Okay so day three of the Faerie Arcana, and we have three very different ones. It’s probably worth saying that the last two are fairly bleak/have some element of violence to them. The Lovers was originally a piece of short prose but i thought it had to be a poem, it was screaming for line breaks and it just looks better and makes me happier as a poem. The Chariot and Justice deal with the aftermath of human cruelty, often brutal and the nature of vengeance/revenge, and the fey folk are a vengeful folk. I’ve included a wild hunt poem in the arcana, as they’re often tied into many of the old faerie myths and things, or at least in the same vein of old folk stories.
There is in the forest,
Two ancient trees that
Co-mingling for an
In the centre,
In the arms of ancient trees,
Are owls nests,
at the roots a badger set.
In the autumn,
Young and old
to see again those who left
Or meet those they lost again.
She rides at the head of a great woad army, spear in hand, screaming fierce battle hymns.
There will be blood for blood today, and she will revel in it. These iron-clad men would feel the fury of her gods today as they died screaming.
The fell-wolves rode with her, death and despair at the wheels of her chariot. They had been summoned, and today the wild hunt would feast well, on friend and foe alike.
They left him for the fire. He was barely born and they had branded him “changeling”.
She took him in, just as the the flames began to lick his face, and left an idol in his place.
The village was satisfied, with their idle cruelty.
She took him back, to see his ‘kin’, when he was old enough. Time works differently in Faerie.
A week after they had taken her baby and given it to the flames, and locked her away, for she was unmarried, there was a plague in the village. When the men came to burn the corpses she was the only one spared, as she had been miraculously from the disease that took her people.
In the inferno that took her village she swore she heard the man she had loved once, laughing.