lady's place is where she chooses, and you enjoy yours tilling the ground, a noble calling that might assist you now. Set down your baking implements and pick up a shovel.” He instructed, and they did as they were told, somewhat skeptically. "Now go to the graveyard, and each of you dig up your mother if she is planted, and if she is, not dig up her mother’s mother. And so on.”
The children and servants were reluctant but agreed, toiling away at the soil until they laid bones bare beneath the sun. It was late afternoon, and now the task seemed even more impossible than before, for they were all weary.
The cat approached the boneyard and peered into each grave. Then with a flick of his tail, the bones began to move.
They oriented themselves and clamored out of their graves, much to the surprise of the children and servants gathered around. Mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers, long since dead, gathered up children and grandchildren and descendants in their arms and laughed, a boney clicking laugh.
It was a joyous reunion.
They set to work almost immediately, washing their bones of dirt and then beginning to knead dough. And as they worked, they laughed and swapped stories with their living relatives, indulging in the gossip of the living world. They wiped away tears and fetched bags of flour, using every kitchen available to them.
It was late in the night, and all the children and servants were fed up on warm bread and stories of years long since gone when the skeletons sent the children off to bed. It was only soon after that they sent the servants off too, assuring them that they would take it from here.
That morning when children and servants alike awoke, the stores overflowed with loaves of bread, still warm and steaming.
The children raced to the boneyard to say goodbye to their mothers and grandmothers. However, when they arrived, they found the graves were already filled with fresh dirt, and the cat was napping on a tombstone.
There were sniffles, but no tears came of it, and the cat consoled those who were most affected by curling up in their laps and purring.
Later when evening came in shades of blue and indigo, when the adults returned to town, the girl’s father scolded her for not having done as she was told, but she giggled and lead him down into the storeroom where there was enough bread to feed the town for weeks.
The man had been unable to fault his daughter, and the girl had finally been allowed to be as unladylike as she wished, tromping through mud puddles and going off into the woods like the other boys. The man never challenged his daughter to the impossible again, but she continued to dabble where she pleased.
One day a foreigner, from lands far off, came to town. He wore the clothes of a rich man, but his servant girl was dressed in rags, her long braid matted and tangled and her face coated in dirt. She stumbled along beside his carriage and looked half-starved.
She was a girl from town, one with big doe eyes who had been sold to the foreigner to fulfill her poor father’s debts. The man said the girl’s service was no longer enough to pay off the debts, and he would require either the money to pay off the debts by sunrise or the girl’s younger sister to assist him.
The girl was distraught and mustered all the money she could find, but it was only a single coin.
She wept, and her weeping reached furry black ears.
“You should go to the well.” The cat said, licking a stripe down its paw. “And place your coin in the bottom of the bucket before fetching water.”
“How will that help?” The girl was petulant, and her tone was standoffish, but the cat paid it no mind, as calm and as relaxed as he always was.
“Perhaps it won’t,” The cat remarked. “But at the very least, you will have washed your coin, and you will have water to drink to help you calm down and think of a solution.”
The girl was hesitant and wary, but she gathered a bucket and her coin and made her way to the well. The cat walked alongside her, hips swaying as he hummed a gentle tune, paws stirring and leaving faint imprints in the dirt as his tail flicked and churned empty air.
When they reached the well, the girl tied the bucket to the rope and placed her coin at its bottom before lowering it into the yawning maw of the well. When the bucket was filled, she tugged and huffed and began the process of bringing the bucket back up.
She was a small girl, and she wasn’t particularly strong, but she did not recall a time that drawing water had caused her so much trouble. The rope strained, and the bough of the well creaked its protest, but eventually, the bucket came into view.
Curiously she peered down at it, frowning, wondering what could have made the bucket so heavy.
She gasped when she saw it, and the cat let out a soft mew as if this is what he expected all along.
It was filled to the brim with coins, and she wound faster, pulling the bucket filled with wealth from the well. She carried it carefully back to her home, where her father wept tears of joy.
With the money she pulled up from the well, she was not only able to pay for her own freedom but for her sister’s freedom as well. The foreigner left in a huff, having been deprived of the servants he intended, but unable to complain nor contest the money given to him.
His cart drove off at sunrise, and the elder sister pulled her young sister close, weeping in joy.
Later in the summer months, when the two girls would return from fishing together, the elder’s ribs no longer strained against her skin, and the younger had life in her eyes that had not been for many years. They would sit together, the summer sun kissing their skin and warming their river-chilled hands.
They leave one of the fish near the well in case a black cat happens to wander upon it before returning to their home with plenty of food to feed their family.
The black cat was beloved in the village. The children all had stories of times the cat had used his magic to assist with their chores, and the servants all had tales of how he had protected them from their master’s wrath. He sold secrets to unhappy brides and made their husbands upstanding men, he helped widows and spinsters, and it was said that in particularly dry years he could make the rain come.
He was a helpful creature, and a tricky one, who spoke in riddles and indulged in tricks, who answered no creed but his own.
But he was lonely.
He was the only cat in the village, and though children could pet and hold, they were not the sort of companions a cat keeps.
It was a pleasant autumn day, where the dredges of summer still clung warmly in the air, but the air was filled with the distinct autumn smells of cider and cinnamon. The cat lay upon the doorstep of a widow whom he often visited to comfort. The cat’s eyes were glowing crescents as dust danced in the golden light painting the cat’s fur.
And then, throughout the land, there was the pealing of bells, the howling of wolves, and the deliverance of a message.
Sensitive ears twitch, and the cat raises its head to the sky, listening carefully.
The message would mean nothing to human ears. Indeed it would mean little to most animals, only a cacophony of noises from the woods, but the cat was an odd creature, and the message must have been very strange to have caught the cat's attention.
“Come one come all!” It cried across the land. “On the Winter’s Solstice to the castle in the wood! For the Antlered King has finally agreed to take a spouse. Come one and all to a Solstice Ball and court for the hand of the Antlered One.”
Now that was exciting news indeed, the Antlered King had ruled the forest for as long as the cat had existed and had never considered taking a spouse. It was a point of contention within his court. From the news the cat heard it is part of the world. The Antlered King had refused for centuries, but the cat supposes that even the mighty cliff face eventually yields to the sea.
The cat simply must go, if not to get a glimpse at the crowd vying for the Antlered King’s hand then to indulge in a celebration with his own kind.
It has been a long time since he has wandered the wood, and longer still since he had a dance.
And so the cat vows that when Solstice comes, he will be among the throngs of party-goers, and by dawn, he will return to the village.
But for now, he naps, swaddled in the gentle warmth of autumn.
Solstice comes draped in velvet. The night is dark, and the shadows deep, glittering stars adorning the banner of the sky.
Brisk wind churns in the air, nervous, excited, it tousles the cat’s fur and chills his bones.
The world is abuzz with energy the cat can feel beneath his paws. Everything is waiting, excited, curious, waiting to see who the Antlered King will choose. The cat will not lie, he is curious, and it makes his whiskers twitch just thinking of it.
The cat slips into the shadow of the wood and walks, following the distant commotion until he comes before a pond. The water was serene and smooth, as reflective as a mirror. The cat observes himself in it before deciding that going as he is now simply will not do.
And so, with the flick of his tail, he changes.
The cat grows in stature, and when it stands on its hind paws, it is as tall as a man. He takes a few steps and walks as easily on two paws as on four. He gathers an armful of dead and decaying leaves and regards them carefully. He flicks his tail, and the leaves become a simple tunic and pants and a bright green vest, which the cat quickly dons.
He surveys himself once more in the pond and smoothes out his whiskers before heading towards the castle in the wood.
He reaches the gates and hums. There is a line of people as far as the eye can see, carriages and horseback riders and folks who have come on foot. There are witches and royals and fae, birds and courtiers and nymphs. They crowd about the gate, slowly trickling into the palace. None are turned away, but the guards, creatures of oily wood, each paired with a monstrous hound, cast glances over the procession.
Enoch smoothes back his ears and melts into the crowd moving on foot.
Some are draped in silks, and others likely own only the clothes on their backs, but they have all washed up hoping to capture the eye of the Antlered King.
The cat surveys them as the crowd mills forward, pushing him forward, tugging him like a leaf in a stream.
The palace is as spectacular on the inside as it is outside. Its walls are a medley of stone and wood and ice, decorated by tapestries spun of spiderwebs and silk. The ballrooms were grand with high ceilings and chandeliers of glass and ice.
The crowds thrumming throughout the massive rooms were like a sea, ebbing and flowing, a daunting sight to even the most exuberant of party-goers. It seemed that every being who heard the call had come to attend the Solstice Ball and was milling about in the large room.
Up, upon an elevated dais, sits the Antlered King himself.
He’s an elegant figure, tall and wrapped in shadow, and furs spill off of his shoulders and drag along the floor. His antlers wreathed his head like a crown stretching out and making known his namesake. But the most striking feature of all were his eyes. His eyes were disks of white, glowing like twin moons inlaid in shadow, and sometimes, they spun with rings of color, dripping and bleeding into each other.
The cat observes the Antlered King from the edges of the room, where he lingers against a wall of ice and edelwood.
He is being approached by the party's bolder guests, and a line has begun to speak with him. Seamstresses and witches and fae kings and queens alike, in dresses and suits and robes and magic, they wait their turn, hoping that when the sun kisses the tops of the palace walls, they will be declared the Antlered King’s new spouse.
He truly is a lovely creature, and perhaps if the cat were someone else, a lovely maiden dressed to the nines in a ball gown or a striking fae in a suit made of spider silk, he might have had a chance to capture such a creature’s eye, but as it was, he was a cat, and little more.
And so, he drags his eyes from the figure over watching them, and steps into the fray.
The first creature he dances with is a regal looking spider woman. The cat’s additional height cannot hope to match her stature, and thus she leads.
“Have you come to vie for the king’s attention?” He asks her curiously, tail sweeping in a wide arc as he steps back into the rhythm of the dance.
“I intended to do so.” Her mandibles click as she speaks. “But I have heard that no one shall have any luck in having his hand tonight.”
His whiskers twitch.
“Oh?” He purrs, allowing himself to be twirled. “I had not heard such a rumor.”
“I cannot speak to its truth,” She says. “But I believe it, though I shall be surprised if he chooses a spouse of any kind at sunrise.”
The cat hums, and as the song breaks, he peels away from the spider woman and finds him in the company of a fair-faced fae with pointed ears, who is delighted by the fact his new dance partner is a feline.
“Hello, my pretty kitty!” The fae coos, taking one of Enoch’s paws and dragging him into a dance. When the fae brushes back a stray tuft of fur around Enoch’s jowls, the cat fights back his prickling fur.
“What a gentleman.” He says instead of sending the fae skating with a skating hiss, tail flicking.
“Might I have your name, little kitten?” The fae asks, in reply, revealing a mouth of far too many teeth as they grin.
“No.” Enoch purrs as politely as he can muster.
The fae huffs impatiently.
“I hear you cats have three, can’t you spare one to me? It’s only polite after all.” The fae bats its eyelashes at him, and the cat’s ears flatten back.
“I believe you’re being rather bold for a first dance.” He says in lieu of offering his name, and the fae sneers and breaks away from him, evidently in search of easier prey.
Enoch dances with all manner of creatures, and by midnight finds himself needing a break from the clamoring of spirits and witches and fae folk.
He sends a glance towards the dais and notes that the Antlered King is no longer there on his throne. Perhaps he has been swept out onto the dance floor by one of his suitors. The cat glances over the crowd for distinctive antlers and finds his ears twitching when he does not pick them out of the bustling throng.
Slowly, he drifts away from the party, through an arched doorway, and through a hall. His fur prickles as he gets more and more lost wandering the corridors of the palace. His paws slide on icy floors and stumble on uneven roots. Door after door yields only more hallway until the smell of fresh air reaches his nose.
The cat sniffs at the air, discerning from where the cold scent of night air came, following after it. The archway he finds does not, in fact, lead to the outside but instead to an enclosed garden. It’s truly something extraordinary, warped edeltrees growing and twisting together, each carefully cultivated to grow into the latticework that cradled the stars. The cat hums, something between a folk song and a purr as it observes the garden of trees, each so carefully tended and beloved.
“May I help you?” A voice, one like ice spinning itself into fractals, with all the depth of shadows at night, asks, and the cat turns and finds a figure standing in the path.
He’s never seen the Antlered King so close before. From the tips of his antlers to his fur dragging along the ground, he’s draped in shadow. Like a wraith, so perfectly still and dark, he melts into the night that frames him. And his eyes spin with hypnotic rings, red and blue and yellow in concentric circles bleeding into each other.
“My deepest apologies.” The cat purrs. “I’m afraid I got quite turned around looking for an exit, and then I was distracted by the craftsmanship of the garden. I shall see myself out and leave you to your business.”
A claw-tipped hand breaks away from the shadowy figure and waves his remark away. The cat’s whiskers twitch, the movement is endearingly stiff as if the Antlered King doesn’t quite understand its purpose but is attempting to utilize it anyways.
“It’s no matter, you are here now, and you won’t find your way back on your own. You may as well keep me company.”
The cat hummed and fell in step with the Antlered King as the creature strolls through the gardens. The cat is finally able to take stock of the Antlered King’s impressive height, even with the borrowed height and walking on hind legs, only the top of the cat’s head, barring his ears, even reached the creature’s chin. The walk-in silence for a long while, the quiet only disrupted by the cat’s occasional humming.
“You are not an inhabitant of my forest.” The creature remarks, at last, not turning to face the cat as they walk.
“I am not.”
“Where do you hail from?” The creature asks.
“One of the villages at your forest’s edge, a small enough thing, but large enough to call home.” The creature seems to consider that for a long moment.
“Why have you come?”
“When you asked me to keep you company, I did not expect an interrogation.” The cat teases, tail flicking, and the King hums a short note at that. “Why has anyone come but to try and woo you?” He asks in lieu of an answer.
“You did not come here for that.” The King sounds so certain, so resolute, it makes the cat’s ears prick forward curiously.
“Oh?”
“If you had, you would have been among the countless suitors spending the better half of the night fawning over me.” There’s a sneer in that voice that says the Antlered King was not amused.
“Perhaps so.” The cat hums before answering the creature’s question. “I came to dance. It has been so long since I have been among my own kind, I thought it might be an enjoyable respite from the lives of mortals.”
“You came to dance.” The King intones. “And yet you are here, wandering my gardens.”
“I wore myself out.” The cat says with a grin, and the Antlered King glances at him, eyes swimming with purple and blue. “Besides, I only meant to view your gardens before returning to the dance,” The cat pauses. “Admittedly, I intended to view the gardens surrounding your castle walls; however, these are twice as lovely.”
The King huffs, but it is a good-natured thing.
“Please, Cat, I’ve had about as much flattery tonight as I can stand.”
The cat pauses, footsteps faltering, and turns to the creature. The King draws up short obediently beside him, turning to face him, head tilted in polite curiosity.
“Do you mean to say, Antlered Highness,”
The King seems to choke at that.
“I can’t stand that title,” He snarls, but it's a private remark as if one made to himself before he addresses Enoch. “Please, I am merely the Beast, despite what my court would have you believe. I’m no prince or King, only an old monster tending his domain.”
The cat smiles around sharp teeth.
“Very well. Do you mean to say, Beast,” The King makes a small delighted noise at that, or rather that’s how the cat chooses to interpret it. “I have accidentally stumbled upon your personal gardens, the gardens you grow and tend to that are known throughout your kingdom?”
The King inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment.
“The very same.” He rumbles.
The cat’s face breaks out into a positively devilish grin.
“Well, then I simply must compliment them.” That startles a laugh out of the King, like the peal of a church bell. “It would be rude not to flatter my host about his most prized garden.”
The King gives a swipe of claws half-heartedly at the cat.
“No, I won’t have it.” The King huffs, and humor paints his voice.
The cat dances away from his claws, spreading out his paws and gesturing to the latticework of branches delicately crafted over their head.
“I simply do admire the care you’ve put into your trees, the way you clearly tend each one to ensure they all have enough sunlight-” The cat begins to drone on and can practically feel the King rolling his eyes. The cat monologs on to the King’s teasing protests for as long as he can stand before beginning to giggle, and before he knows it, the Antlered King cannot hold back his own boisterous laughter.
When they have both recovered their composure, the Antlered King’s eyes twinkle like stars.
“I know you stated you exhausted yourself. However,” The creature drawls, bowing and offering a clawed hand to the cat. “May I have this dance?
The cat places his paw into the claw-tipped hand and allows himself to be led into a dance.
The way the Antlered King dances is slow, whirling, back and forth, almost like a game of cat and mouse.
“And here I was under the impression you had slunk away with one of your suitors.” The cat remarks as he whirls and is drawn back in against the King’s chest. He can feel the scoff in his whiskers when it comes.
“They’re nattering fools who want the throne and think I will be foolish enough to marry it away.”
“Was that not indeed what the point of this night was?” Enoch asks, curiosity tinging his voice.
“That is what my court believe they have convinced me to do, certainly.” Their chests are practically touching as the King leads them through the waltz in the moonlight.
“Somehow.” The cat remarks dryly. “I get the impression you are not thrilled to be married.”
The King laughs, and the sound makes the cat’s ears tingle.
“I haven’t a clue where you got such an idea, Cat.” The King feigns offense, pulling one of his hands away from his paw to place over his chest in mock indignation before once again grasping Enoch’s paw in his frigid hand. “I’m nothing but the picture of swooning.” His voice is so convincing, but humor dances in blue rings in his eyes.
“Liar.” The cat teases, and the King gasps as if he’s been insulted, before laughing.
When they break apart from the dance, they sit on a bench in the garden center, closer than the size of the bench justifies.
“You’re a strange creature, Cat.” The King remarks, fond curiosity in his voice.
“Speak for yourself,” The cat purrs, tail flicking towards the creature who hums in response.
They lapse into idle conversation with intermittent silences. The Antlered King is clearly a pensive creature, but Enoch is a chatterbox, and the King seems more than pleased to join him in conversation.
At last, Enoch’s ears give a twitch.
“My, it must have gotten early,” He remarks. “What time would you say it is?” He asks, glancing up towards the tapestry of stars spanning above their heads.
“Half an hour before dawning.” The King hums claws fiddling with his furs.
The cat sits up as if struck by a bolt of lightning. He’s on his feet in less than a second.
“Oh, dear, I lost track of time- I must be back to town by sunrise.” He began to run- to the startlement of the Antlered King. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, but I simply must go!”
“Wait!” The Antlered King’s voice booms like thunder. “You must stay for the Sunrise Ceremony-” But the cat is already sprinting through halls of ice and wood, through corridors and long straight stretches before bursting out into the night.
His paws barely hit the forest floor by the time he is on all four paws sprinting, shrinking back to an acceptable size for a cat, clothes falling away and dissipating back into dead leaves, the forest blurring around him.
He doesn’t remain long enough to see the doors of the palace thrown open in haste, wild white eyes searching the wood for a black tail that had long since vanished into the undergrowth.
He makes it into town, harried, fur all askew by the time the first tinges of sunlight are beginning to paint the steeple roof. He shakes himself and sets tongue to soot colored fur to set it right as the first of the townsfolk begin to step out of their houses.
That day he finds himself glancing at the winter wood, as cold and intimidating as it always was, almost as if looking for a pair of white eyes in the darkness.
It’s a late day in May, and the cat has long since forgotten to check the woods for twin moons nestled in shadow. He has a town to attend and miracles to fulfill when a single figure parts from the wood to approach their village.
His eyes are dim and weary, flashing agitatedly, his shoulders slumped, furs dragging along behind him, steam rising as the ice clinging to him melts in the warm spring air.
The Antlered King comes alone, tiredness in every line of his being.
The mortals of his village don’t know who he is, not truly, but they can get an impression from the way the King carries himself. They know he is someone to be respected, to be feared. The children and servants huddle in windows and doorways, peeking around corners to get a glimpse of the strange creature as the head of each household goes out to greet him.
The cat darts between buildings, remaining hidden, curiosity making his whiskers twitch.
He strains his ears and catches snippets of the low rolling voice addressing the men and women gathered around the Antlered King.
Soon the folks gathered about him begin to hem and haw, shaking their heads and offering their condolences. The cat manages to hear the innkeeper offer the King a bed for the night to which the creature reluctantly accepts. Eventually, the townsfolk begin to peel away from the creature, returning to their duties as if the King of the Forest had not wandered into their town.
The cat samples the air, peering closer at the creature.
White eyes turn towards him but only find a long black tail retreating around the corner of the schoolhouse.
By sunset, gossip of why the Antlered King has graced them with his presence has spread to every household and individual in town. From listening to fragmented conversations between adults and rumors spread between children, the cat pieces it together.
The Antlered King is looking for a soot-furred cat who walks upon two legs and is as tall as a man. Why, precisely, the King is searching for such a creature varies between tellings, and it doesn't seem anyone knows quite why. The story seems to range from the cat being a runaway husband to an assassin to an abandoner of the court.
The cat huffs. He wouldn't put much stock in any of those stories as anything more than mere gossip.
He makes himself scarce, trailing the Antlered King as he roams idly through the little town, always just out of sight. The King is weary that much is evident in all of his actions, and when he collapses onto the little brick wall at the edge of town, the cat gives a concerned lurch.
The King buries his face in clawed hands.
Enoch watches warily as one of the children of the village trots away from her home towards the creature. She approaches the Antlered King tentatively, her fingers fretting the bow around her waist. If the King notices her approach, he gives no indication of it.
She reaches out and tugs at his furs, the creature lifts its head to address her.
“Hello, pup,” He murmurs, and the cat flattens itself in the long grass in case the King decides to spare a glance in his direction. “May I help you?”
“You’re looking for someone, right?” The girl asks him, and he blinks at her.
“Indeed I am.” Something like hope paints that voice. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he is?”
The girl shakes her head, and the King sighs.
“You should ask for help from the cat.”
The King’s eyes turn several shades of yellow and green at that.
“The cat, you say?” He asks as pleasantly as possible, and the girl gives her affirmation.
“When my grandmother was missing, he told me what to do to find her.” The girl says, nodding sagely, that seems to capture the King’s attention.
“And what did he tell you to do?”
“He told me to gather my grandmother’s oldest scarf and throw it into the air, and follow it for as long as the wind blew.”
“And you found your grandmother, pup?”
She smiles widely up at him.
“Yeah! You spoke to her earlier. She runs the inn!” The Antlered King seems to consider this for a long moment, a gentle breeze rippling through the grasses.
“And where is this cat you speak of?” The girl frowns and glances around.
“I haven’t seen him all day, actually. You might have scared him when you came.” Enoch suppresses a snort, scared did not quite explain the tangle of feelings tucked into his chest. “I’ll go look for him.” She declares. “Stay right here!” And she runs towards town, hair fluttering behind her.
The Antlered King watches her go, chuckling fondly.
Enoch prowls forward slowly before leaping up to the brick wall several paces away from where the Antlered King sits, licking a stripe down the back of one of his paws.
The King startles at his presence, lurching back, eyes filling with yellow before fading back to white. Enoch peers at him through eyes like glowing cinders. The King tilts his head curiously, observing him just the same.
Slowly a claw-tipped hand is offered towards him. Slowly the cat approaches and allows that hand to brush along his ears.
“So you are the miracle cat, hm?” The Antlered King, caressing the fur along the cat’s jowls. “I suppose I’ve tried everything else.”
Enoch sends him a questioning look, whiskers twitching, and pads over to sit in the King’s lap. It's a dreadfully bold thing to do, one he might pay for with his ears, but claws settle along his back, petting down his fur.
“I suppose you cannot grant a miracle if I do not explain.” The King remarks idly then falls silent. Enoch’s tail flicks lazily.
A gentle gust of wind stirs the silence.
Eventually, the King begins to speak.
“I held a ball, under pressure from my court to find a spouse to rule at my side under the condition that if I found no one suitable, I would be allowed to refuse to take a spouse, but the ball would be held every year until I did. This was a fine arrangement, of course, I intended to turn them all down every year. What is one night of meddlesome suitors and would-be brides if they refrain for the rest of the year.” The King pauses. “However, I found myself in the company of a strange creature. A cat, with soot-colored fur and gilded eyes, not unlike yourself, Cat, though he walked upon two paws and stood on height with a man. He left in a hurry just before dawning.”
Enoch purrs as the King describes the events of the Solstice before going very still and very quiet as the Antlered King continues.
“I had decided, only a little before he left, that when the Sunrise Ceremony came, and I was asked to name a spouse, I would declare the cat to be my betrothed. However, at his abrupt disappearance, I placed everything on hold and have been searching for him since. I’ve searched every town I have come across, and no one knows any whisper of the creature I described.” Enoch is perfectly still under the claws, gently combing the mats out of his fur, tension lining his being. “And now you know what I am looking for, cat. I don’t suppose you could assist me in some way?”
Enoch remains there, still, unmoving, as the Antlered King hums, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that the cat in his lap is not performing the miracles he has been described as doing. He remains there until the girl returns.
“I couldn’t find Enoch, but-” She draws up short. “Oh! You found him! Did he help you?” She asks, and the Antlered King chuckles, the sound vibrating from the tip of Enoch’s tail to the ends of his whiskers.
“I’m afraid not,” He says, not unkindly, but the girl’s brow furrows, and she frowns.
“But he always helps!” She insists. “Did he at least give you advice?”
Once again, the Antlered King gives his gentle denial, and the girl’s frown deepens.
She walks forward and scoops the cat out of the Antlered King’s lap, scrutinizing him.
“Are you well, Enoch?” She asks him, holding him up precariously so that his hind legs and tail stir empty air. “You’ve not become sick, have you?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the Antlered King suppressing a laugh, eyes painted by blue.
Enoch gives a soft mewing in response to the girl whose growing distress covers her face. She turns towards the Antlered King, embarrassment in her voice.
“He really does help! Honest!” She gives him a gentle shake. “I don’t know what got into him. I don’t remember him being shy before. Enoch!” She stamps her foot, glaring at him. “You need to be polite and help him!” She demands.
Enoch remains silent for a moment, gilded eyes flicking between her and the Antlered King. The latter of whom seems to be in much higher spirits than he was moments before, trying to suppress his laughter at the young girl getting positively red in the face lecturing the cat.
“Dear, there’s no need to yell at me,” Enoch murmurs, addressing the girl and the Antlered King falls off the wall in startlement.
“You speak!” The Antlered King bellows, voice loud and surprised from where he lays on his back on the ground.
“On occasion,” Enoch says, whiskers twitching as the girl beams at him.
“See! You silly thing, now you will help him won’t you?”
“There is little I can do in such a situation.” The girl pouts, and Enoch’s ears flatten against his head.
The Antlered King pulls himself to his feet and scrutinizes the cat held in the little girl’s arms carefully.
“Your voice,” The Antlered King drawls slowly. “Is very familiar, cat,” Suspicion glitters in moon-like eyes. “Have we met before?”
The cat pauses fur prickling with unease.
“Perhaps.” He says at last, and white eyes narrow further. “Clara, dear,” The cat addresses the girl. “Please set me down.”
Gingerly she places him on the ground, and he stretches, his tail sweeping in a long arc. The cat sends a glance up at the Antlered King, who inspects him with a thoughtful look. The girl looks between them and makes an excuse about needing to go, skipping off towards town.
“So you perform miracles?” The Antlered King drawls at last.
“Where I see fit.” The cat replies evenly
“Might you assist me in finding my affianced?”
“You are looking for a cat, not unlike myself, whom you encountered at your Solstice Ball, and whom you would like to make your spouse. Am I correct?”
“Yes.” The creature hisses, eyes going blue at the edges.
“Then I cannot help you.” The cat says, and the Antlered King stiffens. “I can find the lost, not the hiding. I’m afraid you’ll have to find him yourself.” Enoch dismisses, and the Antlered King collapses, sitting defeated upon the brick wall.
Enoch watches him through careful eyes, fur tousled by the breeze.
The Antlered King glances up at him and offers a clawed hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Enoch leaps back into the King’s lap, allowing claws to card through his fur.
The Antlered King begins to hum as he traces down the length of Enoch’s spine before rubbing between his ears in a way that makes a purr bloom in the cat’s chest.
Afternoon ebbs into twilight in gentle purple and orange melding in the sky, which fades into night, the moon a sliver in the sky. The Antlered King is cool, like laying in the shade of a tree on a winter day, and his claws flit along Enoch’s back, tracing entrancing patterns along his fur.
“You know, Cat.” The Antlered King breaks his humming, words filling the night sky. “I’m a singer.”
The cat hums idly in response.
“I’ve heard some gossip of it. I’m afraid I don’t make a habit of wandering your woods.” The cat remarks as the claws petting him still, caging him in. The cat tenses, suddenly acutely aware of his proximity to the Antlered King.
“Do you want to know what first caught my attention about the cat I am searching for?” The Antlered King asks and then does not wait for an answer. “His voice. You see, Cat, I never forget a voice worth singing with.”
There’s no accusation in his tone, but the implication is clear.
The cat swallows thickly.
“How long did you know?” Enoch asks ears flattened against his skull.
“When you first addressed little Miss Clara. If you had not spoken, I truly would have had no idea.” The Antlered King returns to stroking along his fur gently, but Enoch remains tense. “You do not have to wed me if you do not wish to. I’ll not have a captive spouse.”
“You seem a lovely creature,” Enoch says at last. “But I have a town to attend to.”
“Then attend to your town.” The creature’s voice and claws are gentle. “But be mine, be wedded to me. I do not care if you never set foot in my palace again, I shall come to visit you at your town every night, my dear.”
The cat considers this.
“I shall wed you,” The cat declares, and a pleased croon vibrates from the Antlered King. “However, I ask you, allow me to keep my town. I’ll remain here most of the year and come to live with you in the summer months when my town needs little superstition, but you must allow me to return whenever I need.”
The Antlered King’s claws scoop him up, and the cat bristles only to relax when lips veiled in shadow are pressed between his ears.
“My dear kitten, if that is what it requires, you shall have no less than that.”
That night is the first night in many moons the cat does not sleep under the stars and actually dares to enter one of the buildings of the town, but that night he sleeps curled up upon the chest of the Antlered King, one clawed hand splayed possessively across his flank, staring at the wall of the inn and thinking of tomorrow.
The next morning the cat bids some of the children farewell, saying that he will return within the moon cycle before trotting to the edge of town where forest crept and twined with field, where the Antlered King waited, draped in shadow.
The creature gently picks him up from the ground and places him upon his shoulders, scratching beneath his chin.
They set off into the wood that parted obediently before them before King and husband soon to be.
They’re wedded only days later.
The King’s antlers decorated with flowers and ribbons and icicles, and the cat, upon two paws wearing a fine collar with a bright green bow tie. They made a pretty picture together, a strange picture, but lovely all the same.
The crowd that comes to bear witness to their union is vast, full of spirits of all kinds. They watched the ceremony as cat and King swap vows, some with envy, others with contempt, and still others with a special sort of fondness.
The cat foregoes the crown that would typically be presented to the newly wedded spouse of the King. It was not made with pointed black ears in mind.
After, when there are guests to greet and thank when decorations have been disregarded in favor of food and drink, they walk arm in arm. The Antlered King carries a cup of wine, but his attention is on neither his drink nor his guests, turned instead towards his new husband, who leans over to nuzzle along the line of his jaw.
Indeed, the cat and King could not seem to care for the world around them, enraptured instead by their own little private conversations, one that startled deep peals of laughter from both.
Two days later, the cat departs from the castle when the moon is high without his husband. The Antlered King is unconcerned, saying simply to those who fretted and worried that he knew where his husband was and knew that he would return.
And when they asked where his husband was, the Antlered King would only laugh, in higher humor than they’d ever seen him, eyes rimmed with blue.
The cat did return when spring became summer, and the world became hot, the months when the Antlered King kept to the shadows, but this time he had a companion in those dark corners. His companion sometimes walked upon four paws and sometimes upon two.
When Autumn came, the cat departed once more, but he returned the next summer, and then the next until years became decades and decades began to blend into something longer.
The servants pretended they didn’t know where their King slunk off to in the cover of night, and the court didn’t fuss over their King’s lack of a spouse, and the King and Cat were rarely seen apart from each other.
And in the Kingdom of the Antlered King, all was well.
The cat was as old as the town.
He had long fur the color of soot, with eyes like smoldering cinders, and little pink paws and a little pink nose.
He was beloved by his village, and he traded hopes for miracles and used his magic to aid those in need. He was fed by servants and tended by formerly-unhappy brides. He was pet by children and spoken of reverently by widows.
And it was said that when the moon was high, if one slipped out of their home and were extra careful to make no noise as they approached the forest, you would find the cat and a tall, regal figure cloaked in shadow sitting at the border together.
They were married, or so the story went, between children and adults chuckling fondly and remembering the tale as they had been told it.
In the summer, the cat left them, trotting into the forest side by side with his antlered husband, twining between his legs, and returned in Autumn.
It was said that the cat granted miracles.
There were some who scoffed and rolled their eyes, but those who knew, those who had heard, those who saw, left little dishes out upon their porch filled with cream and left their scraps out on plates so that the cat might have a meal beyond the rats he divested of their village.
The cat was as old as the town.
His husband was just as old if not older, and they watched over the town together by night.
And in the little village town, all was well.