Swan Prince

The Swan Prince
By: Delilah deSora
Chapter 11

**

Boreal rode like a man possessed, following the great bird’s flight. The swan banked and disappeared just as his horse burst free from the forest’s hold and its hooves sank into the bright grass of another world. Over the lake the sunset painted the water a brilliant red and glowed off the white feathers of the swan on the lake. It was a shock for both man and beast Bor Boreal grunted as he was flung from the horse’s back. Free of his ride the horse fled.

A shadow fell over him and Boreal stood, whirling towards the man. With a gasp he stumbled back in surprise. “Kent . . . what . . .?”

The man stared at him darkly and Boreal shook his head in denial. “Stop this!” He shouted, striking out at the man. Black hair swung forward as the blow connected. As the man touched his lip, fingertips coming away red with blood, Boreal’s hands fisted at his side. “You are taking this too far, Kent!”

The man smiled. “He can’t hear you, you fool.” The smile fell away as he stalked forward. Boreal, despite himself shrank back, afraid of the man before him.

“You are the epitome of all I hate in your kind,” Atol snarled, “Stupid, arrogant, and unable to think beyond what you can see with your own eyes.”

“Kent . . .” Boreal growled warningly.

Atol raised his hand. “I . . . am not . . . Kent!” He shrieked, flinging the blood on his fingers at the king.

Boreal cried out as the blood burned his skin. The heat seemed to sink in past his flesh and he stared at his hands in horror as the bones beneath his skin broke and reform.

There was a cry from before him and he looked up past the sorcerer to the man struggling along the lake’s edge, his hand clenched about the arrow in his chest. He opened his mouth to beg for help but no human sound came from his throat. The balance of his body changed and he fell. A strange scent reached him and he stared about frantically, his new body sensing danger.

Down by the lake’s edge a pack of starving dogs met his gaze.

With a scream of fear he struggled to his feet and fled, his hooves striking the ground unevenly.

Ryhan collapsed, his body too weak to stand any longer as he watched the white stag flee from the hounds. “Please no!” He pleaded weakly.

The black haired man before him turned and he gasped at the resemblance.

“Beg for yourself.” Atol snarled.

“Please let them go!” Ryhan whispered, trying to draw breath into the lung the arrow had pierced. “We need them! Kent . . .” He was forced to stop for it had become too hard to speak.

Atol’s lips curled back in a snarl. “If you had but listened to your king your prince would be with you now and I would have finally been free of him! He would have lived his life as a pampered king and died with the thought that finally he’d be reunited with his love.” Atol hesitated a cruel smile replacing the snarl. “He’d have been wrong, of course. I’d have never let what was mine be destroyed so easily,” the smile fell away and anger once again darkened his face, “but he would have been gone and I would have been free of him!”

Ryhan shuddered. “How could you be free of him? You are both . . .”

“No!”

Atol froze in midmotion, the magic at his fingertips fading away as a pale form flung itself between he and his quarry. He scowled. “Move.”

Odel shook his head, pale hair picking up the very last of the sun’s rays. “Show him some mercy, please!”

“You would beg mercy for a man who beat you?” Atol asked, his face skeptical.

Odel gently helped Ryhan lay back, his breath beginning to whistle in his chest as his body started to fail. “He did not take pleasure in it,” Odel whispered, “I saw the pain in his eyes when Boreal ordered him to do it. You cannot fault him for being loyal to his king and whatever pain he caused me he paid for by his actions today.”

Atol’s fingers flexed as he considered.

In his arms Ryhan shifted. “Not me . . .” he whispered, struggling to touch Odel’s cheek, “. . . peace for . . . Boreal. He wasn’t . . . always this way. He was. . . my prince once too . . . when I was . . . like you.” He smiled sweetly and Odel felt his heart ten.ten. His hands tightened about the dying man, tears slipping from his eyes.

“Please, Atol.” Odel pleaded.

With a disgusted sigh Atol waved his hand. “All right. Move away from him.”

Odel carefully pulled away from Ryhan whose eyes had closed. Coming to his feet he went to stand beside the sorcerer. Raising his hands Atol murmured something to the wind. The ground around Ryhan moved and the man’s eyes opened wide as he screamed. Odel cried out and moved to run to him but a hand caught his arm and dragged him back.

“You promised!” Odel cried out in betrayal.

Atol snorted. “I promised nothing! Besides, he wanted peace for his king, well he shall provide it for him.”

In confusion Odel watched as a Ryhan’s body changed, his arms and fingers growing long and slender, his body twisting and bending until, in his place, stood a willow. Its branches hung over the lake’s edge, white flowers kissing the water’s surface. Odel could still see the arrow for it pierced the center of the trees trunk.

Something crawled towards them from the forest and Odel shrank back against Atol’s side. The white stag lifted its head, staring at them for a moment before dragging what remained of its torn body towards the tree. In its wake the dogs followed, their stomachs round and their expressions content. Odel turned away, pressing his face against Atol’s shoulder.

“No, watch.” Atol commanded.

Swallowing deeply Odel forced himself to watch as the stag struggled to the willow’s side. It collapsed under the tree and began to drink the clear water cradled in the willow’s roots. It grunted as shattered bones began to reform, missing flesh and muscle growing to replace that which the dogs had eaten. When it had finished the stag rested among the willow’s branches for a few moments before heaving itself back to its feet. The moment it stepped beyond the willow’s branches the dogs were at its heels.

“You see?” Atol asked a cruel smile crossing his face, “Peace for his king.”

Odel shuddered. “It’s horrible.” He whispered.

Atol shrugged. “It is only fitting for the one who wanted his dogs starved ted ted them, don’t you think?”

Odel did not answer. Instead he wrapped his arms about himself and moved along the water’s edge, the silver cloth of his robe catching the moon’s light as it peeked out from under the white feathers that lay overtop of it.

“Why a swan?” He asked suddenly, turning towards Atol.

The sorcerer watched him with unreadable eyes. “Because that is the form I wished.”

Odel fingered the soft feathers on his robe. “Kent took me to see the swans,” he whispered.

Atol was silent, watching him.

“I am glad Ryhan brought Kent,” Odel said suddenly.

The sorcerer snorted in derision.

Odel returned to his side and touched his arm. “It would have destroyed him if he thought I’d died and . . . that would have hurt you too, you know.”

Atol shook his head. “His people would have still had a king, if Ryhan had done his job. Now there will be no one for them. The kingdom will fall apart as the other kings seek to liberate their lands and take what they can of his. Kent would have ruled as king and been free of me. When he had died I would have been free of him and the last connection between me and the human world would have been gone. You don’t know what you speak of.”

Odel caught his face between his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I know the truth, Atol.” He whispered, “If you lose Kent, you lose a part of yourself. You hate humans but a part of you is human as well.”

“I hate them!” Atol hissed, his hands clenching into fists.

Odel smiled gently. “Do you hate me? I am human.”

Atol’s hands uncurled and he reached up, brushing his fingers through the silver hair. “No,” he replied as his hands tightened, pulling Odel’s head back to bare his throat, “You aren’t human anymore, no matter how you appear when the moon is in the sky.”

Odel gasped, his eyes fluttering closed as Atol bit him, sharp teeth tugging at the skin of his neck. Atol shifted, nipping at the curve of his jaw before licking at the shell of his ear.

“You’re my creature now,” Atol hissed, his breath hot against Odel’s ear, making him shiver, “You are my swan and you will spend the rest of our days upon my lake.”

Odel fell back, letting Atol bare his body to the moonlight. He buried his fingers in Atol’s black hair as he met the demanding kisses. Atol’s tongue plundered his mouth and he groaned thrashing at the sensation. When the sorcerer pulled back Odel stared up at him with wide eyes.

“What’s happened to me?” He gasped, his hands tugging at the sorcerer’s clothes mindlessly.

Atol laughed humorlessly. “What’s wrong my little swan?”

He pulled back and Odel cried out in dismay. “Stop!” He pleaded.

With another laugh Atol obliged. Odel clutched at him, burying his face against the sorcerer’s chest. “You must stop thinking like a human. Part of you is animal now. Can’t you feel it? The call of the lake, the promise of the wind? Can’t you feel the welcome of the earth and the scent of winter on the air?”

Odel clung to him, his eyes staring up into the night sky. His fingers flexed for he found that it did indeed call to him. His eyes shifted to the lake and he licked his lips for the sound of the lapping water called him home, urging him to seek safety on its dark waters.

“This is what I feel,” Atol growled, “And this,” his hand brushed over his chest and Odel arched, burning with need, “this is what I feel as well. This need. Humans mate for pleasure but not animals, not our kind. We mate because we have to. Because the earth calls to us and demands it.”

Odel shuddered, catching Atol’s wrist and drawing his hand down to the area between his legs. Atol’s palm pressed against him and he arched, keening in pleasure.

“It’s so strong.” He panted.

Atol nodded, using his free hand to pull his own shirt open. “This is why your dear prince denied you for so long. The same blood that runs in my veins runs in his. He knows this call but he denies it for he knows that the moment he gives into it there will be no turning back. It will rule him completely.”

Odel parted his legs and pulled the other man to him, unable to ignore his body’s need for touch. There was no foreplay this night for neither of them could control themselves long enough to take it slow. Atol entered him cruelly but the pain only made Odel’s body sing. He clung to strong arms as he pushed back. His vision swam and something within him made itself known. He felt the swan stir and he embraced it even as he heard Atol growl and embrace his own beast.

Twisting into a position that felt more natural Odel arched his back, panting in need as Atol’s arms wrapped about him, his hot mouth finding the junction of his shoulders and his throat and biting down, holding him in place as an animal did to its mate. They rutted, for Odel realized there could be no other word for their actions as Atol’s body drove into his, seeking a warm willing home.

Odel cried out wordlessly, his fingers digging into the earth beneath them as he felt himself become part of the wheel of the world. Atol was a hard unrelenting presence within him, driving his lower body back and forth against the ground. The grass provided a wonderful friction against his own desire between his lover’s fingers as Atol gripped it in a tight possessive clasp.

He began to claw at the ground as he felt himself reaching his peak. Atol growled warningly against his neck but he didn’t care. Driving himself hard against the body behind him Odel came, the stars blurring as both man and creature reached satisfaction within him. He fell limply, lying still as Atol pounded his way to his own completion, drawing blood as his teeth tightened as he came.

Atol collapsed, a heavy weight that satisfied the swan within him. The night wind was cool against their skin and Odel gave in to the need for sleep.

**

Kent groaned, clutching at sore ribs as he peeled open his eyes. His chest and arms ached fiercely, protesting the use of his muscles in a way formally foreign to his body. His sternum felt as though it had been torn in twain and it made breathing difficult. His hand came down on something soft and at hide ide there came a soft cry. Quickly he snatched his hand away as Odel woke and gathered his hair from under his hands.
“Are you well?” He asked, reaching out to help his companion to his feet, even though the slight pull on is arm nearly made him see stares.

Odel nodded, a pale hand coming up to touch his forehead as he stared about in confusion. Kent saw remembrance come over him and sighed, drawing him close. Neither of them spoke and he shuddered as he felt the moon slipping beneath the horizon. It seemed to tug at something deep within him, growing more insistent until he could no longer take it. With an angry growl he stumbled back, releasing Odel as they both collapsed, feathers beating ineffectively at the ground as the setting moon took their humanity with it.

For a time there was nothing but a swan’s instinct but eventually Kent managed to struggle beyond the bird’s control, fighting to maintain himself in the foreign form. He bobbed unsteadily as the day passed for even though his body knew instinctively what to do, Kent found learning to swim difficult. There was a particular way to hold his neck to keep from tilting forward and going under that he was having trouble maintaining and having his wings folded left him feeling vulnerable.

While he fumbled and flopped Odel swam gracefully, as though he’d always had that form. He kept close, occasionally nibbling at the crest of his head fondly. Kent found he liked that gesture, though he knew not why. It was pleasurable but also soothing.

Before day’s end the moon rose and with it returned their normal forms. They huddled together on the small island in the center of the lake, shivering as night fell. The spoke in hushed tones and jumped at every sound, fearing that it was men come searching for them or his father. Neither of them could shake the terrible fear of being found by barking dogs and men with weapons and it was almost a relief to surrender to the setting moon and an animal’s simplistic mind.

He hadn’t attempted flying again, not after his initial flight from the cliff to the lake. He couldn’t even remember the landing. He only remembered seeing the welcoming waters of the lake and then he knew nothing else until he woke, drained and aching at the water’s edge, Odel a quiet presence at his side. Odel hadn’t tried flying either but every once in awhile he would swim away a bit and flap his wide wings as though testing their strength. Kent had tried it once and nearly drowned himself in the process.

Be the swan, not the man. Odel had told him that morning while the waited for the moon to sink below the horizon.

Kent had tried but the fear that had welled up within him when he’d lost his human form and become a swan made him afraid to try again. Logically he knew that the fear had only been a swan’s natural fear of being vulnerable in the dark of the night but he hadn’t liked it at all.

He couldn’t ignore all of the swan’s instincts though. When he was a man, the man had control, but when he was a swan the swan was in control. His problem was that he was letting the man interfere with the swan.

For example he knew that the green plants that brushed against his webbed feet as he swam were food and the swan knew that it was hungry but Kent was having trouble keeping his human disgust at such fair from allowing the swan to let him dip his head under the water and pull it free.

He knew how to do it, Odel had done it enough times for him to know that all he had to do was lean forward, extend his neck, grab the plant by the base, and then pull it free with a quick shake of his head before shifting his weight back and letting the oil on his feathers as well as the air in his body pull him back up onto the lake’s surface.

He just couldn’t make himself do it.

Odel trumpeted and rose up, his large wings spreading as he flapped them. His long neck stretched up towards the sky and Kent felt a spike of lust surge through him at the display. Grinding his beak he fought down the urge to climb up onto the broad back and claim his mate.

That urge was the other reason he was having trouble letting the swan in control.

His inner swan apparently thought the swan he flocked with was quite a fine specimen of their species and, since the air was warm and the trees were in bloom, he ought to be doing something about making miniature versions of themselves, ones that would have the swan before him’s gracefully curving neck and his broad chest and strong wings.

The fact that Odel wouldn’t be laying eggs even if they did do what his swan wanted didn’t seem to matter at all.

When they’d sunned themselves on the island come late morning Kent had given into his swan’s desire to gather sticks. He couldn’t quite figure out why he was so fascinated by them or by placing them in a circular pile until Odel had come by to watch what he was doing and he realized what he was in the process of making.

He was grateful that swans couldn’t blush.

Something tugged at his tail feathers and he jumped in surprise, rearing up instinctively and spreading his wings to make himself look bigger. Odel gave him a peculiar look, one he would have called speculative if he’d been human. He lowered himself back down, shaking his tail to realign the feather Odel had nibbled.

To his surprise Odel mirrored his movement, rearing up and spreading his wings. He trumpeted again and came back down.

Kent didn’t know what he was doing and was unable to ask.

But the swan in him did and before he could stop himself he repeated the action.

He got that look again and the swan within him practically forced him to take a second seat in their body. Odel’s tail shook and he glided closer. Dipping his head he trumpeted, a movement that Odel mirrored. They circled each other, displaying plumage and wide wings. As they passed close to each other his head darted out to catch the back of Odel’s neck. Odel pulled away, hissing warningly and spreading his wings.

He spread his own in response, pushing the smaller swan back. Odel studied him a moment and then seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. Folding his wings back he settled down. Kent found himself repeating his display a few more times before Odel moved towards the island.

He watched closely and the moment his feet touched the silty bottom of the lake and he was assured they wouldn’t drown he pounced.

And as soon as he was finished, he decidee wae was going to build one hell of a nest.

**

Odel lifted his head, watching the stars disappear as the sun began to rise. At the lake’s edge a pack of wild dogs lapped at the water. Pups played about in the water and wove in and out of their pack’s legs. Beneath the willow a white stag slept, protected by its silver branches.
His human mind knew that there were names and stories behind these creatures but the swan only saw other creatures that were part of nature’s web. All it knew was the rising sun and the promise of spring in the air. Down at the water’s edge he saw his mate, powerful wings flapping in the morning air. Under his feet were eggs, stolen by his mate from other nests. He did not care that they had not made them themselves. They would sit upon them, turning them when needed until they hatched.

The dogs on the other shore did not matter. The stag and the willow did not matter. The sorrow of his human half would fade with the first sound of new life. The eggs would hatch, the cygnets would grow and fly away, and then, when they were ready, they would fetch new eggs. The dark one would give his human the company he needed when a swan’s simple nature did not give him what he needed.

In the morning air the swan sighed happily as his mate returned and nibbled lovingly at his crest.

This, he mused as he buried his head under the heavy fall of his wing, was the truest happiness of all.

**

-The End-
To be Continued in Part 2

**

Note on swans: Did you know that about 5% of all swans are homosexual? Male swan pairs do steal eggs from other swans to raise as their own. In fact cygnets have a better rate of survival when raised by homosexual male parents then they do being raised by heterosexual parents. *grins* Theryouryour fun fact for the day

Note #2: You can check my website at www.angelfire.com/dragon/delilah/fiction.html or join my yahoo groups delilahs_fiction (there\'s a link for the mailing list on the fiction page) to see if I\'ve updated yet (since I update the page way more than I update on here ^.^ Also, my e-mail address is pagan_nyght@yahoo.com if you would like to send reviews (and get e-mail back)