DD (dedication and disclaimer... I made up the "DD"): Do not own beyblade and dedicated to all my friends out there, the measly few I have... Must be feeling suicidal again to say such things... *groan* Oh, if you wouldn't mind, I'm talking to myself right now so shoo! go read my fic or something!
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Once Upon a December
The lake was covered with blankets upon blankets of white, pure, innocent, cold snow.
A palm made contact with the cold surface of the window, the imagery blurred by the continuous flurry of the dancing flakes outside his room.
The fire kept up its jealous crackling inside its prison of a fireplace, while the world outside its prison was whispering, giggling, making merry.
In retaliation, it threw its beams of light awry so that the figure at the window looked more weary and 3 years old than his supposed age.
From the nearby table, thumps and impatient noises were to be
heard.
The hand withdrew slightly from the frosty glass, not totally severing contact.
With a understanding sigh, the owner of the hand returned its palm to the
transparent surface.
He was dressed lavishly, as one of noble blood was expected to dress, even for the hours of dark where they were not really seen.
In his mind, the sound of hooves echoed. Not actually coming from the table and not really coming from his head. More like somewhere in between, perhaps from another being of this sapience, yet maybe not from this realm at all.
Then the sound misted and warped slowly into a picturesque movie, with all sounds but a solo voice obliterated.
Dancing mares Painted wings
Things I almost remember
And a song someone sings
Once upon a December
The snow outside was beginning to dance too merrily, it was almost unbearable for the poor fire. Sputtering with indignation, it cracked at the timbers, that fed it, none too mercifully.
The boy at the high paned windows got up slowly, his shadows
drawn long and unclear.
Looking back at the table, he frowned.
It was just a normal table, as normal as royalty would expect it to be, with lavish carvings dating back to medieval times. Atop the table lay a single rapier.
He was sure he hadn't imagined the white images that danced
somewhere out in the snow.
He was particularly sure that the song came from the table, yet part of him was
convinced it was in his head.
A soft noise from outside brought his attention back to the misted window, which he quickly wiped clean with the hem of his sleeping gown (under which was his silk pyjamas), irregardless of all the etiquette lessons he had been through.
It was a car. The family car. His family's car.
The acid-rain-exposed-blonde* made a funny noise, somewhat like a cross breed of
a growl and a whimper.
Fists clenched maroon velvet, only to unclench as the sounds of hooves grew louder in his mind and at the touch of someone protecting him with warm hands... and the herd...
Outside in the snow, unknown to anyone, a lone mare shied.
Someone holds me safe and warm
Horses prance through a silver storm
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory
That was it. He was going to find out the source of the noise and nothing would get in his way. Nothing at all.
The snowflakes almost stopped their whirling and pirouetting in curious anticipation of the boy's actions. Even the fire hesitated before deciding that tormenting the logs would be better, exhibiting it's fiery wrath.
Ever so cautiously, one foot after the other inched towards the table, the source of the haunting noise, with only fluffy purple slippers at their defence.
Two metres more, one and a half metres, one more, half a metre more...
A small gulping noise vibrated around the room, apart from the clip-clopping sounds that he could still hear, not any louder or softer, and the flurry of excited snowflakes pressing against the window to see the action.
A blink.
Blink.
Taking a deep breath, the youth reached out slowly to touch the only visible object on
the table.
His hand was wet with sweat, yet it kept fighting vigilantly towards its
goal...
The sheath of the rapier was a royal deep blue, with gold print carved
on its surface.
Curious fingers traced the foreign lettering before it traveled onto the
spinel stone that was embedded at the hilt, emanating soft rosy violet, shining with all the magnificence
and glory of a knight who had won (or drawn) all battles it had ever went
through.
The fingers then wished they weren't that curious.
In a blinding flash, he saw images, not of the giggling snowflakes nor the grumbling fire but of the past... and he understood then.
The herd... the people ... and the crown.
The broken crown and the herd, who left the young prince behind
except one.
Far away, long ago
Glowing dim as an ember
Things my heart
Used to know
Things it yearns to remember
He saw the prince's plight, how he was betrayed, how he was left alone with
no one but a simple page who trusted him even if he was offered a billion francs
not to do so.
He saw, through the gem, how the prince met his nemesis, how the
page in all loyalty and love had shielded his master till the very last moment,
using his own body as a shield. How it had touched the sorcerer and how
the sorcerer decided to imprison the prince for eternity in a cell no one could
unlock but those of the right blood, instead of simply plucking off the last
leaf on the imperial tree. To add a finishing touch, all the prince's
people were transformed, no more able to use their fingers to work but to slave
for the rest of their lives on hooves pulling carts.
As the young boy looked up from his daze, his eyes locked with those of
amethyst.
Unicolyon nickered, nuzzling his owner.
A soft knock on the great teak doors jerked Oliver out of his
reverie
"Oliver?"
A pause.
"I'm so sorry I lost my temper at you earlier on."
Face solemn and chin straight, an older, more feminine* version of the green
haired boy peered in through the doorway.
He couldn't hold it back anymore, bursting into his (surprised) mother's
outstretched arms before she could say another word.
"I'm just glad that you're around," he mumbled, cherishing every bit of warmth
that came from her.
Mrs. Polanski looked confused for a split second, but she was never one to be confused for long.
Stroking his silky hair gently, she began a tune, one that was
known in the family for decades.
And as she sang, the wavering image of Unicolyon cried out the same eerie tune,
struggling to get the whole melody out before vanishing into the light encrusted
jewel.
Somewhere beyond, somewhere in Rome, the same ghostly melody
floated down the corridors of a mansion.
Janrico (A/N ok, Enrique) rested his head lazily on his palm while his family
heirloom resonated with the very words it had once sung a prince to sleep,
centuries and years ago.
And a song
Someone sings
Once upon a December
~end~
*My Geography teacher was explaining on acid rain and then came up the topic of what it could do to your hair. *smile* She said it turned blondes' hair green. (laughs and rolls on floor)
* No smart comments on how Oliver looks feminine himself. _
Gosh! I'm doing a hinty O/E!!! ARGH! I'M DOING A YAOI?!?!?!?!
I made the story of Unicolyon and Amphilymon up, not canon, no complaining.
Oh, most probably you wouldn't understand what I'm writing about as most readers
complain about it in their reviews. So leave another review if you DO (or do
not) understand this whole metaphoric thing.
Word count not including song= 1091 words approx.
So little words, so much time... *sigh*
