Haiku: a merry mischief brews
Some slashy silliness in very vaguely Haiku form (not for the purists). For the small fandom Haiku-a-thon. Prompt – Shakespeare, The Tempest: Ariel – picture.

a merry mischief brews [The Tempest, Ariel, Ferdinand/Francisco, Miranda/OFC, PG, 12 haiku]

A blackthorn stave, cut
at dead of night, and virgin
copper thread, bound in

spirals round about,
once trapped this sprite. A lonely
tree his prison long.

But Syrcorax is
dead, and Prospero has kept
his word. Ariel,

now twice freed, old soul
and powerful spirit, makes
mischief brew once more

and conjures up, swift,
a noisy mist to fall o'er
Prospero's fair isle

to work his merry
game. No evil will betide
man or woman touched,

but voices heard, and
whispers loud, will linger long
in thought and idle

dreams. When once they're home,
fine Ferdinand may fancy
himself in love, not

with his woman won,
but a handsome childhood friend,
the Lord Francisco.

Miranda will not
pine, but learn the pleasures to
be found in soft curves

and sweet breasts, in the
honey-touch of pale hands and
the kiss of pink lips.

And Ariel will
fly aloft, watching mayhem
turn to happiness.