A/N: I must now warn you, before you set off to read this chapter, there is a lengthy bit of explaining in here, and if you breeze over it, you probably won't be able to make a head or tales of it. I'm working on it – do you know how hard it is to transform a realistic historical story into a complete fantasy? Good lord, HARD! But fun. Oh well. Enjoy! (And if this totally confuses you, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll figure out some way to make it clear, e-mail, or whatnot…)
Chapter Twenty-One –
Skye and Odessa-Gadriel
His jet-black hair was plastered with sweat and grime, his skin deathly pale, with blood seeping through the cracks in his black porcelain mask, and everything about him was exhausted and haggard and ruined…but she knew that she had never seen anything more beautiful.
Without a word, she reached out with gentle hands and placed his head in her lap, where the darkness of his hair gleamed against the pure, glowing whiteness of her gown. She gazed at him, tender and knowing: a shining, goddess-like being. He was breathing, shallowly. His chest barely moved, and the rest of his body was motionless.
"Oh, my Skye-Prince," she whispered. She had never thought that that name could exist in reality to her – ever – but now…now, when she said it, felt it upon her lips…she knew that nothing else could be more perfectly, wholly true and real.
This was him…this was her.
She was the Princess of her own story, the lost child of an Elven king and queen who, somewhere, in a world that she had never known but in her own boundless imagination, really did exist.
She was the Princess – and Erik, after all this time, was her Prince.
"Dearest of my heart…"
Leaning over him, she softly kissed his pallid lips, breathing air and life and healing into him: somehow, by some strange power that she now felt thriving within herself, a magic that she hadn't thought possible to have on this earth.
"I love you – awaken, my Skye-Prince…"
And his eyes fluttered open.
He looked up at her, a most extraordinary light coming into his gaze.
"Princess." he whispered. Her words – her very confession of her love, at last – seemed to have restored him, for he sat up, with her help, his wounds disappearing, and they looked long at one another, seated there on the light-dappled stone floor of the ancient Celtic castle.
Finally, in the silence, their story became clear…
* * *
Once upon a time, there had indeed really been a infant princess of Elvenkind, who was stolen away from her home and family by a band of wicked goblins.
There had indeed really been a prince who went after them, vowing to rescue her no matter what the cost. But the story that came after those early beginnings of the tale was all the more of a wonder.
After Prince Skye had been surrounded by the goblins, he knew their minds: they would strike him down and then take the princess, and there would be no one to save here from them once this had come to pass. He made a decision then: one which almost cost him his life. Calling out a sundering spell in Elvish, he closed and shattered the magic portal that had led both the goblins and him into this strange new world, making it impossible for the goblins to return through it. He also placed a binding spell upon them all, tying the goblins to the land and time that they were now in, so that they could not go any further with the princess.
Infuriated, the goblin captain put a curse of his own on the Prince.
"With this curse I smite you, with this destiny I bind you: you are doomed to wander this earth and unable to leave it as we, henceforth bereft of your powers of magic and enchantment, banned from your true self, in search of her until the flame of your existence extinguishes from the long years of your life…"
Immediately, Skye's magical powers left him, and the pointed tips of his Elven ears vanished, leaving him with the appearance of a mortal, but even at that, a perilously fair mortal.
Then the goblin also put a spell on the princess, imprisoning all evidence and knowledge of her Elven heritage and her powers, which she would have learned to wield in time, within the gigantic golden jewel that she wore upon her neck: a gift from her adoring parents at birth. Only by being reunited with the jewel would she ever regain her Elven appearance and powers – only the jewel could transform her back into what she truly was.
Skye, however, was given a different fate concerning the breaking of his curse: he would either die after living out the years allotted to one of his race…or he must find her, the princess whom he had vowed to save, and fulfill his mission, therein regaining his own powers and Elven appearance.
But the goblin captain knew exactly how to make certain that this never happened. He blasted the prince in the face with goblin fire, burning him horribly. Then, the remaining goblins ran off into the ether of the land that they were now trapped in for all of time, to hide themselves, the princess, and the jewel that held her powers within it. Skye was left alone and mortally wounded.
Contrary to the goblins' belief, though, he did not die of his hurts. No, many long hours after they had left him in the midst of the destruction of the battle that they had all stumbled upon, he awakened to find himself in a strange new place. The two people that were with him when he returned to consciousness told him that they were the Mother Superior and abbot of the nunnery that he was now being nursed within; they had mistaken him, he saw, for a wounded soldier of their own kind.
'And why not?' he asked himself, bitterly, remembering how he had failed to rescue the helpless princess. 'For all intents and purposes, I am one of them now. A mortal.'
But this was not true. He still held within him the heightened senses of the Elves, and even though he could not use his powers, he had a talisman of his own world to aid him: a large golden ring that would give him any five hundred wishes that he could think of. So, as soon as he had recovered, he set off into the world. His once beautiful, Elven face was now scarred beyond recognition or the power of healing, and so he took to wearing a mask to hide it. He wandered through that land, making his plans as he journeyed. Somewhere within France, he would find the princess.
And so, as long years went by, Skye left behind him the distant past of his life, his Elven ways, and even his name, creating for himself a new identity: using his wish-granting ring, he insinuated himself into the most powerful circles of the French society. Skye was no more – no, now he was Erik Christian Laurent-Valeray d'Auberie, the Count d'Auberie.
The goblins had also been mistaken in thinking that the jewel that held the princess's powers was the only thing that could reveal her for who and what she was. Skye knew otherwise. He would know the princess by the fact that, somewhere within her mind, the story of her own life – that of the goblins, her Elven parents, Prince Skye, everything – would exist. She would know her own story, and by that, he would know her. In the long years that passed, he searched all through France, looking for his lost princess, Odessa-Gadriel of the Elves…
And now they had found one another.
Through goblins and thugs and prejudice and danger and mystery they had fought their way to one another's side, and he had known her for who and what she was, even though this had been far from easy.
Desperate to rid themselves of her before the prince caught up with them once more, the goblins left the princess on the doorstep of a young French couple – Alain and Yvette Boisvert – who took her in as their own but died before much time had passed. The baby girl had gone into the keeping of an aunt and uncle, who were really not her blood-kin, but did not know of the truth of her adoption.
Meanwhile, the goblins also assumed human form to lurk in the background of France, watching and waiting, and their captain, Ahrmant, had soon become Skye's worst enemy at the court of France, under the guise of a handsome young nobleman who was known as the Marquis de Mercier. He had done all that he could to keep Skye from discovering the map-puzzle that would lead him to the princess's jewel, the Mahat-Marandas, but he had not succeeded. Skye found out about the puzzle and went to solve it, although he knew next to nothing about the legends and history of the mortals.
And then, in an extraordinary twist of fate, he heard of the young niece of a certain merchant from Rouen, who was an incredible artist, coming up with incredible depictions of fairy tales…and Elves…
The masque ball at the chateau d'Hautefort led to his first seeing her, and even then, he knew that she was the princess, without a doubt in his mind. He brought her to him with an offer to help, and a promise of adventure, and as he came to know her better than anyone else, his feelings about her were justified: she knew the story of the Elven princess. She was the one. Clarice Boisvert was Odessa-Gadriel, Princess of the Elves.
And now they had found one another.
* * *
The girl who had once been Clarice Boisvert stood, extending her hand to him, a gentle, soft smile playing about her ruby lips. Skye, no longer Erik or the Count d'Auberie, put his own hand into hers, and she helped him to his feet. Once there, he stood unsteady and hesitant…but she put her arms about him, keeping him upright. Regaining his sense of balance and straightening himself, he then looked at her.
Golden eyes looked deep into emerald green, light and dark fusing into one seamless, tranquil, utterly beautiful blend.
"Princess…" he whispered again, and she recalled all of the times that he had called her by that title, insisting that – no matter what the world may say – she was his princess: she always had been his princess, and she always would be.
How true it was; and he was her prince.
Fingers moving to deftly, lovingly, tenderly caress her cheek, as if it was the wing of a delicate, timid butterfly, he gazed into her face, the light of her beauty shining forth from her as if she was a star taken human – no: Elven – form. The fairness of her face and form was all evidence of her true heritage, of her royal blood, and now she had the same pointed, leaf-shaped ears as he had.
She was, without a doubt, a princess of a legend.
He took her in his arms, and she melted into his embrace.
"My Princess Odessa-Gadriel."
Her name – her real name. She felt as if, during all the years of her life, she had somehow known it, all along…
"Dearest of my heart and soul, I love you as well – I love you more than anything, and I will not suffer myself another parting from you ever again. Throughout all eternity, from this time forth, I am yours."
"As I am yours!" she swore, passionately.
He stood away from her then, gathering both of her hands into his, both knowing and loving the familiar touch of her skin upon his. The soft, gentle smile that she cherished so deeply curved his lips and his golden eyes shone with love…for her.
"Then come with me, my Princess – come with me, my love: let's go home."
And with that, he turned and led her forth from the silent chamber, and they left behind them the scene of what had been a horrible and yet wonderful moment for them both, walking slowly away – together – from thoughts of goblins and captivity and broken hearts, making their way towards the outdoors, towards the sky and the cliffs and the sea…
Towards the light.
* * *
The sun shone joyous, fresh, and brilliant upon the land that beautiful morning as Skye and Odessa-Gadriel made their way out of the ruins of the ancient fortress and out to the cliffs, Skye leading her along their edges by the hand, smiling at her uncontrollably every five seconds, he felt, unable to stop an enraptured grin from splitting his face.
She smiled back every time, wordless with awe at her new self – she was the same, and yet incredibly different. She couldn't help putting up her hand to her newly pointed ears with extreme frequency, marveling at the fact that she was not merely an Elf, but an Elf who was a princess at that! She was Clarice, and yet she was not anymore. She was Odessa-Gadriel.
Finally, they came to a rugged, rocky outcropping high atop the cliffs, and there Skye assisted her to climb up onto the very summit of the stones, one of his arms moving to encircle her waist as they balanced precariously together there. His deep golden eyes were turned out to sea, fixing them with a gaze that was so incredibly searching and intense that she wondered what he could be seeing. At length, she asked of him, "What is it, my love?"
Then he turned back to her, smiling down into her wondering face.
"Look and see, my Princess."
She did as he told her, gazing out at the sea, which was alight with flecks of the sun's rays in its deep, green-blue waters, over which the endless blue sky made a dome. Somehow, she sensed that there was something very different in the air, a sensation that came from her powerful, newly restored attunement to the natural magic and enchantment of the Elves. There was something out there: she could feel it…but as of yet, she could not see what it was.
Skye inclined his head to one side, so that he might have a better view of her half-averted face: her emerald eyes were distant and dreamy, he saw, and she seemed as if her mind had flown to a world far beyond that which they now saw before them, to a world where wondrous creatures such as the Pegasus, the wise winged ones existed alongside strange, beautiful peoples, like the Elves…
"What do you see?" he asked her.
Her gaze remained distant and searching, longing.
"I…I don't know – there's something there, but I can't see it…I can feel it, but my eyes have no vision before them but that of the sea and sky."
His smile became infinitely deeper, more tender and knowing, and he reached out, placing his hands on her shoulders, and whispered in her ear, against her hair.
"Ah yes, but you can, my love…"
She was still and silent for a moment longer, and suddenly, her mind cleared and she did indeed see it. Lifting one hand, she stretched out her fingertips, towards the distant horizon, towards the sky itself, and she breathed, so softly that she could barely be heard, "Evyrworld…"
And before them materialized a large, oval-shaped picture of a beautiful, vibrant, exotic, living and breathing world: a land unlike any of those known to the inhabitants of France, England, Italy, Spain, Ireland, or any other country about them. Shimmering with a sense of magic, of life, that seemed to sparkle almost tangibly on the air, the vision drifted just beyond them, as if it awaited them.
Odessa-Gadriel could not take her eyes off of it.
She was spellbound by the beauty of the picture – by the inexorable summons, by the sense of homecoming, of longing, that washed over her in waves as she continued to look at it. She felt Skye's warmth behind her and knew that he was gazing at it, just as enchanted and longing as she.
"How can we get to it?" she whispered.
"How do all fairy tales begin?" was his reply, in the form of a question.
She looked at the picture again, realization dawning on her in a wondrous burst of newfound knowledge and timeless memory. How do all fairy tales begin…?
"Once upon a time."
The surface of the picture quivered and then the thin film of opalescent sparkles burst, like a bubble in the air; the scent of flowers unknown, of forests and wild, fresh air, and lands above and beyond their own, each filled with their own stories, peoples, creatures, and secrets, flowed out to greet them, curling like a playful, inviting breeze around the both of them: whisking about the skirts of her shining white gown and stirring his thick hair. Sound and colour stood vivid and fantastic before them: waiting…
She turned to him, her emerald eyes knowing and filled with passion: passion for this, their newest adventure, for life, hers and his, conjoined as one, and for him.
Thoughtfully then, "Skye?"
"Yes?" he said, tenderly.
Still deeply pensive. "We were only bound to be human – to be mortal – while we were in that world, while my powers and the knowledge of my heritage were bound within the Mahat-Marandas," gesturing to the yellow gem that rode, with its crest of diamonds, upon her flawless white throat, "and while you were separated from yours by an unfulfilled quest?"
He nodded, his smile becoming all the more brilliant as he saw, in her eyes, the reason behind that question.
"Yes."
Then, Princess Odessa-Gadriel and Prince Skye stepped across the boundary that separated the mortal world from Evyrworld, the lands of legend and fairy tales – of faery tales, really. Faery tales, and Elven legends. They looked back: only once more, for the final time, and then she turned her gaze up to him, to his face, and with hands that were gentle and loving, with a touch that was tender and passionate, she reached up and lifted off the nearly-shattered mask of black porcelain that had for so long hidden his face…
…And revealed, behind it, features that were completely healthy and whole, with skin as smooth and soft as a newborn infant's, lightly tanned with a tinge of gold, a pair of deeply golden eyes looking out from the midst of features that were high and fair, both wise and blissful.
Odessa-Gadriel smiled into the eyes of her lover. Her Skye-Prince.
He reached out and took her in his arms, and kissed her there, high on the ramparts of Evyrworld's mountains in the heart of Elvendome, so that everything – all nature – could witness their love, the powerful shaping force of their hearts.
For this is what had brought them from one world to the next, showing them that all stories, all adventures, trials, and all lives began with four simple and yet endlessly elusive and irresistible words.
Once upon a time.
* * *
