08-Oct-2001
Once upon a time... a GW Fairytale Collection
4x1 (lemon)
GW Fairytale, based the story 'The Six Swan Princes'
In the dark depths of the forest that bordered the Kingdom, an ancient magic stirred to life, woken from its deep sleep by the soft silken voice that whispered from the cover of the moonless night, given power by hatred and spite. The six princesses of Sanq, the youngest, a child of three, stirred fitfully in their beds as darkness entered their dreams and the magic snared them in its toils. Smooth white flesh blurred and transformed, and when the rosy gold light of the dawning sun crept through the edge of the satin curtains, a flurry of white feathers filled the tower and six swans flew out the wide open window, their screams drowned by the peals of the bells ringing throughout the land. The bells of the kingdom rang loudly, joyfully heralding the birth of the long awaited prince, and the people of sanq raised their voices in hearty cheers for the King and his new Queen.
The young prince, Heero, spent his childhood happily enough but as he grew older, he began to notice the strange looks that people gave him, and the whispers that followed his every step. On his thirteenth birthday, Heero snuck away to the north tower, his secret hiding place and wondered as he always did, about the six empty beds in the tower room, fingering the silken texture of the satin curtains that moved gently with the breeze, and curled up at the window seat, peering through the wide open windows, which had never been closed in all the years he had played in the tower. He had learned early not to ask any questions, and had learned instead, to keep his eyes and ears open and eventually, learned of his missing sisters.
When Heero turned fourteen, he left the castle, disappearing during the night as had his sisters, and walked into the forest, determined to find them and to bring them home.
Heero walked through the forest, trying not to feel scared as the darkness blanketed him and he heard strange sounds, growls and other noises that he couldn't identify grew louder and closer as night took over from the soft grey twilight and he found himself at his destination at last.
It was a small pool of clear water, shining silver with the reflected moonlight from the full moon above. And Heero stayed hidden behind the trees lining the clearing, watching with held breath as he heard the beating of wings and saw six white swans gliding down to the pool. He watched intently as the swans glowed with golden light on touching ground and the outline of their bodies wavered and shifted, reforming into bodies of women. Heero kept silent, watching with anxious eyes as the women discovered the small bundles he had left for them, and after a moment of hesitation, they quickly pulled on the beautiful silken gowns, sighing with bliss as they felt the shimmering smoothness of the fabric with admiring fingers.
Heero waited and listened as the women talked, hesitantly at first, their voices croaking slightly from lack of use, and the pounding of his heartbeat echoed in his ears when they finally mentioned him. He sat in a half crouch, his body trembling from tension as Noin and Sally, vowed angrily to take his life as payment for his mother's curse. The oldest princess, Une, listened in silence as their soft hearted younger sister, Catherine, argued gently against the taking an innocent life, and kept her thoughts to herself as usual. Dorothy, who always came up with one wild idea after after, suggested that they should take their half brother hostage, and force the Queen to reverse her terrible curse. And the youngest, Relena, remained silent, plucking at the grass with her hands restlessly, as she tried to hide her increasing discomfort with the human form that she now wore from her sisters, and waited impatiently for the the return to the freedom of her other form.
Heero listened to his sisters, till he could no longer bear the guilt that weighed down his soul and stumbled blindly out of hiding, his eyes blurring with tears and fell to his knees before them, burying his hands in the cold damp grass, his head hung low in supplication. Heero pulled out his dagger and offered it, thrusting the ornately carved ivory handle before him, the brilliant sappire set in its pommel appearing black in the pale moonlight and told the gathering women, that he was their brother and waited for their judgement.
Une reached out wordlessly and took the dagger, lifting the youth's head with a hand on his chin and raised the dagger high in the air... and stopped, throwing away the dagger in the next instance and gathered the crying boy in her arms. Her sisters gathered around the two wordlessly and felt only joy in their hearts, all thoughts of vengeance and anger melting away at the sight of the clear tears that dropped for them, springing from their brother's pure love for them and from his true sympathy with their plight. She and her sisters spent all night talking to the young boy, whose birth had cost them everything, including their humanity. Relena grew animated and talked for the first time in months, lost in the excitement of having someone close to her age, of talking to a human other than her sisters. They told Heero that they were able to return to their human forms, once a month, when the moon was full. Heero told them that he had learned of them from an old woman who lived at the edge of the forest, the old woman had seen the sisters once, five years ago at this pool, by accident, and had never forgotten the beauty and the magic that had filled her soul on that night.
When Heero finally fell asleep, the small glade was filling with pale golden light and his sisters took one last glance at the boy who had come for them, and surrendered their bodies to the magic. The sunlight that gleamed into the clearing saw six swans, the largest among them standing protectively over a small curled body, her wings spread out wide to shade the sleeping child from the dazzling golden light that chased away dreams.
That afternoon, Heero woke up and found a white feather lying beside him, and smiled as he saw the offering of fish and fruit, that had been piled carefully on top of a large green leaf on the rock near the pool.
Heero stayed with his sisters in the forest, determined to stay with them until he found a way to reverse their enchantment and free them from their curse. His sisters tried to convince him that they had gotten used to their unusual way of life, but he remained stubborn in his resolve, and finally, when he was fifteen, Une gave in to his constant pleas and told him. The only way to break the curse was to weave six shirts from thistles. The spell could only be broken once all six shirts were completed. And, Une warned, if Heero spoke even one word during the making of the shirts, the curse would become permanent and the sisters would never again regain their human forms, not even during the full moon. She and her sisters tried their best to once again, persuade Heero to give up his foolish dream of returning them to their human bodies but he refused to listen to their entreaties.
Heero started on his long task, helped by his sisters who gathered the thistles in their swan forms, obstinately refusing to cry out even when the sharp leaves scratched and tore the tender skin of his hands, unused as they were to this kind of work. In time, his sisters grew used to his silence and learned to communicate with him through other means, the expression in his eyes and face, the movements of his hands as Heereo tried to explain to them that he was happy in his self appointed labour, that he wanted them to know that he loved them. And every night he went to sleep, a large white wing covered him with loving warmth, as his sisters stood guard over him.
The task was long and hard, and Heero found keeping silent even harder than he thought, and every night, he went to sleep, his hands tucked under his body, unconsciously trying to hide the constant scratches scarring the once smooth skin. He wept silently in bitter disappointment when the first shirt he completed, fell to pieces within a couple of weeks. But he wiped away his tears when the swans returned with yet another batch of thistles, and putting on a cheerful smile, he returned to his work. In time, his skills grew and the swans watched patiently as their brother laboured, their hearts growing heavier as they saw their brother's face lose its gentle warmth, and his eyes burned only with the determination to complete the task.
Until the day, a golden haired stranger climbed into their nest and stole their brother... and the swans cried out in harsh agony as they watched helplessly, not daring to reclaim their brother, fearing the sharp eyes of the archers who stood by, their longbows drawn and ready...
Heero clutched on to his precious bundle holding the two completed shirts and the half made third shirt, with all his might as he was carried out of the tree and placed on the white stallion. The handsome stranger mounting behind him, Heero felt his heart pulsing rapidly as strong arms circled around him and he looked up at the sky, a silent promise in his eyes as he stared at the beautiful white birds circling above him...
Viceroy Rashid looked at his excited King with disapproval, his brow furrowed with worry lines as he stared at the silent man standing behind King Quatre, distrusting the fey wild beauty that had already ensnared his King. He had been afraid that something like this would happen when his young master had insisted on investigating the forest on hearing rumours of a witch who lived there. For months, their small kingdom had buzzed with tales about a beautiful young man or woman, depending who was telling the tale, who lived in the forest, in a nest, hidden amongst the tallest trees. The tales were mainly told by disgruntled hunters, their clothes torn and their equipment destroyed or lost after an unsuccessful hunt, and Rashid had dismissed them as mere fabrications, stories made up to explain the hunters' own clumsiness or lack of success.
However, last week, a young hunter, one already well known for his prowess in hunting, especially in killing vicious animals that had strayed too close to human habitation, had come to see the King and ask for his help. Rashid had seen the eager flash that ignited in his King's eyes as the hunter told his tale; of how he lost his way in the forest and wandered into its darkest depths, and how he had climbed a tree, to try to find his path home. Quatre had been fascinated when the hunter described how he saw a spark of blue fire amongst the dark green leaves of the next tree and had moved up and across the thick branch and found himself staring at the most beautiful face he had ever seen.
When the hunter had moved forward, intending to save the young man sitting inside the gigantic nest made out of twigs and green leaves, he was attacked by a flurry of white wings and he half fell, half climbed down the tree and retreated ingloriously, even as broken branches and leaves showered down from the sky. King Quatre asked the hunter to lead him back to the part of the forest where he had seen the beautiful man and told Rashid to prepare a hunting party.
Rashid tried to dissuade his young King, even going so far as to volunteering to go in his stead, but Quatre had merely laughed merrily at his greying Viceroy and remained adamant in his determination to lead the hunt. He did agree in the end, to follow Rashid's advice to take the full complement of his personal Guard, as well as his usual hunting entourage. Quatre set forth the next day, with the young hunter, who had agreed to act as his guide in the forest, and the party had returned in glowing triumph, the King's golden hair ablaze with the reddish gold of the setting sun.
The King on his white stallion, held in his arms, a wild looking beauty with fierce blue eyes and thick unruly brown hair, who held tightly to a shapeless pile of dark green cloth, as if it was the most important thing in the world. Rashid had been shocked when he had seen the beautiful youth, and felt the burning fire flare in his body as the cold eyes turned to him and understood at last, why the hunters had spoken of a witch in the forest. Despite the memerising effect of the dazzling beauty, Rashid had been shocked and horrified beyond measure when Quatre had announced to him and the court, his intentions to take the mysterious man for his consort.
Quatre began courting the silent man, trying desperately to win a smile, a glance, as he piled gift after gift at the feet of the dark haired beauty. And the court whispered angrily as Heero ignored their lovelorn King, his attention only on the pile of green thistles at his side, bristling in indignation for their rejected lord. But Heero continued with his task, not caring as his fingers tore and bled from the sharp edges of the leaves, slowly knitting the prickly green into a shirt, his attention only on making one more stitch that represented his hope for his sisters.
Heero had been terrified at first when Quatre had taken him from the forest but he quickly grew to trust the gentle man who only wanted to love him. He didn't know how to respond to Quatre's words of love, he didn't even know how to feel any more, his whole heart had been tied into his task for so long that he was barely aware of the changes in his surroundings. And Heero guarded the completed shirts closely, worrying over them as though they were his children, never letting them out of his sight, as the precious piles continued to grow. When he heard the sound of wings beating in the air, Heero would look up at the empty sky and his heart would ache for his sisters, the only company he had known in the past year. And at night, he would wake in his glittering room, and stare at the ever-changing moon, panic rising within him as the moon grew rounder each night.
Eventually Heero grew accustomed to his new life... To waking every morning to the sound of beautiful music as the King stood outside his room, playing his violin. Gradually, Heero learned to smile again, his hands faltering in their task as Quatre held out the deep crimson rose, a daily ritual that always ended with the disappointed King holding his rose as Heero turned back to his task. Until the day Heero's hands dropped the almost finished shirt and reached out instead, to hold the delicate stem, robbed of thorns, and buried his face in the thick velvety petals, his eyes closing as he breathed in the sweet scent that spoke of love. When the fourth shirt was finished, the witch from the forest, as the rest of the court called him, finally gave in to his increasingly persistent suitor, and the triumphant King told Rashid to prepare the ceremony to celebrate their joining.
At the ceremony, the presiding Archbishop frowned angrily at Heero, noticing that the silent man wasn't paying attention as he looked up at the ceiling with a distracted air, and a rush of whispers waved through the congregation as the light streaming through the coloured windows shook and rippled from the sudden dappling of shadows from behind the stained glass. Later on, many of the guests at the ceremony claimed that they had heard the beating of the wings. Quatre seized the hand before him and looked into the wide blue eyes questioningly, and felt his heart skip a beat as Heero blinked slowly, then smiled at him, and carefully slid the heavy diamond ring on to his hand. The exchange of the rings being complete, Quatre lifted the hand to his lips and kissed the palm reverently, and the diamond on Heero's hand caught fire from the light and flashed with blue fire, reflecting the light in the brilliant blue eyes that stared at him in silent love.
Quatre led his love into their prepared bedchamber, comfortable in the silence that surrounded them, and found that neither he nor his love needed words to express their feelings that night. He relished the sweet scent of his love, burying his face between his lover's opening legs and felt the blood rushing through his body, all his senses heightened as he explored the beautiful body that had captured him. From the very first moment he had climbed into the tree and saw the wide blue eyes staring at him with wary apprehension, mixed with dawning admiration that cast a rosy glow on the exposed skin. Afterwards, the two lovers lay on the bed, both panting slightly from the exertion of their passion, their limbs slick with sweat and cum, tangled together from their reluctance to separate their bodies, reflecting the joining of their hearts.
Later that night, Quatre opened his eyes in the middle of the night and felt a chill touch his heart as he missed the warmth of Heero's body pressed against his own. He sat up and opened his mouth, only to feel his words dying away as he saw his love sitting on the window sill, a sheet wrapped around his body for warmth, and saw him reach out a caressing hand towards the moonlight silvered head of the swan... The white bird crooned softly under his touch and embraced Heero with a huge white wing. He sank back into the pillows and pulled up the bedclothes as the two continued their mute communication, unsure of why he felt so hesitant to declare his presence, confused by the sudden black rage that clouded his heart as he realised that of the three, it was he who was the intruder...
The King stared angrily at his ministers, hurt beyond belief by what they were proposing. How could they seriously think that he would even consider the possibility of killing his consort? That they could convince him that his love was a witch and deserved to be burnt at the stake?
He wanted to throw them out of the council chambers, maybe even order his guards to take them down to the dank cells and spent a couple of days rethinking the sheer preposterousness of what they were suggesting. He had always tried his best to listen and follow their advice, to be as a fair and just ruler as his father would have wanted. But as the days went by and the ministers continued in their pleas, the King began to weaken. His belief in his love began to waver as the silence built into an unbreachable wall and the dazzling eyes that had forever burned into his heart, turned away to search the empty blue sky and and began to hate the ever present green thistles, that steadily transformed into a small pile of shirts, at his lover's side.
Quatre stirred in his sleep, his mouth opening slightly as he breathed, his arm moving lazily over the silken smooth skin of the man lying beside him. He half opened his eyes in protest as he turned his head and accidentally moved his eye into the warm golden beam, dazzling him momentarily before his eyes fully opened as he saw the beautiful eyes staring at him. And he felt his suspcions fade away in the light, as it always did when he lost himself in the dark blue depths that called to his soul.
On impulse, Quatre leaned forward and captured the slightly apart lips, pulling his arms clear of the shimmering silk bedsheet, and wrapping his body around the lean, slender frame, and smiled in happy contentment as Heero returned his kiss, his hands snaking around Quatre's body and locking them into place around his narrow waist.
Quatre sighed in blissful contentment as he started to kiss Heero's exposed skin, leaving behind a trail of moistened patches of skin as he worked his way down the arching throat and nibbled gently at the stiffening brown nipple as he passed them by. He felt Heero's hands in his hair, the fingers gripping the golden strands tightly as Quatre started to flick his tongue gently over Heero's lower belly, alternatively caressing the smooth skin with his lips and sucking the salt sweet flesh until he left behind a reddening mark of his love and moved his hands down to the lower thighs.
He pulled his body back up the bed and lay on top of Heero, his hands braced on the soft mattress, holding his weight off the other as he waited for him to open his legs. Quatre held his breath, still overwhelmed by the sheer assault on his senses and emotions as the dark haired man stared into his eyes, holding his gaze for one long moment, as he always did, just before he spread his legs open and wound his hands around Quatre's neck. And Quatre felt his heart thumping loudly in the still silence of his bedroom, and entered his love, feeling the tight heat of Heero's body close around his own. He lost himself in the pounding of his heart, and closed his eyes as he felt Heero's hands fall from his neck, and opened them again, as the hands slipped under his own and saw his lover, the blue eyes losing their piercing focus as passion overwhelmed them and the echoing sound of Heero's heart drummed in his ears and Quatre felt the world fade away...
Until the mistrust and suspicions returned again, during the night... Quatre sensed the fading warmth of his bed and opened his eyes, dreading the vision that greeted him, the silver moonlight outlining the silouhette of his lover's body, and the large bird in his arms. Quatre's heart hardened and turned cruel as the black rot of jealousy ate away at his love and faith, and he began to distrust even the tender moments in the sun, wondering if Heero was thinking of the nightly visitor as he held him in his arms...
Heero watched in helpless silence as the once loving hands that had roamed his body so gently and tenderly, grew harsh and rough, marking his skin with purpling bruises. He grieved as he saw the growing distrust and suspicion in the blue-green eyes that had shined only with love, and still he continued with his task, working even more frantically to complete the shirts as nameless fear took root in his heart and grew...
The whispers in the court grew louder and louder as their golden King began to change, the frequent smiles appearing less and less on his face, the gentle blue-green eyes growing hard and cold. Quatre became grave and serious, his sunny nature eclipsed by his mounting sorrow as he listened to the concerns of his ministers, and heard the growing accusations of witchcraft against his consort. Quatre stared into the garden, Rashid standing by his side, his eyes narrowing angrily as he saw Heero sitting next to the fountain, and the beautiful swan that sat by his side, and observed the look of tender love in Heero's eyes as he stared down at the white head lying on his lap. The King ordered his Viceroy in a shaking voice to prepare the papers for Heero's execution.
Quatre made one final plea to his love, unable to bear the thought of losing him, not wishing to see the lovely smooth limbs that he had loved so deeply, twist and burn in the cruel flames.
He went to the tower where Heero had been imprisoned, at the advice of his ministers, and gave him an ultimatum. He would revoke his order if Heero would agree to let him throw away the remaining thistle and the shirts, the King went down on to his knees and grasped Heero's legs as he spoke, tears streaming down his face as Quatre begged his love to choose carefully, for the sake of their love. And received his answer in the blazing glare he received as Heero gathered up the finished shirts protectively and placed his slender body in front the green tangle, and saw the desperate determination in Heero's face as he shook his head in angry denial.
The King stood up with a cold smile as Heero clung to the half finished shirt to his chest protectively and told him that he would be signing the execution form that night. He grabbed Heero's arm roughly and pulled him into a passionate kiss, bruising the soft lips that he had so loved, and felt the soft moist breath tickling his skin as Heero opened his mouth under his assault and he found himself lost, once again... and pushed his love away from him roughly. Quatre promised the fallen man that he would be allowed to keep his precious thistles with him to the end, his mouth twisting with a grim smile as Heero nodded gratefully. Heero sighed deeply as Quatre left him, and then he shook his head and pushed himself back up to a sitting position, his mind only on the sixth shirt that was nearing completion. He was so close...
White Feathers flew around the small grey square...
The crowd gasped as one, the cloud of feathers spinning around the shimmering forms appearing around the witch, and stepped back, staggering from the fierce gust of wind that had risen around the seven forms in the middle of the town square. One by one, they dropped to their knees as the brief storm of feathers died down, revealing six beautiful women, their nudity only partially hidden by their thick ankle length hair, standing in a circle around the witch, their eyes flashing with angry fire that promised vengence for the shameful treatment of their kin.
The frightened crowd trembled and bowed their heads as the oldest of the women strode forward and pulled the bared steel from a stunned guard, while the rest arrayed themselves behind her, ready to battle to the death to protect their brother, the brother who had kept his promise to save them all. The crowd watched, mesmerised, as their King Quatre finally stirred free of his entrancement and moved towards the tall woman who stood grimly, the sword glinting sharply as she brought the blade between them in silent warning.
The golden haired King dropped slowly to one knee, his hands opened in front of him in silent apology and waited. And another wave of murmurs flowed through the gathered people as they saw the witch, freed from his restraints by two of the women who followed by his side, walk towards the King and gently raise him to his feet. The hushed crowd stilled their breath as Heero looked into the King's eyes and they witnessed the second miracle as the witch opened his mouth and spoke...
Couple of weeks later, at the ball celebrating the announcement of Princess Catherine and Lord Millard...
Quatre touched the face of his love tenderly, ignoring the faint angry hiss from his side as Relena glared balefully at him, the remaining white wing at her side an everlasting reminder of his jealous folly.
'Heero...' He said again, and laughed, for the joy of finally knowing his love's name.
Heero laughed with him, the solemn face transformed by the dazzling warmth as he lifted his hand and captured the caressing hand on his face, landing a delicate kiss on the soft palm before pulling him towards the centre of the ballroom. It had been so long since he had been free to laugh, to make any sound at all, and he had taken full advantage of his regained freedom to speak, as Rashid and others have already learnt, to their continuing chagrin.
Quatre had been terrified that he had lost Heero forever during the whirlwind excitement of the aftermath, as he and his kingdom learnt of the curse placed on Heero's sisters on his birth, and the terrible price he had to pay for their release. He had been overcome when he found out that Heero still loved him, that he had always loved him, and had been humbled beyond words when Heero had begged for his forgiveness... for his cold silence that had hurt both of them. It had been a lot harder to win the approval of Heero's sisters, who remained bitterly angry over his treatment of their brother, relenting to a grudging acknowledge of their relationship only when they finally accepted that Heero was as determined to be with the golden haired King, who had won his heart, as he had been to save them from their curse.
The oldest princess, Une, had returned to Sanq, with Noin and Sally, a short time after their curse was broken, to recover her throne from Heero's mother who had assumed the throne in Heero's name after their father's death. They left accompanied by a large group of soldiers and knights from Quatre's kingdom, vowing to send for the remaining princesses once the battle was won and the crown was returned to Une, the rightful ruler of Sanq. The fourth princess, Catherine, remained behind, to wed a young nobleman in Quatre's kingdom who had fallen in love with her when he had first beheld her at Heero's execution, her body hidden behind the flowing chestnut curls that covered the beautiful princess to her ankles.
Quatre had been rather amused by the way Prince Wufei, from the neighbouring kingdom of Shenlong, stopped breathing whenever Heero's fifth sister, an alluring beauty with long golden hair that flowed in sleek silken locks, swept near him and mused idly about asking Heero to help his shy and clumsy friend in his pursuit of the exquisite lady. However, as he felt Relena's cold gaze prickle his shoulders once again, Quatre couldn't help wondering whether he should try finding a suitable suitor for his love's youngest, and closest sister first.
He felt his smile falter as Relena walked stiffly past him, intercepting Heero who was returning to him, after a dance with Catherine, both of them talking and laughing, their faces aglow with happiness as they swirled across the dance floor. The crowd split in awe to allow the proud lady to pass and fall silent as the lovely princess moved through them, her heavy skirts brushing the marble floor, her head lifted proudly, the thick dark gold braids woven into a crown, the rest of her hair pulled tightly away from her flawless face. Relena raised her right arm to greet her brother, a glowing smile lighting her usually grave face, ignoring the startled looks as the admiring glances halted at the sight of the large white wing which sprouted from her left shoulder.
Quatre knew that Relena had never forgiven him for having tried to burn Heero as a witch, and deep inside, neither had he. And her white wing, the legacy of the terrible curse that had fallen on her and her sisters when Heero had been born, was an eternal reminder of his failure and his guilt. Heero had tried desperately to finish the thistle shirts but had run out of time in the end, and when he had cast the shirts over his sisters, one shirt had been missing a sleeve...
~ Owari ~
Kat: Well, now you know why the story was called 'Swan's Wing'. I cast Heero in the main role 'cause frankly, I think he's got the perfect personality to pull off the whole breaking of the curse thing. And I felt that given the story perimeters, the role of the King, suited Quatre best. I am writing other fairy tales though and there will be other pairings. Please write back, I really need more C & C. ;_;
Katana
Please send comments to: apriori21@yahoo.com