If I told you about them, would you believe me?
For there are no two lovers quite as unbelievable,
quite as brave and no story quite as fraught
with dangers, many and unseen as theirs.
The two lovers, Aelfdene and Celeste.
Where to start, where to start? Maybe here,
with Aelfdene’s broken heart. “Poor me.
The icy cold grabs my heart, within the deep
grip of a yuki-onna. My lady, my Mistress
must have been bewitched by Venus.
A Hecate blessed spell, strengthened by
darkened witchcraft, Freyja taught.
She left me, for a man, who is caught
by his wealth, chained by the weight
of gold, a love so deep it challenges
King Midas of the golden touch.
she enjoyed our nights, engulfed by
the fine woven thread so precious
like it was made by Rumpelstiltskin.
But now, she must bathe in gold and silver,
my meagre kingdom is not big
enough for her. My swordsmanship
is no longer treasured, my looks not
worth the emeralds and rubies
that now adorn her. Oh poor me.”
A prince he may be but not strong
in love, a heart blackened by pain
and frostbitten by that ice cold
woman. While he wastes his time
on a girl he would forget, mourning
a relationship well sunk by greed,
a fair young changeling comes into
the scene. A forgotten fae, raised
hidden by humans. Celeste, a maiden
Young and fierce, A woman, ahead of her time,
for I will say nothing about the fear like
that of an angry goddess, She faced, speaking just about her own odyssey,
Once she began, the changeling fought partly for both her
own honour and money she needed, no glory was found,
rather like Atlanta, she strove for glory and ended up with love.
Oh, look! A has found the young fae-born in,
The very woods that hid his rivers of tears and angry exclamations.
“I see a maiden, oh how she must be Diana, striking
Out in the woods or Artemisinin looking for her mistress.
No, She must not be one of these, her face shows proof of that most powerful love.
It is adorned by the kisses of the very gods.
Her delicate hair, the very colour of the falling leaves that Ceres demands,
I can not tell whether her lips are stained red
by her arrow stricken prey, or as an incitement placed by this woman.
As I look, She must be an immortal god, one of those people
based by Venus or beyond that of a mere human. This must be fate”