The Moonlight Maiden.

The night was passing slowly by for the absent minded Gawain. A hundred thoughts yelled at each other in the young lords mind as he, rather irresponsibly, stared up at the passing stars. The whole world melting away to those twinkling lights suspended in the heavens.

A heavy sigh bursts from his chest as he sits up, rubbing his brow and adjusting his armour; having donned it once more to assume guard duty, lest they get attacks. He thought back to her, to Lucy, his mind racing as his calloused hands scratched his tousled hair. He cared for her, he knew not why, but the fact remained he did, more so than any other woman he had bedded in his families lands, and there were a few. Had it simply be born out of a desire to have what others had desired before him? Had it been the feeling of power, having saved her from the hands of that thug? Or maybe his words rang more true than he believed, maybe every hero needs a princess to save... he smiled at that thought. No, he resolved himself, it mattered not why he cared for her, simply that he did.

_'Besides, Henry and Gerhard are yet to marry, it's not like who I marry matters, and with a little education she'll be a perfect Lady' the young man mused happily. 'Maybe mother will even like her, our children would certainly be beautiful'_

However, the Lordlings reverie was rudely interrupted, a rustling behind him drew his attention, ears twitching at the sound as he looked over his shoulder, a white shape disappearing behind the bushes. Startled, with brow furrowed, Gawain rose, hand on his blade as he took cautious steps out of his camp, following the figure towards the pond.

'Is Elariel up already? It's much too early for her watch.' He wondered as he crept through the bushes. He had to be sure, but then, what if this was a trap?

Gawain's careful steps brought him silently to the edge of the pool, his breath catching in his breath as he peered through the bushes. What he saw, taking the very breath from his lungs.

Before him, a beautiful woman stood, her hair was the colour of sapphires, and her eyes were golden pools of light that sparked with green energy. Her skin was a golden-white, and seemed to glow in the moonlight, no, her body shared it's light with the moon as she stood on the pond, not in it at all, but upon its very surface. Her plump lips pulled into a smile as water seemed to pour from her hands raised above her head, flowing down her body in crystal rivers, over her large ripe teats, down her slender toned abs, and between her thick thighs, into the waters below.

"So, the descendent of the Dragon Slayer has come at last" an unearthly voice called, to him as his eyes remained fixed on the Maiden's golden pools of light. The voice seeming to come from the wind itself, as the hairs on Gawain's body stood on end.

"Do you mean to spy on me from your hide-away, or will you step forward and great me, as befits a true Knight?" The voice asked, as if from all around as Gawain gulped, the Maiden's gaze fixed squarely upon him as her hands came to rest on the outside of her thighs. Mischievous smirk on her lips.

With cautious steps Gawain emerged from the brush, his knuckles white around the handle of his sword as he slowly inched forward, coming into the moonlight cast around the edge of the pond.

"Who are you?" He asked, voice unsteady.

"My my, 'tis quite rude to stumble into another's home and make demands is it not? 'Tis you who should be introducing thyself to me" A wry smile on her hips as a low chuckle bounces upon her chest.

"Gawain... Gawain Von Arco"

"And I am the Maiden of the Moon, was that so hard?"

"That's not a name."

"I agree, and yet it is the one gave to me" She answers, her smile growing mischievous again.

"What are you?" Gawain asks his voice low so as not to wake the others.

"Do you think these are the questions you should be asking? When storm clouds are gathering in the North, and broken glass shatters the West, fire will scour the East, and darkness will consume the South." She answers absent minded, her eyes fixed now upon the moon.

"Is that a riddle?"

"Do you take it to be one?" A coy smile spreads across her luminescent features.

"Do not toy with me."

"Like you are toying with the handle of your blade?" Her arms spread out on either side of her luscious body, opening herself up for attack, "Or perhaps you mean to use it? Come hero, strike me down for the strange abomination I am"

Gawain hesitates, sweat running down his back as he processes her words. Uncertainty clouds his judgement. Slowly he releases the handle of his blade, rising out of his stance to stand tall and proud before the Maiden of the Moon.

"What do your words mean, Maiden" He asks, voice firm.

"What did your own mean? 'I want to be a hero'. A fine statement but do you understand the words behind it?" She shoots back quickly, her slender finger coming to the corner of her smirking mouth. Shock ripples across Gawain's face.

"How did yo-" He begins slowly, before she cuts him off.

"Do you know what those words mean? Your ancestor did, he sacrificed almost everything to save this continent from destruction. What are you prepared to sacrifice?" She asks, her voice suddenly icy, a cold breeze wiping at the ends of her impossibly blue hair.

"What... they are just words!" Gawain calls, taking a step back from the icy wind.

"They are not. You must decide, Son of Erik, inheritor of Dragon's Bane. Will you become the Hero this world needs, or will you and your family fade into the void. Will you sacrifice what is necessary, do what must be done, to prevent calamity?" Her voice booms, the pond lashing around her and turning to ice as the very trees turn brittle, cracking and splintering as the cold consumes them.

"What do you mean! What calamity!" Gawain shouts, pushed back by the blizzard erupting around the Maiden, eyes burning with golden fury as she points a finger at him.

"Look within yourself Gawain Von Arco. I have read your fate. You path is wrought with peril, with pain, with torment and loss. Will it break you? Or will you rise higher than your Forebear ever could have hoped. The Fates are taking measure of your soul. The eyes of the Gods are upon you." Her voice rising as the very air begins to freeze before her finger points into the sky. A bolt of blue light shoots out of her fingertip, shattering the stars as the ground around Gawain shatters and splinters like a frozen lake, and he falls.

He falls for what seems like forever, through murky black water, watching as one by one the stars are blotted out. To the east he watches as the land is consumed by bloodshed, staining the soil red. To the West the mountains erupt in fire and fury, exploding as black wings unfurl behind them, two blood red serpentine eyes staring out from the Void. To the South the ground rots, trees wither and die, mountains turn to ash, the sea churning with vile black poison as a laughing skull wreathed in black robes dances upon a mountain or corpses. And to the North the frozen mountains explode under the force of a thunderous lighting storm, thick grey clouds rolling over the sea and crashing against the land, devastating everything in its path as it paves a way through the world itself.

But, at the centre of all things Gawain is drawn to a single golden light, a sword thrust into the ground, a bastard sword of such elegance Gawain had never seen before, with writing down it's fuller 'Duty, Honour, Vigilance, Sacrifice' in glowing golden lettering down it's pure silver length, sapphire blue electricity crackles along the blade, charging the air around it. And it's pommel, inscribed with the very sigil of house Von Arco; A silver bow being drawn back, it's arrow bearing an arrowhead made of the golden sun itself with rays of golden light coming out of it in all directions on a field of purest white.

Without thinking, Gawain reaches out and grasps the blades red-leather bound handle, and instantly the world fades around him. Light fills his vision that turns from gold, to white, to blue, before fading back to black.

His eyes flicker behind closed lids, his head resting on something thick and soft, a delicate hand with calloused fingertips gently stroking his cheek.

"Gawain... Gawain are you ok?" A gentle, melodic voice calls to him, soothing his beating heart as his hand rises to hold the delicate fingers up his cheek.

He opens his eyes, and two of the purest green eyes he has ever seen peer down into his own stormy blues. The lady's delicate feature's knotted with worry as her chestnut hair is tucked behind pointed ears.

"You must have passed out, you should have told me you were this tired, Elves don't need nearly as much sleep as you men" She whispers softly, her fingers unconsciously lacing with his own, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Elariel..." Is all his croaking voice can manage.