Anashkei
Prelude
Every morning the sun rose and every night it fell. This was an undeniable truth that all men faced. Nothing was as sure as the moon every night and the sun every day. Nothing that is until his love for her.
She was a beautiful maiden with hair blacker than ink and skin the color of red clay. And he a Prince in great gold robes and cloth as purple as the plums that grew in the temple gardens. All of the luxury he possessed was dimmed in her presence, for nothing that sparkled and gleamed could match the radiance of her beauty. As sure as the sun in the morning and the moon at night, he loved her.
There were those who feared their love for what it could do. The Prince not yet a King faced his father who was. It was his belief that his son should wed a princess and bear with her great heirs. So the Prince fled with his lover in the darkness of the night. Tucked away from suspicious eyes, the maidens belly became swollen with child. And her beauty grew. And as sure as the sun and moon, he loved her.
The King sent men to the east and to the west to search for his only son. With a fire in his eyes he swore he would punish him for his actions if ever he were to return. The King waited. And when finally his son was brought to him once more, the King became disgusted to see that a maiden bore an heir to his name. Outraged, the King cast her away from his Kingdom and forbid his son from seeing her ever again.
And as sure as the sun fell every night, the Prince would weep for the one he loved. Though he wed a beautiful Princess from a neighboring Kingdom, she could not compare to the love he lost. And soon the great King would die, but it would be far too late for the Prince to seek his lover. Year passed and were not so kind to the Prince who now held the title of King. Every night he wept and every day he cried until his cheeks were hallow and his eyes burned from being dry. The once vibrant young prince had withered away to an old gray King.
And as all Kings do in time, his reign was over and his Queen placed a red rose upon his chest and she wept as he had done for the one he loved until she too should join him.
All is not lost, however, in this tale of love and tragedy. For the child his lover bore grew to become a beautiful maiden even more so than her mother. Her hair was as black and her skin as dark as her mothers, yet her eyes were the color of gold and her lips the shade of merlot. All men who lay eyes upon her fell in love. And they would call her Anashkei.
She was a beautiful maiden with hair blacker than ink and skin the color of red clay. And he a Prince in great gold robes and cloth as purple as the plums that grew in the temple gardens. All of the luxury he possessed was dimmed in her presence, for nothing that sparkled and gleamed could match the radiance of her beauty. As sure as the sun in the morning and the moon at night, he loved her.
There were those who feared their love for what it could do. The Prince not yet a King faced his father who was. It was his belief that his son should wed a princess and bear with her great heirs. So the Prince fled with his lover in the darkness of the night. Tucked away from suspicious eyes, the maidens belly became swollen with child. And her beauty grew. And as sure as the sun and moon, he loved her.
The King sent men to the east and to the west to search for his only son. With a fire in his eyes he swore he would punish him for his actions if ever he were to return. The King waited. And when finally his son was brought to him once more, the King became disgusted to see that a maiden bore an heir to his name. Outraged, the King cast her away from his Kingdom and forbid his son from seeing her ever again.
And as sure as the sun fell every night, the Prince would weep for the one he loved. Though he wed a beautiful Princess from a neighboring Kingdom, she could not compare to the love he lost. And soon the great King would die, but it would be far too late for the Prince to seek his lover. Year passed and were not so kind to the Prince who now held the title of King. Every night he wept and every day he cried until his cheeks were hallow and his eyes burned from being dry. The once vibrant young prince had withered away to an old gray King.
And as all Kings do in time, his reign was over and his Queen placed a red rose upon his chest and she wept as he had done for the one he loved until she too should join him.
All is not lost, however, in this tale of love and tragedy. For the child his lover bore grew to become a beautiful maiden even more so than her mother. Her hair was as black and her skin as dark as her mothers, yet her eyes were the color of gold and her lips the shade of merlot. All men who lay eyes upon her fell in love. And they would call her Anashkei.