Disclaimer: I don't own the fairy tale Briar Rose, nor do I wish I did, as it's riddled with various plotholes. But Sir Robin is mine, as is his descendant. Feel free to steal them. :o)
A/N - This is supposed to be a very dark, very serious fic. Please note, however, that it is slightly rushed, and that one day I will probably end up writing something more complete about this idea. Thank you.
In the tallest tower of the castle, she waits, asleep on a bed covered in silken sheets, for the day that her prince will come. She has been asleep for over three hundred years now, locked in a prison filled with beautiful dreams of what will happen upon her awakening. Around the castle, the thorn bush still grows ever higher, now covered in red blossoms. Soon it will be as tall as this tower window, and then what? Will she be free, will she awake, and think that it was all a terrible nightmare, that she has not been asleep for three centuries? Or will she slumber on, unaware of what has become of the outside world; of the wars that threaten to reach her kingdom soon? Will her prince come?
Outside, amonst the briars, are the remains of those that tried to cross the henge. Various bones and shreds of cloth, caught amongst the foot long thorns. A graveyard, dedicated to those that failed, their bodies buried beneath the leaves, their goal never reached. Is the body of her prince there still, with his spirit still longing to kiss the princess whom he was destined to marry? Is that where he is, dead amongst the briars?
Inside all the finery of the palace has begun to fade. The tapestries are tattered, the carpets faded, the halls treaded through only by the mice and rats. The years have taken their toll, if not on the princess then on the castle. Dust covers everything within; dust and silence are the only things to be found within. The silence of the years lays heavy upon this place.
Something stirs within the palace walls. The princess. She is talking in her sleep, dreaming of some far away place where she might be free from this curse that has her held firm in its grasp. "Robin," she mumurs, "Sir Robin. You will be the one to wake me from the curse."
If he was the one to wake her from the curse, then where was he three hundred years ago? Is he among the briars? Or did his courage fail, and he did not try to wake the princess? Wherever he is, he is dead now, from either age or from his quest, perhaps none can say.
Outside the sound of horse's hooves can be heard. Another prince has come to try the henge, to face his fears and save the lady within. Will he succeed?
There is a strange slashing noise, as he attempts to make his way through the briars. Strangely, the vines give way willingly, and there is no need for his blade. Soon he is across the drawbridge, and within the castle walls. Purposefully, he strides down the cracked, weedy path, coming to the castle and throwing open the doors. It is not long before he is in the room where the princess is.
Even after all these years, she is still young. Still beautiful. Still innocent.
He sheathes his blade and gazes down at her, an expression of pity written across his fine features. "Now it is time for me to set everything right," he says grimly, taking her hands in his.
Gently he kisses her, not on her lips but on her brow.
The foundations of the castle begin to shake. The briars disappear as the years of waiting come to an end. The fairy's curse has been fulfilled. No longer will she sleep.
Time melts and flows crazily, becomes muddled and tries to straighten itself out. The furnishings of the castle deteriorate, then are restored. The prince vanishes, only to be replaced with another.
The princess yawns and opens her eyes. "Robin!" She exclaims, sitting bolt upright in the bed where she lays. "You broke the spell!"
Dazed, the prince looks at her. "I did not think - I thought I was dead, that I did not try the briars. Or was it all a dream?" He asks, shaking his head. "So many died . . . I did not want to die with them."
The princess gazes at her prince lovingly. "It matters not, Robin. It was all a dream. I am here - so are you. That is all that matters. It is morning, now, and all of our black dreams have come to an end. Let us now rejoice!"
Hand in hand, they descend down the stairs, to the throne room where her parents, the King and Queen are waiting.
In a different time, in a different place, a young knight awakes to the sound of bird song. He is laying in what once was a castle, but now is an overgrown ruin. Trees push up through where the throne room must have been, blackberry brambles cover the area of the Great Hall. Only a circle of stones is left to show where the tower once was.
He stands and looks at what is left of the castle that he traipsed through, looking for a princess to kiss, for a legend to set right.
"So I have done it," he thinks blankly. "I have righted my ancestor's wrong."
Kicking at a stone, he walks away, back to where he knows his horse will be tied, and continues on his way up the hill, to the palace where he lives. The palace that was built by Sir Robin and the sleeping princess, Susannah, almost three hundred years ago.
As he walks away, he wonders; "If I did not wake her, who would have?"
A/N - Please review and tell me what you think about this idea/drabble/writing style. Ah, what the hey - please review. :OD
A/N - This is supposed to be a very dark, very serious fic. Please note, however, that it is slightly rushed, and that one day I will probably end up writing something more complete about this idea. Thank you.
In the tallest tower of the castle, she waits, asleep on a bed covered in silken sheets, for the day that her prince will come. She has been asleep for over three hundred years now, locked in a prison filled with beautiful dreams of what will happen upon her awakening. Around the castle, the thorn bush still grows ever higher, now covered in red blossoms. Soon it will be as tall as this tower window, and then what? Will she be free, will she awake, and think that it was all a terrible nightmare, that she has not been asleep for three centuries? Or will she slumber on, unaware of what has become of the outside world; of the wars that threaten to reach her kingdom soon? Will her prince come?
Outside, amonst the briars, are the remains of those that tried to cross the henge. Various bones and shreds of cloth, caught amongst the foot long thorns. A graveyard, dedicated to those that failed, their bodies buried beneath the leaves, their goal never reached. Is the body of her prince there still, with his spirit still longing to kiss the princess whom he was destined to marry? Is that where he is, dead amongst the briars?
Inside all the finery of the palace has begun to fade. The tapestries are tattered, the carpets faded, the halls treaded through only by the mice and rats. The years have taken their toll, if not on the princess then on the castle. Dust covers everything within; dust and silence are the only things to be found within. The silence of the years lays heavy upon this place.
Something stirs within the palace walls. The princess. She is talking in her sleep, dreaming of some far away place where she might be free from this curse that has her held firm in its grasp. "Robin," she mumurs, "Sir Robin. You will be the one to wake me from the curse."
If he was the one to wake her from the curse, then where was he three hundred years ago? Is he among the briars? Or did his courage fail, and he did not try to wake the princess? Wherever he is, he is dead now, from either age or from his quest, perhaps none can say.
Outside the sound of horse's hooves can be heard. Another prince has come to try the henge, to face his fears and save the lady within. Will he succeed?
There is a strange slashing noise, as he attempts to make his way through the briars. Strangely, the vines give way willingly, and there is no need for his blade. Soon he is across the drawbridge, and within the castle walls. Purposefully, he strides down the cracked, weedy path, coming to the castle and throwing open the doors. It is not long before he is in the room where the princess is.
Even after all these years, she is still young. Still beautiful. Still innocent.
He sheathes his blade and gazes down at her, an expression of pity written across his fine features. "Now it is time for me to set everything right," he says grimly, taking her hands in his.
Gently he kisses her, not on her lips but on her brow.
The foundations of the castle begin to shake. The briars disappear as the years of waiting come to an end. The fairy's curse has been fulfilled. No longer will she sleep.
Time melts and flows crazily, becomes muddled and tries to straighten itself out. The furnishings of the castle deteriorate, then are restored. The prince vanishes, only to be replaced with another.
The princess yawns and opens her eyes. "Robin!" She exclaims, sitting bolt upright in the bed where she lays. "You broke the spell!"
Dazed, the prince looks at her. "I did not think - I thought I was dead, that I did not try the briars. Or was it all a dream?" He asks, shaking his head. "So many died . . . I did not want to die with them."
The princess gazes at her prince lovingly. "It matters not, Robin. It was all a dream. I am here - so are you. That is all that matters. It is morning, now, and all of our black dreams have come to an end. Let us now rejoice!"
Hand in hand, they descend down the stairs, to the throne room where her parents, the King and Queen are waiting.
In a different time, in a different place, a young knight awakes to the sound of bird song. He is laying in what once was a castle, but now is an overgrown ruin. Trees push up through where the throne room must have been, blackberry brambles cover the area of the Great Hall. Only a circle of stones is left to show where the tower once was.
He stands and looks at what is left of the castle that he traipsed through, looking for a princess to kiss, for a legend to set right.
"So I have done it," he thinks blankly. "I have righted my ancestor's wrong."
Kicking at a stone, he walks away, back to where he knows his horse will be tied, and continues on his way up the hill, to the palace where he lives. The palace that was built by Sir Robin and the sleeping princess, Susannah, almost three hundred years ago.
As he walks away, he wonders; "If I did not wake her, who would have?"
A/N - Please review and tell me what you think about this idea/drabble/writing style. Ah, what the hey - please review. :OD