//------------------------------//
// CDLI 
// Story: The Lesbian: One Hundred Nights 
// by Undome Tinwe 
//------------------------------//

"The moon is set.
And the Pleiades.
It’s the middle of the night.
Time passes.
But I sleep alone."

The room was silent for several seconds after Sappho finished reciting her poem. No one seemed to know what to say and, in truth, Sappho did not truly care what they thought of it anyways.

Finally, Cleïs spoke. "It never ceases to astound me how you can evoke such raw emotion with your words week after week. I think my heart will never be the same after your haunting recitations. It was as if I had lost my true love, and pined for her — I mean, him — like a man trapped in the desert desires water."

"Thank you for the kind words." What little emotion in Sappho's words was forced, though the other women in the circle didn't seem to realize that. "It is a pleasure sharing my work with all of you, as always."

"And it is a pleasure to be able to share in your wit. Now then, I believe Athanasia is to be the next to recite her poem?"

As the circle continued, Sappho let the stilted words of their verses wash over her as her eyes lazily scanned the room, lingering on Cleïs. It was odd how Sappho had finally come to accept how beautiful the woman was as an object of desire only after she had met the one who would make that beauty pale into nothingness.

Still, she was quite comely, and Sappho considered for a moment that she might be able to lure her into bed with the knowledge of the erotic arts she possessed. It might make for a welcome reprieve from the monotony of her life.

Even as she considered the prospect, however, she knew she would never do such a thing. Not because it was forbidden — she had little care for such things these days — but because she knew she would be using the other woman's body to forget, and that would only open up the wound in her heart more. After all, how could she forget who had taught her the ways of the bedchamber?

As was usual when her thoughts drifted to Luna, Sappho's hand moved to stroke the crescent moon pendant around her neck. She never took it off, not even to bathe, and after claiming that it was a gift from Artemis, no one was foolish enough to risk stealing it from her. The soft glow it released at night did little to comfort her, but the thought of not having its light was even worse.

At some point, the reading circle finished its business, leaving Sappho to return home. As she headed out to meet with Charaxus, Cleïs walked over to her, calling out softly, "Sappho, might I have a word with you?"

"Of course." Sappho resisted the urge to sigh. She was tired and wished to be home alone once again, but it would not do to be rude. "What is it you wish to speak with me about?"

"Your poetry," Cleïs replied, fidgeting uncomfortably. "It is beautiful as always, but of late I have noticed that they grow melancholy once again. Well, more melancholy." She gave off a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Ever since you found your Muse, she has filled you with words of sadness and loss. But it seems worse now."

"You know how these things are," Sappho said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Some days, Thalia comes to bid me write with a smile on my face, and other times, it is Melpomene sinking my spirits to twist my verses to sorrow. Erato also enjoys gracing my chambers from time to time."

"If you say so." Cleïs hesitated. "I know not what you endured on Mount Olympus, but if you ever need to share the burdens of your heart with someone, please do not hesitate to come to me." She placed a soft, gentle hand on Sappho's arm. "I am your friend, and I hate to see you like this."

"Thank you, Cleïs," Sappho said sincerely. "You are a good friend. But some sorrows must be borne alone. Enjoy the rest of the day, and don't fret about me, please."

With that, she left the circle, joining up with Charaxus at the entrance of the house. They shared few words between them, as was custom. Her brother had quickly learned not to try making conversations with her when she didn't wish to talk, and the silence suited Sappho just fine.

When they reached their home, Sappho was surprised to find her father waiting for her. "Ah, Sappho," Scamandronymus said when he saw them. "I have been waiting for you. Come, let us talk for a time. I have news to share with you."

"Yes, father." Sappho bid her brother farewell and followed her father into a private sitting room.

"Sit," her father commanded, and Sappho complied. "It has been nearly a year since you have returned to us. In that time, I don't think I've seen you smile even once."

"I'm sorry, father."

"To see the wonders of Olympus, and then to be forced to return here and see how our home must pale in comparison, it cannot be easy." Scamandronymus sighed. "I have tried this past year to make you happy, given you gifts and let you return to your circle of poets and allowed you privileges that few fathers would afford their daughters."

"I am grateful, truly," Sappho said, her eyes downcast.

"But you are not happy." When Sappho did not reply, her father continued speaking. "I am at my wit's end, and I fear that Lesbos will never be able to heal your soul. As such, I believe that it would be best if you found a new home, and a new purpose."

Sappho's eyes widened. "Father—?"

"Kerkylas of Andros has expressed interest in making you his wife. Apparently, stories of your journey and of your poetry have reached far beyond our kingdom. I have spoken to his men and confirmed that this will be a good match. Kerkylas' lands are rich in jewels, and he will be able to provide well for you, as well as give our family a greater reach in influence."

"I do not wish to be married." She could not be with a man, not after what she had shared with Luna. She had promised her body, heart, and soul to one mare, and if she had to betray her, it would destroy her.

"The contract is signed and the dowry has already been paid," her father replied, uncaring. "Kerkylas' ship arrived last night, in fact, and he wishes for the wedding ceremony to be today. The servants have been toiling since before dawn to prepare. I'm surprised you did not notice."

In truth, she had paid little attention to the world around her since her return. "Please do not make me do this," she begged. If she had to, she could claim Artemis' dominion over her — the pendant around her neck was proof enough that she had been blessed by divinity, and no one would dare take a virgin under her protection. Perhaps she should have entered the priesthood earlier, as a tribute to Luna.

"I don't do this just for the family," her father said sternly. "You must move on from whatever happened to you on Olympus. Perhaps, as a wife, you can find solace in your duty to the household. And Kerkylas is a good man, with good standing among his people. He even provided me with a gift to give you, as a sign that he wishes to be a good husband. Daphne!"

A young servant girl entered the room, bearing a small vase which she placed on the table between Sappho and her father. She bowed and took her leave, leaving them alone once again.

"Kerkylas bid me give you this," Scamandronymus said, gesturing at the vase. "There is a rare flower from his land inside. Take a look."

Though dread seized her heart, Sappho reached gingerly into the vase. Her eyes widened as she pulled out a single black bud still attached to its stem.

"It has some grandiose name," her father said, though Sappho barely heard him. "Queen of the Night, or something of that ilk."

"Princess of the Night," Sappho corrected, her eyes riveted on the flower. It couldn't possibly a coincidence, could it? Or were the gods playing cruel tricks on her again?

"I did not know you had an interest in botany. Perhaps you and Kerkylas can discuss flowers sometime. Are you ready to meet him?" Her father's eyes were kind but severe, and Sappho knew she had no choice in the matter.

Still, hope began to tug at her chest, that final evil of Pandora's Box determined to torment her as its kin had. "Very well, let us meet my future husband." If the gods truly wished to damn her, then she would walk to her undoing with dignity.

"Good. His entourage has been waiting in our dining hall since lunch."

Sappho's body went numb as she stood up and strode towards her future. The mixture of emotions coursing through her body had all of her humours inflamed at the same time, and she could scarce process her own feelings. She closed her mind and focused on the path ahead, keeping silent as she followed her father.

When they reached their destination, Sappho saw a well-dressed man waiting for her. He had a soldier's presence, with strong muscles that were permanently tense and an alertness in his eyes that showed he was constantly scanning for danger. Sappho's heart fell when she didn't recognize him, though something about him seemed familiar.

"Ah, this is your lovely daughter, then, Scamandronymus?" he asked in a voice that stopped Sappho in her tracks, her eyes widening in recognition and her heart soaring with joy.

"Yes." Sappho's father pushed her forward. "Kerkylas, may I present to you my daughter Sappho. Sappho, this is Kerkylas of Andros, who shall be your husband,"

"I am honoured," Sappho said, bowing. Then, though she knew she was speaking out of turn, she asked, "you have the look of a warrior about you. Tell me, have you seen many battles?"

Sappho's father opened his mouth, no doubt to apologize for her impertinence, but Kerkylas simply laughed it off. "I have seen my fair share of danger, I should think. Why, just last year, I fought off an army of Theban cavalry who were so skilled that I imagined them to be one with their horses, like centaurs. I give thanks to Artemis every day for our success in that fight."

At those words, Sappho finally felt her caution slip loose. "You must be a mighty warrior indeed, a worthy Bearer of your Shield."

Kerkylas smirked as he sensed the emphasis on those two words at the end of her statement. "You flatter me, Sappho of Lesbos." He turned his attention back to Scamandronymus. "Are preparations ready for the wedding?"

"We should be able to hold the ceremony in the evening," Scamandronymus replied. "Though dinner may be late as result."

"It is no matter," Kerkylas said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I am more comfortable at night myself, as a servant of Artemis."

Sappho held back a knowing smile. "Should I prepare, then? I do believe I have a dress worthy of such an occasion already, but it will take some time for me to be suitably presentable."

Her father looked surprised at her sudden eagerness, but did not comment on it in front of her future husband. "Yes, of course. Go do what it is you need to do while I discuss business with Kerkylas."

"If I may." Kerkylas gestured towards his own escort. "I have selected a handmaiden from my household who will serve Sappho once she becomes my wife. Perhaps she could assist in preparing her for the ceremony? This would be a good time for them to get accustomed to one another." From the ranks of his servants, a dark-haired woman stepped forward, lifting the hood which had previously hidden her face from view.

Sappho gasped as she stared into deep blue eyes that were as old as the gods themselves, and a coy smile that she had come to love so much.

"I am not familiar with such matters, but if my daughter has no objections, then I don't see why not."

"It is fine, father," Sappho quickly interjected. "We shall take our leave now, if it pleases you." She barely waited for his approval before rushing out of the room, gesturing at her new handmaiden to follow her.

Her steps quickly led her through the house, and when they reached her private chamber, she slammed the door shut and immediately swept up her new servant in a passionate embrace.

"You have missed me, I take it?" Oh, how she had longed to hear that voice outside of her dreams!

"Luna!" Sappho cried out, tears of joy flowing freely from her eyes. "I thought I would never see you again! How did you find me?"

Luna — for that was who it was, of course — reached into her chiton and pulled out the necklace that Sappho had given her. "It was your thoughtfulness that gave me the key to reaching you. You placed a piece of your soul in here, a part of your magic that is fundamentally you. And as with all magic, like calls to like, and so were our scholars able to trace our bond across the realm.

"It took them many months, but at last were we able to forge a portal to your realm during winter. I apologize for not coming to fetch you sooner, but we needed time to establish ourselves so that we might make this match."

"And Tirek?" Sappho was torn between hugging Luna closer to affirm that she was clutching flesh and blood and not a cruel illusion, and pulling away so that she could look her love in the eyes and lose herself in their depths.

"Back in Tartarus where he belongs," Luna snarled, holding Sappho closer and taking the decision away from her. "Your sacrifice was not in vain, as much as I hated what you did. Without his leverage, he was no match for my magic, and fell quickly to my onslaught as I channelled my grief and anger into power.

"We sealed him up much worse for the wear in his cage once more, and enlisted the aid of a magical hound to guard Tartarus. You can name him when we return, if you wish. That is, if you'll be returning with us?"

"Why would I ever desire otherwise?" Sappho asked. "I have never been happier than I have been with you."

"Equestria is dangerous." Luna pulled away from her, sadness in her eyes. "Tirek is not the only threat with enough power to rival me. And you saw the darkness within me that I was forced to draw upon in order to defeat her." She barked out a harsh laugh. "I could be the most dangerous threat to your life. I have already failed to protect you once and forced you to sacrifice yourself for Equestria's salvation."

"And I would do it again without a thought," Sappho said. "As much as I have dwelled in anguish this past year, I do not regret what I had to do to save you. To save Equestria. And as for the darkness, I always knew that you were more than a mare. And I know that, as long as I stand by your side, you will never harm those who are innocent."

"You are more worthy than any Lady of standing beside the Princesses of Equestria," Luna said with pride. "But that virtue which proves your worth also places you at risk."

"A risk that I am willing to take." Sappho's tone brooked no argument. "This is my choice, and so long as you desire me, there is nothing more I want than to be with you. I have been a shadow of my former self here, like a soul lost in Hades' realm without coin for the Ferryman. Do not make me return to that existence."

Luna shook her head. "So be it. After your marriage to 'Kerkylas', we shall return to Equestria so that we may wed."

Sappho smiled. "Is Shieldbearer alright with his role in this deception? That was him playing at being my future husband, yes?"

"It was. And he would do anything for you. You know that." Luna glanced over at Sappho's wardrobe. "Now then, I believe you need to be dressed. I shall be your humble servant and aid you." She gave Sappho a subservient bow that was so filled with authority that Sappho couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"I believe I know another way you can serve me, handmaiden." Sappho's voice grew husky as she reached for the bindings of Luna's clothes. "I am most curious about this human body of yours."

"I am most eager to experience the pleasure this body has to offer as well." Luna pulled Sappho into a passionate kiss, and for the next hour, nothing mattered in the world to Sappho except for the touch of her heart's desire.





The ceremony was beautiful, and nearly all of Mytilene came to attend. The finest offerings were made to the gods and consumed at the feast, everyone wore their best clothes, and the music — provided by the groom — was beyond compare.

Some might have found it odd that Sappho had spent more time with her new handmaiden than her new husband, but she cared little for the opinions of the people she would now only see on rare visits. Lavishing attention on Luna without revealing the secret of their relationship was much more entertaining.

Shieldbearer had taken it all in stride and good cheer as well. During the ceremony, he planted a chaste kiss on her lips, and begged her forgiveness afterwards when the cheering of the crowds was enough to drown out his words.

"A thousand pardons, Lady Sappho," he had said with a genuinely warm smile. "Please do not have me punished for my assault against your person."

Luna, who had been standing far too close to the couple for a simple handmaiden, had replied in a loud mutter. "As long as you do not dream of her tonight, Shieldbearer. Sappho is mine, and mine alone."

"Of course, Princess. I would not dare."

And so did the celebration continue long into the night, until it was time for Sappho to return to the villa that 'Kerkylas' was staying in. As they left, Sappho took one last look at the thinning crowds, drunk on wine and revelry. Several improper comments were shouted from the masses that made Sappho blush even after all she had done with Luna.

Then, in the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar face standing slightly apart from the crowd. Her eyes widened as Pirene smiled at her. The priestess' hands clutched a bow and arrow made of what appeared to be gold, and when she winked at Sappho, she could've sworn the Moon itself dimmed for a moment.

Before Sappho could approach her, Pirene vanished into the night, trailed by seven hunting dogs following their mistress into the hunt.

"Is something the matter?" Luna asked, her hand brushing discreetly over Sappho's.

"Just thinking about how the gods must be smiling down on me right now." Sappho turned her head away from the Moon and towards her true love's face. "All of them."

"I will always watch over you, my love," Luna whispered as they finally escaped the celebration and made it to the quiet villa that the Equestrians had taken residence in. "Tomorrow, we set out for Andros, where the portal to Equestria awaits."

"Lady Sappho, Princess Luna." Shieldbearer bowed to both of them. "I shall take my leave now, if you will."

"Thank you for everything, Shieldbearer," Sappho said sincerely. "You are a good friend."

"It was my honour and my pleasure, Lady Sappho. Equestria has missed you greatly." With that, Shieldbearer took his leave, and Luna led Sappho towards the main bedchamber.

Inside, Sappho once again found writing materials waiting for her. "It has been a year since I have been graced with your poetry," Luna said. "Will you share with me some of your work since our last meeting?"

Sappho went over to the writing desk and picked up a quill. "I can do better than that. I am quite seized by inspiration at the moment. Let me share with you the song of my love." With that, she began to write, knowing that her words would live on for all Eternity in Luna's heart.

Goddess, mare, princess, friend, lover. Sappho had won the love of each aspect of the mercurial Mistress of Dreams, and had learned to love each aspect in turn. And now, under the light of a Moon that was controlled by the goddess who had brought them together, Sappho wrote the first words of her perfect future with Luna.



Now the hundred songs are made,
And the pause comes. Loving Heart,
There must be an end to summer,
And the flute be laid aside.

On a day the frost will come,
Walking through the autumn world,
Hushing all the brave endeavour
Of the crickets in the grass.

On a day (Oh, far from now!)
Earth will hear this voice no more;
For it shall be with thy lover
As with Linus long ago.

All the happy songs he wrought
From remembrance soon must fade,
As the wash of silver moonlight
From a purple-dark ravine.

Frail as dew upon the grass
Or the spindrift of the sea,
Out of nothing they were fashioned
And to nothing must return.

Nay, but something of thy love,
Passion, tenderness, and joy,
Some strange magic of thy beauty,
Some sweet pathos of thy tears,

Must imperishably cling
To the cadence of the words,
Like a spell of lost enchantments
Laid upon the hearts of men.

Wild and fleeting as the notes
Blown upon a woodland pipe,
They must haunt the earth with gladness
And a tinge of old regret.

For the transport in their rhythm
Was the throb of thy desire,
And thy lyric moods shall quicken
Souls of lovers yet unborn.

When the golden days arrive,
With the swallow at the eaves,
And the first sob of the south-wind
Sighing at the latch with spring,

Long hereafter shall thy name
Be recalled through foreign lands,
And thou be a part of sorrow
When the Linus songs are sung.