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Monday, November 29th, 2010
12:34 am - Fairytales 02


+Icons: Hansel & Gretel 62

Hansel & Gretel icons )

If you use, please, credit me <lj user="aroa_nehring"> or <lj user="reflejo_espejo">

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Sunday, April 5th, 2009
12:17 am


Writers, writers, looking for an intellectual home, sweep up your metaphors and allusions, your dancing wordplay and thundering foreshadows and BLOOM like a lotus flower.

The Lotus Reader is a cutting edge non-profit online literary magazine producing original works of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry from around the world. Famous professor, tired teenager, journalist, dropout, it doesn’t matter who you are—quality writing is the only qualification.

To read/ submit, go to:

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Tuesday, August 28th, 2007
4:34 am

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Two crazy Russian artists think that frogs should be able to fly, so they’ve made different photos of the frog in “flight”. The one above is called “Eddy Chlorophyll”.

The jump of frog symbolizes thirst of flying. As genetic magic dream, about that far time, when frogs were the ANGELS.

I tend to agree with these Russians. I think that the issue of frog's inability to fly has been ignored WAY TOO LONG by the media and the public at large. I want to be one of the first to say that: the world needs more empathy and compassion! FROGS DESERVE TO BE AUGMENTED TO LOOSE THIER EARTHBOUND FETTERS! AND IF GENETICS CAN'T OR WON'T LISTEN WELL THEN WHO ARE WE TO INTERFERE? I'LL TELL YOU WHO: WE'RE FRIENDS OF THE FROGS, THAT'S WHAT! HOW DARE YOU SIT ON YOUR ASS WHILE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF FROGS ARE SUFFERING ON THE EARTH! Get out there and help them fly, damnit!

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Wednesday, June 27th, 2007
8:11 pm - "The Happy Man's Shirt" - an Italian Folktale, retold.

Once there was a king named Giphad. He ruled over a very peaceful yet powerful kingdom. His people all loved and adored him. All was perfect in his kingdom.
Except for his son, Jonash. The king's son was very unhappy for no known reason.
He would always sit in his room staring blankly out the window over the lands, frowning.
The king addressed his son: "What on earth has upset you, Jonash? What is it that you lack? What is making you so distraught?"
The young prince only shrugged.
"Could there be a girl, a certain women that has caught your eye? Tell me her name and I'll move mountains to have you two married at once!"
"No, it's not a girl. I don't know why. I'm just so unhappy."
The king nodded and walked off. If this state of affairs continued the king feared his son would die of melancholy.
Deciding he needed more help, the king issued a decree to have all the top physicians, astrologers, and wise men of the kingdom come to him. When they arrived the king showed them to his son. After three days the astrologers had finally come up with a solution.
"Your Majesty," Janklo, the head astrologer, spoke. "We have given the matter close thought. In order to help your son you must find a happy man. A man that is happy through and through."
The king raised an eyebrow at this. "I must find a happy man?!?"
"Yes, and when you find the happy man you must trade his shirt for your son's shirt, then all will be well."

The king agreed and dismissed them. He called in his ambassador to the throne room, and told them to go out and find for him a truly happy man. He had notices placed all over the kingdom offering a handsome reward to anyone who could find a truly happy man.

The first person to be shown before the king was a priest.
"Are you happy?" The king's question was simple and to the point.
"Yes, milord, I am very happy."
"Well then, how would you like to be my bishop?" at this, the priest perked up. "Oh yes, your majesty, nothing would bring me greater joy!"
"Get thee hence from my palace before I have you enprisoned!" Yelled the now furious king. "You are no happy man so much as a liar, and only looking to better himself. Out of my castle!

The search continued. Not a week went by but there was news of a neighboring king who was described as a real happy man. He had a lovely wife and many children. He has no enemies and he too has a peaceful but powerful kingdom. Thinking this was his solution, the king sent his ambassador to inquire after him.
"It is true that I have all I could ever want, but I fear that I will die soon and lose it all. Every night I lie in bed thinking of what I will lose."
With this answer the ambassador thought it wise not to take the kings shirt. When he was told the news, King Giphad was furious. He had no clue what to do next. His son was going to die sad and depressed. In desperate need of fresh air the king went off on a hunting trip.
In the fields, the king shot out at a hare a few meters away. The arrow only grazed the hare, and it escaped into the woods. Following quickly, the king moved far away from the rest of his party. After a few minutes he gave up looking for the hare and made to head back but suddenly stopped. There was a noise coming from his left. As he drew closer the king realized that it was someone whistling a small tune. Reaching the noise he saw
a dashingly handsome blond youth lying in the reeds. The lad was on his back gazing up at the many clouds in the sky.
"You there! Boy! Tell me...how would you like to be appointed to the highest position in the land as the king's personal advisor?"
"Advisor eh?" the youth sat up and scratched his chin. "Such a troublesome position. Sorry I'll have to pass. I'm fine enough as I am."
The king beamed at this answer.
"You're the one! Quickly! On your feet, boy!" He grabbed the youth and ran back to the men and his camp. "My son is saved! My son is saved!"
He turned to the young man and gestured warmly: "You, boy, may have from me whatever it is you wish. But i need...i need..."
The youth looked at the king strangely. "You need what?"
"My son the prince is dying and only you can save him. Come closer."
The king grabbed the youth, smiling his brightest smile and quickly began to unbutton the youth's jacket, then suddenly stopped.
His arms drooped to his sides.

The happy man wore no shirt.

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Saturday, June 16th, 2007
11:12 am - Marcel and the Cat

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Saturday, May 26th, 2007
9:20 am - For You: Wizard of Oz Fic (Dorothy/Ozma)


Author: Bitterfig

Title: For You

Fandom: L. Frank Baum’s Oz series

Pairing: Dorothy/Ozma

Summary: While no one in Oz has to age, Dorothy and Ozma find they have a reason to grow up.

Beta Reader: Nzomniac

Word Count: 1306

Rating: R

Warnings: Shoujo-ai/femslash. This is not graphic but if you have fond childhood memories of a chaste Dorothy and Ozma you might wish to avoid it.

Author's Note: Written for yuri_challenge using prompt: young “In this land where we can stay young forever, I want to grow up just a little, just for you.

For You

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Monday, February 26th, 2007
2:31 pm - Belladonna

This is a story about a fairy named Lotus and his not-so-great day. I'm thinking of expanding this one into a novel.

Comments are both welcome and appreciated. Not all of them have to be positive, either. If you really liked something, tell me, but especially if you disliked something, please tell me.

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2:03 am - Hello!

Hi. I'm a poor college student and I write. I've always been mildly interested in the idea of the fey, but it wasn't until recently that I began writing a story with fairies as the central characters. I suppose I'll post in here in the next day or two if I receive some sort of response to this post. I hope that this community can be a source of both encouragement and inspiration as I get the rest of the stories in my head out of it.
~The Drewcifer

current mood: complacent

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Tuesday, February 13th, 2007
7:28 pm - Here's your chance to contribute!

We all read books on Faery and say, "That's not right" or "That's not how it is" or even "well, that's... kinda close."
What would you finally like to see in a book about Faery? This will be a non-fiction book but will include many of the things that I "know" about Faery. I'm curious to know what's important to you guys to see too. What are you most tired of people getting wrong?

Also, who wants a cameo? If you do, then just tell me what name you want used, what kind of being you are (descriptions are helpful) and if you have any fantasy's about what you want your cameo to be then please share that too. Is there something you want to say, someplace you want to be or do?

Thanks everyone!

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Wednesday, January 17th, 2007
12:12 pm - Prompts

Does anyone know of a place where prompts for this sort of community are available? I've found regular writing prompts, but I think fairietale deserves something a bit different, no?

If no one can think of a place, would anyone like to join me in creating a prompt list, or gathering prompts?

current mood: creative

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Monday, January 1st, 2007
11:00 pm

Hey guys. If there's any kindness in your hearts please go to http://blackholly.livejournal.com and vote for number 49 in the contest there. I would love you forever! :)

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Sunday, December 31st, 2006
6:55 am - A Time to Keep : The Lovers Meeting

Hello all. This is my first installment of:

A Time to Keep

There will at least be one more installment. I took the phrasing "Son and Daughter of Adam and Eve" from one of my favorite books. Hope you don't mind :) Without further adieu...

Faermay’s excitement skittered through her entire little body. Her limbs, pale, long, and delicate, shivered with the prospect of the Meeting. She and her sister, Colonel Celladine, had been assigned to perhaps the single most important encounter in all of Earth’s history.
No one here, there, and even then will ever have Loved like the two descendents of Adam and Eve who were fated to meet that very day. Faermay’s glittering golden wings whirred, and to her they sounded like the robust buzz of a hummingbird. She shushed them, but the excitement fled to her booted feet, which clicked solidly in the heels. Her sister stared at her with her unique “You’ve been given great responsibility and you’re behaving like wingmaiden” glare with her sloping violet eyes. Faermay resolved to calm herself. She smoothed her foxglove skirts and tightened the coils of grapevine, which kept her hair out of her eyes. There was a time when members of Courtier Fair Sentry masqueraded in the best silks and pearl shoes on their trips. Not so now. Too many of the CFS had been injured or detected for their gaudiness.
Celladine’s voice slithered through the air in a faint whip-like whisper.
“On your guard, littleling.”
Faermay focused her attention on the graveled road, all gems and shining, dressed in the dew of the morning, flirting with the sun. A great gold dog trotted along the road, leashed humbly with a length of leather, a lithe figure of a Daughter of Eve loping close behind. A fair distance from the lady, a Son of Adam ambled, his nose tracking the print of his hardcopy like a hound dog on a scent.
The CFS was founded when the Faeraday Council of Time realized that the Earth rejoiced when true love between humans was shared. The world ached and lamented for a period of time where humans became very forgetful about their hearts, and surrounded themselves with pleasures that required less soul and energy. The Council worked out a time loop in which the CFS could go back to the day when some of the most prominent lovers in the world first met. The goal was to coax the souls to temporarily dissociate from their flesh hoasts and rejoice, because a soul in love once is a soul in love forever, before and after the bodies have even encountered. When the souls met first this way, as if they’d always known each other, the magic of a never-ending Love always accompanied. The trick was to get the souls out and together without damaging/terrifying/modifying/losing them. The CFS had become very skilled with protocol, and Colonel Celladine had been administering Meetings for centuries. But, every once in a while, there was a special, flighty sort of soul who needs a different sort of fairy. That was Faermay’s role. She was a compassionate freethinker with too much energy and a spirit unmatched for generations in her clan. She was also quite stubborn.
Celladine turned to Faermay.
“Now remember, they’re both sensitive to change. They’re writers and a bit cautious. You take the little Eve. She’s going to be scared to death. Try a song or a memory of her father. But be very gentle…I know you’ll make us proud.”
Faermay nodded to her sister and they both gracefully and quietly flit into the air toward the two figures obliviously plodding towards a breathtaking life together…

current mood: sick

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Friday, December 29th, 2006
3:38 pm - Zila


Only the footsteps of my boots echoed against the pavement of the empty alley as I walked toward the street, following the lamp like a beacon, letting it lead me out of the labyrinth of darkness in which I was enveloped. For the first time in nearly ten years, I knew where I was going. I had been chasing her since my first day on the job, and had not since stopped, even when everyone I knew insisted that her capture was an unattainable goal.
She was the most elusive creature that I had ever seen or known; and I did know her, for I had studied her for all of that time. I identified with her, though I hesitated to admit it, even to myself; her free spirit matched my own, as did her natural inclination to remain ensconced in darkness. I had only caught one glimpse of her in during my obsessive searching, and still the image remained vivid in my memory, as if she had burned her silhouette into my retinas and I could always see her, no matter what I was looking at.
Her skin was pale as white orchids, and she had an eerie sort of glow about her. Her hair tumbled down her back senselessly, with no order as to which direction the wayward black curls shot off into the space around her. Wrapped in black stitches and rags, she swayed and glided through the night, as dark and infinite as the sky around her, though without benefit of anything as bright or beautiful as the stars that graced it.
But tonight, elusive though she was, I knew I would find her. She had evaded capture for ten long years; I was on her trail, and would not cease. With only three hours of sleep in three days, I was unwilling to surrender; the need to capture the pixie woman bubbled and frothed inside me and scorched my throat, so that I could almost feel her movements, could feel the air stir with even her most subtle movements, though the alley was silent and empty.
Hands slung in the pockets of my trench coat, my hat masking my eyes, I approached the end of the alley. Streetlights drenched the ground in wide circles of light, leaving the rest of the pavement in total darkness. I gazed, first down the street to my right side, seeing only strips of closed shops and the high-rise buildings in the background. Turning, I then gazed outward to my left side, my eyes tracing every doorway, every corner. She was here; I felt a cold nausea sweep my body. She was obligated to retrieve each object at a certain time, and in a certain order—otherwise the woven fabric of the magic would be rent, and she would be powerless.
At once I heard a small shuffle to my left, followed by more silence. I marveled at the unusual deathly stillness of the night as I watched with bated breath. I knew it had to have been her, and I simply waited patiently. My eyes rested upon the area which I guessed was the source of the noise—a street lamp about ten yards away. And then, before I even realized what I was looking at, I saw the image that had haunted my mind for the better part of ten years.
There she stood, after all of this time, just standing, smiling, taunting.
She stood tall and proud as a queen, her pale skin glistening by the moonlight in the heat of the summer night. The flickering orange street lamp above cast an eerie glow about her frame. Her long black curls frizzed and flew wild about her head like some perverse halo, embodying her own wild thirst for blood, money, magic.
She had grotesque wings of black feathers protruding from the milk-white skin of her back. Hers was a sort of appalling beauty, all big, gleaming black eyes and pouting fleshy crimson lips. An elegant queen, and beautiful, but repulsive, to be sure.
I did not dare approach her; for she was the most dangerous woman I had ever suffered the misfortune to cross. She saw me across the street and the corners of her lips turned upward into an impish grin, her teeth gleaming, white razors.
I stared into those eyes, which flirted invitingly in my direction. I did not follow them. I merely gazed coldly back at the smiling face, waiting.
She raised an eyebrow.
I continued merely to stare. She was a fascinating creature, stunning and hideous alike.
She had had enough of the game. Turning on her stiletto boot heel and strutting arrogantly into an alley, she became merely another piece of the dark as she vanished from my sight. I calmly followed.
Through the darkness, aided by the remnant light of the moon, I could barely distinguish her harsh swaying movement from the rest of the night. I squinted to see her, and the continuous tap of her heels against the pavement guided me toward her. Pride and vanity prevented her from concealing herself from my view.
She finally stopped in front of a fire escape. Light from a street lamp spilled onto the wild fly away hairs surrounding her face; the rest of her was swallowed by darkness, including the macabre feathers that framed her lithe body. Even through the darkness I could see her turn her head to look at me, then turn back before climbing deftly toward the top of the stairs, barely enlisting the help of the hideous black wings attached to her back.
Without a second thought I began chasing her up the stairs. I watched her disappear into the third floor window and I followed. I hoped that my noisy footsteps would rouse the family that slept peacefully and obliviously inside.
But when I entered through the window, I saw her again, stooped low over a sleeping boy. She looked up at me as I stepped inside and removed my hat, and she smiled. It took me but a moment to catch my air.
“Enough,” I whispered. “Be gone. This magic is not meant to be used for evil.”
“Who will stop me?” she replied in an eerie sing-song voice. “You, Yeshua?”
My eyes met her own, and I felt a sinking weight in the pit of my stomach as I gazed into the two whirlpools of darkness. No light caught her eyes, though a nightlight shaped like a star plugged into the wall next to the bed highlighted her silhouette.
“You know my name.”
“Of course I do,” she said in a playful tone. “Don’t you know mine?”
“Zila.” She flinched almost imperceptibly at this. I guessed that she had never heard her own name from another before now.
“You are the first.”
“To know your name.”
“How does it sound? Hearing it from someone else, for the first time?”
“Pleasant.” She shrugged as she looked down, sliding her hand beneath the child’s feathery pillow. She pulled out a tiny tooth and held it up, admiring it.
“Give it to me.”
“Mm… no.”
“You will give me that tooth.”
“What will you use it for?”
“I will not use it, and that is just the point. This is innocence. This is child magic and you are using it to achieve your own ends.”
“My own ends?” she inquired. “You know nothing about my ends.”
I continued to stare at her.
“What, you mean those goons, sent by the queen?” she said. “It was self defense. They were out for blood.”
“They were coming after you because you are evil.”
“No. They were coming after me because I was a threat. I never did anything but take children’s teeth.” She stood up and started walking back toward the window. I blocked her path. “Excuse me.”
“No. I have followed you for ten years. I can prove that these atrocities happen because of you and I am ending it.”
“Atrocities? You mean the deaths?”
“Thousands of deaths. Faerie and mortal alike.”
She continued to stare at me. Her eyes were intimidating.
“You truly don’t understand, do you?” she asked with a small smile. “I’m not good. I’m not evil. I am not a killer, Yeshua. I am death.”
Confused, I asked her, “Then why the teeth?”
“The teeth are magic. Concentrated innocence, something I need to continue escorting souls through the end of their lives and into heaven and hell, respectively. And if I benefit sometimes,” she shrugged with a smirk, “then so be it.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I’m an enigma. You don’t know me and therefore, your disgust is unwarranted.”
“I know more than you think.”
“What is it that kills you, Yeshua?” she asked softly, pressing her hand against my chest, tracing it with her fingernails. She leaned in, her face inching closer to mine. “What is burning you?”
“It’s hatred,” I hissed at her through clenched teeth, staring at her coldly, ignoring her advances.
“You don’t hate me. You’re afraid of me, and you lust after me—the two are similar in nature. That burning you feel, Yeshua,” she whispered, leaning in further. “That burn is not hatred.”
Her face was a mere inch from mine, and I could feel her hot breath on my lips. “What is it…?”
“Something else…” she breathed, closing the gap between us as she pressed her lips against mine. Her skin sizzled against me, and I felt the scratch of her fingernails as she placed her hands upon my face and she kissed me. I found my hand gently tracing the curvature of her hip, barely touching her.
She pulled away after what must have only been an instant. I stared down at her. Her eyes were pits of darkness, nothing but abyss. “You’re so empty,” I told her.
“Well,” she said with a smirk, “we have that in common.”
When I think about that night, I do not remember her climbing back out the window. I remember standing in the room with her in front of me, and then being alone.
I see her sometimes. I stare out my window and look for her figure, graceful and wild, out trolling for souls. She is only a flicker in my sight before she vanishes, and is gone.

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Sunday, December 10th, 2006
9:45 pm - emerald eyes

story about assassins... im not very far yet... its taken from a previous tale i told... but it was crap. no substance. so im trying again. please comment. see it at my journal.

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Friday, November 10th, 2006
10:41 am - The Seventh Swan


Author: Bitterfig

Title: The Seventh Swan

Source: The Seven Swans from Grimm’s Fairy Tales

Genre: Original Dark Fairy Tale

Rating: R

Beta Reader: Nzomniac

Word Count: 3490

Summary: A post-modern, contemporary retelling of the Brothers Grimm fairy tale The Seven Swans. 


Witches always have their wars.  Mona is placed under a curse by a rival witch, her seven brothers turned to swans.  For the next seven years, Mona works in silence, weaving the magic shirts that will restore her brothers to human form. 


When the seven years end, the final shirt is unfinished.  Mona’s youngest brother Isaiah--who has spent half his life human, half enchanted--is left behind, alone in the bleak world of reality, one arm the wing of a swan.  


Author’s Note: This is going to be my entry in the_bwg dark fairy tale contest.

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Saturday, September 2nd, 2006
4:44 pm - Bonjour

I'm new here, and it's a pleasure to be here.

I wrote this and you can find it in my journal as well.
Let me know what you think.

Little Miss MorbidCollapse )

current mood: content

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Friday, August 25th, 2006
6:45 pm - Story 'reworked'


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Monday, August 21st, 2006
4:47 pm

My story is my journal, check it at will.

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Wednesday, July 5th, 2006
1:34 pm - The Mermaid Lagoon


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Monday, April 24th, 2006
6:24 pm - Story

first post... and a lot of this isnt that good... i know. some is crap. anywayz... please get back to me.

Emerald Eyes

Once upon a time in the land of Hithis Feanhia during the Blissful Era of Prosperity there lived a young princess called Esiley. Many young princes desired her hand in marriage… but she refused them all. So they had to be content with gazing upon her beauty from afar. However, one of these princes, Elriand, was more determined than the others. He would call upon her everyday to try and convince her of his sincerity. Instead, the only thing he had convinced her of was his ability to drive people completely insane.
Though one day when Elriand called upon her Esiley received him. Bowing low, he kissed her hand. He looked up at her with dark blue eyes reminiscent of the twilight from summers long past. His hair, the color of deepest night, She breathed in, thinking, he may be uncommonly handsome, but he was just like all the others: selfish, shallow, and arrogant.
She composed herself and said, with just the faintest hint of sarcasm, “Prince Elriand, what a… pleasure to see you.”
“No, the pleasure is all mine, Princess,” he replied with a smile worthy of any more important prince.
Did he really think that she was that naïve? She knew not one of them really cared for her, but for her beauty, money and title, for she was the sole heir to her kingdom. He wasn’t even creative. ‘The pleasure is all mine’ was a thoroughly overused phrase. Feeling her momentary captivation with his looks slip away, she continued,
“Your determination to win my hand and my heart shows that you will persevere in any cause, even if it seems impossible. I am in need of a man such as you,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes, “or at least the man that you appear to be. I offer you this chance to prove yourself: Do you recall the tale of The Assassin’s Crown?”
“It is familiar to me, Princess, but please refresh my memory. I would like to hear the tale from your beautiful lips.” Ignoring the flattery, she began her tale.
“Long ago before our time there lived a king of Men, Neddan, who was trapped in a war he could not win against the evil Keldrauk, Lord of Shadows. Keldrauk led an army of creatures bound with dark magic to do his bidding. King Neddan was good, but weak, and, fearful of the fate awaited him and his kingdom if Keldrauk prevailed, he killed himself, forcing his daughter to the throne. Karandia was a much more practical leader than her father, and she knew that if she were to engage Keldrauk’s army in battle then her forces would be crushed. Instead, deep in debt, she traded the only thing of value left, the royal crown, to the best assassins who could be found in exchange for the service of eliminating Keldrauk. The assassins accepted the payment, and sent out the elite of their force to accomplish the task. They succeeded, and peace and prosperity were restored to the land. However, in a bloody and unexpected turn of events, the assassins killed Queen Karandia and crowned the best of them, Serthin, as King. The people hated Serthin passionately, because they had loved their Queen deeply. Having him as king was intolerable to them, and to make matters worse he was not even a good king. He was cruel, cold, and ruthless. But fortunately, he was also arrogant and over-confident, so he was not expecting the uprising that ultimately ended in his death. Uprooted from their positions of power, the other assassins fled to the deepest part of the woods, protected by ancient magic anyone who wished them harm. Their new home was named the Glade of Emerald Eyes. The name stemmed from the fact that all of the assassins shared the same startling emerald eyes. Yet, besides the emerald eyes and the ancient tale almost nothing was known about the group. Their proficiency in their area of expertise was legendary, but no one knew more, because part of the ancient magic that protected them was a binding on anyone who engaged their services, forcing them to be unable to reveal the whereabouts of the Glade or any information about it. Several people attempted to break this binding, but no one succeeded. Indeed, most of the people who require the services of the Emerald Eyes are not the kind of people who had any interest in revealing the whereabouts of the Glade.”
At this Esiley paused, remembering. Then, shaking her head as if to clear it of unwanted thoughts, she continued. “Ever since the Glade has remained hidden and legends are woven around it, legends of the crown’s powers, although no one is quite sure what these are, only that they are amazing and may not be used for ill purposes. So the Glade of the Emerald Eyes and its inhabitants remain cloaked in ancient magic and people wonder.”
Esiley finished her story and studied the prince closely, watching. She did not know how he would react, but it would speak silent words about his character. She knew how most of the other princes would react: with flowery responses ill-concealing the fact that they were reluctant to actually face danger.
Then, her green eyes boring into his blue ones, she smiled charmingly.
“I want you to retrieve the Assassin’s Crown and bring it back here, for only when it is restored and crowns the head of the ruling monarch can we have true peace and prosperity.”
Prince Elriand looked at her with an unreadable expression and then replied, “but princess, we already have peace.”
She laughed, then and said, “Really, are you so unaware of the political struggles? Everyone is hungry for power, and some will do anything to get it. Only when the Assassin’s Crown is returned to the ruling monarch will all have to accept the fact that he or she is the true ruler, for the crown will only acknowledge the one meant to rule. Even after Serthin killed Queen Karandia, he could never wear the Crown that she had given him as payment, for he was an unjust tyrant and not suited to rule a kingdom.”
She expected Elriand to argue, but all he said was, “I will be honored to undertake a quest for the good of the kingdom. Hopefully it will convince you that I am honest and my motives are not related to money or titles.”

Esiley lay in bed, her eyes open. She slowly pulled her silk covers back and delicately set her feet upon the cold floor. Holding her hand to her forehead, she stood and stepped into the washroom. Filling her hands with cool water from the basin, she splashed it on her face. She gazed at herself in the mirror. Her stomach writhed. What had she done? She hadn’t thought the stupid prince would accept the quest…. It was just to discourage him! Everyone knew it was imaginary. But then her eyes narrowed and she smiled grimly. Well maybe he would just have to discover that himself. He’ll be back within the week when he finds no leads and he realizes I’ve fooled him, she thought to herself. And maybe, thinking her cruel to send him on such a quest, he would leave her alone.

Storming the castle halls, Elriand fumed. He despised that… princess. She did not deserve the title! She might act courtly and generous, but he saw the deceit in her lovely green eyes that went unnoticed by so many. He smirked. She was like those assassins… stunning emerald eyes, but underneath a rotting heart. Sending people on imaginary quests just to amuse herself. But he would not let her get the better of him.
He wrenched the intricate front doors open and strode out onto the lawn. Elriand slowed down and slowly turned to head into the gardens. Gardens calmed him. The moonlight shone soft light onto the petals of a rose. Elriand sighed and perched himself on a stone bench. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his ring and traced its outlines. Two silver strands coiled around each other and met in the middle where an emerald shone. His father had given it to him before he died. It was their heirloom, one of the only things of value left of the royal family. Elriand’s thoughts turned back to the meeting with Esiley.
Maybe it wasn’t right to pursue a princess for money… but his family’s was slowly running out and his father was dead… there would soon not be enough to keep rule over their small kingdom. The people loved his mother and well, him, but without money the monarchy could weaken and succumb to barbaric attacks and the kingdom would crumble. It left him without any choices. His mother would not approve of marrying for money and would stubbornly continue trying to rule her crumbling kingdom. So, without telling his mother the real reason Elriand chose Princess Esiley to court. She was the right age, her parents would not protest such a marriage, she definitely had enough money in her dowry to support the realm and its subjects, and well, he had wanted to prove to his friends that the lovely Princess Esiley could be courted. He wasn’t so sure anymore.
An idea pushed its way to the front of his mind. He grinned roguishly. That would teach her a lesson and give him a chance to put his charms to a test.

Esiley was in a carriage riding to Geâdia, Elriand’s home country. She looked out the window to gaze at the palace. It was not a fancy castle; that was undeniable. But it had a simple elegance to it that even Esiley, who prized style, appreciated. The crisp grass sloped up to the palace on a hill, where it seemed to lovingly overlook the land and its people. Esiley smiled up at it and, as the carriage stopped, she daintily stepped out of the carriage holding up her beautiful blue gown. Holding her head up regally she began the walk up to the castle gates with her royal entourage trailing behind. Esiley stopped in front of the gigantic door and knocked.
Stepping back from the entrance she looked up and heard a voice echo boomingly out from behind the gate, “Who calls upon the royal family of Geâdia?”
“Princess Esiley of Hithis Feanhia. I am calling upon Elriand of Geâdia.”
“Let them in!” shouted a voice behind the castle walls.
The gate rumbled and dropped open at Esiley’s feet. Esiley glided in and stood in the lovely entrance hall. Footsteps echoed from a hall to her right. She looked to see Elriand enter and bow.
“How lovely to see you again, princess.”
She smiled and held out her hand. Elriand stepped forward to kiss it.
“So… Elriand, why did you call to see me?”
Elriand straightened up. “Well, it is usually traditional for a princess to see a prince that is courting her off when he goes on a quest,” he said cocking his head.
“Courting? Prince Elriand… I would hardly say…”
“Well I would. You made it clear that this quest was to test my perseverance and so forth, for you said, quote ‘I am in need of a man such as you.’ Unquote.”
Esiley smiled with pursed lips, “Well, so it would seem.”
“Yes, well, I was also thinking, now that we have come to an agreement that I am courting you,” Elriand said with a grin, “that you should come along on this quest.”
Esiley’s smile dropped off her face. “What?”
“It makes sense. You are so well informed of the quest we are going on. You could be our guide. I don’t know where I’m going and neither does my crew. You might be able to recall something from the story and figure out where we’re going. And besides, this quest is to save your kingdom. Surely you want to supervise this expedition.”
“Well…um…” Esiley fumbled with words as she looked for a way to escape her predicament. This wasn’t supposed to happen!
Elriand smiled. “Great! We’re leaving Monday. You can stay here in Geâdia if you like, though I believe you’ll need to pack.” Elriand bowed and left.

“So where are we going, princess?” said Elriand smiling at her from atop a horse beside her.
“How should I know?” Esiley snapped.
“Why princess! I thought you were going to lead us on this expedition!” Elriand exclaimed with a straight face. However, he was laughing inside.
“Well I’m not. I have no idea where we’re going. This was supposed to be your quest.” A knight from Geâdia rode up beside them.
“There’s a town up ahead, sir. It is said to be the village that houses one who has seen the Emerald Glade,” the young knight said with wide eyes.
“Thank you, Peter. Would you like to lead the rest of the way?”
“Yes, sir!” The knight rode away up to the front, with a proud smile on his face.
“I can’t believe so many believe that mock tale is true,” said Elriand.
“WHAT?” said Esiley jerking around in her saddle to stare at Elriand. “You knew?”
“Yes. Did you actually think I was that stupid? Really. Pathetic.”
“Then why are we on this ridiculous quest anyway? I can’t believe you tricked me!”
“We owe it to the people on this quest you sent us on.”
“I sent you on this quest! They needn’t have gone and I needn't have either!”
“Besides, we may be really on to something. That man who has supposedly seen the Emerald Glade… maybe he really has!” said Elriand with a raised eyebrow and a grin.
Esiley gave Elriand a dirty look. “Well as soon as these people discover this tale is made up, I am going home.”
“You mean when they discover this princess is a fake? That wasn’t a bright move. They will think of you as a liar for the rest of your life!” Elriand smirked, and reached out to touch her arm. “But don’t worry, princess, I’ll save you from your destitution. Marry me and you’ll be fine.”
“Oh, charming! First insult me and then propose! I knew what I was doing. All they will think is how their prince could believe such a lie! Or maybe I’ll just let it slip that you knew all along and left them in the dark!” She wrenched her arm from his grasp. “We’re here.” She said, riding to the front of the group with Peter.
The company rode into town drawing looks from peasants as they looked through the crowds. Esiley called out to a man walking on the street. “Please, sir, could you tell me where I might find the man here who claims to have seen the Emerald Glade?”
The man pointed to a small cottage with a disgruntled look upon his face.
“I thought you didn’t believe it either.” Said Elriand riding up next to her.
“Anything to get this quest over with,” she said, dismounting smoothly. She strode into the run-down cottage with her train trailing behind and her long, curly black hair flowing around her shoulders.
“I must be crazy,” Elriand muttered and followed after her. The knights followed behind.

“What? The Emerald Glade? Never heard of it,” the old man said with a crazed look in his eye.
Elriand’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. We’re obviously in the wrong place. If you’ll excuse us, we'll be on our way."

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