In fairytales, there were certain rules about princes.
A prince would be handsome, a prince would be the dream coming true for any lost princess.
Some-times, a prince might turn into some-thing unpleasant, like a beast or a frog.
But eventually he would turn back, turn back and be perfect.
Handsome, charming, skilled, clever and able to rule.. Eventually, he would be exactly what this fairytale kingdom needed. Perfect.. That was how a prince was supposed to be.. Perfect.
Always able to return triumphantly and proud, being just that, perfect.
So naturally, that would have to mean that Swaine had actually never been a prince at all, as a young kid, he had merely pretended along-side every-one else.
Good thing he gave up on that,
Or maybe he had in fact been a prince ones, but no matter that fact, it was a very long time ago. And this frog was to far beyond reach.. To far gone.
No one would ever be able to make any connection at all to this low life thief and the crown prince of the great empire Hamalin.
A prince was the last thing he looked, sounded or even smelled like. Not even his own parents or brother would ever be able to recognise him, as was the idea from the beginning.
In the place of Gascon the handsome prince, it was now merely Swaine, the rotten thief. If he was to be prince, he was Swaine prince of swine's now.
Many thoughts like this and more, ran through Swains head as he sat on his bed on the ship he was now one.. Actually sailing right back there, back to Hogtown! What the hell was he thinking going back there? It had been fifteen years! Fifteen years where he had managed to stay far away from Hamalin, and hadn't seen a shadow of it, now he had just boarded a boat, begged to let onboard a boat to go back, what the heck?! Just because of a stupid promise he had made a very long time ago.. but, it was the one promise he knew he had to keep! If Marcassin truly was in trouble, he had to help.
All it had taken, and it felt ridicoules, was that flimsy notion that Marcassin was in fact.. Not all-right at all. Swaine hadn't been able to stop himself, he had become down-right desperate to return and check for himself, even after over a decade of having lived another life, there was no hesitation for Swaine to throw every-thing he had in his hands, down on the ground and make a run back to Hamelin, if he had been able to.. But he hadn't.. he had let Shadar stop him, and he had been trapped in his own mind for so long, not even able to do the one thing he promised, how pathetic.
Emptily Swaine was looking out in front of him, right at his own mirror reflection, his own dead eyes meeting him, in a empty starring contest… except there was no joy, no life..
Supposedly Oliver had cured his heart, but Swaine couldn't really say he felt it. Well he did, he had returned to his senses! His rime and reason had returned to him! But he didn't feel it the same way as every-body else whom had been cured said they always felt, they always said that their heart felt light and they felt giddy.. Swaine was ready to swear that what-ever resided in his chest was still broken.
Heck, it had become broken enough that a nightmare had latched right unto it and consumed him from within. Just went to show what a failure he was!
Oliver… of all people. Swaine, the son of a great sage and a great female wizard, in spite of that born without one single drop of magic in him. Should run into and join a little kid, whom came from a world that didn't even have magic, had only practised magic for a few weeks, and were all-ready one of the most powerful spell casters Swaine had seen. Now that was sheer irony!
Urgh… how Swaine would love to tell that kid one or two small home secrets.. And then yell a bit for no reason.
It was just too ironic and frustrating to bear! It wasn't Swaines fault he didn't have any magic! He would do any-thing to have magic, but it simply wasn't in his cards and never would be, that was the harsh reality of his life. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, he couldn't do it! No matter how he had tried, what he had done in the past hadn't be good enough! His late father had been sure to remind him of that at every single little turn!
Back when Swaine had been Gascon, for as long back as he could possible remember, while he still lived with his father and brother in Hamelin, he had been told two things, constantly. By every-one around him, from the way they treated him and adressed him, the very way he was raised, he had been told that he was born to become emperor, that was his single purpose in life, to one day become the next emperor. And then he was being told and reminded, every single day, that he could never be emperor, he didn't have what it took, he wasn't good enough!
But he wasn't ever allowed to be let go on that either. He was crown prince! It was his very title, his entire identity, a crown prince that should be emperor but never could be good enough to be emperor and didn't even have the ability required to be a crown prince.
Two loud yelling voices yelling from each their side. And it was not like he hadn't wanted to be the kind of Prince that the kingdom needed, it was not because he didn't want to appease all those eyes and lectures around him, it was definetely not that he wanted to make his father so dissapointed! He just.. had never been able to. And yet the messages would continue, some-times back then it felt like he hadn't even been able to breath, like he had been drowning in a deep malestrom of exspectations and voices, without any clear guide-line of what to do, he had been so compleately powerless, if there was some-thing he could have done, he would have done it without hesitation, no matter how hard or ridicoules it seemed... but there was nothing.
Even now just thinking about it, Swaine felt like he had been stuffed under water and couldn't even take a breath. The plan was that he should have found his own way and purpose by now, leaving all those mixed signals behind and find his own strong path, so he finally could stand strong in himself and figure out, what he was actually supposed to do! That had been his single goal.. and here, fifteen years later, many lessons learned, Swaine wasn't as much as a step closer to the goal.. not one single step. He had nothing to show Hamelin or Marcassin, nothing at all, it was a disgrace to say the least.
He actually looked quite a bit older than he was. The years had just been tearing him down faster than what good was.. he looked like an old codger, and that was putting it nicely.. Who would ever guess, that he was in fact.. yes he was pretty damn young, true, not a kid and not a teenager like those he was traveling with, but he was not nearly as old as this mirror image would have you believe! Heck, Mr. Drippy was at least twice as old as he was!
Truth to be told, Swaine had been intending to return to Hamelin a good while back, when he first heard about Marcassin, but then his heart had gotten stolen, and with it... any real memory of who he used to be. When you have your heart stolen, the past is not some-thing you think about, only that empty void right in your chest that never seems to be filled matters.
Swaine remembered it well, standing at a fine stand that sold tools, letting his eyes slide over the items, trying to decide what tool he needed the most for his latest trick-gun upgrade, he had the idea, but he couldn't carry around a lot of tools, so he had to…. Borrow.. For his upgrades when needed.
The shop keeper looked at him with squinted distrusting eyes, watching his every single move.
Shesh! Swaine only stole what he needed! And it was not like he could carrie any tool far, he'll return it… maybe.. Depending on if he was being chased or not this time around. Sorry pall, you rather loose the tool than I go to jail again.
Then the assistant entered the shop, a young very pretty girl, with long smooth dark hair. "Oh, you are interested in the products from Hamelin sir?" the girl asked making Swaine turn to her, and smile lightly.
"Every-one knows that the Hamelin products are by far the most superior when it comes to tools and machinery, so naturally." Swaine smirked.
"Then you better take it now." The Girl responded. "Our shipments from Hamelin has been seized."
Suddenly Swaine dropped the wrench in his hand and twirled around. "They what?" he asked. "Why?" he asked.
Blinking the girl looked at him. "I am not entirely sure, some-thing about the emperor making some new changes. Their productions have apparently seized."
"But.. The export of fine weaponry is what keeps Hamelin a float." Swaine exclaimed. "They can't just stop! What's really happening?" he asked in a accusing voice, as if he accused the girl for either lying to him or be the real reason for the seized shipments.
"Honestly, all I know it rumours." The girl spoke wide-eyed. "Well, the sailors said it was like this, the emperor, young Marcassin had come down with a strange illness, so he demands all these odd changes."
"Like shutting down the factories that keep his entire kingdom running?" Swaine asked.
"Well.." the girl bit her lip.
"Oi." The Shop keeper snorted. "Leave my assistant alone, you've done trouble enough all-ready, haven't you?" he asked. "What would a lowlife thief like you even care for a distant kingdom any-way?" he asked.
"Urghh." Swaine groaned at the shop keeper. "Excuse me for being the least bit touched, that an entire kingdom is apparently going upside down! But then again, I only got your word for it don't I?" he asked the girl. "Where does the ship that usually sail between here and Hamelin dock? I need to talk to those sailors!" he stated.
"Oh sir, you are in luck! They should be at the harbour right now in fact! If you hurrie you just might catch them!" the girl told.
"Thank you." Swaine nodded his head and ran out.
"Hm." The shopkeeper frowned. "What the heck was that all about?" Then his eyes widened. "HE STOLE THE WRENCH HE STOOD WITH!" he realised. "He didn't pay for it!"
"Oh dear." The girl gasped.
Swaine though couldn't care less about the wrench he had all-ready decided to steal, now residing in his pocket, all he cared about was to find out what was going on!
The Captain of the ship though, gave him the same answer, things were strange in Hamelin, and the ruler not at all well.
As Swaine asked around, the few people whom had any connection to Hamelin told the same thing.
"my sister who lifes there send me this letter, it is so strange."
"Yes, that's correct. Any wares from Hamelin has seized shipping."
"They don't take my bandanas any-more, the trading line is cut off."
The more Swaine asked around, the more it became pain stackingly obvious, it was NOT because he wanted to, but he HAD to go back, and see for himself what the heck was going on!
Surely it couldn't be as bad as people said! Though if it was.. urgh.. he was going to kick Marcassins butt so hard! Couldn't that brat do any-thing! Really? How come Swaine had no choice then? Urgh such a bother.
Having packed up and was ready to travel, Swaine was just about to cross the dessert so he could get to port and find himself a ship headed for Hamelin. There had to be one lousy ship sailing past through there, weren't there? And now, Swaine was just determined to go back and see for himself, not a hundred strong horses would have been able to stop him at that very moment! Marcassin needed him and that was the end of the story. Or it would have been, if it wasn't for the interferance of some-thing much worse than a hundred wild horses... it was worse than a thousand, a million horses in Swaines way. Much, much worse.
As Swaine stepped over the desert sand, his familiar dutifully stepping after him, did the man appear.. this dangerous man, whom was hardly any man at all.
"So.." A dark scary voice almost whispered, yet the voice cut directly into Swaines ear as a knife cutting through all other sounds. "The prince of swines has decided to return. Greetings, Porcopine Prince."
Gascon gasped as he wide-eyed turned around, and was faced with a scary looking man, the man was covered in a dark cloak, yet his red hair fell down his face, it looked like he was almost floating, inches above the sand.
"Who the heck are you supposed to be!?" Swaine exclaimed taking a step backwards.
"You may call me.. Shadar.." The man spoke, in his hoarsh whispering voice, that almost became one with the wind as he spoke, and yet his words were so clear.. "People call me the dark Djin."
Swaines eyes widened.. Shadar, no one stood any chance against Shadar! Not even people who had magic, and Swaine had none, he was doomed! Shaking he stepped backwards, and almost tripped. "What.. What are such a big shot doing here in the de-desert? And speaking to a lowly thief as I?" he asked in a stammer, sweat falling from his face.
"Thief?" Shadar asked. "You really think poor disguises can throw the Dark Djin off the trail? I know exactly who you are. Prince Gascon."
At that Swaines eyes widened as he stumbled down on the ground. "I.. I don't know what you are talking about!" he told. "Me a prince? Please! That's ridicules. Hehe." He swallowed nervously. "A good laugh indeed."
"It was foolish of you to decide to return, prince of swines, that would potentially mess up my plans. I can't have that." Shadar spoke in his crispy voice.
That made Swaines eyes widen as realisation dawned upon him. "So some-thing is the matter with Hamelin, and.. and YOU!" Swaine exclaimed as he pointed at Shadar. "You're behind it! What the heck did you do to Marcassin?" he shouted, for a minor second all of his former fear vanished, when his brother was concerned, every-thing else suddenly got second priority, how-ever that small spurt of bravery was only short lived as the Dark djin spoke again.
"You'll see soon enough for yourself. You will share his faith." Shadar spoke, and Swaines eyes widened as he felt any blood leaving his face, and his heart beating louder than a giant drum, sweat running down his back and his entire body shaking in fear, for he was alone against this djin whom no one could stand up to, not even the former great sages united, and he was just a powerless thief!
There was nothing for it! He had to escape! Some-how! No matter how stupid it was! He had to! So he turned, and rolled down the sandcliff, then summersaulted up on his legs, before he started to run.
Shadar only duly looking after him. "So you try to run? How foolish of you." He sighed, before he vanished from the spot.
And then appeared again, right in front of Swaine.
"ARGH!" Swaine yelled falling down in the sand, Shadar slowly bowing over him. "No.. No.. Please!" Swaine begged, scrambling back down in the sand. "Leave me alone! St-STOP!" he yelled. "Some-body please help me!" he squirmed terrified as Shadards withered slender hand reached over his chest.
"Now then, which piece should I take?" Shadar questioned. "You are disguising yourself as a thief, are you not?" he asked looking at the wide-eyed, and obviously terriefied Swaine. "Well then, no one will think any-thing odd about a thief with no restraint will they?" he asked. "I'll make you into a true thief now. One who can't even help himself, with no morals at all. Every-thing but your next little theft, will pale in your mind.. it'll be like an addiction to abhor, every-thing else will matter less, if at all. And people will only be able to see you like that, that loathsome thief you want to appear as. It'll be what you'll become! As you wished!" He stated, and then his hand launched right into Swaines chest, disappearing into his chest as if Swaine himself was nothing but a hologram.
But he could feel it! Feel this cold withered hand grabbing his heart. "Sto.. STOP IT!" Swaine screamed. "STOP!"
And then Shadar took out his hand, now holding a glowing bit of light, that was the last thing Swaine even saw, before he passed out, and every-thing turned to darkness around him.
As he awoke again, he felt.. different some-how, his entire body was itching, his fingers stifling. There was some-thing missing.. some-thing he needed to have back! He felt that void, he needed to fill it!
But with what? He needed some-thing... things maybe. The moment he sat his eyes on a travelers old rusty pincher, Swaine just needed to have it! maybe that was the thing he needed, if only he could touch it! Have it! so he took it.. but the old rusty pincher didn't help so Swaine threw it away as his eyes were immediatly attracted to an old travel bag, maybe if he got that bag, every-thing would be good and better! He would feel better, he just had to.. I HAD TO HAVE IT! but as he got his hands on that.. he was left dissapointed again, like with the ugly painting of a fat old lady, the crystal chandelier and the horseshoe.. when Swaine saw the things, he knew that he desperately needed to have them, but the moment he held them, it did nothing for him nor that feeling... that feeling.. some-thing was wrong, some-thing was missing.. but what? WHAT?!
It was impossible for Swaine to tell how much time went past like that, time did not matter to him, what week it was, year or month, he didn't care! When Swaine was awake, all he could think about was his next theft, the next item he wanted to touch, hold and call his own. He saw some-thing in front of him, and he wanted it! Like a burning desire there was no fighting against, nothing else than what-ever useless item he saw in front of him mattered to him at those moments.
But as he slept, all he could feel was his guilt as the nightmares washed over him and he was forced to face himself, it was by night time, that that nightmare found him, and delighted lashed right into his heart, a perfect victim for consumption! The nightmare had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and grew happily as Swaine kept him well fed with his despair doing those dark hours on the night, the hours where he dreamed, where he remembered if only very vaguely, who he actually was, and what he was neglecting.
That was until Oliver came, and now finally, a few years later than anticipated, Swaine was on his way, finally.
He remembered it, Swaine remembered it, suddenly holding that picture in his hand, a picture of a boy with long smooth black hair and slightly nervous blue eyes, suddenly as Swaine looked at the picture some-thing inside of him was rebelling. There was some-thing he had failed at! Some-thing he had failed to do! This prince on the picture... What? And now those small kids in front of him wanted the picture back?
Swaine wouldn't let them have it! They had no right! for the first time in his long time stealing, Swaine had found an item that still spoke to him after he had stolen it! It was his! He wanted it! He wanted to have it and keep it!... But why? Usually he had no trouble letting go of things ones he had them, but this, he wanted it! This meant some-thing to him! But what? What? This was important! The most important thing in his life! So why did it hurt so much? It hurt! Thoughts swirled around Swaine like that, like a big whirlstorm, anger and frustrations, hate, every-thing, and as they whirlstorm whirled up, it took physical form inside of him, Swaine could feel it all whirling together until it became some-thing to big and painful for his poor body! And then it started, started to demand its way out, through his mouth, eyes, skin, chest, heart.. every-where. "Arh.. ARHH!" Swaine gasped as the overwhelming pain took a whole of him, demanded its way out and at last he screamed as it all came out, and took his life force with it. "AAAARGHHHHHHH!"
He barely remembered waking after it, barely remebered what had happened, it was all such a fus, the physical pain was gone but none of the feelings and emotions that had come with it. Then suddenly, that young boy with his mop of red-brown hair stood in front of him with wide open eyes.
Instictly Swaine stepped away from him, holding the picture close, this boy would not have this picture! It was his! He wanted it! He would hold unto it and bite any-one who tried to take it if he had to! No one could take it! No one! he wouldn't let them! It was to important! "Sta.. Stay away." he gasped frightened over this boys intentions. "Don't touch me! Don't!"
And then, the boy lifted his hand, and a little light flew from his locket, wide-eyed Swaine looked at the light, before suddenly, it zoomed straight towards him, and flew straight into his chest.
And as it did, Swaine gasped for air, as if he had just broken the surface of the worlds longest dive, it felt like a bucket of cold water having poured over him, clearing his mind, suddenly his eyes and head zoomed sharp. As if the entire world around him had merely been fuzzy pictures before, wide-eyed Swaine looked around. "What.. What happened?" he asked as he stumbled a bit around, feeling quite dizzy, then he looked at the picture in his hand again and blinked. Marcassin.. He remembered now, this was Marcassin, his only brother Marcassin, little sir holiness.. Whom he had promised to help when he needed it. Just an old picture though, the real one was at Hamelin... Or at least.. that was where he ought to be.
"Can we have the picture back now sir?" The little boy with the locket asked.
Swaine glanced up from the picture and then at the boy, blinking stunned. Why did he have to do with Marcassin? But well, hm.. If the boy wished to go see Marcassin, with this very ship... Swaine needed that transportation! And he needed it right away, he didn't care what it took, he was all-ready way to late! Perhaps if he played his cards correctly... First thing first though, find out just what the heck these two children and that odd looking creature wanted with Marcassin! He would make them confess, even if he had to trick the answers right out of them, which was his usual approach and straight what he went for now. "Oh this? Of pretty boy?" he asked holding up the picture. "Why? What do you need it for?"
And things had turned out well after it, now Swaine was here, on the ship towards to Hamelin! Finally! But still then, he had a lot of doubts! If Marcassin was helpless, an amazing sage, then what could he hope to accomplish? Especially now, when he was so damn late, maybe five years ago it wouldn't have been so bad.. but now? Now? This was a stupid journey and Swaine was being an idiot for going on it at all. But he couldn't help himself, there was no helping it at all.
Still, worry did fill up Swaine and there was nothing he could do to stop it.. how he hoped that it was all a hoax and Marcassin was all-right, then he could leave.
Leave it all behind again, let Oliver, Esther and Mr. Drippy continue their own journey and him his own.
There was certain rules when it came to princes.
They would have to be proud, honest, brave and loyal. Serve others rather than themselves, stand proud for all that was good and be an inspiration to the people around him.
There was certain rules, Swaine didn't apply to any of them, not one single little one.
Swaine was no prince.. And that was very fortunate for the world around him! It was fortunate for every-one!
"Swaine…"
"Huh.." Swaine blinked, turning his head, looking at the young boy whom had been talking to him, that Oliver.. the chosen one, the pure hearted one. Whom had just been handed over all of these amazing gifts, all for nothing, and yet Swaine couldn't really hate the boy for it, he was to god damn nice for his own good.
Swaine was standing on the railing of their ship, they had just left fairy-grow and was no on their way, the last bit to Hogtown, over half way there all-ready. "What is it kiddo?" he then asked Oliver.
"Oh." Oliver swallowed. "I just, wanted to say thanks." He told.
Swaine lifted an eye-brown, his question being quite obvious from that face-expresion alone.. Why exactly? Why say thanks?
"You didn't have to go with us to the fairy-grow or fight with us at all." Oliver commented. "All you promised to do was to show us the way to the Sage, that's why you are sailing with us isn't it?" he asked. "It's really nice of you, you would help any-way, I think you're a pretty good guy after-all."
Swaine smirked a little amused. "You really are pure hearted aren't you?" he asked. "Not one hint of resentment where there should have been." He commented, poking at Olivers chest. "Or any sense of judgement, you're just blindly trusting that I'll take you to the sage, just because I said I would, aren't you?" he asked.
"Well, wont you?" Oliver asked in a wide eyed blink.
"Of course I will." Swaine exhaled. "But only because I got some business with him to." He muttered. Turning to the ocean, resting his arms on the railing.
"What business?" Oliver asked.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to poke your nose where it doesn't belong?" Swaine then asked in a slight snort.
"Oh.. yeah I suppose." Oliver hesitated. "Sorry."
Swaine merely rolled his eyes and then he snorted.
"Swaine…" Oliver then spoke quietly.
"What?" Swaine asked in a deeply exhale.
"You seem really sad." Oliver then admitted making Swaine blink, then turned surprised to Oliver looking at him. "Really, really sad I mean." Oliver muttered. "I thought I was sad, but with you, it's like a heavy dark cloud floating over you, that wont ever go away. It's almost like.. Despair." He told. "Like a weight on top of your shoulders that forces you down, I think that's why you're also walking and standing so weird, it's that weight, you carried it around for so long.. And your heart, it's.."
"Stop it!" Swaine demanded, in a surprisingly sharp tone, the truth was, Oliver was describing exactly how Swaine felt, he could recognise each and every word, but he did not want to hear it! Not for a second! He was fine! He was happy! Happy and free! Free from the burdens of being a sages oldest son without having any magic! "Stop." He hissed again pressing his hands against his ears squinting his eyes. "I don't want to hear it! I'm fine! Fine I tell you!"
"Swaine I'm sorry!" Oliver exclaimed. "I didn't mean to upset you! I just.. Wanted you to know, if there is any-thing I can do to help, or."
"If you want to help, just.. Don't ask any more questions." Swaine asked rubbing his eyes. "Just.. Don't."
"Okay." Oliver then whispered. "You got it, though.. You might want to know, your heart is burdened, and there's a wall you build for some reason, I guess people do that to protect themselves. But it's not broken, so that's pretty good right?" he asked.
"What's the difference?" Swaine muttered annoyed.
"Every-thing." Oliver told. "Every-thing is the difference! And not only that! I know how to heal broken hearts!" he grinned happily. "I'm sure we can make your heart lighter to! We just need to figure out how."
Swaine rolled his eyes. "I don't want my heart to become lighter, my heart is just fine how it is." He stated in a short snort. "Now leave me alone." He asked in a mutter.
"Sure." Oliver nodded. "Thanks again." He bowed his head running back, where Esther was standing with Mr. Drippy.
"Shesh, what a spoil sport." Esther muttered. "Does he have any good qualities, at all?" she asked.
"His heart was broken so bad that a nightmare could crawl right into it and latch on mun." Mr. Drippy reminded Esther. "Who's to know what happened to let things get that bad." He exhaled deeply.
"Esther it's no problem." Oliver told. "He's a good guy."
"How do you know that Oliver?" Esther asked. "You all-ready know he's a liar and a thief, those are facts, he even admits it! And he keeps every-thing a secret, you only do that if you have an awful lot to hide!"
"I just know he is." Oliver stated. "You'll see for yourself soon enough." He then told in a smile. "Trust me."
And Esther exhaled deeply. "You I trust Oliver, just not.." and then she sighed. "Well, you're the chosen one I guess, so you decide."
"Thank you Esther." Oliver nodded in a light smile. "And don't worry, I think every-thing is going to be fine." He told.