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cap_ironman2008-12-29 01:23 pm
simmysim.livejournal.com) wrote in cap_ironman2008-12-29 01:23 pm
Entry tags:
fairy tale 2
Title: The Soulless Knight
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2200
Summary: Once upon a time, a knight gave his soul to vanquish a terrible evil.
Author's note: Unbeta'd because I am impatient dicks. Spot an error, win a prize!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jazzypom prompted this. Companion to The Heartless Prince.
Although you might not believe it, the ground we sit upon today was once a kingdom of terrible pain and suffering.
It was long ago, you see, so long that the towers and stonewalls and homes of the subjects who lived there have been worn away by age, and rebuilt upon, again and again until no one could quite remember what came first.
The people who lived here were plagued by a king who liked nothing better than to hurt and maim and even to kill his subjects. He would lock up his men for crimes he made up on the spot, and have his women stoned for wearing a certain dress, and the children he would inflict all manner of horrors, for speaking too loudly or not speaking clearly enough, or for running like ruffians down his streets, or for dallying in front of store corners, so you see, there was no pleasing this awful king's madness.
Indeed, he continued to torment his people at great cost to both his power and treasure, for the neighboring kingdoms would often engage him in war, hoping to end his malevolence. But his walls would not fall, and would not be overtaken, and he outlasted many large and strong armies.
Our hero did not live in that horrible place.
Our hero, a knight named Steven, was a young man from many lands away. Perhaps, if you climb to the tallest hill you can find, and peer just as far as you can, once the buildings have become just a speck, and even farther than that, you might see where Steven was born and raised, once upon a time.
Steven did not know anyone from the kingdom personally, for their awful king had locked them away for many years and forbid contact with anyone outside his large, stone walls. But he knew men, and he knew women, and he knew children, and he knew they all were people, and that none of them were born deserving to suffer.
Steven walked to the evil king's land alone, even though his own people's army was great, for he had heard many stories about entire armies flailing uselessly at the kingdom's walls, and thought, perhaps, one man, looking close without the mayhem of battle, could spot something they had missed.
But even as he was quite clever, and even as he investigated quite thoroughly, up and down and in every crevice, the knight could find nothing.
"It's no use, good knight," an old woman, who had been watching Steven since he had arrived outside the kingdom's walls, said.
"Use enough to look," Steven said, as it takes more than words to dishearten such a knight.
"I have tried everything," she said. "For I am old enough to remember before the walls were here, and had the misfortune of being on the outside of them when they appeared, while my family suffers within. The walls will not fall, as you have seen, and you cannot climb them, and you cannot send anything over, for the wind will carry it back, and birds know not to fly over it."
"The walls are cursed?" Steven the Knight asked. "Curses can be broken."
"The walls will not fall until the king himself does, and the king will not die until someone pure of heart will align his own soul to the king's fate," said the woman. "I will wait for death, and rejoin my family then, before agreeing to such doom."
Oh, what a terrible thing indeed, and it gave Steven pause. For the old woman was right, a life of pain was much more welcome than an eternity of it, and it would take a fool to chose otherwise.
And then Steven saw, with great clarity, that there would be no one who would ever agree to such terms, and the awful king would live, perhaps forever, killing entire generations of people.
And Steven knew, without a doubt, that awful king could live no longer, and hurt not one more person.
He sat, and he did write. He wrote of his life, the things he had seen and the wars he had fought, the grand and the noble and the heinous and tragic, and he wrote to his mother and his father, and a woman he did love, and dear friends he had waved farewell to before this very quest, and friends he had not seen in years and could very well be dead, and when his hand cramped so badly that he could write no more, he gave his letters to the old woman, and he walked to wall.
Steven the Knight put his palm against it, and he spoke softly, but words alone meant nothing; the walls needed to hear the knight's heart's true willingness to sell his soul for the thousands of people within.
And the walls fell.
And the armies and the wise men, educated in medicines and the families and friends came rushing in, and the king did die, and the people within were saved, and were able to live happily ever after if they did please, and did learn of Steven the Knight, and read his story and did mourn.
And Steven did go to a place far worse than such a good person as you, dear reader, shall ever know.
The first thing you should learn about this place is that it is horrible. To be there a minute feels as though it's been an hour, and an hour a day, and a day a year. There is no happiness, and no kindness, and while Steven could hunger, he did not have to be feed, and although he felt pain, he did not bleed. It was his soul that he had given, and souls do not die of starvation, or slice when they are cut. They are much stronger than that, and while this is something that should please you, it had become a burden in such a place.
Steven spent his years doing anything that was wished of him by the foul creatures who controlled it, and knew its secrets. He was to collect pebbles in fields of fire, and pull great weights up entire mountains, and to lay and allow himself to be pierced and beaten, all hours of the day, for souls do not need sleep, either.
It did not take long at all for Steven to begin forgetting what he had left behind, but although he could no longer remember goodness in others, he did not forget it in himself. He was not tainted, his bravery and his valor kept him sane and strong.
Wise reader, please keep in mind that this tale does end happily, but the story must be told in his awful fullness, the pain Steven suffered for so very long known, so you may also know the true measure of his greatness.
Because there is always a ruckus in such a place, it takes an especially loud one for any notice to be brought to it. It was an estimated hundred years or so into Steven's sentence, and the ceiling themselves seemed to screech with glee.
There was a new soul brought in, encircled completely by the jittering, excited little whelps.
The king, Steven knew him as one immediately, for that is something all knights can tell as plain as sight, was young. As young as Steven was once, and it had been so very long since Steven had seen anyone who did not deserve to be down here, who was not tainted and twisted and thoroughly ugly, the king's virtue drew him forward.
For you see, in such a place, your face and your body are not so important, it is your soul that comes forward. If you are greedy, it is as your tangled, matted hair, and if you are patient, it is as your warm and lovely eyes, and if you are wise, it is as your handsome face, and Steven had never seen someone as lovely as this young man.
His name was King Anthony, and he was attempting to make a deal with the awful little creatures, for it was his father who was to blame for his fate, and who had sold his son's heart for a few more years of life. King Anthony was brave in his dealings to begin with, but the fear did set in, in his face and his voice, but Steven only took that the mean he was not stupid.
Steven did not wonder on it, as the brave and noble rarely do, he simply knew what must be done, and knew he was the one to do it. "I will fight in his place," he said, stepping forward. "For this is a king, and a king should have a knight."
"You will lose," screeched the hideous creatures.
"If I lose I will stay as long as you want me," Steven vowed, although it was not much of a bargain on their half.
"That is not enough," they declared, perhaps angry that their king snatching had been interrupted. "You will stay and you will be blind, and deaf and dumb, and your fingers and toes will be fed to the rodents until they are gone, and then your hands, and then your arms, and then your shoulders, and your ankles and your legs and then they will grow again from the stumps to start it all over, and this will happen again and again for as long as we will it."
"I will still fight," Steven said, unmoved, for to back down now and leave King Anthony to suffer with him would be a much, much worse fate. "And I will win, and I will pledge myself to King Anthony and go wherever he bids me, be it heaven or hell."
"And if he should lose, I will take the same fate," said the king, and Steven's heart was warmed, and he knew he had not made a mistake.
This is what sealed the deal for the creatures, Steven knew, for punishing a common man such as himself drew little pleasure, but a prince bound to such daily suffering was a prize they could not resist. They did celebrate their unattained victory right then, squealing and stomping wretchedly.
Steven was quiet and took a shield when it was offered to him, and was only truly bothered when the king was carried away from his sights, and bound, to watch with the rest of them as Steven battled for their fates.
A demon, ten stories high, with a red, skinless skull for a head was brought before Steven. The creature was wild and unfocused, weighed down impossibly with all manner of sticks and clubs and blades, and it was a stupid thing, and Steven was immediately pleased at the sight. He was out of practice, and might not have been able to take a real threat.
It swung wildly, this way and that, barely focusing on Steven's figure before attempting to land a blow. It seemed to treat each weapon as a club, and when it got to the club, sailed it through the air as if it were a sword, and Steven had no difficulties dodging the untrained swipes.
A moment of worry did consume him, when it was time to discard his own shield. It was the only piece he had been given, and he had only one chance. If he were to miss, he would be defenseless, and even if the demon ran out of sticks to swing, the battle would last until one of them was defeated, and it would have its massive hands to squeeze and grab, and Steven would have nothing.
Thankfully, a knight's instinct did not spend time sweating over fates, it simply acted.
The metal shield flew through the air with keen precision, and it sliced the creature's neck as good as any blade. And just to make sure the job was good and well done, when it had fallen, Steven picked up its own dagger and thrust it deep into the thing's massive chest.
Oh, the creatures did wail then. They hissed and bit and lashed out at each other, desolate, but their was nothing for it. They protested and spit and called such names and curses, but King Anthony was released just the same, and he did call Steven to follow.
Steven was not sorry to leave, or to be freed into King Anthony's bedchambers, where the air was warm and breathable and the sheets were soft, and the king was welcoming, and good, and well pleased.
It did not take more than a week for King Anthony to realize that he quite loved his new knight, and was grateful when Steven accepted his offer to stay in his castle and in his court. Steven, of course, had loved King Anthony the moment he saw him, but it took him a bit longer than a week to become reacquainted with such a pleasant feeling.
And they stayed together, King Anthony ruling his kingdom wise and justly, and Steven protecting both his king's heart and home so that all people in their kingdom would live happily ever after.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2200
Summary: Once upon a time, a knight gave his soul to vanquish a terrible evil.
Author's note: Unbeta'd because I am impatient dicks. Spot an error, win a prize!
jazzypom prompted this. Companion to The Heartless Prince.Although you might not believe it, the ground we sit upon today was once a kingdom of terrible pain and suffering.
It was long ago, you see, so long that the towers and stonewalls and homes of the subjects who lived there have been worn away by age, and rebuilt upon, again and again until no one could quite remember what came first.
The people who lived here were plagued by a king who liked nothing better than to hurt and maim and even to kill his subjects. He would lock up his men for crimes he made up on the spot, and have his women stoned for wearing a certain dress, and the children he would inflict all manner of horrors, for speaking too loudly or not speaking clearly enough, or for running like ruffians down his streets, or for dallying in front of store corners, so you see, there was no pleasing this awful king's madness.
Indeed, he continued to torment his people at great cost to both his power and treasure, for the neighboring kingdoms would often engage him in war, hoping to end his malevolence. But his walls would not fall, and would not be overtaken, and he outlasted many large and strong armies.
Our hero did not live in that horrible place.
Our hero, a knight named Steven, was a young man from many lands away. Perhaps, if you climb to the tallest hill you can find, and peer just as far as you can, once the buildings have become just a speck, and even farther than that, you might see where Steven was born and raised, once upon a time.
Steven did not know anyone from the kingdom personally, for their awful king had locked them away for many years and forbid contact with anyone outside his large, stone walls. But he knew men, and he knew women, and he knew children, and he knew they all were people, and that none of them were born deserving to suffer.
Steven walked to the evil king's land alone, even though his own people's army was great, for he had heard many stories about entire armies flailing uselessly at the kingdom's walls, and thought, perhaps, one man, looking close without the mayhem of battle, could spot something they had missed.
But even as he was quite clever, and even as he investigated quite thoroughly, up and down and in every crevice, the knight could find nothing.
"It's no use, good knight," an old woman, who had been watching Steven since he had arrived outside the kingdom's walls, said.
"Use enough to look," Steven said, as it takes more than words to dishearten such a knight.
"I have tried everything," she said. "For I am old enough to remember before the walls were here, and had the misfortune of being on the outside of them when they appeared, while my family suffers within. The walls will not fall, as you have seen, and you cannot climb them, and you cannot send anything over, for the wind will carry it back, and birds know not to fly over it."
"The walls are cursed?" Steven the Knight asked. "Curses can be broken."
"The walls will not fall until the king himself does, and the king will not die until someone pure of heart will align his own soul to the king's fate," said the woman. "I will wait for death, and rejoin my family then, before agreeing to such doom."
Oh, what a terrible thing indeed, and it gave Steven pause. For the old woman was right, a life of pain was much more welcome than an eternity of it, and it would take a fool to chose otherwise.
And then Steven saw, with great clarity, that there would be no one who would ever agree to such terms, and the awful king would live, perhaps forever, killing entire generations of people.
And Steven knew, without a doubt, that awful king could live no longer, and hurt not one more person.
He sat, and he did write. He wrote of his life, the things he had seen and the wars he had fought, the grand and the noble and the heinous and tragic, and he wrote to his mother and his father, and a woman he did love, and dear friends he had waved farewell to before this very quest, and friends he had not seen in years and could very well be dead, and when his hand cramped so badly that he could write no more, he gave his letters to the old woman, and he walked to wall.
Steven the Knight put his palm against it, and he spoke softly, but words alone meant nothing; the walls needed to hear the knight's heart's true willingness to sell his soul for the thousands of people within.
And the walls fell.
And the armies and the wise men, educated in medicines and the families and friends came rushing in, and the king did die, and the people within were saved, and were able to live happily ever after if they did please, and did learn of Steven the Knight, and read his story and did mourn.
And Steven did go to a place far worse than such a good person as you, dear reader, shall ever know.
The first thing you should learn about this place is that it is horrible. To be there a minute feels as though it's been an hour, and an hour a day, and a day a year. There is no happiness, and no kindness, and while Steven could hunger, he did not have to be feed, and although he felt pain, he did not bleed. It was his soul that he had given, and souls do not die of starvation, or slice when they are cut. They are much stronger than that, and while this is something that should please you, it had become a burden in such a place.
Steven spent his years doing anything that was wished of him by the foul creatures who controlled it, and knew its secrets. He was to collect pebbles in fields of fire, and pull great weights up entire mountains, and to lay and allow himself to be pierced and beaten, all hours of the day, for souls do not need sleep, either.
It did not take long at all for Steven to begin forgetting what he had left behind, but although he could no longer remember goodness in others, he did not forget it in himself. He was not tainted, his bravery and his valor kept him sane and strong.
Wise reader, please keep in mind that this tale does end happily, but the story must be told in his awful fullness, the pain Steven suffered for so very long known, so you may also know the true measure of his greatness.
Because there is always a ruckus in such a place, it takes an especially loud one for any notice to be brought to it. It was an estimated hundred years or so into Steven's sentence, and the ceiling themselves seemed to screech with glee.
There was a new soul brought in, encircled completely by the jittering, excited little whelps.
The king, Steven knew him as one immediately, for that is something all knights can tell as plain as sight, was young. As young as Steven was once, and it had been so very long since Steven had seen anyone who did not deserve to be down here, who was not tainted and twisted and thoroughly ugly, the king's virtue drew him forward.
For you see, in such a place, your face and your body are not so important, it is your soul that comes forward. If you are greedy, it is as your tangled, matted hair, and if you are patient, it is as your warm and lovely eyes, and if you are wise, it is as your handsome face, and Steven had never seen someone as lovely as this young man.
His name was King Anthony, and he was attempting to make a deal with the awful little creatures, for it was his father who was to blame for his fate, and who had sold his son's heart for a few more years of life. King Anthony was brave in his dealings to begin with, but the fear did set in, in his face and his voice, but Steven only took that the mean he was not stupid.
Steven did not wonder on it, as the brave and noble rarely do, he simply knew what must be done, and knew he was the one to do it. "I will fight in his place," he said, stepping forward. "For this is a king, and a king should have a knight."
"You will lose," screeched the hideous creatures.
"If I lose I will stay as long as you want me," Steven vowed, although it was not much of a bargain on their half.
"That is not enough," they declared, perhaps angry that their king snatching had been interrupted. "You will stay and you will be blind, and deaf and dumb, and your fingers and toes will be fed to the rodents until they are gone, and then your hands, and then your arms, and then your shoulders, and your ankles and your legs and then they will grow again from the stumps to start it all over, and this will happen again and again for as long as we will it."
"I will still fight," Steven said, unmoved, for to back down now and leave King Anthony to suffer with him would be a much, much worse fate. "And I will win, and I will pledge myself to King Anthony and go wherever he bids me, be it heaven or hell."
"And if he should lose, I will take the same fate," said the king, and Steven's heart was warmed, and he knew he had not made a mistake.
This is what sealed the deal for the creatures, Steven knew, for punishing a common man such as himself drew little pleasure, but a prince bound to such daily suffering was a prize they could not resist. They did celebrate their unattained victory right then, squealing and stomping wretchedly.
Steven was quiet and took a shield when it was offered to him, and was only truly bothered when the king was carried away from his sights, and bound, to watch with the rest of them as Steven battled for their fates.
A demon, ten stories high, with a red, skinless skull for a head was brought before Steven. The creature was wild and unfocused, weighed down impossibly with all manner of sticks and clubs and blades, and it was a stupid thing, and Steven was immediately pleased at the sight. He was out of practice, and might not have been able to take a real threat.
It swung wildly, this way and that, barely focusing on Steven's figure before attempting to land a blow. It seemed to treat each weapon as a club, and when it got to the club, sailed it through the air as if it were a sword, and Steven had no difficulties dodging the untrained swipes.
A moment of worry did consume him, when it was time to discard his own shield. It was the only piece he had been given, and he had only one chance. If he were to miss, he would be defenseless, and even if the demon ran out of sticks to swing, the battle would last until one of them was defeated, and it would have its massive hands to squeeze and grab, and Steven would have nothing.
Thankfully, a knight's instinct did not spend time sweating over fates, it simply acted.
The metal shield flew through the air with keen precision, and it sliced the creature's neck as good as any blade. And just to make sure the job was good and well done, when it had fallen, Steven picked up its own dagger and thrust it deep into the thing's massive chest.
Oh, the creatures did wail then. They hissed and bit and lashed out at each other, desolate, but their was nothing for it. They protested and spit and called such names and curses, but King Anthony was released just the same, and he did call Steven to follow.
Steven was not sorry to leave, or to be freed into King Anthony's bedchambers, where the air was warm and breathable and the sheets were soft, and the king was welcoming, and good, and well pleased.
It did not take more than a week for King Anthony to realize that he quite loved his new knight, and was grateful when Steven accepted his offer to stay in his castle and in his court. Steven, of course, had loved King Anthony the moment he saw him, but it took him a bit longer than a week to become reacquainted with such a pleasant feeling.
And they stayed together, King Anthony ruling his kingdom wise and justly, and Steven protecting both his king's heart and home so that all people in their kingdom would live happily ever after.
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*chokes on tea* Well done!
The quixotic charging at windmills (the fact that people paused at overthrowing the king because of the fear of an eternity of suffering). The brave young knight, the wizened woman giving advice to those who hear. The fact that Steven descended to a sort of Hades and stoically suffered his fate until such a time when he didn't have to any more.
Again, well done. This is so much better than I thought it would have been. Cheers again!
Re: *chokes on tea* Well done!
Thank you veryveryvery much ♥♥
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Maah idk! I've kind of got an urge to write porn for these two now, but it would aha a challenge to write it in that style. IDK IDK, but thank you again, I'm very happy you enjoyed it. :)
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You're so great at this style, you've got the language down perfectly. It's very poetic and pretty and whimsical, and it suits you so well. The structure and language lets you know that there is going to be a happy ending before you even say it, it's just, nothing else would fit the way you tell the story.
I love everything about this, all the fairy tale elements, how the good guys are the best people alive and the bad guys are ugly, horrible monsters, and the whole love at first sight thing :DDDD
dsnjkdsknk A++++ job, pal. :D
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could get them a castle
omgomgomg did you ever watch gargoyles?? TONY COULD BE XANATOS.
I am very thankful for your words and I am glad you enjoyed these stories. I wanted to do this one more like a little kid's story than Tony's was, so yay at hearing that the happy ending was very apparent.
Again tyvm. x)))
ps were there any errors that jumped out at you? obviously anyone who's gonna read it has pretty much done so by now, but eh might as well.
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