Hello, all yee travelers of the fey and mortal realms. I am working on a new set of folklore and fairy-tale-inspired short stories set in the world I created. The first three will be fables from the feyrealm that the endorse the virtues of the three cardinal rules. The next two will be fairytales from the mortal realms that explore mortal interactions with the fey. The final story will be a myth exploring the dangers the fey can face when making oaths and promises, specifically promises that force them to choose between breaking one and fulfilling the other. But that is enough rambling and foreshadowing, without further ado I present the tragic fable of Brennen the oathbreaker.

Once upon a time, in the verdant lands of the autumn court of the fey, there dwelled a young elven nobleman named Brennan. With fair features and a noble bearing, Brennan was the epitome of elven grace and charm. Yet, amidst his noble facade, lay a fervent passion that consumed his every thought and action—his love for the hunt.

From the break of dawn to the fading twilight, Brennan would mount his steed and gallop through the forest, his keen eyes scanning the underbrush for any sign of his elusive quarry. With his friends and loyal servants by his side, he would traverse the woodland trails, their laughter echoing through the trees as they pursued the thrill of the chase.

But Brennan’s love for hunting knew no bounds. It consumed him entirely, driving him to neglect his duties as a nobleman. Days turned into nights, and Brennan would be absent from his estate for weeks on end, lost in the pursuit of his prey. His absence left his parents dismayed, for they longed to see their son fulfill his responsibilities with the same zeal he displayed in the hunt.

Faced with their son’s unruly behavior, Brennan’s parents despaired, until one day, a plan formed in their minds—a plan they hoped would quell Brennan’s wild ways and instill in him a sense of duty and responsibility

Now, as the tale unfolds, let us delve deeper into the intricate web of customs and traditions that governed the Feyfolk. Within the shimmering realms of the fey, where magic intertwined with the fabric of reality, there existed three cardinal rules—immutable laws that bound the feyfolk to a code of conduct as old as time itself.

First among these rules was the principle of reciprocity, a sacred bond that governed the exchange of gifts and favors among the fey. For every boon received, a fey must offer something of equal value in return, lest the delicate balance of give and take be disrupted.

Secondly, hospitality reigned supreme in the courts of the fey. Visitors, be they mortal or fey, were to be welcomed with open arms and treated with courtesy and generosity until proven otherwise. Yet, those who dared to abuse this hospitality would soon find themselves unwelcome guests in the realm of the fey.

And lastly, the fey were bound by the solemn oath to uphold every promise, oath, and contract they made. To break such sacred vows was to invite upon oneself a fate both tragic and karmically appropriate—a punishment befitting the severity of the transgression.

It was within this intricate tapestry of fey customs that Brennan’s parents devised their plan—a plan to curb their son’s reckless behavior and instill in him a sense of responsibility that he so sorely lacked. With determined hearts, they journeyed to the court of Queen Ríoghnach, ruler of the autumn fey, seeking her aid in their endeavor.

With their course decided, Brennan’s parents announced their family’s relocation to the capital city of Deolchaire an Fhómhair, far removed from the verdant forests where Brennan once roamed freely in pursuit of his beloved quarry. And thus, the stage was set for the unfolding of Brennan’s tragic destiny, a fate sealed by the weight of his own actions and the ancient laws of the fey.

In the annals of fey history, there existed a city of unparalleled beauty, a testament to the glory of ages past—the illustrious Deolchaire an Fhómhair, birthed in the age of the high king of the fey. Its grandeur knew no bounds, its towering palaces adorned with walls as white as newly fallen snow and roofs ablaze with hues of crimson, gold, and amber—the very essence of autumn woven into its very architecture.

At every turn, the city whispered of the season’s embrace, from the stain glass windows aglow with the fiery hues of autumn to the swirling mosaics that adorned its marble floors, depicting scenes of unparalleled splendor—the rustle of leaves beneath the feyfolk’s feet, the dance of woodland creatures beneath the golden boughs, and the ever-changing canvas of the autumn sky.

But amidst the opulence and majesty of Deolchaire an Fhómhair, there dwelled a discontented soul—a soul estranged from the familiar embrace of the forest, where once it had roamed free beneath the dappled light of the canopy.

This soul belonged to none other than Brennan, who, with each passing day, found himself growing ever more restless within the confines of his parents’ new mansion. With leagues stretching between him and the beloved forests of his youth, Brennan could do naught but languish within the gilded halls, his spirit weighed down by the burden of his displacement.

For a week’s time, Brennan wandered the corridors of his parents’ mansion, a shadow of his former self, his discontentment echoing off the polished marble floors and echoing through the vaulted ceilings. He lamented the loss of his freedom, the absence of the wild places he once called home, and the suffocating embrace of duty that now held him fast within the confines of the city walls.

As the fateful hour drew near to present Brennan before the court of Queen Ríoghnach, a sense of foreboding hung heavy in the air. Brennan’s parents, their hearts heavy with apprehension, knew that their son’s stubborn nature would not easily yield to the weight of his newfound responsibilities.

With a heavy sigh, they approached Brennan’s chamber, where he lingered, lost in his own discontent. “Brennan, my son,” his father spoke, his voice laden with concern, “the time has come to fulfill your duty to the court. You must present yourself before Queen Ríoghnach and swear your oath of allegiance.”

But Brennan, his eyes ablaze with defiance, recoiled at the thought. “I’ll have no part in this charade,” he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’ll not be shackled by the whims of the court, forced to dance to their tune like some puppet on a string.”

His mother, her patience wearing thin, implored him to see reason. “Brennan, dear boy, think of your family’s honor. Think of the legacy you carry upon your shoulders. You must do this, for all our sakes.”

Yet, despite their pleas, Brennan remained obstinate, refusing to budge from his chambers. With a heavy heart, his parents realized that drastic measures were needed to compel their son to fulfill his duty.

And so, with resolve hardening in their hearts, Brennan’s parents took hold of his arms and dragged him, protesting all the way, to the grand throne room where Queen Ríoghnach held court.

As they entered the throne room, a hushed silence fell over the assembled fey nobles, their eyes fixed upon the disgruntled nobleman being forcibly brought before their queen—a harbinger of the tumultuous events that were to come.

Queen Ríoghnach, her gaze piercing as the keenest arrow, regarded Brennan with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. “So, this is the nobleman of whom such tales are told,” she remarked, her voice like the rustle of leaves in the autumn breeze.

Brennan, heedless of the gravity of the situation, made a poor first impression with his brash demeanor and ill-chosen words. “Bah! What need have I for oaths and duties?” he scoffed, his tone disrespectful and insolent. “I’ll not bow before you like some common supplicant. I am Brennan, heir to noble blood, and I answer to no one!”

The courtiers gasped in horror at Brennan’s brazen defiance, their whispers echoing off the chamber walls like distant thunder. Yet, before Queen Ríoghnach could utter a word in response, Brennan’s fate was sealed.

With a wave of her hand, Queen Ríoghnach ordered Brennan seized and thrown into a cell, a fitting punishment for his insolence and disrespect.

In the hallowed halls of the autumn court, where whispers of intrigue danced upon the air like fallen leaves, Brennan’s parents beseeched Queen Ríoghnach with fervent pleas, their hearts heavy with desperation. “Your Majesty,” they implored, their voices trembling with emotion, “we beg of you, spare our son from the full weight of your wrath. He is headstrong and impetuous, but with your guidance, we pray he may yet find redemption.”

Queen Ríoghnach, her brow furrowed in thought, regarded Brennan’s parents with a gaze both piercing and inscrutable. “You seek clemency for your son,” she mused, her voice soft as the whispering breeze. “And for what purpose? What fate do you wish upon him, noble parents of the wayward Brennan?”

With a heavy sigh, Brennan’s father stepped forward, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Your Majesty,” he began, his voice choked with emotion, “we seek not merely to spare our son from punishment, but to set him upon a path of righteousness—a path that will temper his recklessness and instill in him the virtues of duty and honor.”

At this, Queen Ríoghnach nodded thoughtfully, her mind already pondering the fate of the errant nobleman. “Very well,” she declared, her words carrying the weight of her authority. “Your wish shall be granted. Bring forth the young Brennan.”

And so, Brennan was dragged from his dank cell and thrust before Queen Ríoghnach, his demeanor sullen and defiant. With feigned magnanimity, the queen addressed him, her words dripping with honeyed deceit. “Brennan,” she began, her voice laced with false warmth, “your parents have convinced me to show you leniency for your transgressions.”

Brennan, though inwardly seething with anger and resentment, forced himself to bow before the queen, his eyes burning with suppressed fury. “And what, pray tell, is to be my fate?” he demanded, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

Queen Ríoghnach’s lips curled into a smile, knowing full well the fate that awaited the insolent nobleman. “Your punishment,” she announced, her voice as cold as the frost-kissed ground, “shall be to serve as a traveling tax collector—a duty befitting one of your station.”

Brennan, though he grudgingly agreed to the terms, harbored no true intention of fulfilling his oath. With a solemn vow upon his lips, he swore allegiance to Queen Ríoghnach, his words hollow and devoid of sincerity.

Yet, as Brennan departed from the throne room, Queen Ríoghnach smiled to herself, her eyes alight with the knowledge of what was to come. For she knew all too well that Brennan’s fate was sealed, and that he would soon find himself returning to her court, his arrogance humbled and his spirit broken by the weight of his own folly. And in that moment, she knew that justice, however delayed, would inevitably be served.

Swiftly did Brennen’s defiance reveal itself, for no sooner had he departed from the capital city of Deolchaire an Fhómhair than he cast aside the solemn oath he had sworn before Queen Ríoghnach. With a heart as wild as the forest itself, Brennen made a beeline for the nearest woods, his mind consumed by the thrill of the hunt.

For two weeks did he roam the woodlands, his bow drawn taut and his senses keen, pursuing game with a fervor unmatched by any mortal man. Yet, little did Brennen realize that his reckless pursuit of pleasure would not go unnoticed for long.

Word of his disappearance soon reached the ears of Queen Ríoghnach, and with a furrowed brow did she dispatch her knights to bring the wayward nobleman to heel.

And so, amidst the dappled shadows of the forest, did Queen Ríoghnach’s knights find Brennen, surrounded by a rowdy band of hunters, their laughter echoing through the trees like the mournful cry of a lost soul.

With steely resolve did the knights seize Brennen, their eyes flashing with righteous fury. “You have defied the will of your queen and broken the oath you swore,” they declared, their voices ringing out like the tolling of a funeral bell. “For this transgression, you shall face the consequences of your actions.”

Dragged before the throne of Queen Ríoghnach, Brennen presented a sorry sight—a disheveled and trembling figure, his once-proud demeanor reduced to that of a blathering mess. Yet, instead of meeting him with righteous anger, the queen regarded him with a wry smile, her eyes alight with a knowing gleam.

“You stand before me once more, Brennen,” she remarked, her voice tinged with amusement. “It seems you have a talent for finding trouble wherever you go.”

Brennen, his gaze lowered in shame, could offer no reply, his tongue tied by the weight of his own guilt.

But Queen Ríoghnach, ever astute, saw through the nobleman’s façade, recognizing the futility of attempting to bind him with words alone. And so, with a subtle nod of her head, she gestured for her attendants to bring forth a new decree—a decree that would ensure Brennen’s compliance through more… unconventional means.

“Brennen,” she spoke, her voice ringing out with the authority of the ages, “I see now that words alone are not enough to tame your wayward spirit. Therefore, I shall make you a new oath—one that you cannot hope to break. Until the day that I discharge you from my service, you will not hunt. You will not enter the forest with bow, spear, hawk, or hound from this day forth or be in the company of hunters and drunkards.”

Brennen, though inwardly seething with resentment, dared not defy the queen’s command, knowing full well the consequences of such folly. With a heavy heart, he begrudgingly agreed to the terms laid before him, his spirit broken and his pride humbled by the weight of his own arrogance.

And so, Queen Ríoghnach, her smile a mask of secret delight, forced Brennen to swear a new oath—a solemn vow that he would hunt no more while he served her court.

With the weight of his new oath pressing upon him like a leaden shackle, Brennen departed from the throne room, his steps heavy with resignation. And as he walked, Queen Ríoghnach watched him go, her heart filled with secret delight, knowing that if Brennen dared to deviate from his promise, the very fabric of the feyrealm itself would rise up to deal with him in a manner befitting his transgressions.

And so, for three long months, he traveled from village to village, his steed bearing him forth on his appointed rounds as a tax collector.

Yet, despite his outward compliance, Brennen’s heart was not in his work. With each passing day, the call of the wild grew ever stronger, a primal longing that tugged at his very soul. For every forest he rode through, his thoughts turned to the days of old, when he galloped through the woodland glades with hounds at his side and bow in hand.

And so it was that one fateful Sunday, when the opportunity presented itself, Brennen seized upon the chance to indulge in his forbidden passion. “Surely,” he reasoned to himself, “Sunday is a day of rest, and I am not bound by duty to the queen on this sacred day. Therefore, it cannot be counted as breaking my oath.”

With a heart lightened by the prospect of a day spent in pursuit of his beloved quarry, Brennen set forth into the forest, his senses alive with anticipation. Yet, little did he realize the gravity of his mistake, for as he reveled in the thrill of the hunt, the very fabric of the Feyrealm itself took notice.

No knights came to escort him back to the castle, no reprimand was issued from the lips of Queen Ríoghnach. And so, Brennen, emboldened by his perceived impunity, assumed that he had escaped the consequences of his actions.

But the Feyrealm, in its infinite wisdom, knew better. It saw through Brennen’s deception, recognizing the true nature of his transgression. And so, with a silent decree, it set in motion a chain of events that would bring Brennen face to face with the consequences of his folly, ensuring that justice would be served, no matter the cost.

As winter descended upon the autumn court, casting its icy grip upon the land, Brennan’s first year of duties as a tax collector came to a close. With a heavy heart and a weary soul, he bid farewell to the eternal autumnal forests that had been his home for so many months, and set forth on the journey back to his parents’ estate to celebrate yuletide with his kin.

Amidst the joyous festivities of yuletide, Brennan found himself longing for the freedom of the hunt, the thrill of the chase calling to him like a siren’s song. And so, with a reckless disregard for the oaths he had sworn, he slipped away from the warmth of the hearth and ventured into the frozen depths of the forest, where his old hunting mates awaited him with eager anticipation.

Together, they plotted and planned, their laughter echoing through the silent woods as they prepared for the grandest hunt they had ever known. Dozens of hunters, scores of dogs, all gathered together in a merry band, united by their shared love of the hunt and their disregard for the consequences of their actions.

And as they set forth into the depths of the forest, their shouts and cries reverberating through the winter air, the fey realm watched with keen interest, its ancient magic attuned to the unfolding drama below. For in Brennan’s reckless pursuit of pleasure, he had once again broken his solemn oath, sealing his grim fate with the weight of his own folly.

Into the depths of the night, Brennan and his companions pursued the elusive stag, their bows drawn taut and their hearts ablaze with the thrill of the chase. For hours upon hours, they raced through the labyrinthine forest, their quarry always just beyond their grasp, its form flickering like a shadow in the moonlight.

Through thickets and thorns, over rugged terrain and treacherous streams, the stag led them on a merry dance, its hooves never faltering, its pace never wavering. And though exhaustion gnawed at their bones and doubt clouded their minds, still they pressed on, driven by a single-minded determination to capture the elusive creature.

But then, as if guided by some unseen hand, the stag disappeared into the depths of a dense thicket, its form swallowed by the darkness of the night. With a cry of desperation, Brennan and his companions plunged headlong into the underbrush, their hearts pounding with anticipation.

Yet their pursuit came to a sudden and unexpected halt as they crashed through the foliage and found themselves teetering on the edge of a yawning abyss—a cliff so sheer and so deep that it seemed to stretch on into eternity.

For the briefest of moments, Brennan thought they were doomed to plummet to their deaths, but then he felt a strange sensation beneath him—a sensation of weightlessness, of weightless sensation. And as he looked down, he realized with a shock that his horse was running on air, its hooves barely touching the ground as it carried him forward with a speed that defied comprehension.

Ahead, he could see the stag, its form shimmering with an ethereal light that seemed to dance and flicker like the stars themselves. And then, in a moment of breathtaking beauty, the stag shed its guise of flesh to reveal its true form—a creature of pure starlight, its form radiant and sublime.

But as the hunters beheld this wondrous sight, a sense of dread crept over them, for they realized with a sinking heart that they had trespassed into a realm beyond their understanding, a realm where the laws of nature held no sway.

And as the stag raced ever onward, its form growing fainter and fainter in the distance, most of the hunters tried to turn back, only to find that their horses no longer responded to their commands. But Brennan, his resolve unshaken, urged his horse onward, his eyes fixed upon the shimmering form of the stag as it disappeared into the night.

Faster and faster they raced, the wind whipping through their hair and the pounding of hooves echoing through the silent woods. But try as he might, Brennan could not close the distance between himself and the elusive creature, until at last it was nothing more than a mote of light on the distant horizon, a fleeting glimpse of a world beyond their ken.

For years uncounted, they rode ever onward, their steeds swift and their spirits relentless, chasing the elusive stag across the starlit skies of both the feyrealm and the mortal realms. Brennan and his companions, once proud hunters of the autumn court, had become spectral things, their flesh long since withered away, their bones bleached by the passage of time.

But even death could not end their hunt, for their souls were bound to the stag by an unbreakable bond—a bond forged in the fires of their own folly and sealed with the weight of their oaths. And so they rode on, their hollow cries echoing through the forests on cold autumn and winter nights, a chilling reminder of the consequences of their actions.

Now known as the Wild Hunt, they roamed the skies in search of their elusive quarry, their whoops and cries mingling with the baying of their spectral hounds as they pursued the shimmering form of the stag across the heavens. And woe betide any mortal who should cross their path, for to encounter the Wild Hunt was to invite certain doom.

Some said that the hunt specifically targeted oathbreakers, seeking to mete out justice to those who had dared to defy the sacred laws of the fey. Others claimed that when oathbreakers died, their souls joined the ranks of the Wild Hunt, doomed to ride for all eternity in pursuit of a redemption that would never come.

But regardless of the truth, one thing remained certain—Brennan still led the Wild Hunt, his once proud form now twisted and tormented by the weight of his own sins. Forced to hunt for all eternity, his spirit bound to the stag he had once coveted, he roamed the skies in perpetual torment, a grim reminder of the consequences of breaking one’s oaths.

And so, on cold autumn and winter nights, when the wind howled through the trees and the shadows grew long, the people of the feyrealm and the mortal realms alike whispered tales of the Wild Hunt, of spectral riders and baying hounds, and of a nobleman turned oathbreaker who had been condemned to hunt for all eternity. For in the end, the sins of the past always come back to haunt us, and the price of breaking one’s oaths can be paid with a fate worse than death itself.