The Prince and the Storyteller 1.
"A cold-hearted Prince?" Magnus repeated, looking across the bar table to his companion of exactly three days. Simon was, in all ways, dull. Where Magnus preferred to strut about in brightly colored clothing, shouting out tales of wizards and warriors, and Simon slinked around in drab brown clothes, playing his sitar for the crowds that gathered around Magnus like moths to the flame, collecting the money the audience offered for Magnus' tales. Magnus didn't mind, after all, he and Simon had agreed from the first day to split their earnings evenly, and they were doing well enough that there was no need to squabble over loose change.
"Yes," Simon nodded over the lip of his drink. "They say that no princess, not matter how beautiful and lovely, can make him fall in love with her." He shrugged, taking a sip of the mead. "It's all the news in this town. Not surprising, since this city is the capital of this land."
"I see." Magnus sat back in his chair, pulling out a small flask from the folds of his cloak. It was the color of bronze, with various scratches and dents marring the smooth surface. He unscrewed the lid, taking a swig of the drink inside, before wincing and closing the flask, tucking the container back inside his cloak. Simon watched him, shaking his head.
"Sometimes I wonder if you're ever sober." He mused, and Magnus laughed.
"I've never met a man, sober or not, that could tell a better tale than me." He stated, kicking away from the table, his chair squeaking against the stone of the bar floor. He glanced at the bartender, who also served as the innkeeper for the building next door. "Did you pay for our room?" He asked, looking down at Simon. The musician nodded, and Magnus sighed in relief. "Then I'm off to dream up more lovely tales for the people of Lux Lignum. Good Night."
The following afternoon was bright and cheerful, the streets crowded with people. A perfect day for telling stories. Magnus stood in the center of the marketplace, reciting an old fairytale for a collection of children at his feet. Simon, having heard the tale before, was strumming a simple tune as he worked his way through the crowd, collecting bits of coin from the parents of the children, as well as other adults that were listening to the tale with interest. Magnus was too busy to care about the money, his hand outstretched in a fist, his pose like that of a knight in battle.
"And then," He continued, looking down at the children staring up at him rapt attention. "the witch appeared behind him in a cloud of black smoke!" The crowd gasped and Magnus whirled around, pointing his fist outwards. "But the hero, guided by the princess' magical stone, sensed the evil creature and spun to face her, smiting her with his sword!" There were several cheers from the children at this, as well as polite applause from the crowd. "He pulled the sword away, and the witch cursed his name, before crumbling away like dust in the wind. The hero, knowing now that the evil witch was gone, ran to the princess' room. He opened the door to her chambers, and found her asleep on her bed, her mind locked away by magic." Magnus knelt down by a small girl, her hair pulled back into pig tails, her brown eyes wide. "He walked towards her, kneeling down gently at her side." He smiled at her, offering her his hand. The girl blinked, taking a hold of his hand. "The hero looked at the princess and said 'Princess, oh, Princess, love of my life, please awake with true love's kiss." Magnus bent down, kissing the girl's ring finger. The girl jumped up, excited, and Magnus stood as well, grinning. "And so, the Princess awoke, and the spell was lifted! The entire kingdom rejoiced and the hero's name was remembered until the end of time!" He threw his hands up in the air to the loud applause of the crowd. The little girl ran around the circle of people, delighted.
"I'm a princess! A princess!" She cried, running over to her parents. A few of the kids jumped up and followed her, yelling loudly.
"And I'm the hero! Die witch!"
"No, I'm the hero!"
"Can I be a princess too?" Magnus laughed, shaking his head as the crowd began to disperse, and Simon walked up to him, holding up the heavy sack of coins in one hand, his sitar in the other. It was unique, carved from a dark wood from the East. The instrument had been pretty banged up over the years, scratched and scuffed from Simon's travels, but it still produced a lovely sound that had impressed Magnus.
"A good haul, as usual." Simon was grinning, no doubt thinking about the large dinner they'd be having later that day. "Where do you come up with these stories?" Magnus grabbed the sack, opening it and staring down at the coins with interest. It would be enough to last for a few days, at the very least. He began to count the money, his mood only getting better.
"Places..." He replied mysteriously, pausing when he felt eyes on him. He looked up, searching the crowd. Most of the people had turned away, chatting with one another about everything from the season's harvest to the story Magnus had just shared with them. However, Magnus could make out a hooded individual from across the square. The figure stood alone, face hidden by the black cloak he wore. For a moment, he lifted his chin, and their eyes locked. Magnus saw blue eyes so bright it was like the night sky lit with stars. The stranger was a few years shy of a man, his skin fair and unblemished. Dark lashes ringed those blue eyes, matching the messy hair the boy possessed. Magnus blinked, completely enamored with the boy's appearance. The stranger paused, before turning away quickly, disappearing into the crowd. Magnus stared after him, jumping when Simon touched his shoulder.
"Magnus? Are you alright?" Simon asked, looking worried. Magnus blinked, looking at Simon, handing the musician the bag of coins. A familiar itch worked across the back of his eyes, and he reached into his cloak, pulling out the familiar bronze flask and taking a swig of the liquid inside. The itch receded and he looked back at Simon, nodding his head.
"I'm fine." He replied, Simon shook his head, holding up a scrap of paper to the man's face. Magnus paused, glancing at the paper. "What is it?" Simon was practically buzzing with excitement.
"An invitation. The Princess d'Lux Lignum is having her birthday party today. At sunset there will be a grand feast for all of the town on the castle grounds." Simon looked at the storyteller imploringly. "Free food, Magnus, made by royal chefs." Magnus shook his head, sighing.
"It's a wonder why I don't have to roll you around with all the food you eat." He saw the look on Simon's face and sighed. "Fine, we'll go. After all, I'm sure the people there will be looking for some entertainment." Simon cheered and began heading back to the hotel, no doubt already knowing exactly they were going to spend the money they'd just earned. Magnus turned away, staring across the crowd of people, searching for a familiar black cloak.
"Alexander! Where have you been?" Maryse called out, glaring down at her eldest son. As Queen d'Lux Lignum, Maryse's appearance was as impeccable as ever. Her gown was made of a rich blue fabric, delicate golden flowers embroidered across the folds of her skirt. The dress was cut demurely, in a straight line across the woman's shoulders, revealing the skin just under her collarbones, as well as the tops of her shoulders. A gold crown of twisted filigree sat on her head, braided through her hair elegantly. Alec, entirely used to seeing his mother in ornate gowns, dropped his gaze to the floor.
"...Out?" He tried, gripping the fabric of his cloak tightly. The Prince d'Lux Lignum was dressed in commoner's clothes, a simple white shirt, brown pants and black boots, all stained with dirt from traveling through the small, muddy drainage tunnel he and Isabelle had broken open when they were children. It was the only passage in and out of the castle that his parents didn't know about. The only way he and Isabelle got away from the strict lives their parents forced them to live. Maryse frowned, looking at his clothes in distaste.
"Out on the castle grounds, or farther out?" She asked, and Alec stared at the ground, knowing he was a horrible liar. Finally, his mother sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "It doesn't matter, so long as you weren't hurt." She looked at Alec, clearly disappointed. "Your sister's party starts in an hour, please hurry upstairs and get ready." Alec nodded once, ducking around his mother and running up the grand staircase that led to the family's royal chambers. Once he had cleared the stairwell, he turned to walk down the eastern hallway. The walls of the castle were a pristine white stone, something the servants have to scrub weekly, lest the shine fade. Chandeliers made of silver and crystal dotted the ceiling, illuminating the way to his section of the castle. At the end of the hall sat a grand door made of rosewood. He pushed the door open, entering his chambers and closing it behind him, leaning against it cool wood in exhaustion. He glanced over his chambers before closing his eyes once again.
His rooms were large, five in total, all with everything he could possibly need. First there was the main receiving room, where his servants and family members would enter to greet him in the morning (save Max, who dived into his bed to wake him up). Three plush, white couches were gathered in one corner, often used by visiting sons of noblemen for long discussions that Alec more or less didn't care about, silver birds embroidered into the white silk. An elegant rosewood table sat in the other, ringed by three ornate chairs with plush, white silk lining the seats. Most nights this was used by the prince and his siblings for eating dinner away from the strict manners of the dining hall. Large doors across the room opened up to let the sunlight in, leading out to a wide balcony carved from marble. To the left was a door leading to a large bathroom were one could freshen up, the walls covered in a light grey stone, a sink and other necessities carved from the same material. A mirror took up the entirety of one wall in the room. It was there that Alec would check himself over before heading out every morning. To the right was an small alcove, leading to his bedroom.
Tall bookshelves lined an entire wall, carved from rosewood (he really did enjoy the color of the wood), a small ladder pressed against the shelves so he could climb up and pull down books from the levels closer to the ceiling. The was a small space in the wall where books didn't cover. It was here that a door sat, leading to his own personal bath, carved from the same grey stone as his other washroom. On the other wall was a door leading to his wardrobe, so extensive it needed it's own room. Alec didn't enjoy the stuffy, princely outfits he was forced to wear whenever proper company came over. In the back of his closet he had a collection of commoner's clothes. He often wore them around the castle, until his mother caught him and nagged him to death about it.
In between the two doors sat a large bed, wide enough for seven men to sleep comfortably. The comforter was a rich blue, the sheets a sheer black, with silver threads embroidered into fantastic designs along the edges. Alec had spent his entire childhood with books crammed under the covers, trying to make the large bed seem smaller than it actually was, to spare him of the loneliness of sleeping in it at night. Save the bathrooms, all the walls were painted a deep blue, golden designs running across the middle of the them, streaking through the rooms like a beacon. The floor was covered in a thick, grey carpet the color of storm clouds, so soft that Alec could have slept there if he needed to.
It was that same carpet that Alec tracked mud all over, walking for to the bath. He dropped his cloak on the floor, followed quickly by his shirt. He entered his bedroom, taking the time to peel off his mud-stained boots, before pushing open the bathroom door, grabbing a book from one of the bookshelves as an after thought. His personal bath was, in all ways possible, amazing. The bath was a good third of the room, sunken into the floor, with steps leading down into the water. Silver lined the lip of the bath in delicate swirls, the designs memorizing to stare at. Heated water poured from a decorated metal spire fixed upside down into the ceiling, falling into the center of the bath like a waterfall, keeping the pool a comfortable temperature for the prince.
Alec walked over to the edge of the bath, setting the book down. He let his pants fall to the floor, before sliding into the water with a groan of satisfaction. The water came up to just above his navel, warm and completely perfect. He took a moment to wade over the collection of soaps and shampoos sitting in a small alcove in the corner of the bath, using them to scrub his hair and body clean, before he went back to his book, opening it carefully with his damp fingers. It was bound in leather, the old, thick paper crinkling where he touched it. Alec flipped through the pages, his eyes skimming over some of his favorite fairy tales as a child. As he read, his mind kept wandering to the colorful storyteller that had told his tale with such enthusiasm. Alec had dropped an entire bag of gold into the musician's pouch, too busy watching the performance to count out a smaller amount. He had stared as the man had kissed the little girl's hand, awed by the sincerity of his smile, wishing it had been his own hand the man had kissed. He had continued to look until the storyteller had noticed him, meeting his gaze across the crowd. The man's eyes had been black as pitch, threatening to swallow Alec whole.
Alec closed the book with a thump, pushing back from the lip of the bath, into the stream of water falling from the ceiling, closing his eyes. He wondered if he'd see the storyteller again, with his colorful cloak and exciting stories. He certainly hoped so.
A soft knocking at the bathroom door alerted Alec to someone's presence. A male servant entered after a few moments, setting down a towel and his wardrobe for the evening before disappearing out the door. Alec frowned, already seeing how heavy the fabric was from when he was sitting. With a sigh, he pushed away thoughts of colorful storytellers, opting instead for climbing out of the bath and walking over to retrieve the towel. Some members of the royal family liked have their servants dry them off after a bath. Alec was personal with his body, and didn't even want people in the room with him when he dressed. After toweling off, he dragged on the pair of pants, the fabric black and sleek, and leading all the way down to his ankles. He pulled on his dress shirt, also black, with silver buttons engraved with the royal crest. He buttoned this up, before sliding on a bright blue vest, no doubt picked out by Isabelle. He looked over the ornate jacket, black with gold braids running across the shoulders. It looked completely uncomfortable, and he decided to put that on at the last possible moment.
He walked back over to the bath, picking up his book, before making his way back to his bedroom and depositing it on his shelf. He was surprised to see Isabelle sitting on his bed, dressed in a bright green gown that was cut low enough to make any man's jaw drop. Her long, black hair was piled on her head in a collection of curls, held in check by a silver filigree tiara, revealing her slender neck for any prying eye.
"There you are!" Isabelle huffed, hopping off the bed, and walking over to Alec, her hands lifting up to fix the prince's tangled hair. "I was beginning to think you'd drowned in there." She stepped back, clearly satisfied with her work, before turning around once so that Alec could see the rest of her gown. The back was cut even lower than the front. "What do you think?" She asked, grinning widely. Alec shook his head.
"Honestly? Between father and I, there will be plenty of men to kill in the castle tonight." Isabelle laughed, stepping forward to rest a hand on Alec's arm.
"Be sure to get all of my potential suitors while you're at it." She stated, clearly excited. Alec couldn't blame her. Isabelle was turning sixteen this year, meaning that she could start receiving calls for marriage tomorrow at the earliest. Isabelle was more than happy to rot in the castle to a ripe, old age, but their father had different plans. He was already gathering the attention of neighboring kingdoms, looking to forge alliances in the oldest way possible. By marrying off his only daughter, or worse, marrying a princess to his eldest son, regardless of what either of them wanted. Alec was eighteen, old enough to marry in his father's eyes, and already princesses had started sending portraits of themselves to him. The portraits were beautiful, no doubt, but Alec couldn't find any particular girl he was attached to. Then again, it was hard to form a romantic bond with a bit of paper and paint. A part of him wondered if any of the girls even wanted to get married to him. He looked at his sister, ready to be dragged down the altar kicking and screaming, and smiled ruefully.
"I'll try." He promised, and Isabelle rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
"Good! Now, as for me, mother wants to look over my dress before I go out tonight, like that will happen. I'm leaving to mingle now, so be sure to join me soon!" Isabelle didn't wait for a response, all but running from the room in a whirl of green and black. Alec stared after her, before shaking his head. He pulled on a clean pair of boots, checking his hair in the mirror of the washroom. Isabelle had pushed his hair out of his face, letting the world see his pale skin and blue eyes. He frowned, smoothing out the dark locks until his forehead was covered, his bangs in his eyes. He pulled on his jacket reluctantly, prepared to spend the night wedged in a corner somewhere, hoping to not be noticed. He walked out of his room, jumping when he nearly ran over his own mother. Maryse looked over her son once, before sighing and straightening up the boy's jacket.
"You forgot your crown again, Alec." Maryse chided lightly, reaching up to fix Alec's hair. The prince sighed. "Really, you're eighteen now, try not to forget the very thing that defines who you are!" Alec looked at the ground, his heart aching. He didn't want a crown to be the thing that defined who he was. He wanted the people to look at him and know that he wasn't just a prince, he was a normal person that liked fairy tales and stories like any other human being. Maryse seemed to notice his distress, and she reached out, lifting her son's chin until their gazes met. "Listen to me. I know your father has been pushing you to choose a bride, and it's very difficult to try and guess from a collection of portraits, but you need to understand this: Your father wants to see you on the throne, ruling like he has for the past twenty years, with a woman by your side to support you." A weight settled in Alec's chest, and he looked back at the ground, nodding once. Maryse sighed, letting go of her son and turning to look down the hall. "Come down once you've gotten your crown, I'm off to find Isabelle before she disgraces the family, again."
"Alright, mother." Alec managed, disappearing back into his room. He walked towards his bed, pausing to look at the wall of books wistfully. He wondered, would his bride like to read too? He thought of spending the nights lying in bed, quoting Mother Goose and other stories, relaxing in each other's arms. He closed his eyes, trying to picture the girl's face in his mind, watching at the nameless figure shifted into a man with eyes black as pitch.
Alec's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding. He walked forward, kneeling down to reach under his bed, grabbing the silver circlet he'd received on his last birthday. All but jamming it onto his head, he strode out of the room, trying his best to leave thoughts of the storyteller behind.
Fate had other plans for tonight.
A/N: And so, the plot begins! I wrote the Prologue and Chapter 1 at the same time, but felt like they shouldn't be posted together. Next chapter is Happy Hour at Lightwood castle, complete with food, entertainment and Magnus getting royally (teehee) fucked over.
Reviews are adored~!