Hewwo
casually in another bout of writer's block and I'm 'officially' going on a break until I feel better
like I said like two days ago lmaooo, saying that I'm going on a break always helps me write something
usually it takes me 2-5 hours to finish something so I rarely have time during the school year and its 4:30 in the morning oop
something about writing without dialogue really helps me work on visualization and description
The sad story of the black swan is not well known, especially when compared to the lovely tale of her counterpart, the precious white swan.
Of course people would cherish the story of a poor girl turned into a swan by an evil warlock. She was innocent and kind, undeserving of such a curse.
When the prince and Odette met under the moonlight at her lakeside, they fell sweetly in love. Who wouldn't find their heart tugging for a magnificent fairy like her? No one knew that from afar, the black swan herself was falling for the prince.
Odile's only crime was ever loving the prince, and whatever could an outcast do but try and steal the love not meant for her?
Maybe things could have been different if her father weren't a warlock and her mother not a witch. She was born with an obsessive heart, endlessly hoping to find someone who would be able to become the center of her world.
She looked upon the sweet prince as if he were made solely for her. He was golden, pure, and darling; she found these things out the more she watched him. And after learning of Odette's plan to see him during his engagement ball, she lost th.
It was catastrophic, nearly life ending. Her heart felt like it had been ripped out of her chest and stomped on by those sniveling cute swans that gossiped about their queen.
The black swan ran to her father, crying and crying with such heartache that he couldn't ignore. She was his precious daughter hanging onto his knees, begging for some hope to fix this cruel feeling inside her.
He would trick the prince into giving his Odile a formal oath and ensure their relationship however he could.
But in the end, the prince still chose to die with his maiden love, leaving the spirit of the black swan to aimlessly wander the Earth in search of her one true love.
This story had been passed down for centuries as one of the many fairy tales that stoked the hearts of young children and future writers. No one could assume that such a fantasy was actually real, that the legend of the black swan still in search of her lost love.
That the wandering soul of the black swan would still be looking for her prince, or that the prince and his swan would be waiting for her to try and drive a wedge between them again.
Lucy was different, she harbored this knowledge as her first memory. Her mother left the world before her father, his voice forever screaming in her ear that she was cursed.
She killed her mother, so of course she was cursed. A perfectly healthy woman suddenly passing after birth? She stole her life and he could never look at her again.
She was locked away in a villa far away from home, slowly forgotten year after year as staff members left her side day after day.
Lucy was never sad, she understood her place in this world. She was alone and cursed, simply born to sit on her bed and watch through her window as the world passed her by.
One day, when she was young, she turned into a small black bird. Even if she wasn't sad, she flew away without a second thought, rushing to find a place that wouldn't remind her how cursed she was. She flew and flew for however long, refusing to look back in fear that she really might feel that twinge of sadness that couldn't exist inside her.
It was a clear afternoon when she wandered into his garden, the flowers riddling the enclosure more beautiful than anything she'd ever laid her eyes on.
The gentle wind and the aromatic scent of flowers made her feel at peace, peaceful in a way she could actually identify what peace meant to her.
It was quiet, but not the uncomfortable silence that she was accustomed to. It was comfortable and held her in its arms, soothing the unacknowledged pain that had nestled within her.
The air was disturbed by a subtle sound of footsteps crunching in the grass, the little bird turning to find her fate.
She knew she was cursed the moment she laid eyes on him, she knew just what her father had been talking about before he sent her away.
It was painful before it was happy, the feeling in her heart. It swelled up her throat and consumed her, making her cling to the image of him. He looked lovely and beautiful, wide eyes mimicking his glistening smile.
She furled her feathers as he slowly approached the fountain edge she sat upon, his face falling into her line of sight.
His voice made her heart beat more, the brief touch of his finger along her back as gentle as his demeanor.
Her voice slipped and a soft tweet came out, making him laugh. She wanted to make him laugh again.
But, of course, with a cursed fate, comes the reality of a cursed fate.
The bright, white twinkle of her destined counterpart, the swan. She pulled his eyes away from her, she made him blush, made his voice go quiet, made him look the way she felt when he laughed.
And so, the cycle repeated itself. The black swan had to live in the crude swamp of her pitiful breaking heart. She was nothing but a shadow in the real swan's wake, an oozing puddle of despair that began to feed on the light around her.
The prince took a slight liking to the swan; surely she wasn't so hideous as to be ignored. He let her sit and rest on his shoulder, the black swan glad he wouldn't be able to hear the flustered beat of her nervous sensitivity.
She felt him hold her soft hand, felt even more the smile shared between them. It burned her with ache, for she knew there was nothing she could do. The prince could never fall in her direction.
The swan seemed refined and kind enough, she made the prince laugh, so she couldn't be too upset with how things were.
He kept her in his room and amongst his books and trinkets, to flit around and adorn his room while he was away.
At least she could be with him at night, watching him in peaceful sleep, hoping that maybe one dream could be about her.
She sat on the edge of his bed, disfiguring herself back into the unlovable thing she had always been. She sang out in pain, for her heart had no clue what to do now. Who would love her if not the prince? She was covered in an ugly black curse, to be forever sad and unloved.
But the prince woke, broken out of his slumber from the sweet melody that weighed down his heart. He opened his eyes with unsuspecting tears, meeting the sight of an angel of the night.
She was shroud in black silk, feathered with colors of roses and lilies, petals whisping in the gentle umbra.
Her song pulled at him, toward her decadent melody insisting to be offered solace.
He took hold of her hand and wept as she finished her song, asking for empty forgiveness.
Temptation, bewitchment, allurement, enticement. The last gift her foremother had given her; magic to steal his heart.
The black swan stiffened under his gaze, anxiety pounding in her ears as he drew himself closer to her side. The prince was under the spell of her song, of the night, of her unknowing beauty.
His love for the swan seemed so small and forgettable. Hypnotic and luring, was this beauty whom he couldn't turn away from.
Fair was only fair wasn't it? No matter what way it came to her, why deny the clamor of her very essence.
They shared a darling kiss, one that promised to seal her blissful fate.
She left before he opened his eyes, the prince succumbing to sleep with the faint memory hidden away in a dream.
He woke to the black bird fluttering in her bath, a maid knocking with breakfast and preparation for his upcoming day.
A day that the prince spent with his white swan while the black swan watched from afar.
When he glanced at her lips with her usual cherished grin, he set down his spoon and paused, possibly thinking of the forgotten dream in his wake.
The black swan hid her smile and felt a new emotion stir, forgetting how sad and hopeless she once was.
Her excitement for the night ahead was hidden as she sat on his shoulder, confidence in her obsession stoking the fabled tale of her past.
The moon rose and her shroud fell, the black swan all too eager to climb onto the edge of his bed again.
Her song birthed of fruitful want, willing him to wake and take upon her view. It wasn't happy or sad, but adamant and resolute.
He embraced her with a successive touch, a kiss so bare and without emotion that she pulled away from such chill.
His stare was cold and uncalculated, devoid of the love she felt the night before.
There had been love in his kiss, she was sure, even if it was the misdirected emotion for the white swan.
She escaped to the garden with bitter tears, unsure of what she did wrong. How had her magic already betrayed her? What did she do wrong?
She only sang for him to want her, to need her like she needed him.
It was a painful obsessive seed that plundered her soul, and she knew of no other way to get it out.
Perhaps this was a lesson in her garner for his affection; force couldn't be the key. Even if she was trying to steal his heart.
She sang again when he was in deep sleep, the next night from her perch on the corner of his bed.
It was a song of remorse and wanting forgiveness, for using her magic against his unsuspecting self. The prince rose, slow as he willed to her charm. His worry grew, wondering why she wanted to apologize, for what had she done wrong?
He wanted to see her smile, to know why she kept coming to him with such sorrow in her song.
His hand slid against her cheek, a tilt of his head, and a cherished peck to silence her song. Her lips bunched with nervousness as he whispered an offer to calm her pain. She answered with a longer kiss she craved, feeling the heft of his heart begin to sway toward her.
The black swan sang to him every night, stealing a kiss with a new song and memory.
The prince began to wonder who was this blessed figure he saw in his dreams, and how her lips could feel so soft against his. When he woke to an empty bed and the sun, an unknowing frown would present itself.
The white swan noticed her prince begin to pull away, to think that his mind seemed elsewhere when they were together. But he was a prince and stress came with his life; she couldn't expect his attention every day.
Suddenly, he was wondering throughout the day if he would dream of her dark silk and adorning ribbons. If he would hear her sweet song and be tempted to share a wondering kiss with her. He would always wake after the soft touch, a lingering desire for more each day. He was almost desperate, reaching out as he awoke, the words on the tip of his tongue asking for her to stay.
They had to be dreams, of course, otherwise he'd have to begin to wonder who she was. Who she was and why he felt compelled to see her. Why he began to wish she were real.
The white swan cringed when her prince no longer reached out for her hand, no longer smiled the way he did when she did. His ruddy cheeks and honeyed gestures were disappearing one by one.
She wanted to know why, what or who had stolen his earnest heart? It couldn't have vanished on its own, not the feelings they harbored so marvelously.
The white swan thought to maybe ask him, one night, while he was alone, just what had changed. Was she simply no longer the subject of his affection?
She snuck out of her room, visiting while the guards were on rotation so she wouldn't be seen. Walking into the prince's room at night without a formal engagement would spark controversy she was keen to avoid.
Her steps were light, anxiety rising in her chest before she reached his door. He was so withdrawn from their recent conversations, would he even listen?
The white swan took tentative steps to approaching his door, about to raise her fist to knock, only to find the door slightly ajar.
That night, the black swan sang a song of seduction and lust, stoking the building feelings he harbored for her image. He awoke with electricity, a taste and urge for what he'd been longing for. She usually sat so far away, but tonight, he opened his eyes to her singing in his lap.
Her voice was calm and low, only above a whisper as it willed him to rise.
He sat up to face her, studying her expression and watching the ginger movement of her lips.
He wanted to know her name, why she kept coming to him. But her song begged him for something else, for the one thing they terribly desired.
A real kiss, a true embrace of their flooded affinity, one that overcame them quickly.
The black swan was smothered in his stolen love, her lips brandished with the burn of his thirst. He held her close, his breath mixing with hers, the prince surrendering his tongue to her.
The white swan felt her throat clog with the pain of her voice held at the sight of the purest betrayal. Her prince held someone she'd never seen; he'd never kissed her like that.
Only once, she could recall, when he bravely pressed his lips to hers under the blossom of an old pear tree.
But he kissed her with such passion, such willingness and weakness that she couldn't recognize her first love.
She listened to their bated breaths and wanton lulls, finding her heart torn when he smiled down at her.
The prince woke to a satisfied morning, curious when the maids let him know his childhood friend chose to return home, the reason unknown.
He hummed in wonder, but thanked his dream, for finally giving him what he desired most.
Now only if she would appear out of his dreams, if she were real and right beside him.
He sat in his garden with a tepid cup of tea, his mind elsewhere as it tended to be nowadays. He couldn't help it, especially when he finally got to hold her in his arms.
He wanted more.
The prince closed his eyes and sighed, breathing in and out as he listened to the gentle breeze and chirping birds. Chirping birds and the trickle of the nearby ponds. The trickle and the whisper of her voice, the song of their nights, and the thread of allure.
He opened his eyes with a quickness, almost pinching himself, wondering if it was really her.
She looked so bright in the sun, even wearing that familiar, beautiful black silk.
The sad story of the black swan fell to deaf ears as she finally broke her ageless curse, finally winning the prince's love.
I hope you liked it! I found that tiktok with the google drive of barbie movies and I always loved Barbie Swan Lake! So I thought of this cutie idea.
the poetic vibe really warms my heart ;-;