Consolida "Larkspur" the Witch Queen of the North

Witch Queen of the North Consolida or Larkspur (a.k.a. Lark (To her friends))

Ah, my tale begins as it often does for us Sidhe Elves, in the ethereal realm of the fey. I was born into a humble family, my father a kind knight of the Summer Court, and my mother a noble lady of the Spring Court. However, their union, forged out of love rather than social ambition, was frowned upon by our status-oriented Sidhe society. As a result, my mother was disowned, losing her name, fortune, and standing among the fey courts.
My early years were spent in the idyllic forests and fields near the grand capital of the Summer Court, Tir Na Nog. There, I would chase Snarks and play with my dear companion, Chesh, a fey cat who was entrusted to me as my charge. Though he would argue that I am his charge, not the other way around. My father, a noble yet impoverished knight, provided me with a pleasant life filled with love.
But everything changed when an assassin plunged a cold iron dagger into my mother's heart. The bane of cold iron prevented her rebirth as a Sidhe, denying her the eternal cycle of reincarnation that all true fey enjoy. Grief cloaked my father, consuming his whimsy and youthful energy. He devoted himself entirely to his duty, although he still loved me. However, the loss of my mother had drained his spirit.
When I was seven, my father remarried a wicked and power-hungry Sidhe lady named Aconite. She saw me as an inconvenience, just as she did her own daughters my soon to be born half-sisters, Belladona and Hemlock. My stepmother's ambitions centered around using me and my younger sisters as pawns to improve her own standing within Sidhe society. It was evident that my stepsisters, eager to partake in Sidhe politics, would treat her with the same callousness in due time.
On my sixteenth birthday, my father took me through a mushroom circle portal to the mortal world of Syann. It was there that I fell in love with the realm almost immediately. Its imperfect grass beneath my feet, the fickle winds that caressed my skin—it all felt free from the burdens of the fey lords' petty dramas. This world felt right to me. I yearned to experience its shifting nature, to witness its cycles and behold the growth, blooming, and renewal of its flowers.
In my world, death held little consequence. With few exceptions, fey, animals, and plants could only truly perish by the touch of cold iron. Otherwise, their spirits would be reincarnated and reborn from the very soil, air, and plants of the fey realm. It was a minor inconvenience at worst, akin to a hard slap for a fey lord who lost their head. But here, in the mortal realm, death held meaning—a concept that fascinated me.
Over the following decades, I found reasons to perform tasks for my father or my vile stepmother that brought me to the Talroch Isles in Syann. It was there that I sought the tutelage of a druid, delving into the knowledge of the mortal world and how magic intertwined with its essence. The more I learned, the deeper my love for this strange world grew.
I cannot recall the exact age when my mother arranged for me to be married. Time does not pass for Sidhe in the fey realm, and our aging in the mortal world occurs at a glacial pace. My mother finally saw a purpose for me—as a pawn in her political machinations. I was to be wed to a noble of the Autumn Court, an Unseelie Sidhe named Lord Spindledrift, or was it Spookygift? His cold-hearted and utterly dull nature left no room for love. I could not bear the thought of being trapped in an eternal, loveless marriage, seeking solace in the arms of stable boys and chambermaids. That was not the life I desired.
So, I fled to the one place they wouldn't expend much effort in pursuing me. After all, I was a mere lady-in-waiting, and Lord Spankycliff or whatever his name was could easily find a dozen Sidhe girls as beautiful as me, eager to bear him sons and play the role of noble courtiers. Thus, I escaped to Syann through a random Mushroom Gate, much to Chesh's discontent—he complained about leaving his favorite napping spot behind to no bloody end.
Little did I know that the Mushroom Gate would transport me somewhere other than my intended destination. Yes, leaping into one without forethought was reckless, but I was a young woman desperate to evade a forced union with that dreadful and dreary Lord Speghettigylph. And so, it was in the cold Northern Forest within a grove of Rowan trees, in the region known to locals as the Gloaming Forest on the island of Vistaghast, that my true story began to unfold.

Alignment

Neutral

Current Status

Ruling her city and enjoying being the puppet master of its politics

Current Location

Cailleachthwaite

Ethnicity

Talrar

Other Ethnicities/Cultures

• Vistigari

Age

200 years (Current Body) much older if one counts her previous incarnation

Circumstances of Birth

Youngest daughter of Sidhe Nobles

Birthplace

The Fey Realm

Family

Circle of the Rowen Tree

Current Residence

Cailleachthwaite

Sex

Female

Eyes

Emerald Green

Hair

Naturally Copper Red, currently golden blonde

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Pale with slightly green hue

Height

5'6

Weight

Last person who asked was turned into a toad

Belief/Deity

Polythest pays most gods an equal respect or lack there of

Aligned Organization

Circle of the Rowen Tree

Founded Settlements

• Cailleachthwaite

Ruled Locations

• Cailleachthwaite