Chapter 4

The sound of the violins

10 years later

The little princess was now a young and beautiful eighteen year-old lady. She had grown up, despite her reluctance, and so had the hole in her chest. She had no proper will, she didn't desire anything with her soul. Only her body whispered to her the things it needed, the things it craved.

Many winters had passed by, many times she had wandered in the gardens of Eurwen, climbed the old oak and observed the roof of leaves of the Enchanted Forest, the shell-shaped clouds weighing upon its immensity. Snow-White and Charming had given her all the love they had in their hearts, and she had received the best education possible: she had been taught mathematics, gaelic, grammar, literature, astronomy, biology, history, geography, theology and even swordfight and archery. Her parents wanted to keep her busy so that she would not notice the emptiness underneath her skin. But it provoked quite the contrary: the more books Emma read, the more she realized something was wrong with her. All these pages written about love, sacrifice, family, sorrow and happiness. All these legends telling stories of heroes dying out of love, for love. She remembered what her mother had told her that night, when she had read to her the tragic story of Deirdre: It's like... getting lost into somebody else. You live for the person you love, you would do anything for them. It makes your life brighter, it makes you live everything more intensly. That's what Emma read in those pages, but everytime she tried to understand this feeling, she failed and threw the book across her room out of frustration. It's not that she wanted to understand: it's that she wondered why she didn't feel this when everyone else in the world did.

On this day of July, the air was dry and torrid, especially in the stables of Eurwen from which moans and whispers escaped every now and then. Among the heaps of straw flooded by the gilded rays of the summer sun, Emma was lying there on her stomach. Her blond curls blended with the gold of the hay as the light shone down on her bare skin, illuminating the small of her back and the curves of her thighs. She played with the wisps while a young man lying at her side was staring at her face.

"This is so cliché..." she finally said, the wisps still in her fingers.

"What?" the man asked with a smile.

Emma let go of the wisps and gave him a suggestive look, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Sex in the straw," she whispered.

"Are you complaining?" the man said, laughing.

"Never."

He let his fingers run on her back, his hand walking along her spine. He felt the shivers on her silky skin and the desire growing inside of him. He could never get enough of the Princess of Eurwen, him, Baelfire, the son of the Dark One who had ran away so many years ago and found refuge in this castle. Never had he revealed his identity, especially not to Emma. He knew he would spend the rest of his life with her since the day she caught him in the gardens, trying to catch a swan. And finally, ten years later, here he was, caressing the royal plumage of the most beautiful swan of Elanoriah.

They had spent their childhood together, playing in the fields around the castle and bugging the guards. He was the only person she talked to, apart from Ruby. But one night, as they were lying down in the grass with only the stars as witnesses, he had intertwined his fingers with hers, and they had stared at each other for a few minutes in silence. Suddenly, a shooting star had cracked the velvet sky. In this moment frozen in time, Bae had known that he needed her, her body and her soul, the warmth of her skin and the dampness of her lips. So he had closed the space between them and had kissed her. It was Emma's and Bae's first kiss, their first time. They were sixteen and eighteen back then. And ever since, like two magnets, their bodies could not stay apart.

"I have to go you know," Emma said between two kisses.

"The sun is still up princess..." Bae answered, now turning her over gently and putting his body on top of hers.

"Not for long."

And indeed, the gilded rays dancing on the heaps were slowly turning to a pink radiance, coloring the hay in a shading of orange. The light waned with grace and the growing shadows squeezed in the small of Emma's back. The sun would soon fall behind the windows of the stable, but for now, its last beams were hotter than ever, and their flash of gold rained down on the naked body of the princess of Eurwen.

"Come on, let go of me, I don't want to be late," Emma said while putting Bae aside.

"You're the princess, you can afford it," Bae replied arching an eyebrow.

Emma was now on her feet and tried to put her underwear on. She seemed quite used to the movements: she hastily grabbed the chemise laying on the straw and put it on before doing the same with the long white dress. The fabric was thin and vaporous, the sleeves were loose and as feather-light, and a turquoise ribbon tightened the dress underneath her breasts. She kept her hair tidy and finally turned to Bae.

"This ball is really important Bae," Emma sighed. "It's my father's birthday, all the kingdoms will be here."

"I hate being the stable boy," Bae mumbled. A pout appeared on his face. Once a baby, forever a baby.

"Do you?" Emma whispered as she got closer to him. She brought her mouth near his ear. "Because there are some perks if you want my opinion."

"Stop that, you just put you dress on, it'd be a shame if I tore it up, again."

Emma smirked and backed away. "That's my stable boy," she murmured before turning her heels on the young man.

"You are heartless your majesty!" she heard him laugh from afar.

He had no idea.

The magnificent ballroom of Eurwen was filled with pastel and bright shadows, and the flounces of the dresses were flying on the wings of the rousing music. Laughters mingled with the sound of the violins and the stream of the beverages and the rattle of the cultery echoed in the air.

It was a waltz of pearly necks and clean-shaved cheeks, where frivolity twirled around with joy. The radiance of the stars shone down on the assembly through the glass ceiling and blended with the flicker of a thousand candelabra: it was as if a stream of gold and silver covered the precious fabrics and glowed on the masks. Panthers, peacocks, nightingales, crows and even flamingos were gathered here to celebrate the King's birthday. The inhabitants of Elanoriah were always very creative when it came to masquerades.

Emma's slender and graceful silhouette was going down the great stairs with care, her hands firmly holding the tails of her dress. The latter looked like a changing sky, for all the shades of blue seemed to cover the elegant material. Two tails enshrouded a midnight blue velvet petticoat, the white overskirt was scattered with purple and blue curls, and its edges were made of the finest lace. The low-cut neckline was white and blue and let show the pallor of her neck. As she got closer to the dance floor, silver moonbeams floodlit the tiny diamonds set here and there on the vaporous muslin, and the princess looked like a real constellation. Her silky golden hair was coiled in an open bun, and her curls fell down on her bare shoulders. White feathers were entwined in the locks and recalled her swan-like mask. She was only walking down the stairs, and yet, each step she took made her to look like a majestic swan glistening on the water.

When she finally reached the end of the stairs, she took in a deep breath. Everybody was already there: her mother, Snow-White, in her beautiful purple gown, had chosen a mask representing a dove and so had Charming. From all the kingdoms they had come, just like they did ten years ago for Imbolc. Emma was thus late, as usual. She definitely spent too much time in the stables, she knew it.

The princess walked towards her mother and put down her mask. Her eyes were framed with blue and white feathers were drawn on her temples.

"Finally you're here!" Snow-White sighed. "Where have you been? The reception began one hour ago Emma."

"I'm so sorry mother," Emma answered with an awkward look. "I just... I was in the gardens and the sunrise was so beautiful tonight I couldn't leave." Who would buy this?

"Well, you have one sensitive daughter my Queen," teased King Midas. Well, he had certainly bought it.

Emma curtsied. "King Midas, it is a pleasure to see you."

"The pleasure is mine princess, you make a beautiful swan." The King bowed and disappeared in the crowd.

Emma turned to her father. "Happy Brithday father," she said with a smile.

"Come here sweetheart," Charming replied taking her in his arms.

Emma always felt uncomfortable when her mother or her father showed so... loving. But she hugged him back and faked a smile so that he would think everything was fine with her. Everything was fine with her, wasn't it? The night was warm and festive, the food was abundant and smelled delicious, the people seemed thrilled and overjoyed by this ball. So... Why did Emma feel so... out of place? The dresses where twirling around her, the music was loud and she felt like the notes were attacking her rather than enchanting her. Out of place. Dizzy. Uncomfortable. Why was she here already?

"I could totally use a drink," she sighed while putting her mask on again.

"Shall I join you, my lady?"

She turned over and stumbled upon a gorgeous dark-haired man... or rather wolf. "It depends," Emma said with a cautious tone.

"On what, may I ask?"

"On whether you'll keep your teeth away from my feathers or not."

"Aye, that's such a lovely metaphor for that, your highness." She heard him laugh.

Emma frowned. "Who are you?"

"A wolf my lady, isn't my fur convincing enough?"

"You're certainly not a wolf, rather a monkey."

"Domonkeys have gray hairs and yellow eyes? Princess, I thought you were an educated woman."

Emma scoffed and her eyes widened. "Do the gentlemen talk to the royals this way back in your kingdom?" she inquired with defiance.

"And why would you think I'm not from here my lady?"

"I would remember that smile," she said lowly. "And that lack of manners."

"Oh I'm afraid you're wrong princess, for I am a gentleman."

"Excuse me sir, but I'm afraid I fail to see it."

For all answer, he extended his gloved hand and bowed a little. "Let me show you then," he murmured.

Emma hesitated for a few seconds, on her guards. This man was obviously certain of his charm. He thought he was irresistible. Well, in all truth.. He was. She had nothing better to do after all. She put her hand on his and his thumb caressed its back. He grinned and walked her to the center of the dance floor. They stood in front of each other, and Emma could not help but survey the ballroom.

"Shall we your highness?" the man gently asked as he put a hand on her back and took hers in his other hand. "Or are you waiting for someone else?"

Emma shook her head. "Not at all. Let's get done with this."

"Oh, I see, you like it fast," he noticed with a smirk too present for Emma's liking. The princess rolled her eyes.

"Aren't wolves supposed to keep quiet or something?" she asked with annoyance.

"Aren't swans supposed to be graceful? You're stepping on my foot princess."

Emma bit her lip. Just breathe, she reminded herself. "We haven't even started to dance," she scoffed.

"Well, then it makes it worse I guess," the man said, holding back a chuckling.

The princess sighed. "Just... dance."

The sound of the violins grew louder, and after a quick wink, the man introduced the dance. Emma could not help but dive into his eyes, as blue as forget-me-nots, as blue as the sea... she guessed. Never had she seen this neverending stretch of salted water, and yet, she was sure it looked like the twinkling pupils her eyes were set upon. With every move she inhaled his scent, a mix of woody and marine fragrances, maybe peppermint. The rustling of her dress against his leather breeches, the sound of her shoes tinkling on the floor blended with the melody, and she felt like a leaf carried away by the wind, unable to control her steps or the blood pounding in her veins. She felt like a doll in the powerful man's hands, a mere puppet obeying the strings of the harmony floating in the confined air of the ballroom. Her eyes lingered on his fleshy lips, and she felt his gaze fastened upon her face, his hand tightening its grasp on her waist and going down her back...

"It's a waltz, not some sort of courtship display," she managed to say as he pressed his body against hers in a twirl.

"Oh is it not? My... wolf senses convinced me otherwise.."

"My swan senses order me to fly away from you while I still can," Emma replied with a sudden cold tone. "And yet..."

"And yet you don't want this dance to end, do you?" he whispered in her ear.

Emma was about to give him a biting reply when the music stopped and the dancers froze. There it was, the moment when all the masks were to be dropped. The symbolic pact of trust between all the guests. The man loosened his grip and stepped back. All around them, the masks were being thrown in the air or dropped to the floor, and a sea of colors and feathers burst into the candlelit room. Emma put down her mask and stared at her annoying partner.

"Aye, time to drop the mask isn't it?" he said with a pout.

"How perceptive of you," Emma replied in a smile. "Who are you Sir I-tend-to-let-my-hand-slip-quite-easily-towards-the-buttocks-of-my-dance-partners?"

She was genuinely intrigued, and even curious, as the arched line of her eyebrows showed.

"I thought I had already introduced myself princess," he answered with a new twinkle in the eyes. He bowed and spread both arms, his look still fastened upon Emma's confused face. "I am a lone wolf."

Whereupon, he stood up straight and turned his heels on his partner. She didn't know why she was so eager to discover the wolf's name. She didn't care, but, just like when she was with Bae in the stables, her body seemed to be unrelentingly attracted to his.

Then, in the midst of the uproar she stood, mesmerized, while the beat of the man's heart died away in the rousing sound of the violins.