Disclaimer: I do not know how to properly do a disclaimer, so I shall try.
The Slayers are property of some other beings. The story of Swan Lake
belongs to an author, who I do not know. According to my friend
Diablitangel some of the characters may be OOC. (Which I believe means "Out
Of Character." However, Diablitangel refuses to answer me, and replies,
"Sore wa Himitsi Desu." I hope it doesn't mean anything bad, does anyone
know Japanese?)
The castle was quiet that night. The swans were quiet at least. Slyphiel sighed to herself, for she really disliked the fact her father kept people as pets. The newest one was just being taken in. "Unhand me right now! Do you know just whom you are so violently taking captive?" Demanded a woman whose eyes flashed sapphire in anger. "I have no knowledge of who you are nor do I care, a woman who has been unfaithful to the vows that she pledged must not escape her fate," said a man with a sinuous voice. "I have not broken any vows," she hissed, "and I think it cruel that you would do this to people, living beings!" The man rubbed his temples. "I'm doing this for the good of all. Women who are fickle should be punished." The blonde woman's eyes snapped, "for the perfidy of one woman all must pay?" she demanded. The man's eyes clouded over, "the world ended when she left, there was no reason, only a broken vow and hurt honor." "Why take revenge on the innocent?" "My dear, you are not innocent." He held a hand up stalling any further conversation. A slow chant began and a light grew in his hand, "A woman never faithful, who remembers not her vow, will suffer this doom and her head and neck shall bow, to be true to this shape of swan during the day but then, at night to no-one's delight shall she become a woman once again." The light lifted and spread over the woman who accepted her fate calmly. The last rays of the moon fell over her and as dawn broke, she shimmered into the form of a swan. Her head was raised and she glanced at the man as if he weren't worth anything, then glided out of the room with the grace only a swan could posses. "Father," choked out Slyphiel. The man turned, "ah, daughter I would not watch the transformations; they are painful for you." "I cannot watch you are too cruel, and that one just now, what was her crime, she was convinced she had done no wrong. Why should she suffer?" "That was Filia Ul Copt, daughter. She has committed a crime, a crime against the gods; I only do their will to bring about the sinner's punishment." His daughter looked on him in horror, and then fled. The man looked at a portrait, and sighed. On the day his daughter was born he found it was not his child. He loved her mother, and the betrayal of his trust still hurt. He had been cut deeply. He ran a hand over his thinning hair, and sighed, would he ever be free to feel again? He wished he could love his daughter, he had prayed at night that he might one day be free to do so. Her mother. her mother stood in the way of that; her betrayal of his trust and the reminder that his daughter was not truly his. It hurt. And that hurt couldn't be fixed. He straightened his drooping posture. Having been a man of faith after the betrayal of his wife, and her flight, he became a man of the cloth. He bowed to the picture of his god and prayed for what he always had, the ability to live, the ability to trust, and the faith that he had in the gods to grow stronger. He only wished it hadn't turned out that was, turned out this way. He closed his eyes in his chanting and saw her mother's face.
"Saichuro, she." Ailea faltered, "she is not ours." "What do you mean? She is our daughter is she not?" "Saichuro. she is not your daughter, though mine by blood, she is the daughter of another." "Has one of my men taken you by force then?" "No, I. I cannot love you, you are half again my age, please, understand." "Understand? I believe I understand too well, this," he gestured toward the roughly made cradle, "child is not born of our love Ailea, I see too clearly now. You do not love me." "I do love you." "Not the way I wish you would." Saichuro said in a voice tinged with sorrow. She stared at him, frozen like a fish that sees a slow death on land, gasping. "Ailea." he cried full of sorrow. She fled.
The chanting and slow tears coursing down his face brought him back to the present. Also, as he came out of his trance, he remembered that he had not eaten for many hours. Slowly he rose from his kneeling, and made his way to the kitchen. Her mother had been a great mage, and so obviously had the father. He looked at Slyphiel. She was growing in power, but watching the transformation of the girls to swans made her refuse to have anything to do with magic, or vows. He had wanted her to become a priestess, to worship at a shrine, to become a powerful assistant to the gods. She had become a disappointment. He shook his head. The memories of her mother made the thought of her refusing his lifestyle harder. He breathed in again, and made it to the kitchen. "Father, I have made a light dinner, I know you do not like to eat much after a casting." "Thank you daughter, it smells wonderful." Then he smiled, "Truthfully, it does."
They sat down to a light meal, and she looked out the window with sadness. A beautiful flock of swans was there. She calmly ate another bite of her meal, and tried to swallow. The swans had quieted with the arrival of the new swan, this one's bearing was regal, and she bore herself gracefully. Her very presence quieted the other swans. That was cold comfort. At least, they seemed a little more resigned to their fate. Slyphiel closed her eyes, and prayed to the gods she wasn't sure were there, to save the souls of the poor girls. She hoped that the gods could sway her father into a more receptive mood. She hoped they would move him to pity.
The castle was quiet that night. The swans were quiet at least. Slyphiel sighed to herself, for she really disliked the fact her father kept people as pets. The newest one was just being taken in. "Unhand me right now! Do you know just whom you are so violently taking captive?" Demanded a woman whose eyes flashed sapphire in anger. "I have no knowledge of who you are nor do I care, a woman who has been unfaithful to the vows that she pledged must not escape her fate," said a man with a sinuous voice. "I have not broken any vows," she hissed, "and I think it cruel that you would do this to people, living beings!" The man rubbed his temples. "I'm doing this for the good of all. Women who are fickle should be punished." The blonde woman's eyes snapped, "for the perfidy of one woman all must pay?" she demanded. The man's eyes clouded over, "the world ended when she left, there was no reason, only a broken vow and hurt honor." "Why take revenge on the innocent?" "My dear, you are not innocent." He held a hand up stalling any further conversation. A slow chant began and a light grew in his hand, "A woman never faithful, who remembers not her vow, will suffer this doom and her head and neck shall bow, to be true to this shape of swan during the day but then, at night to no-one's delight shall she become a woman once again." The light lifted and spread over the woman who accepted her fate calmly. The last rays of the moon fell over her and as dawn broke, she shimmered into the form of a swan. Her head was raised and she glanced at the man as if he weren't worth anything, then glided out of the room with the grace only a swan could posses. "Father," choked out Slyphiel. The man turned, "ah, daughter I would not watch the transformations; they are painful for you." "I cannot watch you are too cruel, and that one just now, what was her crime, she was convinced she had done no wrong. Why should she suffer?" "That was Filia Ul Copt, daughter. She has committed a crime, a crime against the gods; I only do their will to bring about the sinner's punishment." His daughter looked on him in horror, and then fled. The man looked at a portrait, and sighed. On the day his daughter was born he found it was not his child. He loved her mother, and the betrayal of his trust still hurt. He had been cut deeply. He ran a hand over his thinning hair, and sighed, would he ever be free to feel again? He wished he could love his daughter, he had prayed at night that he might one day be free to do so. Her mother. her mother stood in the way of that; her betrayal of his trust and the reminder that his daughter was not truly his. It hurt. And that hurt couldn't be fixed. He straightened his drooping posture. Having been a man of faith after the betrayal of his wife, and her flight, he became a man of the cloth. He bowed to the picture of his god and prayed for what he always had, the ability to live, the ability to trust, and the faith that he had in the gods to grow stronger. He only wished it hadn't turned out that was, turned out this way. He closed his eyes in his chanting and saw her mother's face.
"Saichuro, she." Ailea faltered, "she is not ours." "What do you mean? She is our daughter is she not?" "Saichuro. she is not your daughter, though mine by blood, she is the daughter of another." "Has one of my men taken you by force then?" "No, I. I cannot love you, you are half again my age, please, understand." "Understand? I believe I understand too well, this," he gestured toward the roughly made cradle, "child is not born of our love Ailea, I see too clearly now. You do not love me." "I do love you." "Not the way I wish you would." Saichuro said in a voice tinged with sorrow. She stared at him, frozen like a fish that sees a slow death on land, gasping. "Ailea." he cried full of sorrow. She fled.
The chanting and slow tears coursing down his face brought him back to the present. Also, as he came out of his trance, he remembered that he had not eaten for many hours. Slowly he rose from his kneeling, and made his way to the kitchen. Her mother had been a great mage, and so obviously had the father. He looked at Slyphiel. She was growing in power, but watching the transformation of the girls to swans made her refuse to have anything to do with magic, or vows. He had wanted her to become a priestess, to worship at a shrine, to become a powerful assistant to the gods. She had become a disappointment. He shook his head. The memories of her mother made the thought of her refusing his lifestyle harder. He breathed in again, and made it to the kitchen. "Father, I have made a light dinner, I know you do not like to eat much after a casting." "Thank you daughter, it smells wonderful." Then he smiled, "Truthfully, it does."
They sat down to a light meal, and she looked out the window with sadness. A beautiful flock of swans was there. She calmly ate another bite of her meal, and tried to swallow. The swans had quieted with the arrival of the new swan, this one's bearing was regal, and she bore herself gracefully. Her very presence quieted the other swans. That was cold comfort. At least, they seemed a little more resigned to their fate. Slyphiel closed her eyes, and prayed to the gods she wasn't sure were there, to save the souls of the poor girls. She hoped that the gods could sway her father into a more receptive mood. She hoped they would move him to pity.