Under a Rose Moon

Once in a Rose Moon the universe aligns and allows a pair of beings to connect on a cosmic level. People often call this phenomenon “LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT,” but this statement is so over-used that everyone from king to consort thinks they’ve experienced it. That is simply not true. A “rose” moon, as the folks of Briarton know, is not the moon celebrated yearly with the garish celebrations of the outside world. Though, these royal festivities are quite enjoyable they simply cannot capture the true meaning of the Rose Moon’s love. This love is one in a million- a million years that is.

Though, not traditional, the modest hamlet of Briarton prepared the main square for the Rose Moon celebration. It was a new addition to the town’s calendar thanks to the traveling performers that dazzled towns with tales of heroism and romance. The younger townsfolk yearned to live the stories they were told and thus the elders gave in. Pink streamers and rose-crested pennants adorned the square. Stalls were erected for locals and travelers to showcase their goods. Giant heart-shaped cheese wheels were stacked as high as one stacks cheese. Rose flavored hand pies were also quite common despite the strong potpourri flavor that would stain your tongue until next year when you’d be encouraged to repeat the process.

“They’re not so bad,” Alfie said through a mouth full of pie. “Even better than last year,” she assured the elderly pie-maker. This was not her first pie, nor would it be her last. Alfie was, in fact, the reason this stall stayed open year after year. The exuberant blacksmith’s daughter grinned with eyes glossy with a love for love. She knew everything about the subject. She was first to the square when the traveling shows rolled in just as she was the first one to the square today. She read every romance scroll from tragic to smut and could recite them on command. Though she often did so when not commanded and incited quite the awkward eyerolls. Speaking of her glossy eyes- she kept them open wide trying desperately not to blink in case today was the day- the day when love would meet her sight.

Despite being what many would call “extra” she was widely liked by the townsfolk. Her optimism and stellar work ethic garnered her the title “endearing.” However, she was a lonely soul. Her father had passed three moons ago and left her his practice- a hammer she gladly took up. She was twice the age of most the married girls she knew, but it made her no less a love fanatic.

“Today’s the day,” she said to herself.

Over the recent years, Briarton had become a waypoint when traveling to the capitol. The town hosted all sorts of unique characters, but this year was an especially big deal.

In the Southern Kingdom they’re lived a young woman not too unlike Alfie. She gazed out her tower window, elbows bent with her head exhausted in her thin hands. Ruling at her mother’s side was not an easy task. As Dawn leaned there, feeling the breeze and hearing the distant sound of people going about their lives, she imagined a different life. Not a life all too different, but perhaps not as lonely.

“Perhaps the Rose Moon will bring you a nice young man,” her mother interjected. The princess scoffed at the thought and felt near her for her walking scepter. She tapped the ground a bit to regain bearings and joined her mother.

Leaving the Southern Kingdom was exciting, her mother insisted, but Dawn despised the pomp of the capitol. They hid behind their ball masks and taxpayer money. Dawn thought of the tower she lived in and groaned. Was she any better? Night fell as their coach approached the turn-off to Briarton.

“Think we ought to stop ‘ere for the evening, my lady,” the coach driver hollered over the jingle of tack and horse hooves.

“We must make it to the Capitol! We’ll miss the moon.”

“We can see the moon better if we stay away from that repugnant city, mother,” Dawn said.

The queen-mother agreed, but only because she knew the Capitol would be partying all week and would hardly notice a single day’s lateness.

Alfie basked in the lamplights and smell of rose. The market square was in full party mode. The steins were full- though quickly draining- with rose colored mead. It was not actually rose, but just some crushed beetles to add a festive coloring. Alfie was not shy about her indulgence either. This was, in fact, her night.

The regal coach plodded down the dirt streets toward the center of town. The driver tended to the horses and mother and daughter ventured forth towards the lights of the market square.

“Do you smell that?” Dawn was uncharacteristically excited. “It’s wonderful.” Dawn left her mother’s arm and followed her nose.

“Do be careful,” her mother said.

Dawn was overloaded with the smell and sound of frivolity and she loved it.

Alfie finished yet another rose pie and sipped on her mead when she turned around ran right into Dawn. Literally, Dawn fell like a stack of heart-shaped cheese wheels.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Alfie exposited profusely. Her eyes blinked normally.

Dawn sat on the dirt, startled and thrilled.

“Here, give me your hand.”

Dawn hesitated and Alfie could see why. Dawn extended a hand in the direction of Alfie’s voice. Alfie took the thin arm ornament with her blacksmith’s palm.

The lamp’s flames extinguished all over town as the Rose Moon reached its peak. The town was bathed in the pink hue of the moon’s radiance. As the reflected light of the full Rose Moon washed over Alfie and Dawn something truly magical happened. The clouded film that covered Dawn’s eyes faded and she saw for the first time. Their eyes locked. Unable to look away. In each other’s eyes they saw their own futures and understood what it truly meant to love and be loved.

The princess Dawn and blacksmith Alfie lived and loved like no others in million years until their love became that of the legends that fueled their own dreams. “Love at first sight” people said and this time they were right.