a/n: This has been something I've been working on since last year, and the goal was to start the third chapter before posting the first part. However, I'm a bit antsy and I've decided to post this now before OUAT gets even more crazier. I have stopped watching the show but the potential for Phillip/Aurora is just too much, which is what inspired me to write this. This is also dedicated to my little sister, who has urged me to write her favorite couple. Hopefully, I'll be able to get the next chapter out soon.
extra notes: basically a Stardust AU where we jump between scenes and you'll find some ambiguity in between. look out for familiar characters from the show being woven in this story line. reviews are greatly appreciated!
disclaimer: obviously, i don't own OUAT or else it would've been totally different, nor do i own the wonderful story of Stardust or any other tale I've chosen to borrow from.
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act one
(i. under the same sun)
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the dreams
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The lovers dance across the meadow beneath the dark starless night sky.
His hand is wrapped around her waist, resting on her back, and her hand is placed on his shoulder. He can feel her flutter before him, when their fingers come together, with their hands intertwined. His hand in hers and hers in his, allow the couple with two different hearts to beat together as one.
They move effortlessly as one entity. Both of them swaying to the song of nightingales and owls, with the faint hum of summer cicadas and the chitter of crickets chirping in the background. Joining the music, fireflies begin to surround them and glow luminously in the dark. He holds her close to him, and they both go for a leap. Soaring across the sky and landing brilliantly.
He withdraws his hand from her back and spins her around. She twirls and twirls, radiating in the night, like the prominent north star twinkling and dancing in the sky to guide the sailors home.
He hears metal clink and looks up to see mischief twinkle in his partner's eyes. She retracts her hand from his, hiding it behind her back, while the other waves a thin saber in the air.
The grin on his face is big, and he draws out his own rapier from its sheath, accepting her challenge to continue with the dance of steel.
She lunges first, and he jumps back gracefully. He feigns a jab at her right side, and she mirrors his actions with his left. He strikes towards her chest, where she's quick to her defense, hitting his sword. Then he slinks his rapier to the left, and her saber blocks it, and so he swings the thin blade to his right. Her saber fends it off again. So the swords clink together for a while longer. With their feet moving back and forth, the pair tries to dodge each other's blows.
The fireflies have flown away from the challenging couple, shining brightly up in the sky, where they can't be harmed. They watch the lovers from above and flutter about crazily. The other nightly creatures still sing along with the rhythm of the swords, and the pair continues with their fencing.
The prince slowly moves away from his earlier position, moving in to her side. He continues to sway his sword back and forth at her blade, proceeding carefully not to harm her. He's finally close enough to her that he grabs her from the back by surprise.
She's in for a dip, tilted in his arms. Her eyes flutter up at him before it fixate towards something in the far distance. Her whole demeanor shifts into something resembling fear, and her saber is pointed up, directed towards the thing lurking behind him. "Save me," she whispers and then falls limp in his arms.
He hears the clatter of her sword, and then his heart beats rapidly, in a short panicked frenzy. She weighs him down, and he's afraid he can't support her anymore. He tries to continue hoisting her up though, but it's almost futile. He glances down forlornly, causing his eyes to trail down to her hair, where it flows endlessly into the lake.
In the lake, her hair glistens beautifully. He revels at the simple beauty of the lake that reminds him of the pale girl in his arms. However, he stiffens up when he sees the reflection of the large beast behind setting the forest on fire.
The sky is engulfed in bright orange flames and a pulsating, sweltering heat. It overpowers the more temperate climate of the meadow and swallows up everything, incinerating the forests to ash.
He wakes up with a jolt.
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the request
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"My darling child, promise me."
"I promise, mother," the sun-kissed child whispers. She reassures her mother by taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Her father frowns and looks at his daughter squarely in the eye. "Princess, this is no joking matter. It is a simple request."
"I know, father," the princess says defiantly. "I won't do it again, I swear."
"No, you don't. There is treason amongst these walls, and it is a looming threat to your fragile well being. If you dare defy me and wander around the kingdom on your own any longer, the damage done would be irreparable. Can you imagine what could possibly transpire in those little trivial venturing of yours?"
The princess' lips quirk downward and part to protest, "Father, I—"
"'Rora." The kingly voice warned her. The sound of her name reverberates through the room. "Please. Your well being is essential to this kingdom, and one day this kingdom shall be yours to rule." He watches as the princess recoils at his words, her head slightly bent down away from his gaze. "The fate of the kingdom does not lie only in my hands, but in yours too. And I am not asking much of you, Aurora. I just simply request it of you to cease your whimsical wanderings."
Her head remains downcast, and her eyes nearly threaten to rise to meet the king's. It instead falls to view the knights flocked by the door, bowing their steel heads, sworn to their duty. Every word is heard by them but ignored to create the illusion of privacy. Shame and embarrassment flood through the princess, reddening the tips of her ears. Her voice grows ready to reply with another flippant, I know, when suddenly the girl's ill-mannered attempts are quickly silenced by the sound of the queen.
"Darling child, your father is right. The fairies are out there...they can be anywhere, and we are powerless against them. Please do as your father, the king says." her mother says soothingly, dissipating the young princess' fiery temper.
"Fine," the sun-kissed child drawls defeated, "I promise to fulfill your request, your grace." She picks up the ends of her skirts, and dips down into a curtsy before turning away from her father.
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In her chambers, she forcefully pushes apart the curtains to reveal the landscape outside her window. A forlorn sigh falls from her lips at the sight of the citizens bustling through the streets. She longs to run into the vast green forests that intersects the arid, dry desert of the capital, but in her current situation, her desires cannot be fulfilled. She is confined in the walls of the castle for all of eternity until the danger clears.But how long will it take before that time finally comes?
Her thoughts are interrupted by a shuffling noise, and so she slowly stumbles away from the window in a cautious manner.
"Princess," a feminine octave filters into the room, followed by fingertips appearing on the window pane.
Panicking, the sun-kissed child whips her head around, scanning furiously for a weapon to defend herself with. She hastily picks up a brush from the ground and clutches it tightly in her hand. She positions it into a more threatening stance when the hands on the window sill prop up to reveal the face of the intruder.
"Who—who are you?" The princess queries, trying her best not to quake in fright. Her eyes roam over the intruder; an older lady in a dark cloak with urgency coated in her large murky eyes.
"A warning," the lady ominously states as she climbs into the room. There's more to say, but the stranger hesitates when her eyes sweep over the brush clutched in the princesses' hand. Her eyes dance with mirth for a split second before it disperses back into something more serious. "I've come as a warning to warn you that the castle has been under attack. So you should leave for your own safety."
"Wait, what?" The princess frowns, eyebrows furrowed. "Who are we being attacked by?"
A dead silence drops into the room. A beat, then two, and on the third, the princess' heart staggers. "A familiar adversary in the form of three..."
Her eyes begin to water in fear and sadness and despair at the stranger's words. "No! No! My birthday isn't until next week, the curse...and them...They are not supposed to come until then!" the sun princess screeches, hurling the brush across the room and plopping down to the floor, forming a pool of cloth huddled at her feet.
"You need to go, Princess Aurora. There's not much time left."
The little princess vehemently shakes her head, "No. Not without my mother and father. I can't leave them."
"You must! It would be want they want," the lady returns. "It would be your father's request."
The princess of the sands freezes at the last word. She thinks she understands now. Her parents were trying to warn her. With this new information, she makes up her mind without a second thought and flees outside the door and into the tunnels of the castle's secret passageway.
The sun-kissed child wipes away her tears and runs away into the sea of people. The curious princess leaves behind her home, her family, and her curse. She got her wish. She is free.
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the initiation
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The blood falls from his hand freely into the chalice full of water. The dark red droplets mix quickly, dissipating the clear liquid with a frenzy of reds.
He tilts his hand away from the chalice and keeps the blood subsided in the cut implanted on his palm. As the priest recites his sermon over the smallest of flames that boils the contents of the chalice, he motions for the monarch to come closer. The holy man pours the liquid remains of the chalice into the goblet. He then signals the young monarch to do his share. The royal heir places his blood-soaked hand into the goblet and feels his insides churn with fervor.
His eyes burned with a blinding light. He could only make out a series of vignettes of his impending quest. A star, a creek, a maiden flooded his line of sight. It was followed by the wrath of a few wicked fairies, the face of a wary traveler, and the threat of a looming danger that ended with a glowing golden pendant. It struck the now overwhelmed princeling so hard, that he nearly stumbled back and collided with the priest.
"What did you see, boy?"
The boy bristled at the sudden sound and harsh light welcoming him back to the bitter reality. He shook off his initial excitement and glanced at the other man seated in the room, crowned in all his glory. He stared past the superior power in a trance and answered the holy man's question from what he could remember. "A star...the fairies..."
"But what is it that you are after?" thundered a regal voice.
If the prince had seen the man's face, — if his sanguine orbs hadn't traveled across the man's intense gaze, — he would've seen the concern crinkled in the elder's ageless eyes at the insinuation of the wicked fairies. The concern was meant for the boy and the concern was meant for the kingdom. However, the boy missed this sentiment. He snapped at the thunderous voice intercepting his query, with his too kind and innocent eyes only returning to find the hardened gaze of the king.
"The pendant," the prince started, his eyes locked on his father's. "I am to find the pendant of death."
Wordlessly, the man stood up with a lingering stare at the boy, and then he swiftly turned and walked out of the chapel.
The princeling remained with the priest, who was emptying the goblet of its contents. The royal boy watches emptily, with a question on his mind. "What of this star and the fairies?"
The priest slowly turns away from his work and faces the boy. "Stars, falling stars are a sign of luck. They are the essence of hope and are beings of the phenomenal. With the vision of one, crossing paths with this star will definitely ensure your chances of surviving the quest. It will raise the stakes for you and your enemies and the severity of your journey. So, don't be as stupid as to pass the opportunity, boy. Seize the star once you find it, for it will be the epitome of hope in a time of peril. And your kingdom will definitely need it for peril shall always fall."
The prince takes this in and nods, "Okay. So, the star is the key to the pendant of death, which makes it essential that I find it."
"Exactly. The star will lead you to the pendant, and with capturing the star and bringing it home, you will do your father proud," the priest concludes. The boy's eyes twinkle brightly and then take on a darker shade. He gulps nervously as he treads on to the next important topic he recalls. "And the fairies? They're going to be a threat to my life, aren't they?"
"I fear so, your majesty."
The boy maintains a straight face, blocking all the emotions from showing on his face. With this guarded expression, he promptly makes his way towards the door. "I better make preparations," he murmurs silently on his way out.
"May the gods have mercy," the priest prays after the princeling boy, as his words ascend into the air.
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the chivalrous
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Prince Phillip takes a quick glance back to his home. He can see his father's stern frame with his dark cobalt eyes regarding him with expectancy as he sends Phillip off away on his journey.
There is no staff out from the estate here to greet the young lad, offering him any sort of condolences, optimism, or farewells. Phillip feels disappointed that no one was willing to visit him before he leaves, but he knows that if one were to try to offer him any form of sentiment, his father would very well condemn the defying person to eternal poverty.
For a long time, Phillip wished for one of his brothers to return to retrieve the throne before it was his turn to reign. Phillip had never starved for the throne like those who preceded him. He cared more for fighting and defending his country, rather than just idly sitting by and throwing demands at people acting under false pretenses, when he could be the one taking action with his fellow citizens. However, his hopes were met with disappointment as he grew to be of age for the initiation quest that had started to be shaped and planned the year prior. It was decreed that whoever returned alive with the quest completed shall be the one who succeeded and inherits King Hubert's throne, which was originally meant for the eldest prince, who never returned from the quest.
At the age of eleven, Phillip watched his eldest brother hobble off on a quest to retrieve the feather of a phoenix to prove his worthiness of a king fit to rule the kingdom. Easily, this trip was rivaled by the second eldest prince, believing that he was his father's favorite son, therefore the kingdom shall fall into his hands in the impending months. The king denied the boy's claim altogether, and that enraged the boy second to the throne. He sought out the quest himself and met up with the eldest brother. It was said that he handed the eldest prince a canteen of water as they traveled the hot, sunny lands. The older boy passed out and died from the poison laced in his drink. His body was found by a traveler passing through. The other boy was still off completing the quest, and no one ever saw him again in years.
The third boy to the throne had been sent on his quest roughly two years ago, when he was around Phillip's current age. His quest had been to search for the cosmic twinkle that bewitched the woods, and after venturing through those woods, he hadn't returned since. Rumours fled about, claiming that the third boy had been abducted by the mystical being lurking in the woods, so the people presumed the royal boy as dead. With all these failed journeys, the king hardened into a more demanding figure as he grew disappointed with his sons. To redeem the reputation of the monarchs of the kingdom, the king hastily shaped his immediate children up for slaughter, one by one, in order to find a suitable successor for the throne. His faith in the remaining princes were very slim, but he will not accept any more humiliation through slacking off or sheer wiles of fear or any other irrational weaknesses. Thus, hospitality before the quest is denied from Phillip. The king believes the support softens and weakens the princes, therefore he forbids it.
Tensing up beneath the young prince, his steed stiffens in trepidation. The notion tears Prince Phillip away from his reverie, and he gives his horse all of his attention. From the corners of his eyes, he can see that they're on the main road, several miles away from the kingdom, and heading towards the main trading ports. Phillip's horse sniffs and huffs in suspicion at the quick rustling of the trees, and the young prince softly runs his fingers through the steed's rich silver mane, to calm her nerves.
He tugs on the reigns after a couple minutes with his other hand, trying to get the steed to move forward, but she stubbornly refuses. He sighs and tries again. The horse still does not budge.
"What's the matter?" he questions.
The mare does not reply, but her ears perk up in gesture.
Phillip frowns, merely confused, and repositions his hand onto the hilt of his sword.
"Don't you dare, son." hisses a rough, scratchy voice, followed by the sharp edge of steel pressed against the young prince's throat. The royal fidgets slightly to see men in scraps of dark ragged clothing surround him. Bandits. What rotten luck.
"You're looking for money?" Phillip starts, nonchalantly. Swallowing up his hope and fear and nervousness, he gestures to his get-up and his light satchel, hanging limply beside the steed. "I don't got a lot on me," he asserts, feigning the voice of a semi-educated commoner. "My father's a squire to a lord of a large estate while I'm just a lonesome traveler who hunts things," he lies easily, rambling incessantly, while he tries to figure out a way to escape. "I can take you to my father's home, if you'd like, but let me assure you, gentlemen, it's a very long journey from here."
A small smile creeps up onto the faces of the vagabonds at being called gentlemen. The leader of the crew chuckles darkly with his grip on the blade tighter than before, yet unmoving. None of the men are undeterred by Phillip's offering, though. "No need for all that, boy. We're in no need for your worthless pennies. We're in need of transport; we want your horse."
"My horse?" Phillip looks shocked, but he shakes his head furiously. "No! She's my horse, you can't take her. I need her!"
"Ah, but son, I wasn't asking for your permission." The blade inches closer to his skin, drawing blood, and his steed neighs loudly through the tension. Phillip winces at the graze and nervously glances around at the bandits surrounding him. One of them returns his glance with a humorous glint in his eye, while two others converse with each other and remain alert, along with another person tampering around with a round instrument, and another idly using his sword to draw circles in the dirt. "Fine! Fine! If you need her that much, then I guess I could strike you a deal," Phillip relents with a plan in mind.
The leader scoffs, removing the blade from Phillip's throat, and moves to look at him, face to face, "A deal?"
"Yeah," he shrugs, "My horse, for a compass."
The man sneers, "What would you need with a thief's broken compass?" The bandit presents the boy with a small box and flips open the thick black case. Inside lay a long deep scratch cracked amongst the glass, but the needle remains intact, faithfully pointing north.
"I'm a traveler," Phillip reasons, "and a compass points to the stars, and stars lead lonesome travelers to their destination."
He regards the vagabond closely as the man contemplates and calculates. "Alright, boy, here." The leader of the bandits hands over the compass to Phillip, and Phillip extends his hand to take the instrument, suddenly gripping the man's hand, firmly and tightly. He can hear the strong bones of the man crack, so Phillip proceeds to twist it swiftly, earning a strained grunt from him. "Don't you dare threaten me again, old man," he murmurs, before releasing the older man out of his painful grasp. The ends of his lips curl up mockingly when he blatantly speaks up, loudly and clearly for everyone to hear. "Such a pleasure doing business with you all, I shall bid you all adieu."
Phillip slips off of the mare with ease and retrieves his belongings off of the horse. He slings his things across his shoulders, slightly crouching down, afterwards, to pet his mare behind the ears. "I'll come back for you," he whispers, and then steps away. He withdraws his saber, quickly sensing the men around him tense up. Phillip simply waves it in the air and airily grins at the bandits, "Let's hope we don't ever cross paths again, for both our sakes."
The bandits gruffly spit at the ground in response. With their leader mounting on his horse, the bandits follow suit. Phillip quickly braves a glance at the bandits, and he can see his mare in the back being dragged forlornly along with them. He then flips open the compass, watching the needle spin and point north, away from the trading ports road and to the woods, where he knows is where the wall lies. There's a small pathway marked in the woods that leads to the wall, which is the gateway to the nether realms of dust and sand. 'It makes sense,' he figures, 'that the star would be found in the nether realms where the fairies roam and sprinkle dust and sparkly sand everywhere.' He ventures forward into the woods until he makes it to the vast stone wall.
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At the foot of the stone wall, a small old footman sits with a long cane to guard the small open archway, serving as an entrance to the nether realms. A guard was posted at the wall ever since the witches and fairies alike over in the nether realms have begun waging magic wars with one another, making the area a dangerous place to cross. Fearing that dark magic still lingers in the sacred battlefield near the border of King Hubert's kingdom to the nether realms, the guard is there to stop troublesome magicians and druids from crossing over for selfish purposes. The old footman warily stares up at Phillip. "You wish to cross the border?"
Phillip nods.
The old footman stands up and regards the princeling in contempt. "Well too bad! It's not safe for you out there, and it's my duty to steer you from it," the old footman wheezes, raising his elongated stick up to the sky. He merely frowns when he sees Phillip pointing his sword at him. "Your royal highness," the elderly man splutters, "I still cannot let you pass."
Irritation seeps through the young prince, and he raises his eyebrow to question. The guard shakes his head, "Your father, the king was the same way and so was your brother. They threatened me with the tip of their swords, and let me tell you, that is no way to be granted with admittance."
The young prince nearly wanted to ask which brother could he be referring to, but Phillip knew that that wasted time, and time was not a luxury he had. So, he put his sword back in its sheath, and shrugged. "Alright sir, I assure you, I have no intentions to run you through with a sword, ever. And I am not afraid of what lies beyond this wall, so surely you will let me through, right?"
"Ah, so chivalry isn't dead after all," the guard smiles bemusedly. He sticks his cane firmly to the ground, afterwards, and takes on a more serious expression. "But I'm sorry, no."
A strangled cry of frustration is released from the young monarch, whose mind begins to whir into action. Impulsively, Phillip withdraws his sword again, and hurls it over the wall. It flies high up into the air, a silver sliver in the night sky, and stretches over onto the other side of the wall. The guard stumbles back, startled and moves to take a better look.
With this distraction, the prince takes this opportunity to jump over to the nether realms through the small opening of the wall and runs off after his sword. He can hear the old footman yell out after him, warning him of the danger, but Phillip is much too proud to care.
He recalls seeing his sword fall near a field of large apple trees. However, as he approaches the area, he does not see any incandescent gleam glow white in the dark. He sighs then, ready to lean up against a tree and sleep, when he feels the tip of a saber — his sword! he recognizes — at his throat, slightly sliding past his now dry cut.
"Not again," he mutters under his breath at the situation he finds himself in.
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tbc