Moira's Blessing

As the first snowflake settled, it whispered secrets of a winter tale waiting to unfold. Traveling on hush winds and trickling through the gossiping branches of leaf striped deciduous trees, Moira, Goddess of Heart bonds charged at unrelenting speed, fueled with passionate desire and otherworldly purpose.

Waves of intentional magic burst and spread as she raised her luminous iridescent wand to the sky, flecks of glowing light whipped and crackled as they fell from its sparkling tip, dissipating into nothingness, there and gone as if she never passed by at all.

But she was there, and around her energy was whirling, blasting in every direction as she used the power of her gifts in combination with the power of love, to bestow the blessing of the heartbond on those whose time had come to find their mate. Willing or unwilling it happened at the start of every winter. Mated pairs joined under the blessing of Moira, were destined to play a hand in shaping the future of the Kingdom of Alaycia.

As the final tendrils of this winter's blessing fled the confines of her glowing wand, Goddess Moira spun proudly through the air relishing in the satisfaction of her good work. Her silvery white hair whipped around her dark navy skin like a ribbon being twirled in a circle. Her flesh mixed with tiny flecks of silver that sparkled under the moonlight like stars in the night sky.

No word felt sufficient enough to describe her beauty, and it was a shame she was so scarcely seen, but she did not care about the appraisals of how she looked. Moira was a woman of wisdom and intent and a goddess with a purpose, and she felt something this Winter Solstice that she hadn't in a long time. This winter would be like unlike so many before it, this winter story told of new beginnings and the terrifying power of love.

"The Goddess has been! The Goddess has been! The selection has started!" A young female elf with sky blue eyes, and long strawberry blonde hair yelled through the village market, her blue gown bunched in the palms of her hands, as she held it securely off the ground while she ran.

Alara stood, tucking a strand of her thigh length black hair behind her pointed Elven ear. Her darkly tanned skin glinted with perspiration from hauling her mother's crops from the wagon to the market stall. Wiping a dirty gloved hand across her brow as she narrowed the gaze of her glistening emerald eyes on the animated woman who drew closer with every shout. The light brown freckles of her nose and cheeks scrunched with distaste as she curled her lip up at the woman, brows raised in annoyance.

Unphased the woman approached, resting two hands on each of Alaras biceps, shaking her excitedly.

"The Goddess has been! The selection has started! I just know it's my year to be chosen!" without waiting of a response, the woman lifted her grasp and kept moving, spreading the word with overwhelming anticipation.

"Must be winter." Her mother said with an amused tone. Alara turned and watched her mother build the fire in the designated spot beside their stall so that she could sell hot vegetable stew to hungry customers.

"Gods, I'll never understand why woman behave like that during Winter Solstice." Alaras voice was thick with distaste, and she shook her head with contempt before moving back to the wagon for more crates.

"Maybe you'll be chosen this year too." The fire sparked to life as her mother, Lydia, began her 'Maybe you'll be chosen this year' speech for the fifth year in a row. More specifically since Alara became of age.

"Mother, I simply cannot listen to this again. I'm perfectly okay with not being selected. I'd rather help you with this stall forever if the Gods will it." Alara set the next two crates down with unintentional frustration.

"The Selection is a beautiful thing, the bond your father and I shared was unlike anything I've ever-" her mother who had stopped her work on the fire, now stood, hands clasped near her heart, confessing her love to the sky as she stared dreamy eyed into the void of her mind.

"Unlike anything you've ever felt before, like two halves of the same body." Alara finished with immaculate accuracy, but her demeanor bored and monotone.

"Must you always suck the life out of Love." Her mother groaned getting to work on preparing the kettle for her soup.

"I'm not against love, I just don't see the point in running through the town every year like a madman, shouting as if you'd been gifted gold."

"Love is more priceless than gold." Her mother countered sharply.

"It's just that, worthless." She shot back.

"I said priceless, Alara." With two folded arms her mother narrowed her own gaze on her stubborn daughter. Their features were eerily similar except Alara had her father's eyes. Her mothers while still stunningly beautiful were swirls of light brown honey.

"What's the difference." she asked, mimicking Lydias stance.

"Quite literally everything."

"Sounds like they're both worth fuck all."

"Alara, language!" Her mother scolded, returning to her kettle. "Run your feet as fast as you run your mouth and finish fetching those vegetables." Alara turned and stalked back towards the wagon, content with ending the conversation but Lydia wasn't letting up.

"Fine, spend the rest of your life working with your mother instead of making a family of your own. It's not like I was looking forward to grandchildren." This made Alara roll her eyes and sigh.

"Mother is it so hard to believe not all women want to be domesticated."

"Yes, it's quite possibly the hardest concept I've ever tried to grasp." This made Alara laugh, erasing the growing tension between them. She set the next two crates down lightly this time.

"If it happens, it happens just don't get your hopes up."

"Your Majesty, Prince of Alaycia, Alexander Olwen the third. " The kings steward announced loudly, stepping aside as his arm extended expertly towards the rooms adjourning doors. The Elven warriors stationed on either side, stepped forward at the same time and opened the doors wide, allowing Alexander entrance to the throne room.

He walked in with casual grace; he wore a black battle suit tightly fitted against his impeccably toned muscles. His sleeveless tunic revealed tattooed arms and his clenched, black gloves, the only indication he wasn't pleased to be here. The top half of his silvery white elven locs were pulled back into a bun while the bottom half hung freely to the middle of his back. A black mask connected to the neckline of his tunic and stretched and covered the bottom half his face. His ashen grey brow with the scar down the middle was raised as his father just stared at him expectantly.

He said nothing and it wasn't unusual for Alexander to remain silent. He was lethal as a warrior and a brilliant strategist, but when it came to idle chatter, he was mostly withdrawn and distant from his comrades.

"Well?" his father, King Olwen II started, gesturing a hand towards his son to speak, again Alexander said nothing.

"I didn't call you here to admire your physical growth. The goddess bestowed her blessing last night; did you receive it?" His words were dripping with demand and curiosity.

"Yes, I received it." Alexanders deep voice was sharp and to the point. He admitted this to his father as a warrior with unwavering loyalty and duty to the crown he was to inherit, not from a place of excited expectant lover. His father slapped the arm of the golden throne excitedly.

"A blessing it really was then!" he shouted. Alexanders mother, Lilith, who was so small and quiet beside her massive husband, was seemingly invisible until now as she rose her hand towards her ladies in waiting.

"Prepare for the Selection Banquet, once we find his mate we will commence, but I want everything to be ready before then." She spoke urgently and when she finished the tallest of them scurried off to relay the orders.

"You must tell us what you've seen." His mother spoke directly to him now. Despite having the physical stature of his father, Alexander favored his mother in looks. She too had long silvery hair and golden amber eyes whereas his father had short red hair similar to that of flames, and eyes as black as coal that were fiery and passionate.

When the blessing was bestowed, it activated a series of chain events. For starters, one half of the pair was given a dream, a dream so real it felt more tangible than being awake. In this dream, it gave clues as to where their mate could be found. Once the pair was joined, they would come together in a union under the Royal tree of Alaycia, a beautiful willow that grew magical flowers on its wispy branches during each union. It casted its judgement by blooming in different colors that had different meanings.

For example, red was for intense love and fertility, blue was for luck and prosperity and green was for good health and long unions. After the blessing, the unions need to be consummated it is the only way to reach the final blessing of the gods, a second body.

The kingdom of Alaycia was nestled in the protection of the forest, so in return the elves must take on the second body, one that lives interconnected to energy of the forest. A body that is used and shared simultaneously with a mate It is the only way to ensure the balance between the Elven and the sacral lands remains intact.

The second body gave the Elven perspective which made them think twice about harming the animals and the land, encouraging them not to take more than what was needed and giving them the ability to communicate with all wildlife.

It was the greatest honor, to be so connected to everything but not every mated pair were chosen, and those whose unions bore black flowers on the willow were immediately denied the second body.

For the ones who were chosen, they would drift together into the 'Deep Sleep.' A sleep that combined their consciousness and puts them through a trial to determine their unions animal or other forest creature; most trials lasted no longer than seven days.

For weaker, cowardly couples they might end up as a squirrel or chipmunk. For the strongest couples, the possibilities were endless, lion, bear, giant. The options were forever changing with each union.

"I'm headed for Solei. I will depart shortly." His voice exuded the authority of a king, even in the King's presence. Having already adjusted to his son's broody disposition, King Olwen II merely shouted happily.

"Excellent, we await your return." Alexander turned on his heels and left the throne room, heading for his soon to be departing ship. Queen Lilith looked as if she wanted to protest, but she closed her mouth and said nothing, watching her son disappear into the world yet again.

"Vegetable Stew! Piping hot! Only 10 copper a bowl, 6 if you've got your own container!" Alara stood atop the sturdiest wood crate she had, shouting over the tops of locals and foreigners coming in off the boats as they scurried through the market.

Every third Friday of the month ships from the capital would come through Solei. Merchants from all over set up stalls to sell products and Alara always had one goal in mind. Sell everything they had as fast as she could so she could wander the stalls fascinated by all the different foods and inventions from around the Elven kingdom.

"I'll take four servings in these two buckets." A man held up his arms, his fingers clasped around the handles of each one.

"24 Copper then." She took one of the empty buckets and passed it back to her mother, who began dumping ladles full of stew inside. The man paid her the money with his freed hand and then she took the second bucket.

"I'll have a bowl, got no container though." A woman with a foreign accent shouted from the gathering crowd.

"10 copper it is miss." Alara took the money and dumped it into the pouch she wore at her waist. She grabbed one of the wooden bowls beside her and laid it back on the very countertop she'd put together with her mother early that morning.

"Stews ready" her mom shouted from behind the counter, signaling the order was prepped, Alara handed the buckets back to the elven man and he trudged off happily, she watched him until he disappeared into the thick of the hurried crowd.

"Stews Ready" Lydia called again and Alara grabbed the bowl passing it to the lady with a complimentary wooden spoon.

"It smells delicious, here's a tip." She handed Alara another 10 copper and then inhaled deeply as even the aroma was mouthwatering.

"Best damn stew you'll ever eat! Tell all your friends! The Damaris vegetable stew is the best in Solei!" The woman nodded obediently before heading back towards the docks.

The afternoon went on in a similar fashion until Lydia shouted, they were out for the day.

"Go on and take a look around, I'll start cleaning up." Alara wasted no time, unhooking the heavy pouch from her waist and handing it to her mother. She kissed her quickly on the cheek and smiled.

"I'll be back soon!" she called from over her shoulder as she sprinted to the center of the market.

"No take your time! There's no rush!" that was the last thing Alara heard from Lydia as distance and elves closed in between them and she made a mental note to buy something nice for her mother.

An hour into roaming through the many stalls and sampling cuisines from around the world. Alara stood shoved between a crowd that had grown quite large, watching a performance by tiny tree fairies. Their employer was a short troll who specialized in crafting elaborate stages for their performances. They reminded Alara of Doll houses but more elegant with lights and special effects. Today they were telling a story of two star crossed lovers, many in the audience had been moved to tears, captivated by their performance.

Alara would've loved to stay and watch the entire thing, but time was of the essence, and she only had so long to look around. She watched as much as she could as she pushed her way through the crowd.

Finally, as she burst free from the thick confines of the group, Alara took a deep, rewarding breath. Chuckling to herself as she staggered forward.

"MAKE WAY FOR THE PRINCE." She stopped dead in her tracks as the path before her cleared of wagons and passerby's. Everyone pushed and shoved to the sides of the path as Black horses came into view, towering over their heads.

A shiver of electricity shot through Alara's spine immobilizing her, she fought and struggled with her body to see reason and pleaded with it to move but there she stood till it was just her in the middle of the road facing the oncoming horses.

"Move your arse!" One of the warriors on foot shouted up to her as they approached. She remained there unwavering, her eyes searching for something even she couldn't identify, a deep knowing tingling inside her.

The warrior ran forward prepared to move her himself and not politely. He charged ready to strike and without thinking about her actions, Alara stepped forward and to the right of his path. She swept her foot that was mid-step out towards his feet, and he tripped over it. The momentum of his movement and the weight of is gear sent him rolling past her with great force. The sound of his armor thunking as he tumbled and twirled, echoed out over the hush crowd. She didn't so much as look, her head still high staring forward.

Immediately the other foot soldiers drew their weapons, but Alara showed no signs of fear, even as they made to assault her.

"STOP!" a deep powerful voice roared over them and soldiers immediately lowered their weapons, slinking back into formation. The horses parted as a tall white stallion staggered forward. Vibrations hummed through Alara's body; her eyes fixated on the rider. The horse came forward until it was a few feet away and then pivoted sideways as the prince dropped down off his saddle landing only a few inches from her.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as she looked up at his towering frame. His amber eyes like molten lava as he starred down over his mask. Silent, but his eyes were saying so much. The crowd watched in stunned silence. A tangible energy buzzed near them in a wild circle, a force lifting and whipping Alaras long black hair around her.

She didn't know what she expected this year, but at the very least she figured if she got paired with a farmer, or a hardworking man she could deal, but the idea of her mate being the Prince of Alaycia? There was nothing but ballgowns and primping, clean fingernails and politics ahead of her. This was worse than she expected and despite his beautiful pools of gold for eyes, she knew it could never work. He lifted a hand, presumably to touch her face but before he could make contact, the energy settled, and timed seemed to resume as Alara ran.