**Special thanks to Aethor, a friend from Romania, for pointing out mistakes in the translations and offering her services! All the updated beautiful language translations come from this remarkable girl.

This is for you...thank you Allison M. You are my guru, my muse, my jester, my partner in crime...but most importantly of all...you are my friend.

Shari

Dragoste la ultimul

(Love Eternal)

A supernatural faerie tale

When the moon on a cloud cast night
shine above the tree tops' bright
You sang me of some distant past
That made my heart beat strong and fast
Now I know I'm home at last

You offered me an eagle's wing
That to the sun I might soar and sing
And if I heard the owl's cry
Into the forest I would fly
And in its darkness find you by.

And so our love's not a simple thing
Nor our truths unwavering
But like the moon's pull on the tide
Our fingers touch our hearts collide

I'll be a moon's breath from your side

Samhain Night: Loreena McKennitt

Part One: Fate

The coach stopped with a lurch just outside a small inn on the outskirts of Brasov, somewhere in the wilds of the Transylvanian countryside. I could not deny that a part of me felt strangely drawn to the stark beauty of the rugged landscape, its jutting rock formations erotically piercing the innocence of the pale blue sky, but fear had already taken root in my soul…and it drowned out all other emotion.

I was to wed the Voivode, the ruler of this region. How my tale began is nearly too heartbreaking for me to tell.

This spring past, my father wed for the second time ere my mother joined her ancestors in the Holy Place. The bride he chose was a Baroness whose beauty was legend, for she aroused the passion and awe of men, from servant to the King himself. She hailed from a large city near the sea, the one where Father's ships come in to port carrying gold statues, silk and spices, and slaves to barter with.

She brought with her two daughters, each as lovely and delicate as fine porcelain…and as poisonous as the deadly nightshade. Margareta was all peaches and cream, blonde and blue-eyed, with a wicked sharp tongue, in possession of the talent to perceive the weaknesses of others and the innate skill to exploit it to her advantage. Brunette Luciana was the nightingale: soft spoken and demure, save for her temper, which was fierce indeed…her tantrums rang daily throughout the house. With the assistance of these fair-weather friends, these false sisters, my father's wife succeeded in turning his heart away from me.

Neither loved, nor welcomed in my own home, I had taken to engaging many hours in the stables, for I dearly loved spending time with the horses. My particular favorite was Doushka, a brown roan whose disposition was lovely and docile, yet she possessed a spark of mischief that kept me on my toes. Sleeping in the warm hayloft, comforted by the smell of oiled leather and the sounds of my beloved horses, I could forget the pain and loneliness of my father's betrayal. The more time I spent in the company of these beautiful beasts, the more I began to take on the appearance of a stable boy.

My family looked upon my countenance with disdain and disgust from that point onward. I was excluded from all social engagements and invitations, and when queried as to my absence, each party was told a heart wrenching tale of a daughter who squandered her virtue with a drifter, a scoundrel, therefore ruining any aspect of a social life or advantageous marriage. Indeed, the rumor already circulated that I was to go into the convent soon, because the said scoundrel had left, leaving me with child and in disgrace.

It was at this point in my life that I had resigned myself to a life of solitary loneliness, when the inconceivable occurred. My father lost me in a game of chance. Yes, me. I was the stakes…he put my virtue on the table as collateral against a hand of cards…and lost.

My life was about to change forever.

Part Two: Welcome

The inn was spacious, clean and serviceable. A dining hall and kitchen served as the entirety of the first floor and there were warm, comfortable rooms for hire on the second. My presence was expected, and lodgings were already procured on my behalf. A servant girl showed me directly to my room. The night eased in with a gradual darkening of the sky, from brilliant blue to the deep twilight of indigo. I sat staring out my window those long hours, chafing at the idleness in which I had been forced to participate. Used to filling my days with the activities of caring for the gentle creatures in my father's stables had not prepared me to be some man's pampered spouse, caring for nothing beyond the latest fashions and keeping him satisfied in bed. Desperation and fear threatened to choke me as I wrestled the tears back into oblivion…they would do me no good here.

I must fulfill my duty as a gentleman's daughter…but he shall never have me! This vow I made to myself as I took deep steadying breaths. He may possess my body, but he shall never truly hold my heart…he will never share the deepest parts of me….

To my relief, numbness finally…blessedly…stole back over me, and I lit the candle by the bed, and sat…pulling the brush through my long russet tresses with slow, methodical strokes. One of my favorite things to do, this ritual never failed to soothe frazzled nerves, and tonight was no different. With each brush stroke, I could feel the tension leave my body, and my eyes drifted shut.

The motion of my arm grew heavy and lethargic, and I knew that I should stop, and seek the solace of sweet slumber…but suddenly the sensations rioting through my body were of a contrary nature. I suddenly felt very strange…almost as though the brush were the touch of a lover's hand bent upon seduction, teasing and tempting, as wildly passionate as the natural wilderness we passed through just this morning.

Languidly I lay back against the pillows and allowed my arms to fall by my side. That ghostly touch stayed wound through my hair, massaging my head, my face, my throat…lower. A moan escaped my lips.

I felt cool air as it drifted over my breasts; causing a reaction that, under most circumstances, would have a blush pinking my skin. A dream…it is but a dream…a warm baritone voice whispered in my ear, before the caressing touch moved southward…skimming my naval, and delving into my damp, quivering sheath.

Groaning at the glorious sensations spreading out from that spot in my body, I opened weak thighs to give wider access to whatever power was giving such mind-altering pleasure. To my immense surprise, a tightening began in my belly that told me something monumental was going to happen. The touch on my quim grew bolder, thrusting in and out in time with my heartbeat, and I could almost…feel…a presence lying beside me, holding me close within a protective sheltering embrace. Then there was a tug on a bundle of nerves at the top of the juncture between my thighs, and all rational thought vanished…

I came to with the echo of my cry of fulfillment still ringing in the room. My nightgown was rucked up past my knees and unfastened to the waist exposing my breasts. Slightly sweaty, completely sated, and wonderfully relaxed…I drifted off to sleep.

He stood still, a dark shadow in the moonlight, cursing himself for letting it go as far as it did. She was enchanting, his bride-to-be! He knew that he had a long road ahead to gain her trust…but he also knew that he hadn't much time left. Soon darkness would take over, and he would do to mankind what thousands of his kinsmen had done over the centuries…

He would begin to feed.