For Fantasy's Equinox Battle Challenge: Write about the clash between the forces of Spring versus Winter in an elemental battle for dominance.

Word count: 374
____________________________________________________________

Sometimes I understand why people like tragedy.

I couldn't stop.  I don't know why, but I couldn't stop.  The tears, the sadness—they came out of nowhere, they had no reason to keep me company, yet they would not leave.

I wallowed in them.

I savored them.

I felt.

When Winter visits, his frosty touch chills me to the bone, her icy gaze invites me to lie still.  I do.  Usually.

My soul awakes from hibernation at the touch of the Sun, at the warm breath of Spring, and my lips thaw, curling upward.

Spring is strong today.  His feathered heralds announce his proud arrival as he steps into the world once more, rested and ready, eyes gleaming with confidence in his supreme, life-giving victory.  He bows to me, and periwinkles and forget-me-nots are nestled in his hair.  Everything is always better in the mornings.  He takes my hand and leads me to the throne, for I am the Queen, the Mother, the All and the Every, and he is my champion.

Frost creeps in the corners of his smile.  The periwinkles wither, the forget-me-nots fall to the floor.  Winter slurs a smile through half-lidded eyes.  I missed you, he says, as flakes begin to fall, and I glance away.

Spring, in that enchanting gown of soft light, dances beyond my reach.  Come to me, she says, her voice echoing down a tunnel too long to traverse.  She's beautiful, Winter says, and I look again.  So are you, I return, my gaze taking her in, all her cool gaze and charm, her effortless grace.  Come, warm yourself by my fire, I say, taking her hand, leading her in.  We rest in a contented embrace.

Spring is restless and comes dancing by.  I thought you would miss me, she cries.  Winter glares; I snuggle deeper.  With a screech, Spring lunges forward and I leap to my feet, crimson staining the air, but I feel, and feeling is good.

Spring is strong today.  She cradles me against her chest for only a moment before standing me on my feet, placing a crown upon my head—periwinkles, forget-me-nots—pushing me forward into the day.  Everything's better in the mornings, but sometimes...sometimes I understand why people like tragedy.

____________________________________________________________

A/N: Originally written March 2018