Auro has forgotten the sound of a human voice.
For four hundred years, he’s been cursed to wake alone on the first day of spring, shepherd the earth through the season, and turn back into a lifeless marble statue at its end. The demure demigod is content with his solitude and his ghosts–or, he thought he was, until he stumbles across a handsome stranger unconscious on his forest floor.
AN: Bright Spring is a queer fantasy romance for adults that I'm sharing for free, chapter by chapter. Updates on Fridays! Chapter sample & art details behind the cut. lmk if you'd like to be tagged with updates <3 Read Chapter one free.
Bright Spring, Chapter One
Ultimately, the head was to blame.
Alexios had received it three mornings before, delivered with its own honor escort, in a chest of fine, dark oak, chased with finishings of gold. It had been a lovely chest, and the head inside, nestled in folds of velvet, was lovely too. It was the bust of a young woman, carved out of white marble to capture her refined, delicate features. Alexios had set the bust on a table in his private apartments, hoping that it was a symptom of the medium that made her face so cold.
Alexios had posed for a sculptor, too. The woman had sketched his face, first, in charcoal. Then she had made the bust of simple clay, forming the raw, wet earth into Alexios’s cheeks, nose, and lips. She used the clay bust as a model for the marble one, and after a month, it was delivered to the royal villa. Alexios’s parents, the King and Queen, had praised the artist’s skill in capturing their son’s look so handsomely. Alexios had forced a smile, nodding and agreeing, all the while thinking that his own blank, sightless white eyes were unsettling, bordering on creepy.
But Alexios had acted pleased and excused himself as quickly as he could to his chambers. He’d then known a few weeks of relative peace before the other head arrived, and now she stared at him while he slept.
The head had been carved in the likeness of Alexios’s future bride. Nothing was official yet, Alexios tried to remind himself, the voice in his head growing feebler every day as the head stared at him. Her name was Dafina. He had not met her, would not meet her for some time yet. Her mother, queen of a neighboring kingdom, had been in negotiations with Alexios’s parents for months, laying the foundations for their courtship.
It was not, what one might call, peak romance.
The head had sat upon his side table for three days, staring blithely at him, judging him with her milky stone eyes, almost as if she knew. She knew Alexios would not be a good husband.
Three days. It took three days for Alexios to crack under the weight of everything this fucking stone head represented. He had breakfast with his parents and feigned a stomach complaint. Once back in his chambers, Alexios paced for a while. He turned the bust of his intended to face the wall and made his escape plan.
There were a few ways out of the royal villa that Alexios was certain no one knew but him. He chose one, which deposited him on the roof of the stables. He jimmied the baked clay roof tiles and slid down inside, lowering himself to the straw-strewn floor. His favorite horse, Xanthos, had a spacious stall at the rear of the stables, and that was where Alexios found him. He saddled him, mounted up, and took off at a slow walk. It was mid-morning, the first day of spring.
The sunlight, the staggering blue of the sky, all of it mocked Alexios as he rode out from the villa grounds. He urged Xanthos through the northern gate in the imposing stone curtain wall, barely pausing long enough to hail the guards. It seemed to Alexios the whole world rejoiced in the start of a new season—the trees, the animals, the new green grass. The sun. All of it cheery and gloating.
As the Crown Prince of his kingdom, Alexios had responsibilities—things he had been born to, with no say in the matter. He had to carry on the family line. He needed to secure an heir of his own, lest their line appear vulnerable. Unfortunately, as with many things in royal life, appearances had a way of becoming prophecy. A line that appeared vulnerable often was. He had always known this time would come, the time when he had to put aside his own desires and get married, but it did not make it any easier to bear.
Alexios did everything that was asked of him. Always. But he did not know if he could do this. It wasn’t that Alexios didn’t wish to get married—it was that he did not wish to marry the woman whose head now haunted his sleep. He did not wish to marry any woman, frankly, and the head served only to remind him that one day, and one day soon, he must.
When he wished to escape the confining press of the royal villa, Alexios often took the southern gate and traveled the short distance to Papia City, where he could disappear amongst thousands of people. Other times, when the need for escape was not too great, he would simply take Xanthos riding in the expansive grounds claimed by the crown. The territory of the royal family went about two leagues into the forest that bordered the grounds of the royal villa to the north, which usually provided enough room for Alexios to roam or hunt when he felt restless.
Today, he knew before he’d even swung up into the saddle that type of escape would not be sufficient. He needed to flee; he needed to leave the trappings of royalty as far behind him as possible so that he could at last take a full breath. Alexios had a notion to travel as far into the trees as he possibly could within a day’s ride. He had a bow with him, taken from the gamemaster’s shed, thinking he could travel deep into the forest to hunt. Of course, Alexios did not need to hunt. Every meal was brought to him, prepared precisely to his tastes by cooks who knew their business, served to him on gleaming silver trays. Most days, that was fine.
But other days, like today, it left Alexios feeling abraded and foolish. There was nothing he truly controlled, not even his own breakfast. He was a modest archer, at best, but with enough time and patience, he knew he would not return to the villa with empty hands. Alexios would deliver his game to the royal cooks and feel like he had contributed something, feel a little less useless.
Xanthos whickered and pawed at the ground, as eager for a run as Alexios was. Alexios nudged his flanks and Xanthos took the rolling hills outside the villa at a hard gallop, but when they reached the tree line, Alexios saw the ground had already begun to thaw from winter’s chill, leaving the game trails muddy and treacherous. He slowed Xanthos to a walk once they entered the cover of the trees.
While Alexios told himself he could make it back home to the royal villa before nightfall, he had brought with him some dried beef, bread, and a bedroll, just in case.
Just in case he was forced to spend the night outside, free beneath the stars and moon, as if he had only himself to answer to.
And what a pity that would be.
It was a fantasy he indulged often, though under the scrutiny of the stone head, he’d felt more guilty about it of late. Alexios could ride into the forest, find a river to bathe in. Naked, stripped of his crown, his toga, and everything else—Alexios was just a man. He always imagined some handsome, faceless stranger coming upon him as he bathed, someone who knew nothing of Alexios’s birth and station, who just saw a man, and liked what he saw. Alexios shivered, as he imagined the faceless stranger ravishing him right there upon the banks of his imaginary river.
Alexios smiled to himself, patted Xanthos’s neck, and continued north. After several hours’ ride, he had left the border of the crown’s lands behind him, and the forest turned truly wild. The going was slow, and Alexios felt an ache in his legs and between his shoulders—his sleepless nights making themselves felt.
He was determined to press on, however, and Xanthos certainly seemed eager to continue their trek. They rode on, along the unfamiliar winding paths, farther and farther away from the grounds of the royal villa. Up ahead, Alexios could see the trees start to thin, and he was as confused as he was disappointed. Had he reached the northern edge of the forest already? That didn’t seem right. He had studied the maps in the Queen’s private study and had estimated it would take far longer than half a day to reach the other side of the wood, especially at their current pace. He rode on, his stomach sinking as he realized he would not have an excuse to be gone as long as he hoped. The sunlight filtered through the thinning trees and created a fearsome glare on something just up ahead. He shaded his eyes, and when he and Xanthos finally emerged beyond the trees, Alexios gasped.
They had not reached the edge of the forest, but a clearing and an enormous, glittering lake. In the center of the lake sat a small island, and Alexios could see what appeared to be a collection of ruins on the island. He squinted against the light bouncing off the glassy surface of the lake, thinking this would be a lovely place to spend the afternoon, not thinking about princesses, or marriage, or judgmental stone heads.
So, overtired, distracted, and sun blind, Alexios did not see the horned viper as it slithered from the underbrush, directly in his path.
But Xanthos did.
He reared, dumping Alexios from the saddle before he could so much as react. His ass hit the ground first, followed by his elbow and his head in quick succession thereafter. The pain in his arm was blinding, and his last conscious thought was that if he died here in the forest, at least he would not have to get married. Read on for free! Buy me a Coffee Read The complete story of Bright Spring (Not free) Thanks for reading!
*** Moodboard Art info: each pic moving l --> r; top row to bottom: 1. Stock Photo 2. GORGEOUS character art that I comissioned from @foxglovefaun 3. Stock photo 4. GORGEOUS character art by @crossroadart-seabear 5. Book Title 6. A pic of a peony from my actual yard! 7. A picture of a rose from my actual yard 8. GORGEOUS character art by @justmissart 9. Another sneaky piece of the art by @foxglovefaun
