Sladin or Bust – Explicit One Shots from the Vault of Sladin-
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Sing, Sweet Nightingale
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Based on song in Disney's Cinderella and the story The Nightingale- a bit more fairytale- esque about a young prince in a strange land being bought by a foreign king who wants to know about the loveliest singer in all his years. Yet will it chirp for he, or remain somber and silent the rest of its days?
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"The child, oh! How they sing to the heavens…. I can hear angels whence so…"
The gamble went on around the church as a boy and his family stopped to sing along, the child the ringleader of song as every note tore a visiting lord from far into the hills to look the teen's way. All but a youth, never even grown into his ways as a man, the sweet sound was hauntingly beautiful as the angels should have made it clear.
This child was a treasure that God might never let go. The boy looked to belong to a family of nomads, merchants that did as they pleased and were also rather skilled in craft and acrobatics. Hos many siblings put on a show until the royal guard snatched away that boy from his mother. Never to cry another tone our again.
In that moment, the ruler. The king for only his time in this place, he saw the boy's wings and wanted them to bless his halls.
With song.
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Down the glittering halls of his palace of gold and jewels hung in every corridor, King Will ( Wilson) tapped his foot to the floor before rising to pace. He sat again, his patient manner thinning tirelessly, just as a door began to creak…
"We've brought the son of that Romani troupe, sire." This was no insult, but purely the truth as the boy wore his soft slippers of his country. His hair tied up loosely and the red of his tunic was vibrantly dyed a soft, ruby red.
He looked on with wary, tired and beaten sapphire eyes. The guards had imprisoned the child, he had been paid for. His parents were given notice to leave, to be happy with what the king had offered and nothing else…
That could only work for so long. The boy looked to the long hall of the king's chamber. The king sat up, a fist holding his head to the side as he leaned into it and spoke, "You, can sing such with such a pretty voice, yet what has happened to your face."
"The boy was beaten while contained with his brothers and mother, sire." The earlier servant beside the boy responded quickly. "He was left without food or water for days. He must be taken care to –
"And he will." The man heard something fall from the youngest son's lips as his parched face puckered to speak. Instead, he pulled back and simply stayed silent.
"Where…is your family, you meant to ask?" The king could read such expressive eyes as the teen's blue sapphires.
"Are, they well, you wish to know."
The child had his head down. He would not speak, would not compromise anymore of himself. The king though, knew this rebellion was a weak example.
The king moved his arm to direct the boy be cleaned up, fed and led to his shelter as he healed from many pitches of bruises against his golden life's very tanned complexion. His parents were not so fair, however, he looked to be something of a mix. None taken to that account as the king roused himself in time to set the preparations for a supper so grand that the boy would not keep his beak shut for much longer than he had today.
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In robes of gold and cerulean, he was given these and bathed even on the same hour; the king would be expecting his guest to perform perhaps. The boy looked to the floor. The world seemed so dull. Not at all as colorful as his attire of his homeland. "These rags are filthy." A maid picked up his clothes and tossed them into a pile to be taken "care" of.
"See to it that the little Roma child has only finest apparel. The king wants pretty things. Never these….wash rags."
His mother had sewn that top with care. His very favorite part was the Robin patch that was embroidered into the woolen cloth as he wrenched it back.
"Child! Restrain yourself. That old cloth is nothing to concern yourself with. You were chosen by the king!" She hit him, as had the guards while he was locked away before coming here. Yet, the little Robin did not croak. He wanted to see his parents again, so he endured it all.
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The bruise to his face was masked by the first , yet the king sniffed out that something was missing at their grand spread of fine pastries and even finer choices of meat and greens from his lush garden. A song in that garden would life the lord's spirits, so they were to sit as the teenager did. He looked at his food the entire time, until the king motioned for the boy to take his first bite. He ate quietly for a songbird, no sounds as the cooks and maids all watched with fingers clutched in the background.
"Your silence in a bore, yet I know you wish to tell of your many adventures with your troupe. You may do so."
The boy, being as he was, seemed to hear none of it. The king grunted and tore a bit of steak with his fork, chewing pensive as the boy continued to act unaware of his actions to the king. With a gulp of wine, the king spoke again, this time he was more to coax than to expect. A frightened animal at his supper table was to be expected anyway.
"That family is someplace over this hilltop. They won't be coming back for you. They were granted more than enough coin and the privilege to do as they sought by their king's decree. Well, until their leave, I am but a humble dealer to they. Why then would they allow you to stay in their place, you might wonder?"
The boy was still quiet, not a bite as taken as he stared into his drink, onto his plate that was far to much to carry on his bruised belly. The king was not king, he wanted things and the boy was afraid to know that he could grant anything other than his very life in this regal fool's burly hands. Ogres had more in common, yet he could not laugh. He frowned into his plate. Never seeing the king rising as the maids scattered and fled the room.
"There is a song I wish for you to sing. Will you, do it? This is to be your new life. What do they call you, for I am King Will." Bowed the awkward ogre.
The boy turned his head.
The ogre leaned down, catching a glimpse of watery sapphire. To push, would close Pandora's box. He needed to be less a beast, more a suitor. Suitable for this bird to use its voice once more. To accept his new life as the king's prize.
Only yet….
The child made him careless. "Will you not look my way –
The fear returned as the boy turned with a start, his drink spilled carelessly into the cloth as the king gripped the boy's collar and proceeded to bring him to face his lord. "You will not end this; I command you to speak!"
The boy shut his eyes as the king snarled, his patience being paper thin as the boy was dragged back to the throne room. A sight worth unsettling was lying there for him to lose his voice once more. "If this bird will not sing, I shall have it be worn until it croaks. You will stay, here!" Inside a glittering cage of silver, he was tossed as the bars were opened and then shut away the presence of any other sounds. Any hope of escaping was dashed, for he was too fearful to fight. Too good to kill, and far too prideful to blast notes into the ears of this unsuitable ogre among the hills.
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The boy wept, even soft as his lips did not move, only sniffles were heard as he stayed inside the cage and was fed, bathed in a small wash bin as if inside his cell once again. The king made sure to arrange a second council in another room, that was until…
The Duke of Dent came to speak of his finds in the new world, yet his prize; the little songbird soon found something that made the king far more deranged than he ever would have witnessed.
"A boy spared, in a cage of silver? That child is a bard's child, no?"
"Nay, performers. They in fact say the angels can speak through his voice. He will sing, or so be it I may see to his brothers and mother being put to the stockades for opposing our bargain."
"A pretty thing like this?" Duke of Dent smirked and walked up to the bars. "Care to entice us with a tune, Nightingale."
After that, he was called Nightingale by any that tried to make the cock crow, let alone burst into song. "He will not sing, it is useless!" The king complained, yet when he was done, he would storm to the cage and rattle it to shock the boy. "Sing, or I shall take much more than your voice and your prideful spirit from ye…"
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It was only by the kindness of the king's youngest and mute son Jose, that the little Nightingale found any comfort. He spoke with some magic "hand" language, yet the boy picked it up well enough to have private conversations with the angelic blonde lad.
~ What is your true name? You are not a fae, father dies not keep people as pets.~
~I am a person, not a pet. And…yes…my name is Robin. My mother gave it to me. Everyone the King knows however calls me "Nightingale, ~ Robin signed back with a cocky chuckle. ~ The king thinks me a maiden so fair, yet I look not the part –
~ He wants you to grow to adore him as so many do. ~ The son of the king signed. ~ Be careful. I would not wish to see you lose your wings to a man that cannot carry a tune himself. ~
In their sign, Robin could laugh and express himself a bit better. One day, that lovely trick had slipped as the boy began to quietly while no one was in the room. He had his back to the doorway, and it was quiet enough. He'd not spoken in so long that his voice came along as a river of pearls. Silently drifting, while his imaginary wings were for a second, no longer clipped to his spine inside of his silver prison. He had his heart aflutter with the grave if a thousand doves. Memories of his happiest days returned if only briefly.
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The tired king was returning from council as he heard with his ears as magical as a fae's, the sound of a somber song that he had never heard within these walls before. He rushed in the opposite direction towards the sound. His heart longing to see it as he just listened through the door.
That voice…it was there! It was….
The child finished with a breadth as clapping in an encore, the king did startle the boy to huddle into his cage even deeper along the bars.
"Why do you hide it? If you can sing, it should not be restrained at all. Yet, you sound unhappy, my Nightingale. My son Jose keeps you company, and his music he plays would in fact do the same."
"A…" The boy snapped his jaw shut. No. He'd been quite clear. He was not to sell his soul to this ogre. He had told the king's son Jose…his own name!
"I shall go to my child and tell him. He must comply." The king moved away from the cage and for that time, Robin was truly caged into his sad little existence. "It will be an honor to meet the real you, once I know what you are hiding from me. Little bird."
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The king made jokes about the boy's true name, the one his mother spoke about as he muzzled into her chest fir warmth every night.
"Nightingale or Robin, choose whatever I should call you. Little bird may also do nicely." Shark - sharp teeth stayed outwards as the king had his lunch displayed beside the cage. It was brought to him whilst he dined and the boy sat with a tray of foods only fit for the dog at his lap. He frowned and the quiet kept him fed plenty.
Robin would be granted more he supposed, if he sang. His name was already clearly owned. His brothers too…whenever did they leave to?
"The troupe will be found; I can easily hunt down any merchant and stop them as I like." The king tore into some warm bread as he dipped it into his blood red wine. "Go ahead and beg, if you value their lives, you will again sing for me. Tomorrow night."
The bird's eyes grew quite large.
"At a ball within this palace, you will be the only jewel worthy of praising, little Robin."
The king finished his meal and had the cage again moved, this time it was left to his chambers as the king again made a request and threat in one smooth warning.
"Sing tonight, and I shall spare them. Let me drift away on your melody, my dear Nightingale."
With tears in his eyes, Robin tried very hard to beat a note from his lungs, yet only heavier tears followed and the tears that fell, were no prized jewels for the king's scepter.
He wailed, not sung as the king drifted off. He was only relieved to hear one pitch, and there would be more to indulge in once the boy learned how to act like a proper performer at the ball tomorrow night.
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By the time the bird was roused, a large plate of food was placed in front of his cage while the cook scolded whomever was trying to win the boy over…such an aroma as he picked like a bird at the contents. In a cup to the side he drank yet the drink tasted of fruit and for some off reason, it was strangely intoxicating to take one more sip. So, the plate being bare and the cup refilled, the maids took him from the cage and placed the performer in an outfit of angelic white and gold trim down the back. In a dizzy spell, he was pulled into a room where a blonde male had a mandolin of some design he could not picture. The music had started and with a fire in his gut, a note escaped. The boy threw his hands over his lips yet the cursed brew had done something. He searched the crowd and with flushed cheeks pink as any bride's to be, his words arose and many marveled by how composed he claimed to be on that floor's setting beside the king's musicians.
Performing, against his will.
After the event, another drink was passed to his hands and to the sheer disgust of what it had done, the boy refused to come out of the silver cage. He bit anyone that got too close and after the ball, the king had made him sing by magic?! It was…
W...was….
The boy vomited up what poisons had not left him, and then the king came there to see what his prize was doing to his nice, clean floors.
"Up, you're making a mess of yourself. You were a star no brighter than the stories told by your people. You cannot hate what you are. Nightingale."
The boy's fingers clenched round his ugly new robes. How he hated what this life expected him to be. "My name….is Robin…you may not call me anything so plainly, your majesty ."
"He spoke??" The maids all gasped, the king too was stunned as he knelt to where the boy's face met his own. "You chose not to sing again, yet that is never an option with me. You made your king very happy tonight. Your brothers are now spared, yet does a name mean so much to ye, little bird?"
Robin's eyes were glazed over with hate for the man, but so too was their sorrow. "I would rather die than become yours." The boy battled the man with a lion cub's roar. The king rose, moving to exit the room. "That is never an option. Sing forever, for the rest if your days, or you may never be heard again."
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After that night, his words every song was so drab and grey as the walls of his stony heart. The boy became haggard, his voice less attractive until, one day….
"You intend to die, yet I know why you suffer." The man spoke to his servants as the boy passed out from internal fatigue and into the sun they went.
The garden was the only place truly that Robin decided to come back to his youth.
"Here, the walls of nature shall train your voice once more. You do not understand what you are, you must continue to sing."
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As the years passed, his voice soon recovered as the king said it would, changing with age as the king looked on from his seat and never tired. His child had flown the nest and now had their own adventures to tell, yet the caged bird one day, was let free from his cell.
The door was a cracked opened by the king as he stepped back. His graying beard saw something he had not seen in a very long time. A gratitude that did not need a whip or a harsh tongue. Nay. He saw the boy's true happiness as he gingerly scaled the cage over with caution in his pretty wares. His hair had grown longer in those years, his stunning appearance was even more so as blue tears shown brightly in the sunshine of the king's garden.
"Will you leave here? Have I truly made you unhappy?" The king asked in a voice not at all without wear.
The boy looked on into that seeing sun and held a hand up over his eyes to block it. "It has been ages since I saw the sky like this. How can you not imagine a better world beyond this one, sire?"
"I know nothing of it." The king moved past as he went to seat himself into the center of the cage. His crown handed to the boy and his cape and all. He left that world behind and shut the doors. Locking away all he had seen to finally, be at peace. "Not a thing more, nor less…as your songs have taught me."
The king had his sons carry out governance of his lands and to his joy again, Robin was reunited at once with his long lost family. His mother was older, yet she had never stopped praying for her youngest child's possessive jailer to see the error of his ways. As soon as the boy one day as an adult traveled back to the hill country and sat beside a stone in the royal garden as he was permitted to by Prince Jose upon his stay, he could have sworn that the face of the king had finally found a happiness worthy of his venture.
The bars of iron were wrought with rust and intertwined round them was the softest moss in the whole world. His finest treasure was to never hold onto something that belonged to be set free. He had finally, found a reason to lose the jinn and stop making wishes that would never come true.
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The power of music will set you free? Dick is like a damned siren, wow….
I watched Grimm Variations by Clamp today and, it got to me. So? Not really true Sladin, subtle vibes but you get the picture. Let me know!