Slinging my lyre over my back, I take flight, seeking out the voice.My keen hearing leads me through the glacial beauty of the forest to an ancient oak whose great tangled roots rise above the earth.And there amongst them, huddling for shelter and warmth is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.Wearing a simple gray, woolen dress and a crocheted shawl, a young mortal woman weeps, hugging herself against the bitter cold.Her chocolate brown hair cascades down her back in glorious, unkempt, windswept waves, and her eyes, when she glances up at me are the color of sunlight through honey.
My mind spins, my heart thunders, and I step forward, one hand extended, palm up in cautious greeting.The young mortal seems so fragile, yet a quiet strength burns behind those glorious, honeyed eyes, and it’s like where once my world was dull and gray, now rainbows erupt, bringing color rushing back into my life.“Fear not,” I say in a soothing tone.“I wish you no harm.”
“I think I’m dying,” the maiden whispers, her lips turning blue as her lamentations freeze upon her cheeks.
My heart aches and I launch into action, heedless of the consequences.“Not today, my muse,” I answer, tearing off my cloak.Wrapping her in my garment like a babe, I kneel down and scoop her shivering form up into my arms, shielding her against the worst of the cold.Holding her close, I rise to my feet, calming her with the soft touch of my inherent faery allure.“All will be well,” I promise.And it will be, I’ll make sure of it.I’ve never sought a mate, though I’ve enjoyed countless dalliances over the centuries of my existence, but without doubt, I know this precious, mortal soul is mine.I can feel the pull of Fate between us as surely as the tides feel the pull of the moon.I was meant to find this dark-haired beauty; there’s no doubt or question about it.
With haste I carry her hence, faster than any mortal man or beast could, through the forest, the way I came, and all the way back to the Winter Castle and to my private rooms.No one challenges me as I go.It is not uncommon for the fae to take mortal lovers.Stripping her out of her bitterly saturated and icy clothes, I marvel at her curvaceous, naked beauty only briefly, acutely aware of her mortal fragility, before wrapping her in furs and summoning a magical fire in the frozen hearth of my living quarters.
Cradling her in my arms, I sit upon a plush rug for hours, watching the color slowly return to her cheeks, her poor, blue lips pinking up like a blushing rose, as if kissed by summer.Her long, snow-speckled locks dry, its magnificent chocolate hue gleaming by the light of the fire.As she slumbers, seemingly at peace in my arms, I sing softly to her, hoping my familiar voice might bring her comfort and rouse her when she has regained her strength.
The young beauty’s eyelids finally flutter, her long, dark lashes parting as she awakens until her honeyed gaze finds mine.“Where am I?”she whispers, her tone still haunted by the touch of slumber and weariness.
“You are safe in my quarters,” I answer, looking down upon her with more fondness than my poor heart can bear.
“And where are they?”she ventures.
“The Winter Court.I live in the Winter Castle by the grace of the king and queen as their Royal Bard.”I watch her in my lap for a moment longer, already regretting what my next words must be.“Would you like to get up?”I ask.“I have clean, warm clothes for you.”
My beautiful muse blinks repeatedly as if in confusion, then glances down, her cheeks coloring more brightly as she realizes she’s naked beneath the swathe of furs.She swallows hard, a small smile playing on her lips.“Yes, please.”
“Of course,” I answer, helping her into a seated position on the rug as I rise to fetch her garments.I lay a gown of deep, rich purple on the daybed beside her, the thickest I could procure.The garments of the winter fae are typically very gauzy, and light, almost diaphanous as we do not feel the cold the way mortals do.And for better or worse, Court fashions tend to be about appearance and style, more than functionality.“This is the best I could find,” I explain, stepping back.“I’ll give you time to change.”I move to walk away, to leave my quarters and give her privacy.
“Wait,” she says, rising to stand, still wrapped in one of my most luxurious furs, her bare feet testing the comfort of the rug beneath them.“Thank you for saving me.I owe you a debt that cannot easily be repaid.”
The fur slips down ever so slightly, revealing a milky shoulder and I can only smile, my heart aching with a need I scarcely knew existed.“I wish for only one thing,” I admit.
“If it’s within my power to give,” she answers, “it shall be yours.”
“Careful,” I respond.“Faery is as dangerous as it is perilously beautiful.Do not be so quick to give your favor, lest you find yourself bound to a fate not of your own choosing.”
“What is it you wish of me?”she presses, clutching the fur to her chest, unperturbed by my warning.
“I wish only to know your name.”
The honey eyed beauty’s answering smile is radiant, though hesitant.“My name is Wren,” she says from beneath her lashes.“Wren O’Connor, and you have my eternal gratitude for your mercy and kindness.”
“Wren,” I repeat, cherishing the way her name spills from my lips, far more beautiful than any poem or prayer.“Well, pretty bird,” I say, my heart light with joy.“I thank you for this gift.I’ll leave you to dress, now, but I shall return.”
