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Grimm's Fairy Stories from Tortall
Archived by:
LADIESofQUEENSCOVEandJESSLAW
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Jon's Beauty Sleep
by:
lelaofbast
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ONCE UPON A TIME in the magical land of Tortall, there lived a King and Queen. Each and every day, King Roald and his wife would say to each other, "Would that we had a child!" Yet, they had none.
But it happened one day, while the royal court was on a hunting trip, that Queen Lianne was bathing in a stream. A black cat came to her. "Thy wish shall be fulfilled," he meowed, violet eyes shining. "Before a year has gone, you shall bring a son into this world."
And as the cat foretold, so it happened. The Queen bore a son so beautiful that the King could not contain his joy. He ordered a great party, with all of his relations, friends, and acquaintances present. He also invited the realm's greatest mages, that they might be kind and favorable to his child.
But alas, he only provided twelve golden plates for them to dine on, and one of the mages had to be left out.
The feast was celebrated with all splendor nonetheless, and as it drew to an end, the mages came forward, that they might bestow their gifts upon the young princeling. One bestowed intelligence, the next good looks, the third compassion, and the next a pleasant singing voice, and so on. When the twelfth mage was about to give her gift, the doors stormed open. Dressed in black robes, the mage who had been left out, Roger of Conté entered the room. He was burning with revenge, and without greeting or respect he cried with a loud voice, "In the fifteenth year of his age the Prince shall prick himself with blade of a sharp sword and fall down dead." Without another word, he disappeared from the hall.
Queen Lianne ran to her baby's cradle, and held him close. Every one was terrified at Roger's spell, when the twelfth mage came forward. She still had a gift to bestow. She could not do away with the evil prophecy, but she used her Gift to soften it. "The Prince shall not die, but fall into a deep sleep for a hundred years. After the century is up, a woman who is brave and stubborn will pass into the courtyard. This champion will wake the prince up with a kiss."
King Roald was thankful for the mage's attempt to help, but he was still desirous of saving his child from the misfortune. He gave command of all the swords in Tortall to be destroyed.
The prince, Jonathan, he was called, grew up, adorned with the gifts of the mages, and his own Gift; he was lovely, sweet, and kind, and clever, so that no one who saw him could help but love him.
It happened one day, their son being already fifteen, that King Roald and Queen Lianne went on a hunting excursion. Prince Jonathan was left behind at the castle. He explored every nook and corner, searching for a hidden passageway that was rumored to lead beneath the moat. He went into all the chambers and parlors until at last he came to an old tower. A rusty key stuck out from the door's lock, and the Prince turned it. The door opened to reveal an old woman. She was seated on a stool in the center of the room, polishing a long blade.
"What is that?" Jonathan asked in wonder.
"Such a brave and handsome prince as you should be able to defend himself with a sturdy sword," the old woman said, her cackling voice cracking.
She showed Jonathan a sweeping cut, and handed the sword to him, admonishing him to try it. Jonathan took the weapon, holding the hilt with both hands. He copied the woman's thrust, without incident, and then carefully scrutinized the sword. At the end of the hilt, a glittering crystal was attached. The blade was smooth and sleek, thin and light, with a double edge. As thunder crashed through the sky, Jonathan ran his finger across the edge of the blade. Three drops of his blood landed on the floor, just before he did.
The old woman's form changed, to reveal the thirteen mage, Roger.
"Good night, little prince," he said, just before he disappeared.
With the cut of the sword, Jonathan was instantly in a deep, deep sleep.
And this sleep fell upon the whole castle. The King and Queen, who had returned, their hunt hindered by the weather, were in the great hall. They fell fast asleep, and with them, the whole court. The horses in their stalls, the dogs in their pen; the very fires in the hearth seemed to still. The meat on the skillet stopped roasting. The cook, who was about to kick a scraggly dog who had apparently stolen a rope of sausages, let him go and went to sleep. The wind ceased, and not a leaf fell around the castle.
A hedge of thorns grew up around the palace, thicker every year, until, at last, the place was hidden from view. All that could be seen of it was the very tip-top of Balor's Needle.
Years passed. From time to time, a brave warrior would attempt to force their way through the hedge, but the thorns held fast, like strong hands. The young heroes were unable to get free, and they died there, a lamentable death.
Many a long year later, a young lady came to an inn called the Dancing Dove. She sat alone, drinking a fruit juice. She didn't like the taste of liquor. A group of people at table set near a wooden throne were rowdy and loud, but the girl kept to herself. She listened to their leader, drunken beyond control, babbling on about a spell on the castle.
"Prince Jonathan has slept there for nigh a hundred years, now," the man slurred. "And with him the King and Queen, and the whole court. It's been passed down the family for four-" the man stopped, holding up five fingers. He stared at them as his mind willed the extra finger to curl into his palm. When it obeyed he continued, "For four generations. My great-great-great-grandfather was a merchant in the palace, a hundred years ago. He left to go north and trade with Scanra. We was friendly with them northern rats, back then, ya know. When gramps came back, there was a hedge around the castle, and there ain't been no one in or out since."
"My dear cousin, your fairy stories are fascinating, but you don't honestly think that there is a prince sleeping under all that bramble, do ya?"
"Fine, Rispah, don't believe me. But mark my words, no one can get in or out!"
"I do not fear to try," a quiet, steady voice from behind said. It belonged to a girl with fiery red hair. "I shall win through and see the prince."
"No, child, you mustn't," the man said, suddenly serious.
"Why not, George Cooper?" the girl asked. She kept his gaze. "Yes, I know who you are. Why shouldn't I try to save this court?"
"It isn't woman's work," he said, hiccupping. The girl's violet eyes blazed.
"I do not fear to try," she repeated. "Mark my words, King of Thieves. By dusk tomorrow, you will hear my name again."
"And what is your name, that I may hear it for the first time?"
"Alanna of Trebond."
Alanna stalked out of the inn and went to saddle her horse. She rode out to the street. A black cat ran across her path. He turned and stared at her, purple eyes matching her own. The cat meowed. To Alanna, it sounded like spoken words.
"Follow me!" The cat took off running, and Alanna pulled the horse to a trot behind him. The cat lead her to where the main gate of a palace once stood. Alanna dismounted and tied up her horse. She walked slowly over to the wall of thorns. The cat darted between them. "Come on," he called behind him.
Alanna took a deep breath and strode forward. As she moved, the hedge moved away from her, and where there were thorns, now only roses were left. Just as the wall parted, it closed behind her and the cat.
It wasn't long before Alanna reached the castle yard. The sight was one to behold. She saw horses and hunting dogs, asleep in their pens. Nobles, in faded, moth-chewed clothing, slumped throughout the courtyard. At first she thought they were all dead, but when she got closer to the cook, foot raised lazily towards a sleeping, ugly dog, she heard snores. The dog whined and chased a rabbit in its slumber. The fires in the kitchen seemed frozen, and Alanna noticed that the wind that blew steadily outside did not reach inside the palace.
Cobwebs ran through the hallways. Alanna shuddered at the thought of the creepy, eight-legged creatures. She almost turned back, thinking that it wasn't worth it. But then she remembered the man at the Dancing Dove. He thought that Alanna would fail, and the only way to prove him wrong was to find the prince and wake him up.
The cat rubbed against her legs, and ran forward.
"This way," he ordered.
Alanna followed the feline, leaving footprints in the dusty hallway. Eventually she came to a bedchamber. The door had long-since rotted away. The prince lay on a dirty old bed, most of the mattress chewed away by bugs and mice. At his side there was a carved wooden sign. Alanna carefully read the faded words.
"I am Prince Jonathan. Kiss me, my Champion, and I shall be yours forever."
Yuck, Alanna thought. She glanced at the prince's grimy face. He was covered with dust, and filth and droppings from who-knew-what. Alanna turned away, but as she did, she heard the taunting voice of George Cooper.
"It isn't woman's work."
Before she knew what she was doing, Alanna leaned down and kissed the prince. His eyes opened, and he blinked hard and coughed from the dust he stirred up with his movement. He turned to the young lady.
"Thank you, very much, milady," he said, passing his hands over his clothes. The stains disappeared, and the holes were patched, so that the garments looked as if they'd just been sewn. He stepped closer to Alanna.
"What is your name, Lass?"
"Alan..Alanna," she stammered, looking into his clear blue eyes. Jonathan was actually quite handsome when he was clean. Handsome enough to make any girl's heart beat skip.
Alanna turned to the window of the small room. Below her, the courtyard was waking up. The horses brayed with hunger, and the hounds yelped to be exercised. Courtiers awoke, and rushed inside, shocked at the state of their clothing. The fires roared back to life, setting the meat on the skillet back to roasting. The cook awoke and kicked at the ugly dog, which jumped away and sent the man sprawling in the grass. The hedge of thorns withered, then died, and the summer breeze filtered the stale air away.
The large doors to the great hall opened, and the King and Queen walked out., shabbily dressed in their worn hunting clothes. Jonathan turned Alanna's face away from the window.
"You have saved us all, Lady Alanna. Not just me and my family, but the whole of Tortall. We are forever in your debt, my Champion," he said, kneeling at her feet.
The wedding of Jonathan and Alanna was held with all splendor, and they lived happily together until their lives' end.
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