The Muse and Her Brother

Francesca, the muse, shook her long, cascading mane of dark hair in disgust, as she secretly watched the proceedings of her twin brother Aengus, the seducer. Or as he liked to say, with a sultry gaze towards the heavens above, the god of love.

Her brother Aengus was certainly a sight to behold with long dark hair; deep, mysterious eyes; a chiseled jaw; and a perfectly sculpted body like that of a Roman god, but alas that was not all. He also had a beautiful baritone voice and could woo any woman away with his songs. Or the graceful way he moved- it was disgustingly beautiful as well she thought.

Francesca considered herself to be the person who moved others towards fulfilling their aspirations. She came to them in dreams and filled their souls with indescribable emotions that moved their souls to new heights and towards amazing pursuits. On the other hand, she considered her brother to be nothing but a heart breaker. Her brother was not beyond the reach of her own skills however, and she had every intention of messing with him. She enjoyed messing with her brother. They had been playing each other ever since she could remember. He was not about to keep the upper hand with all of his tricks. Oh things were about to get amusing.

She would shake his soul and fill it with indescribable longing. But for who she thought? A playful, arrogant smile touched her lips. Isabella. Isabella, the key holder to the gates of reality, who was too far-seeing to fall for his advances, and who was too detached to love any. Yes, she was perfect.

Aengus was dreaming. He saw a girl with long blonde hair standing at the edge of a lake. Swans covered the surface of the dark, silent water. A tall man, standing by her side, reached out and grabbed her. She screamed and pulled against him, but to no avail. With his arms, tightly around her, he jumped into the lake pulling them both under. He awoke, his heart pounding with desire. That beautiful woman with long blonde hair he thought. Who was she? He must have her and save her, if only he could remember who she was. Ah, Isabella, he murmured. She must love him. And why not he thought? No woman had ever escaped his amorous advances. Yes, she was next on his list.

Within a week, he had found her, appearing at her mobile house, just as she was slamming the door and stomping away.

“Oh Isabella, fair lady,” he intoned.

Isabella stopped: “Huh?” she asked, raising her eye brow. “Oh it's you Aengus.”

As usual, he had an elegant black top hat perched atop his head and a walking stick in hand.

“For you my dear,” he said, gracefully pulling out a white rose from his pocket.

But before he could say anything else, she continued in a spaced-out, worried way, “Horace showed up last night, and he's asked me to marry him again. I simply do not know what I should do. I just have to get away right now. He's basically moved himself into my house.”

Aengus scowled to himself at this news, and then smiled in delight. Isabella would never accept Horace.

He smiled at her tenderly and leaned onto his walking stick, while casually pulling an ornate deck of cards out of his suit pocket and splaying them out: “I see great romance in your future, Isabella,” he said theatrically, “Someone shall come into your life and save you from such insolence. As it is such, I gallantly offer to challenge him to a duel to win your hand.”

Isabella, whose eyes had clouded over again, appeared not to have heard, but then she spoke: “What are you talking about, Aengus? Duel for my hand? Save me? I am perfectly capable of dealing with Horace and taking care of myself. Furthermore, I am not at all interested in your wooing of me.”

It was at this moment that Horace emerged from the house. The second he saw Aengus he scowled.

“What the hell is he doing here,” he thundered.

Horace hated Aengus, and the last thing he wanted was to see that player around Isabella.

Aengus replied smoothly, “I was just telling Isabella that I would nobly challenge you to a duel to save her from you and win her over to myself.”

“No. no. no,” said Isabella, “This is ridiculous. Aengus go find someone else.”

But Horace was already striding angrily towards him: “Oh yes, I'll teach him a lesson or two,” he muttered grimly.

He swung his fist out, hitting him along the jawline. Aengus immediately reacted uppercutting towards Horace's nose.

“Why, Isabella,” he cried, “This man has no honor.”

“Honor,” spat Horace as he raised his arms upward to halt his fist, “you are not worthy of any respect or honor.”

Aengus swept his cane out in an arc, catching him off balance, so that he almost fell. Even more infuriated now, Horace ran at him to tackle him towards the ground.

But before he had a chance, Aengus muttered, “Where did Isabella go?”

Horace stopped and turned to look around him. Isabella was nowhere to be seen. A moment later he felt the click of a pistol against his skull.

“Shall we call a truce now?” asked Aengus nobly. “It appears you have scared the poor girl away.”

Horace glared: “That was an underhanded, dirty attack while my attention was diverted, not to mention use of arms was not permitted. There shall be no truce. This fight is only postponed until I know where in the universe Isabella has run off to.”

Aengus looked thoughtful for a moment: “There is no way to know that. She could be anywhere.”

He stopped, an odd expression sliding over his face: “The Lake of Immortality,” he whispered, “That is where we must go.”

“We,” questioned Horace, raising an eyebrow in skepticism. “There is no we.”

“Do you know the way?” asked Aengus smugly.

“No,” stated Horace firmly, “And I don't see why it matters.”

“Well I do,” said Aengus, “And there is every reason to go there.”

“Oh?” questioned Horace. “Do tell.”

“That,” stated Aengus, “Is the place she went under water. And there she lingers still. I must save her.”