A Single Touch of Grace - Part I
Aug. 10th, 2003 02:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darth_stitchPart I - A Song of Heroes
A palace, next.
This was the Palace of Theed – a magnificent structure of marble and stone, of sculpture and artwork and color woven into its very bones, the crown jewel in a lush, vibrant treasure of a world.
The Minstrel’s hat lay beside her on the bench this time – no need for it now in the cool breeze touched by the faintest scent of flowers. Her long dark hair trailed over her shoulder in a neat braid as she sang for the Court that night.
Her voice rang clear and sweet as she sang of the great deeds that were done just recently on this world. She sang a tale of the young Queen, sitting serenely on her throne in her white and silver gown, who defeated the invading enemy with her wit and courage. She sang a tale of the young Jedi Knight, who’d fought and won a battle with one of the dreaded Sith Lords. He was a Master now, as well, with a student to teach, even as he mourned the loss of his own mentor, fallen to the Sith Lord’s blade.
She sang a tale of the boy who had so loved the stars, who now seemed so close to his dream after helping defeat the invaders’ droid army. The boy smiled and waved when he saw her, the memory of a night listening to the stars sing still fresh in his mind.
It was only the beginning, she knew. She who so often Looked at the Past, did not need to See the Future to know that she would sing many more songs of this boy.
The audience applauded as her tale ended and she took her bow, for like any Storyteller and performer, the clapping of their hands was sweet to hear. But of course, once the tale was done, she left the “stage,” fading back into shadow to hear the musicians play and watch the dancers taking to the floor.
There was the brief flicker of a lighter flame and then, a long thin trail of smoke. A slender figure emerged from the shadows with a face exquisite in its beauty. Neither male nor female, this being was everything, every wish fulfilled, every need filled, every want granted.
Desire.
Desire’s lips, a perfect red rose, curved in a satisfied smile. “The boy is mine, now.”
The Minstrel’s eyes narrowed. “Stay away from him, Desire.”
Desire laughed softly. “Is that a threat, Minstrel? You may enjoy my brother’s protection but I do not take kindly to threats.” It bent closer to her, those rosy lips almost touching her ear. “I could make you want me, Minstrel. I could drive you to a frenzy of need for me. Everyone does.”
The Minstrel stepped back, her skin crawling and her heart pounding with fear and the faintest hint of…excitement? Desire? She shook her head to clear it and bravely looked up at the most beautiful of the Endless in the eye. “The boy is an innocent. A dreamer of dreams. Why bother with him?”
Desire laughed again. “Since when did innocence matter? And as for his dreams…” Another drag on the cigarette it held and then: “His dreams are powerful, little Minstrel. The more he dreams, the more he wants. The more he desires. The more he welcomes…me. And very soon…” It looked at the boy meaningfully and the Minstrel shuddered. Hovering over the boy, a shadow lying in wait for its prey, was a creature that looked like a woman –short and squat, with nothing to cover the enormous rolls and folds of her flesh. The woman – the creature – sang a hook into her lips to draw blood, dark and thick, flowing over her chin.
Desire smiled at its twin – Despair.
“No,” the Minstrel shook her head wildly. “You can’t have him! I won’t allow it!”
“You can do nothing,” Desire hissed. “He will be ours. We do nothing to compel him. These are his choices, nothing more. His own free will.”
“Damn you!”
Cool hands were on her shoulders, drawing her back. The Minstrel looked up into the dark, fathomless eyes of her lord.
Dream, Prince of Stories, garbed in his dark robes of dream and nightmare, held her gently in his protection as he had done for all the days of her long, long life and each life thereafter.
“His choices are yet to be made,” Dream said in his quiet, even voice. “His story yet unfolds.”
“But my lord,“ the Minstrel protested. “I am more than just a storyteller and a singer of songs. Let me help him!”
“He will receive all the help he can,” Dream answered. “But his choices are his own. This you know.”
The Minstrel bowed her head. Dream had given her nothing but the truth after all.
“You may not compel him,” Dream told his siblings sternly. “His will is free.”
Despair raised an elegant brow. “But of course.”
The boy whispered something to the Queen, who laughed and ran her fingers through his newly shorn hair. There was a brightness there, a light that held Despair just precisely at bay. It was love, the Minstrel knew, the seeds of it, planted and just beginning to grow. A double-edged sword then – that could just as easily lead to sorrow and ruin.
“But there is hope,” she whispered.
“There is always hope,” Dream agreed.
-end part 1 -
A/N: Sigh. Guess the SW Muse has taken over for a while. Then again, I really DO need to update my WIPs - this only being one of them....
A palace, next.
This was the Palace of Theed – a magnificent structure of marble and stone, of sculpture and artwork and color woven into its very bones, the crown jewel in a lush, vibrant treasure of a world.
The Minstrel’s hat lay beside her on the bench this time – no need for it now in the cool breeze touched by the faintest scent of flowers. Her long dark hair trailed over her shoulder in a neat braid as she sang for the Court that night.
Her voice rang clear and sweet as she sang of the great deeds that were done just recently on this world. She sang a tale of the young Queen, sitting serenely on her throne in her white and silver gown, who defeated the invading enemy with her wit and courage. She sang a tale of the young Jedi Knight, who’d fought and won a battle with one of the dreaded Sith Lords. He was a Master now, as well, with a student to teach, even as he mourned the loss of his own mentor, fallen to the Sith Lord’s blade.
She sang a tale of the boy who had so loved the stars, who now seemed so close to his dream after helping defeat the invaders’ droid army. The boy smiled and waved when he saw her, the memory of a night listening to the stars sing still fresh in his mind.
It was only the beginning, she knew. She who so often Looked at the Past, did not need to See the Future to know that she would sing many more songs of this boy.
The audience applauded as her tale ended and she took her bow, for like any Storyteller and performer, the clapping of their hands was sweet to hear. But of course, once the tale was done, she left the “stage,” fading back into shadow to hear the musicians play and watch the dancers taking to the floor.
There was the brief flicker of a lighter flame and then, a long thin trail of smoke. A slender figure emerged from the shadows with a face exquisite in its beauty. Neither male nor female, this being was everything, every wish fulfilled, every need filled, every want granted.
Desire.
Desire’s lips, a perfect red rose, curved in a satisfied smile. “The boy is mine, now.”
The Minstrel’s eyes narrowed. “Stay away from him, Desire.”
Desire laughed softly. “Is that a threat, Minstrel? You may enjoy my brother’s protection but I do not take kindly to threats.” It bent closer to her, those rosy lips almost touching her ear. “I could make you want me, Minstrel. I could drive you to a frenzy of need for me. Everyone does.”
The Minstrel stepped back, her skin crawling and her heart pounding with fear and the faintest hint of…excitement? Desire? She shook her head to clear it and bravely looked up at the most beautiful of the Endless in the eye. “The boy is an innocent. A dreamer of dreams. Why bother with him?”
Desire laughed again. “Since when did innocence matter? And as for his dreams…” Another drag on the cigarette it held and then: “His dreams are powerful, little Minstrel. The more he dreams, the more he wants. The more he desires. The more he welcomes…me. And very soon…” It looked at the boy meaningfully and the Minstrel shuddered. Hovering over the boy, a shadow lying in wait for its prey, was a creature that looked like a woman –short and squat, with nothing to cover the enormous rolls and folds of her flesh. The woman – the creature – sang a hook into her lips to draw blood, dark and thick, flowing over her chin.
Desire smiled at its twin – Despair.
“No,” the Minstrel shook her head wildly. “You can’t have him! I won’t allow it!”
“You can do nothing,” Desire hissed. “He will be ours. We do nothing to compel him. These are his choices, nothing more. His own free will.”
“Damn you!”
Cool hands were on her shoulders, drawing her back. The Minstrel looked up into the dark, fathomless eyes of her lord.
Dream, Prince of Stories, garbed in his dark robes of dream and nightmare, held her gently in his protection as he had done for all the days of her long, long life and each life thereafter.
“His choices are yet to be made,” Dream said in his quiet, even voice. “His story yet unfolds.”
“But my lord,“ the Minstrel protested. “I am more than just a storyteller and a singer of songs. Let me help him!”
“He will receive all the help he can,” Dream answered. “But his choices are his own. This you know.”
The Minstrel bowed her head. Dream had given her nothing but the truth after all.
“You may not compel him,” Dream told his siblings sternly. “His will is free.”
Despair raised an elegant brow. “But of course.”
The boy whispered something to the Queen, who laughed and ran her fingers through his newly shorn hair. There was a brightness there, a light that held Despair just precisely at bay. It was love, the Minstrel knew, the seeds of it, planted and just beginning to grow. A double-edged sword then – that could just as easily lead to sorrow and ruin.
“But there is hope,” she whispered.
“There is always hope,” Dream agreed.
-end part 1 -
A/N: Sigh. Guess the SW Muse has taken over for a while. Then again, I really DO need to update my WIPs - this only being one of them....
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Date: 2003-08-10 09:13 am (UTC)