Fantasy The Misadventures of Cupid's Bow

Author's Notes

What happens when the powers of the divine are picked up by a mortal? Surely such magical energies would be misused by meager understanding and willpower. This story sets up as Cupid is thrown from the immortal plane of the gods and his fabled bow falls into the hands of several humans bent on using it for their own goals. How noble are these goals? Read below to find out.

This is my first ever entry in the Valentines Day writing event and I am excited for this story and its adventure that came to me amidst my winter break from school. I have been on a fantasy kick lately, and so I wanted to write something to that affect and flesh out my own little fantasy world at the same time. Hopefully you all enjoy this, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!

All characters are 18 years of age or older.

The Misadventures of Cupid's Bow

Lightning struck in a rare winter storm high above the Etherwith mountains. Violent thunder cracking amongst its peaks like a battle in heaven. To mortals, it was the weather of the world, but to the gods, it was a feud between deities brought on by a scandal that only love could ignite. Snow was vaporized as the intense blue streaks of energy clipped the peaks; a mist descended upon the valley below as the brawl went on.

"You have robbed me of my pride! My very being! For that, I will unleash upon you the utter heart of my malice and ensure that the blow unto you resonates within your soul for a thousand years!"

A final flash of lightning, so great, it ribboned in trio, illuminating the dark forest of the mortal plane below. The words of the god like a distant rumble only half heard by those not inhabiting the same plane of existence.

From that flash, a bright ball of fire crashed down from the ethereal plane to the mortal world of Vetus. The forest was alight with its radiance, as it swept across the snowy treetops and forged a crater amongst the banks of snow below.

For his efforts in meddling in the love affairs of other deities, Cupid would surely learn his lesson this time. Lying in the charred crater, body aching and the world spinning around him, Cupid held consciousness together long enough to see the haze of snow above him.

Witness to this... the desperation of a broken man. His mortal frame lurched towards the site of the crash cautiously, but with desperate need. Some hope that this pulse from heaven brought with it an answer to his prayers as he neared. At the end of his wits with his mortal life, he walked alone in the dark forest, surrounded by an ethereal veil only the gods could bestow.

His breath was heavy as he approached the smoldering pit, his eyes keenly focused on what lay within. As he surveyed the calamitous crater in the, otherwise, snowy forest, he surveyed something few mortals are ever privy to.

In the eyes of a naïve mortal, he saw an impressively beautiful and masculine figure, wrapped in white robes with golden ties. Despite the figure being at the bottom of a hole several lengths below ground level, he looked rather unscathed and preserved. The radiant being lay supine, hardly conscious with his gilt laurel-crowned head twitching from time to time.

"Uhh... hello?" The man risked a word from a safe distance.

There was no reply given.

Soon, a gold shimmering caught his bewildered eyes, a shimmering that struck the man flat-footed. It was as if the gods knew exactly what he needed at this junction. A magical bow lay next to the figure, radiating power that intoxicated the wayward soul. Its visage emanated an energy that could only come from an object so embroiled in magical potential.

"Hello?" Sliding down the side of the crater, he nudged the white-clad figure's leg. He was sure this poor sap was dead, or dying. It was obvious, even to this ignorant human, that this was some form of divine. Though to find him in such a way implied he must not be infallible, especially at the hands of his own weapon.

Desmond Foster, was a lovelorn soul whose life, as he considered it, was over. The subject of his desire, Leslie Dixon, having spurned his confession of love to her that night, in favor of her own unrequited love of the Vilgilen Reece Len (knight-like figure charged with the defense of the town).

All he could feel was rage, and hate that night. His hate for Reece Len was only eclipsed by his despising of his own self. He came to die that night in the dark of the forest, a hurt and lonely man full of enmity for the world.

But now, the gods had other plans, before him a golden bow, inscribed with elven glyphs that radiated energy. Surely, this was a sign he should take his vengeful love into his own hands, and win the heart of Leslie Dixon the old way.

He only had to do one thing, finish what the gods had started, as a favor to them for this gift.

Grabbing the bow, it felt warm in his hands, powerful, energy radiating up his arm. There was no quiver to be seen, but with instinct, he knew what to do. Extending his arm and hubris, he pointed the bow at the fallen god, wrapping his index and middle finger around the bowstring and pulling it as taut as his arms allowed.

As he drew, a red arrow of light formed between the shelf and the nock. Desmond smiled wickedly, as he pointed it to the chest and released it, sending the bolt of red light into his ethereal target.

It landed in him, without a thud, blood, or dispersion of energy. Desmond looked perplexed. But, at the last second, the beautiful eyes of the deity opened, fluttering enough to see his attacker and smile a slow smile before falling limp.

Surely, this bow worked in ways only the gods knew, and that it would be more than enough to fell Reece Len that night.

Making haste, he returned to his village of Fallowholm with a new lease on his pitiful existence.

"Leave it to Leslie to be forgetting the herb bundles by the river."

A shivering woman huffed, as she trotted down the village path in the middle of the night. Leslie Dixon had a lot on her mind as of late. From the Lacklan boy with a fever needing Violet Leaf Tea, to the winter's stock of herbs getting low. Neither of these things, as the village herbalist's attendant, approached her preoccupation with her love life.

"Herbs wilt and so do my loins, if only a blend for seduction existed, I would be best suited as a kept woman."

Her outward, frustrated mutterings continued as her breath clouded above her head. No layers of furs could protect her from the coldness of her companionship, and her longing for Reece Len who hardly looked her way.

"Dreary Desmond seems to notice that I have much to give a man, but would I catch the eye of our dear Vilgilen? Of course not!"

Her muttering turned to shouting, in what she thought was her seclusion on her walk to the banks of the stream.

"Leslie?" A soft and concerned voice interrupted monologuing woman.

A few paces to her side, on her own stroll through the night, young Thalia Ironwood caught her amidst her soliloquy.

"Are you all right?"

Leslie awkwardly burst into a dismissive laugh, as she looked around to see who else might have seen.

"Oh, yes, yes, I am quite fine. I forgot that I lay several bushels of herbs to dry near the bank. Best fetch them before the morning snow."

"Oh, well, I heard you talking to yourself, is everything all right?" Young Thalia's voice was of sweet concern. Most of the women of Fallowholm knew each other, and each other's business well. Especially, the ones without husbands.

"Oh gnomes-scuttle, I'm quite all-right." She kicked her leg to knock a stone down the path as she reflected into the stars. "Keep your wits about you, Thalia; don't let these men take the best of your heart."

The younger woman looked on with concern. "Is it our good Vilgilen Len? I have seen how you look at him." Thalia had a keen attention to the silent longings of her village family.

"Is it that obvious then?"

"Don't fret, I happen to just be a romantic."

"Well... for a girl as pretty as you, I have no doubt romance will befall you soon." Leslie turned towards the river, prepared to grab her herbs and return to the warmth of her fire.

"Don't discount your loveliness, Leslie; Len may just be a muttonhead. Talk to him, and maybe he will see." Thalia said this with a hint that it is what she, herself, needed to hear. Leslie would be too preoccupied to notice.

Both of the ladies giggled.

"Thank you, Thalia, you are kind."

"Can I help you gather the herbs tonight?"

"No... no, I am quite fine. The walk helps me clear my head."

"Well, don't talk your own head off too much, Leslie."

They smiled as they parted. Leslie to the river, and Thalia to the village proper.

Before the young Thalia could get too far however, out of the corner of her eye, she chanced to see Reece Len atop his horse, trotting towards the edge of town. He was most likely on his late-night patrol, and with luck, would be fated to cross paths with Leslie, his unbeknownst love.

Thalia's heart skipped a beat-- she lived for such things, and could not pass up a chance to witness their encounter. Hopefully, her words landed true with Leslie, and she would say something to the Vilgilen that night, and their love would blossom. But just as easily, they could pass without saying a word. Somehow, it felt like her watching them from afar would seal the fate.

Finding a large oak, twice as thick as Thalia's own petite frame, she crouched down low in the shadows at a point overlooking the banks of the stream. There, the perimeter path of the village joined with the paths Leslie and Reece were taking, and would, no doubt, cause them to meet.

As she neared the stream, Leslie could hear the coming hoof-falls as Reece approached. Thalia covered her mouth to contain her excited giggling, as she saw the realization on Leslie's face. It was happening right before her eyes.

"Good evening," Reece Len said, in a manly booming voice, from atop his horse to the gobsmacked Leslie.

"Evening, sir!" she sputtered, facing Reece at attention and puffing out her chest instinctively.

"Do not tarry near the edges of town tonight, Miss Dixon, beasts and ill-begotten men may linger on the far bank." He looked out over the edge of the dark forest, his gaze and posture commanding and strong.

Leslie needed no hearth to warm her at that moment. Her body steamed in the cold air as she looked to Reece in awe, at a loss for words in response.

"Okay," she meeped.

Thalia crossed her fingers, a rather superstitious yet typical action for the young lady. "Com'on, Leslie, say something."

But she didn't, Reece Len simply pulling on the reins to guide the horse down the path at a slow trot.

"Have a fair evening, ma'am."

Was that the end of it? Thalia could hardly stand it! Leslie stood dejected on the road, no longer advancing towards her herbs. Reece, for his part, moved on without notice, what a dense clodpoll!

But what caught Thalia's eye next was neither typical nor expected. A flash of light began to glow behind and left of Thalia's position at the oak. From the corner of the stonemason's workshop, which at this hour was empty, a blue glow radiated outward. Neither Leslie nor Reece were facing it, so only Thalia saw it beam. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a cloaked figure, she could not make out who it was, but she could see the golden bow clearly. It was magnificent, and as Thalia's eyes studied it, her heart skipped a beat, for she knew exactly what it was.

"Love Conquers All."

The words were engraved and glowing blue along the limbs of the bow, written in the elvish language of Telerin. Every maiden on this side of Ardentia knew the tale of Cupid and his bow of Forlorned Love. Romantic stories of unrequited romance being made whole by the most unlikely of circumstances, all thanks to the demi-god Cupid, the ethereal archer.

Thalia thought that it was the stuff of folktale, passed along to young maidens as a means of hope when love's knives dug at their hearts. As a little girl, she had played out the role of Cupid, firing a toy bow made of a fallen oak branch at various strangers and declaring that they were then in love. It was cute back then, but Thalia kept a bit of that with her into womanhood and her desire to see romance at every turn.

She couldn't believe she was about to witness it in action, and she could not think of anyone more deserving than Leslie.

Of course, for Desmond Foster, he had no such desire to fix a non-existent romance; at least, not with Reece Len in the picture. As he drew the bow back, and aimed it with hostile intent at the unwitting protector of the village, he hoped to see him fall from his horse, a dead man.

A red bolt just as before energized between his fingers at the nock. Thalia could not see this, only the blue glyphs glow brighter.

"Goodbye Reece Len." Desmond snapped his tongue and let the magical arrow loose. It flew true to the path, striking Reece directly in the chest through the heart.

But to Desmond's dismay he did not fall from his horse, he did not wail in pain, and he did not die at the hand of the god's magic bestowed upon him. He didn't even flinch.

Reece simply halted his horse, looked to ponder for a moment, and turned to gaze at the lone Leslie near the bank of the river.

"Miss Dixon," he called back.

Leslie gasping and turning quickly in response, "Yes?!"

Thalia again tried to hold her excitement together. From her perspective, the bow had released and a faint sparkle filled the air before Reece turned his horse and called to Leslie. Surely, that meant he had been hit with fabled Cupid's arrow, and would fall madly in love with Leslie.

Desmond was distraught, his arrow failing to eliminate his foe. His ignorance of old folk tales about Cupid and other gods had backfired his plan, as he blamed the failed magic of the gods. He cursed their names and threw down the bow upon the snow. There was no curse he could ever bring upon Reece that would do justice to the rage he felt. How could such a bow fail him, unless the gods were just toying with him.

Watching this, only seeing a dark figure throwing down the bow and shaking his fist to the sky, confused Thalia. The mysterious cloaked figure stormed off towards the village, and as he passed close to Thalia's hiding spot, she concealed herself in the bushes.

"Desmond?" she whispered to herself. The sad sack that had made a fool of himself declaring his love for Leslie in the town square that day seemed a very unlikely candidate to be Cupid. Why then would he have his bow? And contrary to what Thalia thought Desmond's intentions were, why would he fire it at Reece knowing he would look at Leslie and fall for her.

There were many questions, and the twinkling gold of the bow was alone in the snow not far away. But for now, the scene between Leslie and Reece was going to begin, and Thalia would not miss this for the world.

"Do you mind company?" Reece trotted next to Leslie, looking down on her in a much fonder way.

Heart aflutter, Leslie nodded and stammered, as she tried to smile and make words.

"Yyyyyyes! Of course!" She gripped the handle of her woven basket tightly.

The tall and strapping Reece Len dismounted his horse quickly. He stood a head taller than Leslie, who looked up at him with her wide green eyes. In proximity to her, he wasn't shy, becoming friendly with being near to the woman whom he had barely shared a conversation with.

"It is cold this night, why do you tread near the edge of the village alone?" He tied his horse to a nearby tree trunk and slid close to her side.

"Well... Josiah Lacklan has a fever, and our stock of herbs runs low..."

Reece stopped in his tracks, holding his hand above his heart and looked awestruck.

"Leslie, you move the mountains of your profession for this village, I admire that," he profoundly proclaimed.

Thalia made a mental remark from her distant lookout, at how hard Cupid's arrow must have hit him. She could hear most of their conversation, the cold, crisp air and wind carrying their voices along.

Leslie blushed, swaying with her basket on the edge of the road. "It does not compare to you and your steadfast patrol in the protection of Fallowholm. I know I speak for the whole village when I say we feel much safer with you here."

"Do I make you feel safe... Leslie?" He hung on her name like a hopeful prayer.

"With you here next to me on this night, I must say you do."

Thalia's heart was racing, it was all coming together right before her eyes. She watched as gravitated towards one another, and could hardly help but wiggle her legs in excited anticipation.

"I hope to provide you peace as long as I can. Your beauty deserves protecting, I could not stand to see such a jewel be scuffed by this world."

Leslie was swooning on his words, her body like a chimney of warm steam in the cold air.

"Len--"

"Call me Reece, sweet beauty. I long to hear my name from your lips."

"Reece," Leslie cooed. "I cannot contain the truth that I would give everything I could to you, should you have it. To be your keeper as you, my protector."

The typically stoic and man-of-few-words Reece Len, was a fountain of poetic romanticisms that night. There was no doubt in Thalia's mind as she watched him that he had been struck by Cupid's bow.

"Then I should be selfish and take it, lovely Leslie. I wish to declare that passion unto you."

Thalia's interest was very piqued. Things were escalating into the realm of fables they dare not share at the children's fire. She watched as Leslie dropped her basket, and put her hands to the trim of her tunic. What was about to happen?

"Then come declare it, Reece. I will give it all." She lifted her tunic, enough so her bare abdomen was exposed to him. It prickled with goosebumps in the cold air, her belly button rising and falling, as she deeply breathed.

Reece came to Leslie with haste, falling to his knees as he laid passionate lips upon her stomach, up and down and around.

"Your woman's stomach is an art, within which lays a womb that I wish to build my future upon." His lips grazed the upper part of her navel as he laid warm breath upon her.

Leslie whimpered and looked to the stars, her face radiating with happiness.

Thalia was burning with her own happiness. Both sharing the joy that her friend was presently receiving, the love she had missed, and sharing in the arousal, watching these two begin to express that passion. Thalia didn't expect it to kick off quite like this, but she was not prepared to look away yet, as she saw Reece's lips ascending into new territories above her stomach.

With a pull of two laces, Leslie's tunic would open, and with a quick yank, her large breasts would be exposed for her beloved. She held them in her hands until Reece embraced their plumpness with his own. He laid kisses along her motherly sacks and upon the prospective nubs of her essence.

"Leslie... I cannot contain myself any longer. I am too enthralled with you."

"Don't... don't contain yourself..." Leslie's sharp breaths interrupted her speech, as she felt him yank at her nipples with his lips.

Thalia gulped, as he watched Reece pull down Leslie's skirt in a single motion, her knickers following in turn. She noted that even Leslie looked beside herself in shock, that a man who had hardly talked to her was suddenly bending her over against a tree.

Air whooshed down Leslie's legs as she felt the cold of the world and the warmth of her man.

Between young Thalia's own legs, she felt a tingle that reminded her of her own past experiences. She squirmed, while seeing Reece take his cock and enter the jubilated Leslie. Leslie's moans echoed around so loud that Thalia was worried she would soon not be the only voyeur. Reece wasted no time in this lovemaking, rushing into her like a frothing beast, as he held her bare hips in the cold air, and felt her arse slap against his thighs with each pass.

Thalia moved a hand underneath her skirt, a warmth at her core felt sharp to the touch, as she rubbed her loins from the outside of her undergarments. It felt wrong to watch them like this, but Thalia lived for such passion.

"Reece! Reece! Reece!" Leslie called, her last words his name before all was just gasping for air and moans from her mouth. Soon, a gurgle of excited pleasure left her, as Thalia knew she had reached her climax. Reece, of course, not letting it end there as he flipped her on her back and mounted her against the cold ground, their bodies sharing warmth.

As a witness to this, Thalia found herself spiraling into the depths of her own erotic excitement. The more her fingers lingered at her spot between her legs, the more it soaked. She shook her head vigorously to snap herself out of what she was witnessing, and realized she needed to leave before anyone found her in such an indecent position.

Thalia, of course, could not leave without the bow.

Amidst the moaning of a man and woman's union on the cold winter riverbank, Thalia scurried across the open area between her vantage point and the resting place of Cupid's Bow. It still lay shimmering and golden before her, and with the highest reverence, she grasped it between her dainty fingers. It glowed as she held it, the blue glyphs shimmering across her blonde hair and blue dress. In her hands, it felt warm, a mystical energy running through her as she imagined its potential.

"Leslie, you intoxicate me!" Reece loudly proclaimed, as he huffed and puffed through the passion of his fucking. He had not relented a moment since entering her, full speed and energetic lovemaking to his dear Leslie. He was a well-built man, no doubt with plenty of stamina. Leslie, for her part, could hardly form words through her ecstasy. She groaned so whorishly that it made Thalia blush and moisten just hearing it.

Thalia was both happy and envious of her friend. But then, with the fabled bow of stories in her hand, she needed to depart before anyone could see the power she wielded.

With a scarf she had tied around her neck, she concealed the bow and its glowing elven markings. Then, keeping low to the ground and with haste, she got far away from the place of Reece and Leslie's joining.

At a hidden alcove behind the Tanner's cottage, Thalia rested her back against the stone wall. This was a favorite spot of hers, where she often escaped the hustle and bustle of village life to enjoy a book on a spring day. Of course, in winter, the bitter cold did little for the desire to be outside, but with what she had been charged with that night, this was a perfect place to hide and think.

Out of breath, she centered herself for a moment, her hands shaking with excitement. Not only did she just watch her dear friend get the love of her dreams, Thalia held the power in her hands to spread more of that happiness.

"Let's see..." She giddily unwrapped the bow from her scarf, her alcove becoming alight with a blue hue.

"Love Conquers All."

The words in Telerin were so perfectly clear, just like the stories. She recalled as a young girl always saying those three words, over and over, as she daydreamed about love. Here, she held it in her hand, she held love in her hand! It was surreal, the power she had come into possession of. She felt compelled to use it, to harness what she could bring to the people of Fallowholm. She had watched what it did for Reece and Leslie, she would be able to share that with all who were too afraid to navigate the river of love under their own power.

Clutching the golden grip of the bow, she got to her feet, taking a long drawn-out breath before embarking on her romantic quest. Before she could even think of where to start, her first benefactor came into view.

Horatio Titterwag was a kind but odd man, much like the wares he sells in the cottage across from the tanner. He was stout, bald, his ears stuck out like a pinebear's, but had a charm to him with a flair of whimsy. Thalia talked to him every once in a while, mostly when she was surveying the trinkets and oddities that he sold at his shop. He always had something funny to say about his travels, and never was shy about sharing.

To Thalia's keen eye, she noticed he had a yearning for a spinstress that tanned hides across the street. Agatha had a quiet demeanor, and a rather intimidating persona. Not many approached her, she was a rather isolated individual. Thalia had never really talked with her, either. The way she wielded a tanning knife was too disconcerting for the young maiden. But whatever the visage of the woman Thalia had, there was something Horatio saw in her that caused his eyes to warm with affection.

Despite Agatha's objective solitude and Horatio's whimsical nature, both deserved to be loved and not alone. In her mind, it was up to Thalia to make this situation better for the both of them.

The night hours began to creep on, and as Thalia took up a vantage point beyond a hedge near both shops. Horatio, soon was blowing out the last candle in his window. What luck that Agatha had chosen to tan hides so late, surely fate was using Thalia to make this world a better place.

With a clear shot to Agatha, Thalia took up the bow in her hand. She did not have much experience in archery, but she assumed that a normal bow would need arrows. Since none came with this, she put stock in the belief that something magical would happen as she pulled on the string.

Bows were not typically easy to draw, their poundage meant to pierce a target. Though for a girl of Thalia's stature, she had strong forearms carrying baskets up and down Thrasher's hill. As she felt the string between her fingers, the golden bow of the god Cupid did not prove to be much of a challenge to her. Like butter, it pulled back to her chin, as she took up aim on her target.

"Good evening, Agatha." Horatio fiddled with his brass key in the door of his shop as he raised his cap to the lady with the knife.

"Evening." A muttered response, as she scraped the knife over and over again across the deer hide that hung from a wooden beam. She did not even bother to look up to the man as he greeted her.

Horatio's lonely heart felt the sting of the awkward interaction. He reflected on his solitude while turning the last key of his shop.

Thalia drew the bow further, hoping magic would imbue some sort of fate upon Agatha and Horatio. As she felt the limbs of the bow bend, a red light appeared like an arrow nocked. Thalia yelped at the sight, not expecting to see something so fantastically out of the norm, dropping the bow in a startled mess.

"What was that?" Horatio looked down the street, and then to Agatha. Both seemed to have heard something, but neither felt like investigating. It was no doubt some young fool up to no good that night.

They were not far off in their assessment.

"Okay Thalia, as easy as pine-butter now." With her targets unwitting to her presence, Thalia picked up the bow and took up the string once more. Drawing it back, the red arrow of magical energy appeared; this time, Thalia was brave enough to hang on.

"Easy does it, aim... fire!" She talked herself through the motions, letting loose the arrow.

It was clear there was a bit of divine assistance with the aiming of such a bow. Thalia, being an honest girl, knew she had in no way aimed as well as the arrow landed. Straight through Agatha's heart, just like in the tales. The would-be faux-cupid pumped her arm in victory and crouched back down to watch it play out.

The scraping of the knife on the deer hide stopped. Agatha, in a daze, looked around her. It was like she was disoriented, and only as the crunch of gravel beneath Horatio's feet as he started off home reached her ears, did Agatha perk up.

"Horatio." Her voice sounded entirely different-- a warm, almost longing sense to it.

The rather whimsical-looking merchant, with his tiny nose and red cheeks, stopped in his tracks and turned, almost as if he was startled she was even talking to him. Agatha had a mean look to her, a face that exuded unpleasantness. But right then, she was smiling so warmly, warmer than winter's icy presence around them.

"Yes?" He took a step closer.

"Would you like... company on your walk home?" Standing from her stool next to the hide, she held her hands together tightly in suspense.

"Uhhh. Yea, yea. Yea, I'd like that." Horatio leapt through the words in his mind before they escaped his lips.

Thalia smiled, as yet another case of love sprouted by her hands. Watching Agatha come to Horatio's side and take his arm, made the cold winter's night a bit more bearable. It was a bit of a silly picture, Agatha standing much taller than the stout merchant. However, they both looked happy in a clumsy and awkward way.

Like a hunter stalking her prey, Thalia moved through the village, scarf-wrapped bow in hand. She moved deftly through the pathways of Fallowholm, familiar with their bends, shortcuts, and nooks. Surveying those out in the winter cold, she sized each up for the potential of bestowing love upon them. Many did not fit her criteria, either already blessed with the warmth of love, or naught with the opportune match before them. Disheartened, she could not find more subjects to deal out love and justice to, so she prepared to call it a night and retire to her own cottage and reflect on love's tender embrace.

That was until Elara Valeman came into the love-huntress's sight. She held a dim lantern before her, while trotting down the street, clouds of her breath forming behind her.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Thalia flared her nostrils. She was not fond of the Valeman girl, not since Elara started that vicious rumor, the one that Thalia was in love with the smelly Chandler's son Oliver when they were eleven.

Taffy stretching during the summer had been Thalia's favorite pastime, 'til the moment she was paired with Oliver, and Elara began to sing her stupid little song about them. Since then, every festival the girls of the village always try to pair them during the harvest jig as part of an enduring joke. She could not stand to be around Oliver, there was a distinct reason his father made those honey-scented candles! Even Oliver's mother tried to propose a marriage with the idea sprouted from Elara's rumors. It was incredibly embarrassing.

It was all because Elara Valeman was jealous, at least, that was how Thalia saw it. She had half a mind to shoot her with an arrow right then, and leave her to stumble madly in love with whoever she crossed paths with first. When she placed her fingers on the draw string however, she thought better of it. There was a great responsibility to go along with holding this bow. She couldn't use it for such a low cause like revenge.

But... if she followed Elara, perhaps she could find someone deserving of a pretty maiden such as her. Of course, even Elara deserved love, but at Thalia's discretion, of course.

Proud of her decreeing nature, Thalia tread parallel to the street through alleyways and gardens, fighting the snow with every footfall. Elara was carrying a bundle of pomegranates in her arms, a clear sign she was going to the altar to pray and provide tribute to Melodious.

Elara was annoyingly pious, always touting just how she embodies her unwavering commitment to the gods. Thalia saw through her thinly veiled attempt to appear more alluring to the low-browed primeval stone throwers of the village. Subconsciously, she was jealous that she did not think of it first, but it was Elara's thing by then.

The altars of Melodious often were the most vibrant part of whatever landscape they were placed. This one was no different. It was decorated in reds, blues, and oranges across banners and cloths hung from all manner of wooden pillars and trees. As she approached, Elara passed from walking between stone cottages into a small grove of trees that had been cultivated at the center of the village. Her feet began to rap against wooden planks that had been laid down along the roots. As firelight from the large pit at the center of the grove caught her small frame, she ceased shivering. High above Elara's head was the idol of Melodious, a bronze, smiling bearded man wearing a gown holding both a mountaineer's pick and a lute.

Thalia slipped through the empty village square and found a crate at the edge of the grove to mask her observation. Pulling her bright-blonde hair behind her head, she watched Elara approach a man whom played a mellow tune upon a Gemshorn.

"Blessed songs, Aelar." Elara laid down her bundle of pomegranates at the bronze idol's feet.

Melodious was the god of soothing music and the valley. A deity with whom the locals of Fallowholm had worshipped for centuries since the forefathers settled in the valley. His Aelars were like priests, but often were just musicians devoted to Melodious and playing tunes at his altars.

"Boons of the Valley upon you, woman of the sweet song and devotee of Melodious."

The Aelar, Simon Psalmhart, wore an eclectic garb of colors similar to the banners and draperies of the altar grove. His worn face was covered with a salt-and-pepper beard that was finely trimmed to show his sharp jawline. Long, muscular forearms reached out to place his palms upon Elara's head as she knelt in prayer before the idol.

Thalia was familiar with the Aelar, as well. While she was not as pious as Elara, visiting the altar in the middle of the night, nowhere near the Day of Song, she came to pray once and every whim. He was a nice man, simple as most devotees were. He played wonderful songs on a variety of instruments and had the most beautiful voice.

Foremost of all, unlike many of the chorus of Melodious, he was unwed.

"What a perfect match," she hummed to herself, as she gripped the handle of Cupid's Bow. Her fingers felt around the warm metal as if to thaw them from the frigid cold of the night. If Cupid's magic hadn't radiated a curious heat, by then she would have been frostbitten. Instead, she was able to go on, drawing back her bowstring and spreading love and joy to all.

A red-radiating lightning bolt pierced Elara square through the heart. This one Thalia had to give herself credit for, such a pious girl in love with the Aelar. She was surprised it had not happened on its own.

"Go forth child of the valley, and sing songs worthy of joy and goodness. Sow your happiness to all within our vale, the bosom of Vetus's boon to us." The Aelar's hand patted Elara on the head, as he turned from her to look to the night sky above.

Elara gasped at the feeling of his strong hand on her head, mourning its departure as she dealt with a surge of feelings across her body.

Thalia watched, as her eyes turned up towards the Aelar, her body shivering not just from the cold, but also the lust in her heart. There was no such sin in the eyes of Melodious. Instead, the song of such lust-making was said to please him. As a student of such scriptures, Thalia wasn't surprised when she saw Elara expeditiously shedding her coat and dress.

"Aelar." The girl's voice shook as violently as her naked body in the cold air.

The older man turned and gasped. Before him was a naked maiden, her slender body white and cold like the full moon on a winter's night. Her black hair fell behind her shoulders, so the Aelar could have full view of her small breasts, and the true boom of her body at the valley of her thighs, wet and glistening.

"Elara?!"

"You are unwed, for an Aelar. That is odd, no?" The girl stepped towards the richly colored man, whose cheeks were redder than the finest banners of his altar.

"I have chosen such a path, dear." He recoiled, but hesitated long enough for Elara to come against him. Her body was cold amidst his strong frame. His hands could not help but warm her with soft strokes along her smooth skin. He was reluctant to touch her hind-quarters, but some fingers strayed.

"Melodious gave you such a path to bring you to me, my dear Aelar."

Thalia's core was warming again, as the steamy scene at the altar had bolted faster than an elk across the icy ford. She couldn't help but let out a hot breath of lust of her own, her hand moving southward.

"Child of Melodious, what has come through you?" The Aelar still stunned, back against the idol, as Elara smothered his body with her's. She soon knelt down low at her knees, following his body with warm breaths that teased at what skin she could find. Down low, she reached for a pomegranate that she had offered. The pink fruit in her hand had begun to gush with juice as she squeezed it, letting the fluids trail down her naked body.

Elara came back up to chest level on the Aelar, the taller man cornered by the smaller woman. "Melodious is pleased with such unions of his Aelar's and those devoted to him, no? I want to serve him, by serving you."

Biting into the pomegranate, Elara let the juices flow down her chin and across her body. Her breasts and stomach were coated in the sweet and sticky juice before she brought the fruit up to the Aelar's mouth for his own bite to consummate their joining.

He reluctantly took a nibble, still dumbfounded that one of the more beautiful maidens of the village was disrobed and feeding him her very body at the altar.

"I want my body to be a sacrifice to Melodious, and I want you as his Aelar to be his intermediary."

Sinking down once more, Elara nibbled on the Aelar's cloak for her whole descent with moist lips, stained pink with the juice of her fruit. When she came to his crotch, she began to nudge and kiss on the outside of his garments with her mouth, all the while looking up to the religious man for his approval.

Thalia saw a bit of hesitation on the Aelar's part, a peculiar thing, as she thought he would no doubt be unable to control himself around a beautiful girl throwing herself at him. Of course, Thalia grimaced at the thought of admitting Elara was a beautiful maiden, but there, seeing her naked she had to give her some credit.

"Elara, I... I..." the Aelar's hands were up in the air in surrender, as the girl peeled back his garments to release his manhood. The grove could hear the love-stricken girl giggle as his meat was brought out and slopped into her mouth with little hesitation.

She was loud and slobbery, an erotic sound that echoed against every tree. Thalia's heart skipped a beat as she heard them both moan. A finger or two began to find themselves against her own folds through her garments once more. Thalia was no stranger to such acts, but it was not every day she heard the lustful slopping of lips pulling back on a cock. Elara clearly had some experience, as well; something Thalia would surely make note of for later.

"Elara..." The Aelar's tone was hesitant.

"Aelar! I will live to please Melodious through you." She took his whole length and gagged.

Thalia's fingers found themselves inside her knickers, peeling back her undergarments, she could feel her lower lips moistened with all she had seen. Each touch of her fingers stung heavenly. Thalia could not hold herself back, as she toyed with her hood, rubbing it with her thumb.

"Elara..." Still, Simon the Aelar seemed to hold back as the beautiful young girl suckled him.

"Give me your seed, Aelar, and I'll make you a child to be as devoted to Melodious as you." She stopped only to say these lewd things before working his cock hard.

Thalia's finger slipped into her hole, as she lay witness. The golden bow radiated warmth by her side, her eyes looking to it with an indecent thought.

"Elara!" The Aelar's voice seemed downright objectionable as the act continued. He finally pushed her back from his cock, but it was too late as she had brought him to fruition. Streams of white cum shot forth, coating her face, neck, breasts, and stomach. She stretched out her arms, welcoming the gift of the gods, but her Aelar had a different mood about him. He did not see this as a blessing; instead, he looked ashamed.​