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It was a quiet day in Wormhare. The folks busy but on light steps. Roma, a petite girl with ginger locks, squatted amidst a field of flowers, a rose in her hair. As she lifted a stalk to her nose, a horn blew, the stalk fell and she dashed quickly across to her mother who stood by the door with an alarmed look on her face.
“Come quick! Inside!” Her nasal voice was frantic. Roma paid heed and quickly ducked into the basket. It was routine.
People came to a halt, children hiding into stowaways built by their parents. Wormhare was suddenly a no movement zone as the sounds of horse hooves proceeded closer. Pebbles bounced and danced at the impact on the concrete ground. Downcast faces mixed with a heavy countenance.
Soon, the Marchers came to full view all dressed in black and on their high horses. The flag; a black raven taking flight with a gold crest on its chest - hung proudly on a carrier and swayed with the wind.
A figure, jumped down from a horse, his physique as that of a solid mountain, face entirely covered, a hoodie over his head. Heavy steps moved steadily towards the carrier and pulled it open. Then all - both Marchers and folks - all went on their knees; men on one, women on two.
The air became stale, almost deathlike as a figure emerged from the coach. Mohawk trimmed neatly at the sides, pointy ears to match, dressed in midnight black, a raven tattoo above his right eye, and lips pressed into a grim line; Ashton’s obsidian pools slowly took in the people.
“Rise.” Came his voice.
They all did and he continued, “People of Wormhare. I am Ashton. You all know me as the commander of the Raven armies or the Dark prince. Today, I have been sent here on a quest to find the successor to the throne.”
Gasps and murmurs overtook the silence until an old man spoke,
“We beg your pardon sir? In the land of humans? A Fae?”
“Yes. The Mirror of truth revealed last night that a nurse had made away with a Fae babe upon the orders of a Royal consort. We have come to find her.”
“Her?! Your successor is a woman?”
“It seems to be that way. Now, I would like all the young ladies twenty years of age, to assemble. Please do not disobey or try to resist. It would only be dire for those who do.”
The crowd shuffled and young women came forward. Ashton pulled out from the carriage a raven that squawked and took to the sky. It circled around many times. The people gazed up with wonder, watching as the bird flapped it’s wings and cried simultaneously
Then it began its descent and landed on a roof instead. Ashton’s eyes narrowed, the people now gazed at the bird as it pecked on its feathers. After a minute, it squawked again.
“I said not to resist.” He said coldly.
Like nails to magnet, eyes slowly fell in the owner of the shack. Madeline. Roma’s mother.
“It’s impossible,” a man cried, “Madeline was with child. She and Thomas have Roma.”
Ashton turned to the woman in question, “Roma?” He echoed
Madeline trembled so much her knees buckled and her legs gave way. She fell to her knees and cried.
“Madeline?” A young woman full with child called.
“Lady May was scared for her child. The Queen mother was definitely plotting to do something and she made me promise to see that her child escaped the life of the palace. I made a promise. Thomas agreed too.”
“But…you were with child.” The woman said
“Yes. I was. It was a still birth. And then I was called in the middle of the night by her lady. I took in the child and I do not regret it. You can have my head but I did no wrong.” She cried
The door burst open and Roma ran forward, blotched cheeks and red eyes.
“Mama.” She called and went to comfort her. At that moment, the wind blew and her curtain of hair was pushed back to reveal pointy ears that made the people who saw it gasp more.
For years, Madeline used clips to hold her daughter’s hair over her ears. Of course Roma knew her heritage. Her mother told her the moment she was able to understand.
“I don’t want to go. I want to stay.”
Everyone seemed carried away by the scene unfolding before them that Ashton’s inner battles went unnoticed. He heard the unmistakable whistle of the Raven. The sign that one had found their mate. For years, almost three decades, he had come to believe that he was made to be alone. To be company to wars and the defense of his land. But…
“Roma.” He voiced
A shiver went down her spine and she stiffened, going rigid against her mother who looked at her with concern. Roma’s green eyes turned a shade of blue. A sign prominent with Fae women when they have come in contact with their match.
“Oh Roma.” Madeline cried as she saw the change.
Roma turned, slow as a tortoise, to face Ashton - the commander of the dark army. Obsidian pools now silver, green now blue, the Raven squawked once more.
With an outstretched hand, Ashton said,
“Come to me.”
The ritual. When they find each other and the male accepts his partner, they must say the words and if the other accepts, they obey.
Her body begged to yield but her mind refused. She looked at her mother, the woman she’d have to leave should she accept. She began to shake her head, steeling herself to reject.
“Roma. Come.” Ashton’s voice was desperate. He finally found her. After years. He wasn’t about to let go. Boots hit the ground, as he made his way towards them. The path cleared and people stared.
“No! I -“
“Roma!”
Roma stared at her mother who was now sobbing,
“Don’t. The bond of the Fae is like no other. You would die of heartache and so would he. Go. Go to him. To your people.”
“But these are my people. You are my mother”.
“Yes. But your kingdom needs you. And so does he.” Madeline glanced at Ashton who closed in.
“Come with me.” His gravelly voice dripped with tenderness that melted Roma from the inside.
“You must promise no harm would come to her or them anymore. You must swear that they would be taken care of and that I would be able to come back when I want.” She looked at him from her position on the ground.
Ashton nodded gravely as each request like her words were life.
“As you wish.”
She nodded and kissed her mother’s cheek and then stood to her feet to face him. Her willowy dress a stark contrast to his moody ones. His hand stretched once more and this time she took it.
© September 2023, 
