Lady Wyr and The Mud-Queen
Deep in the marshlands of the Mirecourt, where the reeds whisper old names and the water forgets to flow, two sovereigns reign—not with sceptres or armies, but with presence and memory.
One moves.
One watches.
One commands.
One waits.
Together, they are the balance and breath of Mirecourt.
Lady Wyr
The Crowned Sovereign of the Living Mire
Elegant and serpentine, Lady Wyr is the face of the Mirecourt to the wider fae realms. She is both court and queen, both ritual and rot. Her domain is woven from protocol, pact, and bone, upheld by emissaries bearing the guises of her marsh-kin—herons, frogs, and eels.
Lady Wyr is all that is spoken aloud: the title, the law, the cost. She commands through words and symbols, binding her realm with the force of ancient bargains.
She is the voice that makes the reeds bow.
The Mud-Queen
The Drowned Watcher, The Last Breath, She-Who-Waits-Beneath
If Lady Wyr is the law, the Mud-Queen is the silence that comes after.
She is older, or perhaps deeper—an ancient force bound not by crown or court, but by the power of being seen. She rules from beneath the bog, half-submerged in forgotten grief. Her robes are made of peat and torn waterlilies. Her eyes are lanterns lost to the mire, glowing faintly beneath the surface. Her skin is cracked like drought-withered earth.
She carries no sceptre—only a coiled rope and a stillborn toad sealed in a jar.
Where she goes, plants bloom from the ears of those who listen too long. Her voice grows in people, not through command but consequence.
A Realm Sustained by Gaze and Ritual
Mirecourt is a place of slow decay, shifting borders, and memory-bound geography. It survives because it is remembered—and watched.
- Lady Wyr ensures the stories are told.
Every emissary, every frog-masked servant or eel-mouthed ambassador is a strand in her web of presence. - The Mud-Queen ensures the stories are remembered.
Forget her, and she drowns you in silence. Speak her name, and something in the mud listens.
Symbols and Power
Lady Wyr
- Crown of woven river-gold and teeth.
- Staff carved from drowned wood, engraved with marsh-pacts.
- Courts held beneath moon-pools and ruined stone altars.
- Her emissaries: the Heron Prince, the Eel-Faced Girl, the Frog-King of the Shallows.
The Mud-Queen
- A coiled rope from a drowned soul.
- A jarred toad that never croaked.
- No followers, only witnesses.
- Memory marshes that shift with thought.
- Her law: “What is seen remains. What is forgotten sinks.”
Encounters and Omens
- A frog with human eyes may precede the Mud-Queen.
- A trail of withered flowers blooming from corpses’ ears signals her presence.
- Lady Wyr is heralded by ripples without wind, and the smell of wet coins.
- Those who lie in her court find their mouths fill with mud.
Their Balance
Without Lady Wyr, the Mirecourt would rot into dreamless sludge—a realm with no structure, no voice.
Without the Mud-Queen, the Mirecourt would float away, untethered from memory, vanishing with the morning mist.
Together, they form the living soul of the mire—the speech and the silence, the bloom and the rot, the pact and the price.
Final Thought
They are not rivals.
They are not lovers.
They are not even always aware of each other.
But the Mirecourt is only whole when both are present.
To speak Lady Wyr’s name is to enter her court.
To feel the Mud-Queen’s gaze is to remember what you buried.
Faylinn Defence Group 