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.

Thanks as always to the wonderful KenjiSato, my editor.

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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.