Dance of the Magpie

[Zidane]

Hello everyone! Welcome to Dance of the Magpie. A romance story that revolves around the mystery behind the myth of love: can love in it's purest and most precious form truly touch the hearts of even the immortal Fae and change a person to the fullest degree? An orphan named Ériu, named for a hopes that she could grow into a beautiful woman like the goddess she was named after, had always wondered this herself. She had always been...different. God-touched to the elders, a freak of nature by her peers. For in Ireland, one must never see the Sidhe walking gracefully between the trees. Never watch the Dryads dance gleefully around faery rings. Never notice the pixies play and chase their fellow sprites. But she could. And she could never find anyone who loved that about her. As soon as she would mention it, everyone would run away or spit at her feet. She was so alone... Her only comfort, the Fae, as they trotted about, unconcerned about the adolescent woman watching them with envy and loneliness heavy in her heart... While a magpie looked on from a distance.

I have two poems that go with this book. There will be one in the beginning and one in the end. One speaks of Oberon, king of the Unseelie Court. The other is of the Fae Queen, ruler of the Seelie Court. The duo are called the "Affairs of Nature," reason being is that the Sidhe represent nature, the Seelie the kinder side of nature (think spring) and the Unseelie being the more cruel side (think winter). And it is common knowledge that Oberon, even in Medieval and Gaelic mythology (though in the Gaels, he had a completely different name), he was married to the queen in secret, but they had to put up a front. By day, they were enemies for the different Courts say the other's way of life completely immoral and impractical. But by night, they would waltz gently among the hawthorn bushes. Thus, is why the poems are titled "Affairs of Nature".

I hope you enjoy this as much as I'll enjoy typing it. I welcome any critique, be it harsh or gentle. Let your mind be open, I wish to hear anything from my audience that can help me with my writing and will help motivate me to finish this book. But I would like to ask for you guys to PM me so I can do a continuous book. So without further adieu, please relax and enjoy Dance of the Magpie.

New!: Seeing as the Celtic mythos and the Irish language is a bit hard to pronounce and understand, people would like a reference. Here is the thread that will solve all of these problems. Pronunciation and Slang

[Zidane]

Be wary of the King
For he is malevolent, benevolent
Lover of the seen and ruler of the unseen
With horns that curve e'erso
And hooves that shall outrun
He rides into the night
Into this e'er cruel world
That children of young
Wish to acquaint

Be wary of the Seeker
Run or embrace my mothers
Run or embrace my fathers
Run or embrace my brothers
Run or embrace my sisters
And pray that he
Finds your soul good

Be wary of the Hunter
Can you not hear the galloping of his horses?
Can you not hear the panting of his hounds?
For he is summoned by our children
And the dark and sweet wishes
That they harbor in their
Hidden heart-shaped box

Be wary of the Enchanted Deer
And pray that he be not Oberon

[Zidane]

~*(To know the future, one must relive the past...)*~

A stocky, well fed man paced irritably in front of a fire place. Everyone had gone to bed. His servants would've all been awake, but he shooed them to sleep. Only for today, for today was special. Today no one was to know how low he had fallen. To think! To ask help from a bird, of all things! He already knew he was delusional from grief. But when the avian, more or less the size of a small crow, began to trill back sentences and holding a conversation with the horror-struck man, that's when he knew that he had gone completely insane. But what was even worse was that he believed the stupid flying rodent.

"Allow me in your humble quarters, Mr. Loon," the bird sang. "And your wife will be cured for the price of my boon."

Whatever that meant! "Price of my boon." Why couldn't anything non-human speak in civil tongues and not enigmatic riddles and rhymes? And how dare the filthy beast call him a loon! The adult scoffed at the idea of the meeting a talking bird. A devil bird. "I suppose it is too late to reconsider the offer," the man grumbled to himself. "'Tis almost-"

The ivory grandfather clock struck midnight. The man's head turned left, then right. Nothing. A sigh escaped him as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped a small bead of anxious sweat from his brow. Why was he so worried about a stupid bird? But just on the incase... He pulled out his intricate rosary beads and bent one knee, pressing the cross to his forehead and chanting, "I defy thee," seven times, each time kissing the carving of Christ on the cross. He tried not to think of the possibility of the Devil's blood on the tongue of the bird. Then he realized something. He didn't salute the bird nor did he pinch himself. "I bet that's why I'm so worried! I forgot the rituals!"

Knock... Knock... Knock-tap!

Huh? "Who's here at this hour?" The man grumbled and hefted himself up back onto both feet. Upon walking halfway to the large mahogany doors, they began to open. He froze in his tracks. What sort of witchcraft was this?! As though oblivious to the scandal she had wrought, the glossy feathered black and white bird with graceful violent-green wings and tail slowly trotted forward. The absurdly large, heavy doors closed behind her, but she didn't seem to notice. No, it was as though she was occupied with the room she had just entered. Her sharp beak swiveled her head from side to side as she examined every corner of the large den. The man who had unwittingly invited her in made a gagging noise of shock. Black, beady eyes looked at him and for a second, he thought he saw the corners of her beak rise in something of a shadowy, sly smile.

"Allow in your quarters, Mr. Loon, and your wife will be cured for the price of my boon."

How could this be? That was supposed to be a delusion! And this, the bird spoke! In woman's voice! "Begone, foul creature!" He cried out, praying and waving his rosary about in hopes of scaring the hallucination away. The bird merely just sat there and blinked at him. "You cannot kick me out, Mr. Loon. You've yet to receive my boon," she said calmly and ruffled her feathers. It almost looked like a woman scrunching her long evening dress up in order to sit down. Her tail fanned out behind her, her head was held high, and her breast feathers were fluffed. It was the sight of a true woman of nobility. Proud, raised properly, and stubborn. Then her beak opened and though the man excepted shrieks of demand and hostility, what he was granted instead was a song.


"One for sorrow
Two for mirth
Three for a funeral
Four for a birth
Five for heaven
Six for hell
Seven's the De'il his ane sel'
Eight for a wish
Nine for a kiss
Ten for a time of joyous bliss"


Though a mere superstitious rhyme, the bird, of whom the rhyme was sought after, sang it beautifully. Her host calmed down a little and rushed to his private quarters to awaken his sickly wife. Soon, sounds of a twine ball rolling and small human feet pattering caught the avian's attention. She adjusted her head in the direction of the noise, though her eyes remained unchanging. A boy in his nightgown was playing. The child couldn't have been older than that of six years, possibly seven. Hands picked the small ball up but his body stopped as large, violet eyes watched the bird. "Birdy!" He laughed and ran up to his father's guest, holding out his precious twine ball. A sound of amazement escaped him as the bird took flight, circled around the room a couple or thrice, and landed on the ball, her tail sticking straight up, almost perpendicular to the ground, and her wings outstretched to either side of her as she lowered her black head. Almost as though she were bowing to the small child. The boy laughed again and gently petted the creature. "You're a pretty birdy! Play with me!" He set the ball down onto the ground and watched the bird roll the ball around to find a place to maintain her balance. Once she did, she sat down onto the twine and trilled a lovely tune, the boy immediately enraptured by the harmonious melody.

But she was soon interrupted by the boy's father trotting down the stairs. "Brían! What have I told you, ne'er be up at this time of night! And get away from that filth this instant!"

"Birdy isn't filthy! Birdy is a pretty birdy! And clean too!" The boy protested loudly.

"Whate'er the case may be, that doesn't excuse you from staying up past your bedtime! No recess for you t'morrow! You will study!" There was a brief moment of silent shock from the child, and he looked as though he were going to tear up, but he didn't cry. Instead, he stood, saddened by his father's decree, and patted his new friend's head affectionately. "Bye-bye, Birdy. Come play with me again soon, okay?" The bird too was affected by the sudden outcry. Her tail and wings drooped slightly, and her head slouched. The boy's father looked at the bird in bewilderment. It was almost as though she was grieved by his child's banishment.

Once he knew for certain that the boy had tucked himself to bed, he looked down at the creature and said, "If you can truly cure my wife of her ailment, then come. It is time." With no time for the bird to collect itself, he turned and walked back to his chambers. She blinked and looked down at the twine ball she was perched on. She hopped off and placed a claw upon it. "I gladly accept your measure, my tiny little treasure..."

[Zidane]

The rocks clattered as a kin toppled down upon, but not without searing flesh as it passed by. The previous owners of the thrown rock laughed mockingly as their target stumbled and fell to her knees. "Ahahaha! Come on, Fachtna!" They called out, throwing sticks and smaller rocks at the felled offender. "Ain'tcha gonna call those Faeries? Gonna go cry to Mamai?" One laughed.

"She can't, 'member? She ain't got one! She don' even got a Dadai!" Another twisted his face into a disgusting sneer as he took off his shoe and hurled it at the fallen girl, who cried out in pain as it hit the mark. A hand was pressed firmly against the back of her bleeding scalp. "Leave me alone!" She yelled, quickly getting to her feet and retreating as a second wave of stones and shoes were being readied for projectile practice. The rascals followed the badgered teenager until they hit the edge of a forest, where they watched her flee into the emerald green leaves. They stayed there until they couldn't see a lock of her black hair. Until she disappeared completely like a phantom. "Well? We gonna go after 'er?" A blond child with a seemingly wide line of freckles across the bridge of his nose looked at the tallest of their group. The one had cast the first stone and shoe. "Nah, we gonna go back and wait fer her. We'd be trying to flop around like fish outta water if we go in. 'Sides, I could use a drink- Ah!" The large red head turned to see a lone magpie sitting on a branch near them, watching them with curious eyes. Each of the boys pinched the other, saluted the bird, and in unison said, "Good evening, Mr. Magpie! How is your wife?" And with that, the riot of superstitious children rushed to get away from the ill omen bird, all the while, chanting.


One for sorrow
Two for mirth
Three for a funeral
Four for a birth
Five for heaven
Six for hell
Seven's the Devil his own sel'
Eight for a wish
Nine for a kiss
Ten for a bird that you won't want to miss.


The magpie continued to watch them, even as they walked away. Once they were out of sight, it turned it's head in the direction the girl ran in and took flight, gracefully dodging into the canopy.

Ériu panted as she sprinted through the lush forest. Her injury was hurting her so bad... Only when her vision began to fade out a little and her head felt a bit light did she stop her incessant running. Tears streamed down her face. How could they? Why did they keep doing this to her? What harm had she ever done to them? One sentence, and that was it. A mere suggestion that she was "touched by the Seelie." And now she was hunted down like a useless hound and badgered and goaded and tortured for something that was a part of her soul. For something she couldn't help, couldn't escape from. Soon, a gentle breeze fluttered through the trees and it carried the lightest laugh she had ever heard. Sidhe, but who? Ériu quickly collected herself and darted behind a tree, and just in time. For soon, two elegant people danced through the brush and into the opening. She had to quickly clamp her hands over her mouth too keep from gasping out loud. It was him!

The man was tall with long limbs, but he was not thin. He had a fit body, beautiful olive tanned skin and musculature lining every course of his body. But he was handsome. There was just enough thinness about his torso and waist as to not show that he not at all a burly menace. A long, sandy lion's tail with a cream tuft at the end swayed rhythmically behind him as he lead the slow waltz. Tanned hide covered his lower quarters, but there were no seams. As was expected from Fae clothing. His white gold hair was so ruffled and wild, Ériu almost mistook it for a wig of sorts. Normally, she wouldn't dismissed this as a female Sidhe courting an incredibly handsome Irishman. Had he no tan. But what really set him apart were the various Celtic Knot tattoos colored a brownish red, the same color as the head and feet of Cù Sìth, and the gentle curls of the deer-like horns that adorned his head.

Now the woman he carried lovingly within his arms... Ériu did not recognize her. Her hair was fair and a solid gold in color. Her face equally as fair and bright. No...not just her smile. Her whole body seemed to radiate a generous warmth, much like the sun's rays. Wings of blue and black butterflies flowed behind her. A dress of the same colors spun elegantly around her as the king of the Unseelie Court gently twirled her around. That's when Ériu realized just who she was looking at. Caoimhe. The newly appointed queen of the Seelie. And she was just as, if not more than, beautiful as her ancestor. And it seemed as though her and the king had already been acquainted.

Ériu quickly looked away when the couple had stopped and gazed into the other's eyes, leaning forth to brush lips. Her feet lead her away when the two did kiss, cheeks hot with embarrassment and envy. But she was a human, and they were immortal. Their courtship was long, but it was graceful and patient. For they had nothing to lose, nowhere of real importance, everything could wait, for they had all the time in the world. As she walked through the grove, her mind was filling itself with hurtful fantasies. Men galloping on majestic white horses, coming to swoop her away from this awful place and love her regardless of what her eye could see. A sigh escaped her as she perished the thought. If only that were the case. But as a village elder once told her, "If wishes were poppy, we'd all be dreaming. Best leave such idle fancies behind and focus on goals ya' can achieve, girly."

She blinked as the trees opened the path to the other side of the grove. This was new. Ériu looked left and right, but didn't see anyone nearby. Just... A tall, run down mansion that was off in the distance. Something inside her began to urge her towards the structure, and she did. Maybe she could find refuge there? Perhaps she could meet someone there! Someone who'll finally talk to her!

Upon coming to the said structure though, that sadly wasn't the case. It was completely withered down to practically nothing. Woody vines had crawled their way around the stony walls and into each nook and cranny they could reach. "What was this place...?" Ériu mused to herself. "Surely some sort of noble once lived here..." As she said that, she turned and saw a weathered metal crest face down on the floor. She picked it up and turned it so she could see the emblem. Two red lions holding three silver rings around a giant oak. Each lion wore a circlet and above the outer ring was the monarch's crown. "Must've belonged to a Duke or an Earl," the adolescent sighed and slowly let it drop back down onto it's face. Walking further a bit, she stopped, truly.

A gorgeous, professional painting of a young boy in aristocratic clothing was sitting in a chair, his head turned so she could only see a profile view of him. But it was still hard to actually see his face, for his head drooped and the long, choppy black hair covered his eyes and brow. All that could be seen was a sad, burdened grimace. He looked...so real. But so vague.

"Who...are you?"

[Zidane]

It was such a sad picture, the boy. Everything about him was so depressed. There was no way Eriu could put it into words the sensation she was getting just looking at the painting. Everything in her, once so intrigued by the mansion and the wonders it might've tucked away, was now terrified just by standing there. Her heart was pounding so hard and so fast she thought it would burst. Something wet began to roll down her face. Eriu blinked in surprise and hesitantly brought her hand up. Tears... She was crying... Now that she knew that she was crying, there was no way to stop. Now her heart did feel like it would burst. As thinking that there was no end to the crying in sight, she shambled over to a nearby chair and cradled her head in the palms of her hands. This was what her body felt. It wasn't fright. It was sympathy overriding her emotions.

Several minutes later, she finally was able to wipe her watery eyes on the back of her dark green turtle-necked sweater with sleeves that reached over her knuckles. She pulled out her handkerchief and blew her reddened nose. "Gah, I wish I could cry beautifully..." Eriu sighed to herself and looked back up at the painting. This time, her heart was beating as it should. "I also wish I could see your face... Bet you're a handsome chiseller..." Something white caught her attention as she examined the painting a second time. And upon closer inspection, she realized that it was tear on the boy's face. Near the corner of his mouth. "Is that why you're so sad? Cause you're cryin'?"

For some reason, he seemed so real. If she could reach up and hold the boy in her arms and comfort him, she would have gladly done so. But she couldn't, and she didn't dare reach up and touch the picture. The oils on her hands would ruin the beautiful piece of art, real or not. Eriu stood and began to walk away. And something stopped her. Sitting in front of the once grand entrance of the mansion was a bird. A magpie. The bird was looking at her straight in the eyes, head tilted ever so slightly. Eriu took a step closer. It didn't move. Another step. Still no movement on it's part. "Good sir, please move. I've no wish to dally 'ere, and I'm certain that you've a few snappers that need feedin' and a scratcher that needs tendin'," Eriu said calmly. And still the bird retained it's seat. But it was obvious the intelligence in it's eyes. It was almost as though the bird could actually understand what she was saying! But how could that be?

A small gasp of shock escaped Eriu when it opened its beak and let out a trill of what sounded like laughter. Wings fanned and flapped a few times before the creature took flight and circled around the bewildered teenager before it flew off into the vast powered blue sky. She watched the now small black dot fade into the horizon. "What was that about...?" Eriu wondered and looked back at the painting. "I suppose I could stay fo' a spell. Don' see any harm in it." She took a seat again and rested her head on the heel of her wrist. And quickly grew bored of just sitting there. "Aye, surely there's a thing or two to do 'round here to dodder 'bout," Eriu sighed and stood. Perhaps she could sweep a little? Clean the place a bit? Not that it would actually do much, but it was certainly something to keep her hands busy while she was here. Might as well make herself useful.

Eriu scurried about and fiddled with locks and knobs. Those that were left, anyways. Many of the doors were either missing or rotted and nested with termites. Though it didn't hurt to do a bit of exploring while she was searching for the servants quarters and ultimately the broom. She blinked as she realized something. Since she was bound to be here again, wouldn't it make sense to make a map building? At least the basic layout? After a couple of wrong stops, she finally found the study and managed to scavenged a few good, usable pieces of paper and a pencil. "Right, let's start with the bottom..."

After she finished perhaps half of the first floor of the mansion, dusk fell upon her. "Oh, bloody hell! When did it get so bloody late? Ugh, and there's no way that I'll be able to get back to the Ole Lady in time! I guess..." Eriu grumbled in her displeasure and walked up to the painting. "Oy, boyo. I'm gonna spend a night 'ere. I'll be in the back in the servant's... What the bloody hell am I blathering 'bout?" She blinked and shook her head, placing the paper on a chair and walking back to where the beds awaited her attention.

The teenager sighed in irritation. Hay. The mattresses were made of hay. Of course they would be. Why did she expect any better? "At least they didn't sleep on rocks, I guess," Eriu grumbled as she stripped the bed and grabbed a couple of blankets. It was soon to be dark, so she had no time to properly wash the sheets. One flick of her wrists and a heavy layer of dust erupted from the cover. She coughed and did it again, repeating the process a couple of times for each of the bed articles as well as the pillow case. But the pillows! Oh, they were soft. Goose feathers, most likely. Possibly to give the servant's a somewhat restful night while the hay mattresses were to keep it uncomfortable enough so they wouldn't be in too deep a sleep and be unable to wake up and mess up. "Clever blokes," she said with a sympathetic smile and placed the covers back on the bed. Then she placed one large blanket onto the bed, tucking the corners under the mattress to keep it from moving. It was so the hay wouldn't poke her sides too much as she slept. Eriu sat on it, testing it out as she laid down. "Eh, not too shabby. I'd say about as comfy as the Ole Lady's beds," she grunted as she pulled up a slightly smaller, heavier blanket and curled beneath it. Sleep came to her easier than she thought, for soon she was sound asleep.



The moon was high overhead. Howls were heard far off in the distance as the Sithe Master unleashed his hounds for their nightly run and hunt, searching for any humans that had stepped into a shroom's ring and strayed into their domain. Malicious shrills and cackling awoke Eriu from her slumber. Were those Pookas? Bugaboos? Sluaghs? The mere thought of a Pooka, of all things, frightened her. Not even the rapid barking of the Cu Sithe frightened her as much as having the chance of being unlucky enough to meet a vile Pooka. Eriu reached beneath her sweater to grab the iron nail she had tied to a chain and gripped it tight. The shrills soon died and she relaxed. They must've found something to get into. As she laid back down to go back to sleep, the sound of rustling paper being flicked and rubbed against one another freaked her out once more and she jolted straight up, clenching her iron nail tightly.

There was a chair next to her bed and sitting in it...she couldn't tell what it was. The moonlight pouring from the window behind her helped her see the shape of the creature, but not that it really did her any good. A Kelpie? But they didn't belong in Ireland... The feet were all wrong for a Kelpie anyway. They weren't horse hooves nor were they feet of a human. They were cloven hooves, like that of a deer or a goat. Sleek black fur covered the crossed legs, which were oddly shaped. It looked like they had two knees, one in the front and one in the back connecting the shin to the ankle, giving the structure more length and muscle. Eriu gulped as she looked from the odd legs and up to the torso. Pale hands gripped the papers, each finger having long, black claws. More ghost white skin clashed violently with the midnight black fur. The Faery had a very slim waist, easily half the width of the shoulders. Black bangs fully covered its face and a huge mane of the same colored hair fell behind him wildly, touching the floor with ease. Protruding from the creature's forehead were two huge, segmented, curling goat horns. "Got some nice drawings 'ere." Eriu blushed from both embarrassment and how the voice, now she knew it was a male, he projected rumbled throughout her body from her head all the down to her toes. The male Fae leaned down and forward a bit, hesitating to come any closer to her because of the iron. But he dropped the papers down at the foot of the bed and leaned back into his chair once more, hands locked together like how a business man would wait patiently for a client's answer.

"I... Why are you here? What do you want from me?" Eriu gulped, feeling the tips of her ears burning.

"You mean, you can see me?" Bangs moved slightly, indicating risen eyebrows. He flicked his head, flipping his bangs back onto his scalp. Eriu gasped and turned towards him, but backed away, her back pressed against the wall that the bed was parallel with. The Faery was beautiful. Enrapturing even. His face was narrow, but wasn't sickly or outlandish. Eriu would've thought that the unkept hair would've diminished the handsomeness in his face, but she couldn't see him with any other kind of hair style. Even the color matched his demeanor. But his eyes... They were vibrant. Royal purple with tiny specks of red here and there around the round pupils. "I guess that's a yes," he chuckled, letting down the resting leg and switched, using the action to scoot just a little closer to her. "I know you got yourself a bit of iron, there."

Eriu snapped out her daze and clenched the nail even tighter. "No, I'm not taking it off. The only way this is coming off is if you take it off of me," she quivered. It was her only protection from the Unseelie monsters. From the sound of his voice, the way he composed himself, and the way he looked at her, she guessed he was one of the more dangerous types. The ones that dealt with desire. Her mind, which was once filled with a warm fuzziness, was now filled with dread. She was miles from her home, no one was around, and now she was stuck in a room with an Unseelie. And chances were, there were probably goons of his nearby.

"Don't think that that was a question, bird," he said, letting out a long, drawn out sigh. The creature leaned forward, placing his elbows on his elevated leg. "I can't touch even a hair on your head if you keep that nail on." Purple eyes blinked and Eriu froze, her hand relaxing around the only thing that was keeping her safe. A charming smiled spread itself across his face. "There's a good lass... Now, take it off and put it at the foot of the bed." Eriu did as he bidded, taking her chain off and setting it aside. She tried to stop, but with no avail. He had charmed her.

Hooves clopped against the tile and she flinched, shrugging her head into her risen shoulders. A hand reached out for her. Her eyes were shut tight. Those long nails barely brushed her cheek. "No!" Eriu cried out as he grabbed her shoulders.

The window suddenly flew open and the sound of furious wings and angry shrills interrupted her desperate plea. The Faery's hands ripped themselves away from her arms, followed by shouts and curses in a language she didn't recognize. Eriu managed to muster the courage to open her eyes and see what had happened. He wasn't there anymore. The chair was left, but knocked over, and the papers were still by the head of bed. Her nail was untouched. Eriu quickly grabbed it and hastily placed it around her neck, grabbed the covers and yanked them over her head as she curled into a tight, shivering ball. It was a long time before fear released it's vile grip on her and let her sleep.



The sun rose and beamed down in Eriu's eyes, forcing her awake. A stretch and a yawn re-energized her body. "What a dream! It felt so-" Her heart sank as she leaned over to swing her legs over and saw the sheets of half-drawn maps she had left in what was the den of the mansion. Now that actual light was in the room, she recognized the chair. It was the same chair that the maps were placed on. Surrounding the chair was a vast array of flight feathers. Black, white... The color that caught her eye was the vibrant violet-green, though it looked more like blue-green as it reflected the sun's rays. But there was no blood on the floor.

"Oh God.... It was real!"

[Zidane]

"The blackguard sounds like a Glanconer, but..." An old woman with wavy, brittle white hair and equally brittle skin held the rough sketch away from her face, looking at it through the glasses that rested on her nose. Eriu blinked and leaned forward a bit. "But what?" The woman sighed through her nose with concern. "The description's all wrong. He be lookin' more like one of them satyr's from Greece, or Rome, or wherever have ye. Ye sure this be what he looked like?"

"Cop on! I know full well of what happened to me!" Eriu huffed. "As I said before; he charmed me, forced me to take off the iron, and tried to grab me!"

"Now that bit don' make a lick 'a sense to me. If the sleeveen really was related to a Glanconer, then howdya escape?"

"I... I don't know. I heard something like a bird flying in. The Faery started shouting, but when I opened me eyes again, he was gone. As was whatever attacked him..." The teenager trailed off, flashes of the creature's handsome face peering into her mind. "By the way, what is a Glanconer?" She asked her care taker, looking up at the old woman's ever growing concerned expression. "Ye see all of these faeries and ye don' know what a Glanconer be? Ye be a lucky chiseller, ye are.

"Glanconer is a Love Talker. As ye can tell from the title, he be part of the Unseelie court, though he don' like their rules. He steals the hearts of untouched women and leaves 'em there to wither and yearn for 'im again." Eriu gulped and rubbed her palms together. "And they tend to prey on the lassies lost in untamed woods. So... Where were ye?" The woman's eyes grew sharp as she leaned forward. "Ye best not be lyin' to me. I may be old, but I can still use these ol' bones to kick yer arse."

"I was... There is a small wood I go to when I wanna go see the Sidhe. I went a little farther last day and came across and found this run down building." Eriu said quickly and saw the fierceness in the old woman's eyes change to curiosity. "It looked like it was once a grand mansion, but it was completely in ruins. I think it belonged to a duchery of sorts."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I saw a crest. Two red lions, three circles, a mature oak tree, and a crown. Do you know who lived there?" Eriu watched her stand slowly, various joints creaking and groaning like wood complaining about being beat against it's natural growth. The elder walked over to a tall bookcase and pulled down a genealogy of the nobility of Ireland. "Well, let's see..." Pages began flipping rapidly, pausing occasionally when red lions next to an aristocratic surname appeared. But alas, the crest was not in the pages. But she didn't close the book. Eriu leaned forward to see if she had found a clue or something. And down the middle of the pages were the remains of a sheet that should've been there. If the crest and the answer to her question was on that page, then it was forever lost. The old woman sighed. "Someone has ripped it out..."

"Oh, Deirbhile, I'm so sorry..." Eriu glanced up with sympathy.

"Ye needn't be sorry. I've wetted the tea and made colcannon, go help ye'self and put some meat on yer bones. And I'm going to the chipper. I'll not be long," Deirbhile called out as she picked up her woven shawl and scuffled towards the door.

"Take care!" Eriu called out and went to the kitchen of the small house. She fixed herself a plate of the mashed potatoes with bits of kale. Normally, she would've objected to eating such a disgusting thing, but she was so hungry. She didn't think she'd be so long away from Deirbhile's home. How could she have not thought that? But seeing Oberon and Caiomhe in such a graceful and otherworldly relationship left her lonely and empty. Eriu was 17. Old enough to go out there and find herself a husband. Old enough to properly drink at the bar, vote, and drive! And yet...she was so lost without someone there to support her. It wasn't like that when she was younger. She lived by herself for most of her life. It was only recently that she started living with Deirbhile.

She sighed and looked out the window.

Eriu ran. Far from the mansion. Far from the desirable Sidhe. Far from the boy in the painting. Far from the chance of being whisked away to a world she admired, but dreaded visiting. For even the most beautiful rose had the most gruesome thorns. And the world of the Tuatha De Dannan was certainly a beautiful, tempting rose.

Her shoulders and arms were still tingling from the Fae's touch. Every time she blinked, she saw his face and eyes. It was almost impossible to think about anything else. He truly had cast a spell on her. And was so close to bewitching her. What did he plan to do with her? Keep her as a pet? Kill her? Take her to the mounds to feed the Sidhe children? Her legs were so tired. How long had she run?

Now Eriu's vision turned to a lush green and knee high grass instead of deep and emerald leaves and tawny branches. She was almost home. But it came in sight even quicker than what she had estimated. A small house with a blue roof and snow white walls and shutters. Eriu darted through the front door and tripped over a chair, tumbling down into the floor and dragging down a couple of books with her. Deirbhile rushed into the living room to see the adolescent curled on the floor, body covered with bent pages and opened books. "Eriu?!" She gasped and knelt down next to her, brushing the books off the girl's back. As soon as she did, Eriu threw herself into the elderly woman's arms and cried and cried. The poor girl was crying so hard, she had begun to hyperventilate. "My goodness, child, what has scared ye? And where were ye last night?"

Eriu explained what had happened to her as best as she was able to when she finally calmed down. But she practically went through half a box of tissues before that happened. Those feathers though...they were bird feathers. A bird chased away the...whatever he was. But even if that was the case, why? Why would any creature want to help her? That particular thought surprised her and she shook her head. No, she must be thankful for what she had and for whatever saved her from a potentially miserable experience. If only she could thank the creature that saved her. Or perhaps it was God himself. Who knows. In a world full of magic and superstitions, it was hard to believe everything you saw. Cause all lies, epics, and myths are really just exaggerated truths. Whether or not you believed them was really up to the person in question. Or the person(s) listening.

A window shattered as a stone passed through with ease. Eriu shrieked and dropped her plate, rushing out of the kitchen as it fell and out the house as the glass and the kale-flavored mashed potatoes settled all over the place. Outside, the group of rascals from yesterday were gathered around the front entrance. "Hey, Fatchna! Howya?" The oldest one, the red-headed leader, instantly reached out and grabbed Eriu.

"Let me go!" She squirmed and struggled, but was quickly stopped by a club bashing her back. "Hey, be gentle with 'er! We gotta party to go to!" One of the red head's goons chuckled.

"Tha's right! We gonna go boxin' the fox! You wanna join?" He growled dangerously and stomped on her foot. Eriu cried out in pain. "Deadly! Now, listen here, you slapper. We gonna go to a nearby orchard and we gonna steal 'em good apples."

With no real choice but to let them drag her away, she tried not to cry. This past week had just been terrible. And now it was possible that she would be jailed on the account of theft. Staying at the mansion with that goat Sidhe sounded even better and better the more she traveled with the unruly lot.

Soon, she found that they were in a forest. Eriu stopped, her eyes wide as she fell to her knees. They weren't going to an orchard. They were going to discard a Jane Doe. The boys knew that she knew and laughed as they raised their bludgeons. Before even one could fell the first strike, however, a high pitched scream echoed in their heads. Following that was a white, ghostly woman. Her silver hair wove gracefully through the air as though in water. Her skin was as white as the petals of a snowbell flower. And her clothes were nothing more than wispy rags that too waved as though they were levitating at different rates.