Well, here is the last installment of the shorts...the last few I could find. (I wrote them when the movie came out, after all...) I hope you like these...these last three are completely, utterly AU in all ways, they are simply different views of Ardeth Bay in different cultures/myths. I hope no one is offended by any mistake I've made in telling these...
Disclaimer: Stephen Sommers and Universal Pictures own the character of Ardeth Bay. I do not profit from this work.
NOTE: These are TWO SEPARATE ficlets and a poem, NOT one story.
***
Ardeth Bay as a Rom (Gypsy)
She snuggled deeper into the thick furs of her bed, enjoying the sounds of the owls nearby; the single set of shutters left open brought the fresh night air into her vardo. She lay utterly contented; the night's frenzied dancing had left her deliciously fatigued, and she was thoroughly pleased by the entertainment her family had found. They'd encountered another group of Costovari, tinsmiths, on the road; such joy---they were related, though far, far in the past, and decided to camp together. Such brightly painted vardos and benders! All of them in a big circle...and the khelapen! the dance! She had never before danced with such abandon. The other Costovari played feverishly, as if possessed. She would treasure this evening forever. And this atchin'tan would be blessed forever for hosting such merriment.
Another fragrant breeze moved inside her wagon, gently rustling the pots and pans hanging from hooks. A slight tinkling noise from her shawl, threaded with tiny silver coins, reminded her again of the khelapen. She lost herself anew in remembrance; the fiddlers; the drummers; the raklies---the young women, excused from their chores; the bonfires; and the pair of gleaming eyes that seemed to burn her as they watched. That the son of the leader of these Costovari had been entranced by her---it had only added to her enjoyment of the evening. He was gloriously beautiful, taller than any other man at the atchin'tan, his clothes bright and joyous, his brilliant vest housing a broad pair of shoulders, his dark, long-fingered hands sensual as he smoked his pipe, his dark, magnificent eyes never leaving her.
Another sound, like someone on the ladder; she frowned. Who would be disturbing her at this time? Then, with a draught of night air, the door opened and closed, and by the setting moon she could just make out the masculine form crossing the vardo to her, his inky hair silvern by the light, the golden hoops in his ears gleaming.
"Lyddi," he breathed, warmth seeping through her nightshift from his hand on her shoulder. "I know you feel it too, what I feel. The singing of the blood, sharp as my knife, the calling for your body." His voice was urgent, taut, in the darkness, and her own desire flooded her, responding to his nearness. "You have me, heart, body, soul. I can refuse you nothing."
She was surprised by the sudden fierce intensity of his kiss, his lips passionately claiming her, his hand tightening upon her shoulder, silky locks of black hair lightly caressing her cheek. She drew both arms around him, pulling his male heat tighter against her, and he near-lifted her out of the bed, crushing her against his chest, where she could feel his heart half-beating out of his chest.
"I want you," he murmured into the tangled jasmine of her hair, his strong hands holding her, his next kiss white-hot, consuming her entirely, her own hands pulling his shirt off and embracing the smooth flesh of his back, the sinewy muscles of his shoulders.
"I am yours," she said.
***
Ardeth poem
He waits for her in the foyer
one arm stretched across the next chair
as if she is already sitting beside him.
The day has almost stolen away.
He is lit by a single window
that paints his dark hair silver.
Long fingers lay quiescent against wood.
His face wears an expression
made haunting.
Lean lines relaxed
the few white lines at his temple
catch the fading light.
Soon he will sing her
a song of the night,
hold her before dawn.
Soon he will never leave.
This will be theirs.
Everything will make sense.
She has crushed the last doubt.
He does not know the story
of overheard cruelty.
She won't tell him
that she knows what women say
about them.
She lingers on the stairs
watching him
so quiet.
She wonders if he sees
the alternate realities
that she has dreamed of.
The last light quells and she remains
a dark haired valkyrie
lingering over the only hero
she has ever
loved.
***
Ardeth in Beauty & the Beast
She forced herself to take hold of the huge iron ring affixed to the door. It was cold and heavy. Grasping it firmly, she knocked three times and stepped back.
Almost immediately the giant oak doors opened. She flinched, expecting guards. Then she remembered her father's words and his warnings about "invisible servants". It had seemed so unreal to her in his story, but the truth was revealed when she stepped inside and found no one.
"Hello?" she called timidly. Her own voice echoed back to her, lonely. She walked in further, and even in her fright she marveled at the exquisitely decorated castle. Everything was sumptuously appointed, from the least drawing-room to the loftiest grand hall. Her fear was replaced by wonder, especially when she stepped into the garden, luch and beautiful, with immaculately trimmed hedges forming a natural wall to enclose it.
Tired from her journey, she laid down in the warm grass, enjoying the pleasant smell of lilacs. In the afternoon sun she soon became drowsy and fell asleep to the drone of bees.
She awakened with a start. Where was she? Where was her drab little room? She looked down at the gown she wore in surprise. It was old-fashioned, to be sure, but resplendent with embroidery and stiff with brocade. Her hands searched out the unfamiliar weight upon her neck; it was a cunningly wrought necklace of enormous emeralds. Nearby sat a gold jewelry chest, opened to reveal great quantities of pearls and thick-set clusters of sapphires. The room itself was spacious, warmed by an immense fire inside a marble fireplace.
The moment her bejeweled slippers touched the thick rug the door opened. Though she had been warned by her father she still clapped her hands over her mouth in fright.
He was tall, powerful, monstrous in his ebony fur and unkempt appearance. He bared white fangs at her, scowling, and she retreated farther onto the bed. Muscles rippled as he leapt across the room. "So I frighten you," he said fiercely in a deep, resonant voice. "But your father was right. You are a beauty. You will stay here with me forever."
She did not want to cry, but her tears would not hide. "He was right---you are a beast!"
With a savage roar he threw a footstool against the wall, breaking it into kindling. "You will not be allowed out of this room unless you do as I say," he spat, his chest heaving. Calming himself with difficulty, he added. "Once you have regained your senses you will be allowed free rein within the castle. Except you must never leave. You will dine with me every night. Do not be late, or you will face my wrath."
"I will not dine with you---ever!" she said in high fright.
For a moment he stood still. Only his eyes were alive, blazing with fury. Then he moved so quicklyl that before she could react he was astride her, tearing off her clothes, his wicked talons upon her bare skin. Pinned beneath the solid muscle of his body it was all she could do to not scream. His hot lips found her neck, insistent, demanding, the silken fur of his now-bare chest against her, the coolness of his fangs giving her chills. One hand found her breast, long fingers closing around it, causing her to gasp aloud. Her eyes met his, and the flame of anger changed to the flame of desire. She felt it too, suddenly, and impulsively brought her lips to his. With a growing shock she felt him transform in her arms, his silken fur receding, his warm flesh against her own. His long ebon hair brushed against her cheek. He was as incredulous as her. "Beauty," he said softly. "You have freed me."
She pulled him tighter against her, savoring his exquisite handsomeness. "Now you must have me," she whispered, "to bring us together and make us one." His kiss sealed her to him.
***
Hope you enjoyed those...I admit, the melodrama factor is fairly high, but they were fun to write then nonetheless. (The challenge was to make them fit inside an average sized greeting card.)