The Last Embrace of the Northern Bough

In the realm of the Northern Bough, where the sky kissed the earth in a perpetual twilight, there lived a young prince named Eirian. His hair was the color of the autumn leaves, and his eyes held the depth of the deepest ocean. Eirian was the son of the great king, a man who ruled with an iron fist and a heart of stone. The kingdom was a tapestry of beauty and danger, where the winds whispered secrets of old and the mountains held the weight of ancient curses.

Eirian's heart belonged to a commoner, a young man named Dair, whose touch was like the first snowfall, soft and pure. Dair was a woodsman, a guardian of the forest, whose life was a dance with the wild creatures and the untamed land. They met by chance, under the shadow of the ancient bough, where the trees whispered tales of forbidden love.

The king, a man who had seen the fall of empires and the rise of dynasties, knew the dangers of such a union. The bloodline must remain pure, and the kingdom's future was at stake. He decreed that Eirian must marry the daughter of a neighboring king, a woman chosen for her lineage and her beauty, not her heart.

Eirian's heart was heavy, but he knew his duty. Dair, however, was a man of the earth, bound to the land and to the love that had taken root in his heart. He sought a way to defy the king's decree, to claim his love and protect Eirian from the fate that awaited them.

The night of the royal wedding, Eirian dressed in his finest robes, his heart a storm of emotions. As he stood before the altar, his eyes met Dair's, who watched from a distance, his face a mask of sorrow and determination. Eirian's lips formed a silent vow, a promise to Dair that he would not go to the wedding alone.

The wedding was a spectacle, a grand affair that filled the great hall with the sound of laughter and music. Eirian's bride, a woman named Lyria, was a vision of grace and beauty, her eyes a mirror to the stars. But her heart was not in the room; it was with her betrothed, a prince from a distant land.

As the night wore on, Eirian's thoughts turned to Dair. He knew that the time was near. He whispered to his closest advisor, a man named Cael, to prepare a horse and a swift steed for Dair. The advisor nodded, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

In the forest, Dair awaited. He had hidden his intentions from everyone, even Eirian, for fear of the consequences. As the moon rose, casting its silver light over the land, Dair mounted his horse and set out on a perilous journey to the great hall.

The king's guards, loyal to their duty, spotted Dair and gave chase. The forest was a maze, and Dair's knowledge of the land allowed him to evade capture. He reached the great hall just as the wedding was about to conclude. Eirian, seeing Dair, knew that their time was running out.

In a swift move, Dair entered the hall, his eyes filled with love and defiance. He stepped forward, his voice a whisper that echoed through the room, "I come for Eirian. I claim him as mine."

The guards, drawn by the chaos, rushed into the hall. Dair fought with all his might, his heart a beacon of courage. But the odds were against him. The king's guards were many, and their swords were sharp.

In the midst of the battle, Eirian, unable to bear the sight of Dair's struggle, leaped from the altar. "Dair, run!" he shouted, his voice filled with urgency. But Dair was trapped, his fate intertwined with Eirian's.

The king, seeing the chaos, stepped forward. "Eirian, you must not interfere!" he commanded. Eirian, however, was beyond reason. He fought with the guards, his eyes never leaving Dair.

The battle raged on, and in the end, Dair fell, his body a victim of the king's wrath. Eirian, with a heart torn asunder, rushed to Dair's side. "No, Dair! No!" he cried, his voice breaking.

The king, seeing the love between the two, realized the folly of his actions. He turned to Eirian, his face a mask of regret. "You have chosen well, my son. But it is too late."

Eirian, holding Dair in his arms, felt the life slip away from his love. "I love you, Dair," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "And I will never let you go."

The king, moved by the love that had unfolded before him, decreed that Eirian and Dair would be buried together, their love to be remembered through the ages. The kingdom mourned the loss of the woodsman, who had given his life for the love of a prince.

The tale of Eirian and Dair became a legend, whispered through the generations. The Northern Bough, where their love had blossomed, became a sacred place, a testament to the power of love that defied all odds.

In the twilight of the ancient world, where the sky kissed the earth, the trees whispered tales of the last embrace of the Northern Bough, a love that would echo through the ages, a love that was forbidden but eternal.