A Dance Under the Moon
Feb. 16th, 2004 08:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mishalakThis was going to be something completely different. But now it is a sad fairytale. Don't read it if sad stories get to you. I 'm going to do a happier variation sometime, maybe. Also I would like critiques as this is a first draft.
Once Upon a Time in the Thrice-Ninth Lands there was a principality called Cerkrázni. The great family Lytonov ruled it and had for many, many years. It was a good land, full of good and faithful people who loved the land and lived respectable and quiet lives. In the time of this story the young Prince-Heir Sasha had grown from a little boy into a beautiful young man with hair the color of sunlight upon the waters which he wore long as was the custom for young men in that land. His face was fair, his skin warm, and best of all his heart just as generous and kind as his looks were attractive. All said that when he found a lady to marry she would be luckiest woman in the principality.
But as his 18th birthday approached he still showed no interest in seeking a bride, but instead loved to hunt, to catch, and to watch the creatures of the forests. He would wander far afield and greatly loved the time that his family would spend in the hunting lodge deep in the Border Wood. On one such trip he went out the very first day with his sketchpad wanting to draw something new. He walked far from the dacha and eventually came to a round little clearing. He settled in nearby to wait for something to draw but after a while sitting and not seeing much of anything he drifted off to sleep in the warm summer afternoon.
He awoke a bit chilled, and no wonder, the sun had set. He was just going to get up to leave, upset that he had let his watch become a long nap when he heard something and decided to wait just a bit longer. Into the clearing stepped another young man, who put out a lantern and settled down to read and maybe to wait. But what a contrast from Sasha. Tall, thin, and graceful, yes, but his hair was dark as Sasha's was light and his skin was the blue-grey color of wrought iron, and two small ram's horns grew above his temples. Sasha knew this must be one of the strange Mrazliud or Umpyir people who lived across the river to the west and that he should have nothing to do with him, but instead he took out his sketchpad and started to draw him reading by the moon and lamp.
As he finished his sketch he understood why he wanted to draw this young man, he felt like he had found what he was looking for and against the cautious things he had been taught by parents he went to talk.
His name was Cazamir and he was curious about the young man lord and life on this side of the river. He was from a family of minor Mrazliud lords and often came here for the adventure and to learn about this side of the river. Talking about this and that they both felt deeply spellbound by the other and they made plans to meet again the next night, late.
The day with his parents seemed to creep by. Finally it was time for bed and he slept dreaming until he rose to steal away in the darkest hours before dawn. Sasha met Cazamir again in the clearing and they talked and then the danced together, light and dark. Round and round between their soft lanterns as the stars moved over the dark aspens and at last the sun came up. At the end of the dance they shared a kiss and they were in love.
Now Sasha's parents saw the way he looked over the next week and knew he was deeply smitten with someone. They assumed it was some local girl. They had informed their son about the proper things to do with a girl and so thought it safe enough to indulge their son's first infatuation, not for a moment did they suspect the truth. And if they had they would have been horrified for the good peoples of the Cerkrázni would have nothing to do with the dark peoples who lived in the shadowy Western Kingdoms. And no where in the Thrice-Ninth Lands would anyone stand for their son being in love with another boy!
Now it may have been if Sasha had not been a prince-heir that all would have been well. For others from the Thrice-Ninth Lands had gone to live in the west and even the Thrice-Tenth Kingdom. But being the son of the Prince and Princess there surely would have been much trouble even if he had immediately left his home and family behind, which isn't easy to do at the best of times. So they continued to meet in the woods when they could and Sasha did his best to find reasons to stay at the dacha as much as he could.
As the months went on Sasha learned much about life on the other side of the river and even traveled there a few times with his love. At the same time the Prince and Princess were growing more concerned about who their son's love might be, so they set a servant to find out. It was not easy for him to follow Sasha, for he was very crafty in the way of the woods. But the servant was able to add a little spell to Sasha's boots that he didn't notice, that left a invisible thread to follow. So the next time Sasha went to meet Cazamir they were spied upon as they danced together, graceful in their long boots, in the clearing under a new risen moon.
Hearing about whom their son met the Prince and Princess immediately took action. They consulted with the Council of the Pure. Their Inquisitor assured them that capturing the two would allow them to fix the situation and cure their son of his enchantment. So they sent out a detachment of guards to catch Cazamir with the Inquisitor. They put him in irons so he could not enscroll anyone else and took him to the Council's quarters; he was locked in a cell to await his execution.
Sasha faired little better, he too was put in irons and brought before his parents in their throne room. Usually the room seemed joyful lit by the sun through wide windows of amber, gold, and copper red glass. But today it seemed as harsh as a desert to Sasha as the state wizard prepared to end his love. He called out to his parents to not do this to him. "But we love you Sasha," said his mother. "We only want to fix you," said his father. "Don't worry we'll take away whatever spell it is that he cast upon you."
And the spell was cast and a stone ball that sang in ways only those adept at magic could hear. Then he felt oh so cold inside, but deep down his love fought the new song that tried to tell him not to love his Cazamir. To be the good and dutiful son. And his love sang back and it overcame the tame wizard's spell. And then he cried out to his parents words about love, to eloquent for anyone to remember, they melted like snowflakes on black velvet. That is what softened their hearts and why they released their son to go to his love.
The Council of the Pure had not been idle in the many hours since the lovers capture. They had proclaimed the public burning of the dark one to clean his soul. Though they could have just as easily destroyed him by magic that would just silence the beating of his heart they preferred this sort of display, especially for that race of people who defied the laws given by the Gods and the Bóginki.
Cazamir was chained to the iron pillar with naphtha soaked wood all around him. The Inquisitor was watching the large crowd gathered to see this strange and fearsome oddity. The words rang out across the square and staff was brought to wood to light it by the power given and allowed by the Bóginki. The flames spread in a perfect ring as a disturbance at the edge of the crowd was started by Sasha, his parents, and their guards coming to stop it.
Brushing past person after person in the bright sun Sasha felt like he was running through sugar syrup. Not fast enough, not fast enough, he came to pile of wood as Cazamir cried out in pain from the heat and smoke. The Inquisitor was shouting, the Prince and Princess were shouting back. The guards of each side were going to clash, but Sasha cared only that his true love was dying before his eyes. He lept into the flames, no one knows what he thought he could do, or if he only thought that if he could not save him then he would die with him.
The crowd was horrified and angry. Their beloved Prince-Heir in the flames, they turned on the Council's guards, though a number of fine souls died. But Sasha and Cazamir died in each other's arms that day. The fire was put out and soon afterward the Council of the Pure was expelled from Cerkrázni. In the center of the square where they used to burn people from across the river there stands a statue of the lovers in each other's arms. Their long hair braided and bound together at the ends as is traditional in that country for marriage. And none now thinks that is the slightest bit wrong.
Once Upon a Time in the Thrice-Ninth Lands there was a principality called Cerkrázni. The great family Lytonov ruled it and had for many, many years. It was a good land, full of good and faithful people who loved the land and lived respectable and quiet lives. In the time of this story the young Prince-Heir Sasha had grown from a little boy into a beautiful young man with hair the color of sunlight upon the waters which he wore long as was the custom for young men in that land. His face was fair, his skin warm, and best of all his heart just as generous and kind as his looks were attractive. All said that when he found a lady to marry she would be luckiest woman in the principality.
But as his 18th birthday approached he still showed no interest in seeking a bride, but instead loved to hunt, to catch, and to watch the creatures of the forests. He would wander far afield and greatly loved the time that his family would spend in the hunting lodge deep in the Border Wood. On one such trip he went out the very first day with his sketchpad wanting to draw something new. He walked far from the dacha and eventually came to a round little clearing. He settled in nearby to wait for something to draw but after a while sitting and not seeing much of anything he drifted off to sleep in the warm summer afternoon.
He awoke a bit chilled, and no wonder, the sun had set. He was just going to get up to leave, upset that he had let his watch become a long nap when he heard something and decided to wait just a bit longer. Into the clearing stepped another young man, who put out a lantern and settled down to read and maybe to wait. But what a contrast from Sasha. Tall, thin, and graceful, yes, but his hair was dark as Sasha's was light and his skin was the blue-grey color of wrought iron, and two small ram's horns grew above his temples. Sasha knew this must be one of the strange Mrazliud or Umpyir people who lived across the river to the west and that he should have nothing to do with him, but instead he took out his sketchpad and started to draw him reading by the moon and lamp.
As he finished his sketch he understood why he wanted to draw this young man, he felt like he had found what he was looking for and against the cautious things he had been taught by parents he went to talk.
His name was Cazamir and he was curious about the young man lord and life on this side of the river. He was from a family of minor Mrazliud lords and often came here for the adventure and to learn about this side of the river. Talking about this and that they both felt deeply spellbound by the other and they made plans to meet again the next night, late.
The day with his parents seemed to creep by. Finally it was time for bed and he slept dreaming until he rose to steal away in the darkest hours before dawn. Sasha met Cazamir again in the clearing and they talked and then the danced together, light and dark. Round and round between their soft lanterns as the stars moved over the dark aspens and at last the sun came up. At the end of the dance they shared a kiss and they were in love.
Now Sasha's parents saw the way he looked over the next week and knew he was deeply smitten with someone. They assumed it was some local girl. They had informed their son about the proper things to do with a girl and so thought it safe enough to indulge their son's first infatuation, not for a moment did they suspect the truth. And if they had they would have been horrified for the good peoples of the Cerkrázni would have nothing to do with the dark peoples who lived in the shadowy Western Kingdoms. And no where in the Thrice-Ninth Lands would anyone stand for their son being in love with another boy!
Now it may have been if Sasha had not been a prince-heir that all would have been well. For others from the Thrice-Ninth Lands had gone to live in the west and even the Thrice-Tenth Kingdom. But being the son of the Prince and Princess there surely would have been much trouble even if he had immediately left his home and family behind, which isn't easy to do at the best of times. So they continued to meet in the woods when they could and Sasha did his best to find reasons to stay at the dacha as much as he could.
As the months went on Sasha learned much about life on the other side of the river and even traveled there a few times with his love. At the same time the Prince and Princess were growing more concerned about who their son's love might be, so they set a servant to find out. It was not easy for him to follow Sasha, for he was very crafty in the way of the woods. But the servant was able to add a little spell to Sasha's boots that he didn't notice, that left a invisible thread to follow. So the next time Sasha went to meet Cazamir they were spied upon as they danced together, graceful in their long boots, in the clearing under a new risen moon.
Hearing about whom their son met the Prince and Princess immediately took action. They consulted with the Council of the Pure. Their Inquisitor assured them that capturing the two would allow them to fix the situation and cure their son of his enchantment. So they sent out a detachment of guards to catch Cazamir with the Inquisitor. They put him in irons so he could not enscroll anyone else and took him to the Council's quarters; he was locked in a cell to await his execution.
Sasha faired little better, he too was put in irons and brought before his parents in their throne room. Usually the room seemed joyful lit by the sun through wide windows of amber, gold, and copper red glass. But today it seemed as harsh as a desert to Sasha as the state wizard prepared to end his love. He called out to his parents to not do this to him. "But we love you Sasha," said his mother. "We only want to fix you," said his father. "Don't worry we'll take away whatever spell it is that he cast upon you."
And the spell was cast and a stone ball that sang in ways only those adept at magic could hear. Then he felt oh so cold inside, but deep down his love fought the new song that tried to tell him not to love his Cazamir. To be the good and dutiful son. And his love sang back and it overcame the tame wizard's spell. And then he cried out to his parents words about love, to eloquent for anyone to remember, they melted like snowflakes on black velvet. That is what softened their hearts and why they released their son to go to his love.
The Council of the Pure had not been idle in the many hours since the lovers capture. They had proclaimed the public burning of the dark one to clean his soul. Though they could have just as easily destroyed him by magic that would just silence the beating of his heart they preferred this sort of display, especially for that race of people who defied the laws given by the Gods and the Bóginki.
Cazamir was chained to the iron pillar with naphtha soaked wood all around him. The Inquisitor was watching the large crowd gathered to see this strange and fearsome oddity. The words rang out across the square and staff was brought to wood to light it by the power given and allowed by the Bóginki. The flames spread in a perfect ring as a disturbance at the edge of the crowd was started by Sasha, his parents, and their guards coming to stop it.
Brushing past person after person in the bright sun Sasha felt like he was running through sugar syrup. Not fast enough, not fast enough, he came to pile of wood as Cazamir cried out in pain from the heat and smoke. The Inquisitor was shouting, the Prince and Princess were shouting back. The guards of each side were going to clash, but Sasha cared only that his true love was dying before his eyes. He lept into the flames, no one knows what he thought he could do, or if he only thought that if he could not save him then he would die with him.
The crowd was horrified and angry. Their beloved Prince-Heir in the flames, they turned on the Council's guards, though a number of fine souls died. But Sasha and Cazamir died in each other's arms that day. The fire was put out and soon afterward the Council of the Pure was expelled from Cerkrázni. In the center of the square where they used to burn people from across the river there stands a statue of the lovers in each other's arms. Their long hair braided and bound together at the ends as is traditional in that country for marriage. And none now thinks that is the slightest bit wrong.