The Prince and the Maiden

Excerpted from Forever Night: A Collection of Short Stories
By Lorcan O’ Halloran

The prince longed to be loved by a maiden pure of heart and strong of spirit. He cared not for her upbringing or for her lineage. He wanted only that soul-to-soul connection, that true and honest knowing that love bound him to her and her to him.

For years he searched the world. He found beautiful women with quick minds and kind natures, but not one stirred his heart. Oh, he found pleasure. Nothing compared to the sweet moments held in a fair damsel’s embrace, but those glorious touches never reached further than lips upon satin skin.

In his despair, he sought the advice of his grandmother, a powerful witch.

“The one you seek has not yet been born,” she said. “I can give you a potion that will give you immortality, but there is a price. You will never again walk in the light or sup at your father’s table. To live, you must drink the blood of innocents. To find your maiden, you must embrace darkness.”

“My soul will surely shrivel without the light,” said the prince.

“Your soulmate is your light. Life is about balance. For every sacrifice, there is a reward.” The witch stared at him, her rheumy gray eyes narrowed. “You beware, dearest prince! If you allow your new nature to overtake you, you will forget your quest. You will live only darkness and you will never find the one destined for you.”

Believing no sacrifice was too great to find his beloved soulmate, the prince drank the awful potion prepared by his witch-grandmother.

For a whole day and a whole night, he suffered terribly. At the end of the second day, all that made him human had been burned away, leaving only his memories … and his hopes.

That evening, he awoke as súmaire fola—blood sucker.

Every day, he found shelter under the earth or in caves. Every night, he traveled the planet, searching for the soulmate promised him. He obtained sustenance from innocents, taking only what he needed. He heeded his grandmother’s warning: If you allow your new nature to overtake you, you will forget your quest. And both you and the one destined for you, will never find each other or true love.

And so, he guarded himself against greed, against desperation, against anger.

Years passed.

Decades.

Centuries.

Great countries fell into ruin and were rebuilt. Mortals he befriended grew old and died. Again and again, the cycle of death and rebirth filled the endless stretch of time.

And still the prince did not find his beloved.

After 1,000 years of wandering, the prince sought the table of a fortune teller. At dusk, he entered her tent and bade her to look into his future.

“Please,” he begged, “I have given up everything to find the other half of my soul. I can think of nothing else but of her, the one I can love, the one who will complete me.”

Though the fortune teller feared the súmaire fola, she looked into her crystal ball and told him the truth. “The one you seek has been born and raised on a small farm. She is a lovely lass of marriageable age, though she rejects all suitors.”

“Tell me more,” demanded the prince. “Are you sure it is she?”

“I tell you what the crystal reveals. It does not lie.” She looked again at the swirling colors inside the globe. “She is well-loved by her parents and her sisters. She is kind-hearted and never speaks in anger. Her patience is legend. Ah, one of her many gifts is that of song. When she sings, all weep at the sound of her voice. Yes, my prince, she is pure of heart and strong of spirit. She is all that you desire. But, she is a poor, simple maiden—will you still have her?”

“I have amassed enough riches for a hundred lifetimes,” said the prince. “I have waited a millennium just to see her face, to kiss her lips … to pledge my heart to her. Where is she?”

The fortune teller shook her head. “The crystal ball does not reveal her location. But if you go west, you will find what you need to continue your journey.”

“How will I know her?”

“Hair the color of a raven’s wing. Lips as red as the rose. Skin as pale as morning cream and her gaze the soft brown of a doe.”

His vigilance had been rewarded! Excited, the prince paid the woman handsomely. As he left the old and ragged tent, he walked west and thought about his maiden.

Finally … oh finally … he would embrace his true love.
 
The prince walked west. In every village along the road, he asked about the beautiful maiden, but none had seen a woman such as he described. Weeks passed and still the prince did not find either his soulmate or the help promised by the fortune teller.

Finally, the prince reached the edge of the continent. He could go west no longer—not unless he chartered a ship. That evening, he lodged at an inn built into a seaside cliff overlooking the gray ocean. From his balcony, the prince watched lightning dance among dark clouds. He knew the brewing storm would be a nasty one and decided to sup early so that he could return to the safety of his room before the weather turned foul.

Then he heard the dulcet tones of a woman singing. Entranced by the lovely voice, he flew from the inn to the beach below. There, he found a young lady sitting on a rock, staring into the sea. Her dress was black and her blonde hair covered by black lace. Her song was very sad and her tears fell like tiny diamonds onto the sand.

“Why are you weeping?” he asked.

“Our family has suffered greatly from the plague,” she said. “My father and my two youngest sisters died this very week. I’ve only been spared because I’ve been away at school. My eldest sister took care of everyone, though she is very ill herself. Now, she lies alone in our cottage, suffering greatly. 

“A neighbor sent word about my family’s deaths and my sister’s terrible illness.  I’ve been traveling ever since, hoping to reach home so that I may be with my sister. She is such a good soul, so beautiful and kind.”

The prince took pity on the young woman. “I will take you to her. How far away is your home?”

“Two days walk from the inn. I would go onward except that bandits and evil spirits roam the woods at night.”

“Do not worry, pretty one, I will help you.” The prince used his glamour to hypnotize the blonde. He took from her neck only what he needed then her gathered the unconscious lady into his arms and rose into the air.

Thunder boomed as the storm drew closer, but the prince flew through the night, reaching the little farm just before dawn. He took the sleeping girl into the barn and settled her into a pile of warm, soft hay. She dared not enter the house yet, not until measures were taken to rid the cottage of the plague.

With only minutes until dawn, the prince entered the cottage and sought the bedroom of the dying sister. When he opened the door, he saw a woman asleep on her pallet, her skin pallid and her breathing erratic. She had hair the color of a raven’s wings and lips as red as the rose. But it was not her ravaged beauty that called to him, it was the instant connection of his soul to hers. She was the one he had waited for … she was his other half, his truest love.

The prince dropped to his knees and wept.

He had found his maiden.

And she was not long for this world.

Honoring the maiden’s wishes, the prince tended to her throughout the evening. As her breath shallowed and her eyes fluttered closed, his heart squeezed in grief.

“I will stay with you and await the dawn,” he promised. How could he fear dying when he was with the other half of his soul? “What is life,” he asked the maiden, “without love? I would rather have this one night with you than another thousand years.”

A beautiful glow emanated from his lady. The heat and light was filled with such all-encompassing joy, he feared it not.

As the radiance subsided, he found the maiden awake. He helped her to sit up and she cupped his face. “I was cursed,” she said. “I was told only a man who walked the night and who swore his devotion to me could break it.”

Overjoyed, the prince took the maiden into his arms. “You were worth the wait,” he whispered.

“As were you,” she whispered back.

And they lived happily-ever-after…