Author's Note: This is an idea my muse threw at me. What do you guys think?

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In a land plagued by drought, a tiny village holds tight to the stretch of farmable land beside the dwindling River of Many Tales. The village chieftain, Charming Shepherd, is lauded for his fairness and wisdom. His wife, Skin-of-Snow, is reknown for her beauty and skill as a hunter, rivalling even the men. The chieftain and his wife have one maiden daughter, a strong-willed beauty called Defiant Swan.

Each year, the village elders, She-Who-Holds-Hearts and Spinner-of-Gold, secretly select one maiden and one man to represent the Living Goddess and Sun Sword in the sacred Planting Festival.

In the Year of the Cobra, Defiant Swan was chosen as Living Goddess.

Skin-of-Snow pleaded with her daughter to submit herself fully to the chosen man to ensure the gods be appeased and end the drought that had dwindled the River of Many Tales to a level lower than even ancient Spinner-of-Gold had seen in all his years. Defiant Swan frowned and gnashed her teeth, but in the end, she realized she must do her duty for the sake of the village.

When the appointed day came, Defiant Swan held her tongue as the village priestesses scrubbed and anointed her skin with scented oils. They stained her lips with berries and rubbed colored powders into her long, pale hair.

Star-of-Fireflies, a dark haired priestess, smiled at Defiant Swan and murmured to her how brave she was and how beautiful. Sound-of-the-Bell, a priestess with hair almost as pale as that of Defiant Swan, carefully plaited the maiden's long tresses, winding it around the cords that would hold up her elaborate headdress and mask. The head priestess, Blue Mother, painted elaborate swirls and sacred symbols on Swan's naked chest, arms, and legs. Once the paint was dry, the ritual loincloth, red as blood, was tied in place. The golden Chalice of Earth hung heavy at the front of her meager garment. The weight of it pulling down the cloth to reveal a hint of the dark blonde curls above Swan's sex.

When the decorations were complete, Blue Mother nodded, examining Defiant Swan. She called for a cadre of virile priests to carry Defiant Swan out to the front of the temple. When the young men were assembled on the other side of the curtain, Blue Mother lowered the ritual mask to cover Swan's features and pulled the straps tight through the intricate knots in her hair. Blue Mother tied off the cords with quick, precise motions.

Swan found the eye slits, which barely granted her any sight at all. The mask smelled strange and sweet, and it was heavy, tapping her against the forehead and cheekbones with each step of the men who lifted her and bore her the short distance to the front of the temple.

The man chosen to represent the Sun Sword already stood on the dias, regal in his golden bodypaint. His mask and headdress hid his identity completely. His own loincloth, black as pitch, was adorned with the phallic scabbard that housed the actual Sun Sword. The golden relic hung heavy between his legs as he stood in a wide stance, his shoulders flung back, his hands in fists on each hip, his arms akimbo. His head moved, his hidden eyes following Defiant Swan as she was carried forward. When the chanting priests lifted Swan to the dais, the Sun Sword strode to the edge of the platform, holding out his hands to her.

Defiant Swan let the unknown man lift her to the platform and turn her toward the crowd. The assembled sea of people took up the chant from the priests as the priestesses joined the audience. Together, Living Goddess and Sun Sword raised their hands to the sky in supplication.

Defiant Swan felt strangely giddy as the Sun Sword guided her to the altar layered with animal hides. He lifted her by her hips and set her on the altar. Swan leaned back against the skins, the rough fur of many beasts scratching her naked back. She let her legs fall wide, leaving room for the Chalice of Earth to rest between her thighs. She could not see the Sun Sword, but she knew from years of observing the ritual that he was making the gestures to coincide with the blessing being chanted by the crowd. The rhythmic words washed over her, sounding strangely hypnotic:

Bless the ground to give us grain
Bless the sky to give us rain
Bless the womb to give us sons
Bless the hunters on their runs

She felt the Sun Sword's approach, and though she knew the public coupling would only be symbolic, she felt strangely tense. Something brushed the inside of her knee, and she stifled a gasp. Defiant Swan heard and felt the sing of metal sliding along metal as the Sun Sword slid his sheath into the Chalice of Earth. When the sacred items were joined, Swan felt pressure against her own chalice, where the avatar of the Sun would later enter her with his true sword. She felt a shiver go through her body, but she couldn't say if it was anticipation or anxiety. She felt oddly detached from what was going on around her.

The Sun Sword withdrew and then stepped forward again, making the relics ring against each other, pressing more firmly this time. The avatar pulled back and thrust forward again, and this time Swan couldn't help but arch her hips as the back of the chalice intimately pressed against her.

With the third symbolic coupling complete, the Sun Sword took Swan's hands and pulled her to her feet. A group of priests and priestesses mounted the dais and herded Swan and the Sun Sword into the temple and down the stone stair into the ritual room called the Womb of the River. Once the soon-to-be lovers were through the archway, the heavy door was closed and barred, locking them in until the following midday.

Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, Defiant Swan glanced around the room, taking in as much detail as she could through the thin slits in her mask. The sacred chamber below the temple was lit by the wan light of candles spread throughout the room and filled with altars designed for carnal purpose. Plush cushions had been arranged in one corner of the room for resting. Swan blinked, her vision blurring briefly. To the left of the sealed doorway, a low shelf was piled with fruits, nuts, dried meats, and pitchers of spiced wine: Foods designed to provide stamina for the night ahead...

Swan drew a ragged breath. Her pulse seemed to be speeding of its own volition.

"Be unafraid, lass," said the Sun Sword in a disturbingly familiar voice.

As the chieftain's daughter, Swan knew most everyone in the small village. She'd known from the moment she was chosen that her partner for the night would be a man with whom she was acquainted.

But that voice.

Her brain was foggy, but she would recognize his voice anywhere. She'd heard it since she was a child (though the timbre of it had changed much over the years). He had been her confidant, her accomplice, her informant, and her snitch. They'd been inseparable until the death of his older brother, when he'd grown sullen and withdrawn, keeping mostly to the river and his little boat.

"Hook?" Swan asked in a shaking, slurred voice. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or apprehensive. Her head was spinning wildly.

In an elegant motion, the Sun Sword avatar threw off his headdress, revealing a pair of wide sapphire eyes and a mane of unruly raven hair. It had been over a year since Defiant Swan had seen the prodigy fisherman, He-Who-Wields-the-Flashing-Hook, and the year had been very kind to his form and face. Beneath his ritual paint, his chest and arms were strong and lean. His stomach was trim and defined by hard-earned muscles. His thighs showed strength they previously hadn't possessed. Working the river had hardened Swan's childhood friend. He was a very fitting avatar for the Lord of the Sky.

Flashing-Hook's mouth fell open as his gaze covered Swan from the top of her elaborate headdress to the straps of her leather sandals. He seemed to be just as surprised as she, though he did not seem to suffer from the strange drunkenness Swan felt.

"Defiant Swan?" Hook whispered, licking his lips.

Swan tried to remove her own mask, but the fastenings were tied into her hair. She felt like she was suffocating behind the hardened clay faceplate. She clawed at the bindings as her breathing accelerated. Her vision swam around the narrow slits through which she could see.

"I cannot... breathe," she gasped as she swayed on her feet.

"Swan!" She thought she heard Flashing-Hook exclaim.

Everything turned sideways and then faded to black.

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Should I continue this?