Wannabe

a Power-Up Prompt response

(Go to All The Above Sea Stories.)

If you’re new to The Môrdreigiau Chronicles, welcome! Mostly I share the journals and letters and novels that I found kept in a trunk found in my attic that were written during the Regency period (or shortly thereafter) and involve a small group on quests to find Arthurian treasures that will enable them to save the world from ecological collapse. Oh, and there are shapeshifting sea dragons. I know, sounds like a fantasy story, right?

Today, though, is a response to Bradley Ramsey’s Power Up Prompt from last Friday but it is still in the fantasy romance genre, although this really deserves the novel-length slow-burn treatment. We’re going Level 3 in the challenge, using all the elements.

Sheep. The lot of them. Tied since birth to some person who’s supposed to be their true love, but how is it true if you never get a choice?

I’ve never felt that tug, that pull to a person who is meant as my soulmate. I learned pretty quickly to nod and sigh dreamily, but the truth is?

I turn to the man at the bar next to me, whose fingers brush the side of my hand in a coy gauging of interest.

He leans in. “Tell me.”

I know he boarded the ferry with his soulmate. Every person had, except the ferry crew. Oh, and me.

“The truth is that it’s not a blessing, but a curse.” I tilt my head, letting my long dark hair fall to one side, framing my pale face. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

He swallows, nods. “I love my wife. I know I do. It’s fated but … Shouldn’t there be more?”

There are no love stories in this world. None but one ill-fated tale of a goddess who lost her true love and doomed the rest of us to be bound to one other from birth to death.

“I would like there to be,” I confessed. “I’m broken. I don’t know this true love everyone else experiences.”

He leans in even closer, whispers by my ear. “Would you like to?”

Ah, here it is. True love means one love and yet there are those who seek an additional, sensual, rush. They’re all bad actors.

Including me. I need this. I’d stumbled across the art of self-pleasure but the ache inside remains. “Are you sure?” I turn my head and our lips almost touch.

We hang there, suspended, inhaling each other’s breath. I wanted, I ached, my pleasure places awake and taut.

The bartender’s fist lands heavy on the bartop, rattling the glasses. “Keep that nonsense onshore,” he growled. “A pilgrimage to Forlorn Island must not be sullied.”

The moment shattered. My prey hurried back to his true love.

I sighed, downing the remainder of my drink and headed onto the deck.

The island loomed out of the endless twilight of midsummer, a dark hulking shape against the golds and purples of the sky.

We’ll arrive there tomorrow and then I will have my revenge.

I trail behind the other pilgrims. They go to give thanks to the goddess Linara for a life of coupled bliss. The ritual tightens the bind. Even those seeking additional desires will cling to their one true love and no other.

Let them. Let them be shepherded and consoled. They are the last to feel Her rod and Her staff.

From a safe distance, I watch each couple approach the lonely megalith at the island’s centre, bow and make their oblations. They drink deeply of the water flowing from the rock’s base. I watch them embrace and stagger away, lost in rapturous bliss.

At last, only I remain. The ferry’s horn sounds, warning of its imminent departure. I ignore it.

Twilight descends and the megalith’s long shadow extends its long finger across the darkening green, reaching for me.

I toe off my sandals and walk barefoot across the mossy rock, mud squelching between my toes.

I stand in front of the megalith, staring up. Even in this dim light, I can’t miss the long fissure almost breaking it in two. I hadn’t noticed that before. This close it doesn’t even look like a woman.

The water gushes once across my feet and stops flowing.

Revenge. How do I do that to a rock? Punching it will hurt me more. I could push it over? I stretch and flex.

“It really is you.” Her voice is soft like old cotton sheets and it tangles up my intentions. “Aranil, it’s really you.”

She appears from behind the megalith, her golden skin glistening in the twilight. Long blonde hair cascades over her shoulders, over her breasts, brushes the tops of her thighs. Teardrop-shaped, large doe-like dark eyes blink at me. She is absolutely glorious and completely mistaken.

“That’s not my name,” I tell her. “Where’s your true love?”

She frowns, extends a hand towards me. “Right here.”

I retreat, warding her off. I feel nothing. Like I always have. “Not me, lady.”

She examines my face in the fading light. Bites her lip in such an adorable way. “Aranil. I have waited for you for uncounted years.”

I’ve heard some lines before but this one is a smidge much. “Yeah, right. Not interested in what you’re selling.” An utter lie, I admit. She’s gorgeous. “Leave me alone.” I shoo her away. I don’t need witnesses to the desecration I plan.

She passes me. I inhale a delicious whiff of her almost-not-quite jasmine perfume. I can’t help it, I turn to watch her depart.

I don’t need any witnesses. Again I lie, this time to myself.

With a groan, I face the megalith and advance. My feet slips on the slick wet stones at its base.

I press my hands against the rough granite and push. I lean in, shoulder to stone, chest to stone, pushing with all my might. Through my thin shirt, my skin prickles with the thousand tiny sharp edges of minerals.

The woman appears at my side. She places a finger on the megalith near my nose, exerts a slight pressure…

The megalith falls, breaking into two. They lie in a V shape on the mossy bedrock.

I gulp. “What? How did you—“

“Anything for my one true love,” she serenely responds.

“Who are you? What are you?” Terror demands I flee. Her scent and soft voice bids me stay.

“Linara, goddess of love.”

I burst out laughing. “Pull the other one.”

She caresses my cheek and my laughter dies. I can’t explain it. “You are my true love come back to me.”

“No.” I sound harsh, but I don’t care. “I feel nothing for you. True love is a curse.”

“You’re lying.” Her soft voice does something strange to my insides. “I can always tell when you lie.”

“You don’t know me at all.” My fists clench. “I am not your true love.”

“You want me,” she murmurs.

My eyes widen. Oh, she is one of those who wants more. My pleasure places tense in anticipation. “Then don’t play the true love game.”

“Not even true love’s kiss?” She presses her lips against mine, an innocent, chaste kiss.

My eyelids flutter shut. I drown in her soft sweetness. I receive her chastity and plunder her mouth, hungry, no, starving for that which has always lain beyond my reach. I mould her soft naked body to mine, worshipping her curves.

She bites my lower lip, gasps for air. “See? True love.”

I check the depths of my heart, my soul. Nothing stirs, all is dead. “I desire you,” I confess, trailing kisses along her jawline to her ear. She presses against me with a breathy moan. “This is not true love,” I tell her. I cup her arse. “It’s wrong to pretend otherwise.”

She pulls back, remaining in my loose embrace. “You truly don’t remember me.”

I wrestle my breathing under control. “No. You have a true love. I don’t.”

Her nose wrinkles. “You do. It’s me.”

“I desire you. That’s not the same.” I loosen my grip, putting air between us. “You’re a beautiful woman but desire is not true love. I don’t want that.”

She pulls me in, hands at the small of my back, her pelvis against mine. “Then what do you want? If it’s within my power as goddess, I will grant it.”

“You’re not a—“ I break off. What woman wanders an island stark naked? I decide to humour her. “You don’t know what you ask.”

“If it’s your wish, I will grant it, even though that power lies within you.”

My lip curls, baring my teeth. “Break the curse. I want real love. Real, true, and messy. Wooing and misunderstanding, choosing to stay, being able to leave. Nothing is fated, nothing is foreordained. We just figure it out.”

“But … no true love means… we are not...”

I shrug. “We aren’t. I’m not this Aranil you seek. I am intrigued by you, your beauty, and I’d love to plumb your depths. I want more than desire but I can’t have that if you have a true love.”

She gazes into my eyes, searching for that non-existent true love link. I watch her heart break right in front of me. An odd little pang resounds somewhere deep within. “I trust what we had,” she murmurs. “I trust we will build what we had again.”

Her eyes close. Her golden skin shimmers, glowing ever brighter. Light ripples out from her, like a stone dropped in a cosmic puddle.

My heart shifts. The emptiness, the ice, melts. I take a deep breath, feeling alive for the first time.

The light fades. Her smile is strained, although I shouldn’t be able to read this stranger so well. “My name is Linara. I think I like you.”

My heart lightens. I lean in and kiss her. This time our kiss is a delicate exchange of soft promise. My knees weaken, my heart beats way too fast.

I don’t know or care what’s happened to the rest of the world, but Linara and I, we begin right here, right now. We might end tomorrow, or never. I look forward to finding out.

I’m new to Bradley’s prompts but he included some theme music for the prompt. I was almost done with this one, when its theme song dropped into my head. I apologise in advance.

Thanks for reading! Would love to know what resonated or sparkled for you in this story. If you liked this, please share it.

If you’d like to read short stories about shapeshifting sea dragons, you check them out in The Red Book of Rhiannon.

(Go to All The Above Sea Stories.)