The Journey of the White Rose
folder
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,002
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,002
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
The Journey of the White Rose
The Journey of the White Rose
Prologue
Throughout my childhood, the wondrous and mystical stories commonly known as Fairy Tales, have dotted many a bedtime and rainy day afternoon. They were told differently by all members of my family.
My mother told them to me while I played the part of her shadow, following her as she did her cooking, cleaning, and preparing herself for her life that only she and my father shared. They were the traditional tales, about Snow White and Cinderella, accompanied by the sweet and pungent aromas of apple pies and rose perfume.
My older sister, in her infinite wisdom that comes only from a girl on the verge of womanhood, would read me stories of Gods and Goddesses from books, with her hand constantly pushing her thick framed glasses back up her nose. She always told them at night, under the dull lamp light, sitting with her feet curled under her on the ancient and stained checkered armchair, holding the large tome. I sat on the rug in front of her, gazing up at her, just as the people in the book did the Gods.
My older brother was interested in losing me as fast as possible. His stories were told in the absolute dark, near my bedtime, about monsters and vampires that would stalk little boys to their deaths. He used the creepy voices of the undead and surprise attacks, till I grew so frighten and scared I ran for help to someone else. These stories were lesser, as my brother used them only as a last resort because of the impending doom and lecture that followed them.
My father, though normally always working, told me of Aesop’s fables sporadically. He would often say them in the car on a long drive,when he took me fishing or on some other bonding activity, or at the dinner table. He wanted me to consider the actions that I would take in later life, as he wished for all my siblings to do. While the others found them boring and repetitive, I drank them in, as I did with all the other ones I was told.
But my favorite storyteller, was Grandmother Isabella.
Her’s were the most ritually based. The story would always be the same, but I loved it so much that I could never get enough. It would always start with me wondering into her bedroom after she had dressed in her long cotton night gown and was seated at her vanity. She would be brushing the long silver strands of her hair, and humming an ancient song that I knew not the words to.
“Grandmother,” I called in my childish voice. She would stop her humming and put down her brush to divert her attention to me.
“Yes my little Callisto?” she smiled, gesturing for me to come closer as I inwardly cursed my name that even then was a cause of endless teasing and bullying. But, I could never begrudge her for calling me by my hated name, for it was one of the few ways she was able to hold on to the old country with.
“What are you singing?” I questioned, as she pulled me into her lap.
“Just an ancient song from an equally ancient story,” she replied.
“Story?” I asked, my eyes gleaming with pleasure. She chuckled at my eagerness.
“Yes, little one, a story that you have heard countless times before from my very lips,” she said. She again laughed at my pouting lips. “But perhaps you must be reminded of it again.” Then with grace befitting a dancer, she rose with my slight form in her arms and carried me to the rocking chair Grandfather had carved for her when she was pregnant with Father.
“Long ago, before magic had been driven from the land,” she began. I cuddled in closer to her, snuggling into her night dress. She bent her head over me, so her hair formed a protective curtain around my body. “Their lived a young Half-Elf. The Half-Elf was the child of an Elven King, and the only human bride of his ten wives. The Half-Elf stood out among the King’s sixty other children, for it was a dark beauty, as opposed to the fairness of the Elves. The child grew lonely and sad in the King’s Court, for it was teased and mocked by its half siblings. But one day, the young Elven King of a large and powerful nation came to the Half-Elf’s home to find a bride. Upon setting eyes on the young and beautiful Half-Elf, he instantly fell in love and their marriage was arranged.”
Grandmother took a breath, then gave a slight sigh for the things to come to the Half-Elf. “But,” she began again. “Not everyone was happy with this union. An evil vassal of the Half-Elf’s father had made plans to marry what he thought the worthless child, and the child’s eldest sister had her own agenda in marrying the King. So together the two concocted a plan. On the night before the wedding, the eldest sister drugged the bride to be with a sleeping draught and stole her away to a tower that the vassal owned. In the tower, the vassal kept the Half-Elf and tired to torture the poor dear into marrying him. But the Half-Elf remained ever faithful to the King, who was doing everything possible to rescue his bride.”
“How did the lord torture the Half-Elf?” I asked.
“Hush child,” Grandmother reprimanded gently before moving on. She would never answer the question. “Now the King battled his ways through wilderness, trolls, and goblins to find the hidden tower. On his perilous journey, the young King befriended a mermaid, unicorn, dragon, and fairy, who all vowed to help him rescue his love. Every night the Half-Elf would sing out the window that song you heard me humming. The King, hearing that song, would follow his love’s voice. When he and his friends where within reach, the Princess and Lord again intervened and sent the King to the Frozen Lands, in which he was sealed in a tomb of ice. His friends did everything they could to rescue the Half-Elf, but they failed. With the King’s apparent death, the Half-Elf was forced into marriage with the Lord, and the sister was soon betrothed to the young King’s cousin. The Lord did not trust his bride, so kept her locked up in the tower. All the poor child could do was cry, and after many years the tears formed a lake.”
I got closer to Grandmother, knowing the story was coming to a close soon. “The mermaid friend of the King was able to swim to the tower and free the Half-Elf from its prison. With the help of the others, the Half-Elf made it to the Frozen Lands and to the King’s icy prison. The warmth of their love melted the ice and the King was free. But sadly the Lord, hearing of his bride’s unfaithfulness, sent an army to retrieve the Half-Elf, but a battle soon commenced and the child was killed. The King was in such a state of distraught, that he was able to defeat the army with a single cut from his blade. He then called upon ancient magics to bind the Half-Elf to the Earth in the form of a white rose. But the time of the Elves was ending, and the King had to leave the Earth. He was extremely sadden that he and his love could never be together, and now he must even leave his love’s soul. The King made a vow though, before he left the Earth to the humans, to one day return for his love, and stop all those who would ever harm them.”
And with that end, I would promptly fall asleep, though so many questions ran through my head that I would forget to ask in dawn’s light. And though the story was tragic and sad, hearing it always gifted me with a peaceful night’s rest.
88888888
Author's Note: This story is written as a show of my love and appreciation to my good friend ObsessedLove/EvlVenus/Gabby for all she has done for me over the years that I have known her. Hope you like it. Sorry if grammar is bad, I didn't want to trouble my beta for just two pages.
Prologue
Throughout my childhood, the wondrous and mystical stories commonly known as Fairy Tales, have dotted many a bedtime and rainy day afternoon. They were told differently by all members of my family.
My mother told them to me while I played the part of her shadow, following her as she did her cooking, cleaning, and preparing herself for her life that only she and my father shared. They were the traditional tales, about Snow White and Cinderella, accompanied by the sweet and pungent aromas of apple pies and rose perfume.
My older sister, in her infinite wisdom that comes only from a girl on the verge of womanhood, would read me stories of Gods and Goddesses from books, with her hand constantly pushing her thick framed glasses back up her nose. She always told them at night, under the dull lamp light, sitting with her feet curled under her on the ancient and stained checkered armchair, holding the large tome. I sat on the rug in front of her, gazing up at her, just as the people in the book did the Gods.
My older brother was interested in losing me as fast as possible. His stories were told in the absolute dark, near my bedtime, about monsters and vampires that would stalk little boys to their deaths. He used the creepy voices of the undead and surprise attacks, till I grew so frighten and scared I ran for help to someone else. These stories were lesser, as my brother used them only as a last resort because of the impending doom and lecture that followed them.
My father, though normally always working, told me of Aesop’s fables sporadically. He would often say them in the car on a long drive,when he took me fishing or on some other bonding activity, or at the dinner table. He wanted me to consider the actions that I would take in later life, as he wished for all my siblings to do. While the others found them boring and repetitive, I drank them in, as I did with all the other ones I was told.
But my favorite storyteller, was Grandmother Isabella.
Her’s were the most ritually based. The story would always be the same, but I loved it so much that I could never get enough. It would always start with me wondering into her bedroom after she had dressed in her long cotton night gown and was seated at her vanity. She would be brushing the long silver strands of her hair, and humming an ancient song that I knew not the words to.
“Grandmother,” I called in my childish voice. She would stop her humming and put down her brush to divert her attention to me.
“Yes my little Callisto?” she smiled, gesturing for me to come closer as I inwardly cursed my name that even then was a cause of endless teasing and bullying. But, I could never begrudge her for calling me by my hated name, for it was one of the few ways she was able to hold on to the old country with.
“What are you singing?” I questioned, as she pulled me into her lap.
“Just an ancient song from an equally ancient story,” she replied.
“Story?” I asked, my eyes gleaming with pleasure. She chuckled at my eagerness.
“Yes, little one, a story that you have heard countless times before from my very lips,” she said. She again laughed at my pouting lips. “But perhaps you must be reminded of it again.” Then with grace befitting a dancer, she rose with my slight form in her arms and carried me to the rocking chair Grandfather had carved for her when she was pregnant with Father.
“Long ago, before magic had been driven from the land,” she began. I cuddled in closer to her, snuggling into her night dress. She bent her head over me, so her hair formed a protective curtain around my body. “Their lived a young Half-Elf. The Half-Elf was the child of an Elven King, and the only human bride of his ten wives. The Half-Elf stood out among the King’s sixty other children, for it was a dark beauty, as opposed to the fairness of the Elves. The child grew lonely and sad in the King’s Court, for it was teased and mocked by its half siblings. But one day, the young Elven King of a large and powerful nation came to the Half-Elf’s home to find a bride. Upon setting eyes on the young and beautiful Half-Elf, he instantly fell in love and their marriage was arranged.”
Grandmother took a breath, then gave a slight sigh for the things to come to the Half-Elf. “But,” she began again. “Not everyone was happy with this union. An evil vassal of the Half-Elf’s father had made plans to marry what he thought the worthless child, and the child’s eldest sister had her own agenda in marrying the King. So together the two concocted a plan. On the night before the wedding, the eldest sister drugged the bride to be with a sleeping draught and stole her away to a tower that the vassal owned. In the tower, the vassal kept the Half-Elf and tired to torture the poor dear into marrying him. But the Half-Elf remained ever faithful to the King, who was doing everything possible to rescue his bride.”
“How did the lord torture the Half-Elf?” I asked.
“Hush child,” Grandmother reprimanded gently before moving on. She would never answer the question. “Now the King battled his ways through wilderness, trolls, and goblins to find the hidden tower. On his perilous journey, the young King befriended a mermaid, unicorn, dragon, and fairy, who all vowed to help him rescue his love. Every night the Half-Elf would sing out the window that song you heard me humming. The King, hearing that song, would follow his love’s voice. When he and his friends where within reach, the Princess and Lord again intervened and sent the King to the Frozen Lands, in which he was sealed in a tomb of ice. His friends did everything they could to rescue the Half-Elf, but they failed. With the King’s apparent death, the Half-Elf was forced into marriage with the Lord, and the sister was soon betrothed to the young King’s cousin. The Lord did not trust his bride, so kept her locked up in the tower. All the poor child could do was cry, and after many years the tears formed a lake.”
I got closer to Grandmother, knowing the story was coming to a close soon. “The mermaid friend of the King was able to swim to the tower and free the Half-Elf from its prison. With the help of the others, the Half-Elf made it to the Frozen Lands and to the King’s icy prison. The warmth of their love melted the ice and the King was free. But sadly the Lord, hearing of his bride’s unfaithfulness, sent an army to retrieve the Half-Elf, but a battle soon commenced and the child was killed. The King was in such a state of distraught, that he was able to defeat the army with a single cut from his blade. He then called upon ancient magics to bind the Half-Elf to the Earth in the form of a white rose. But the time of the Elves was ending, and the King had to leave the Earth. He was extremely sadden that he and his love could never be together, and now he must even leave his love’s soul. The King made a vow though, before he left the Earth to the humans, to one day return for his love, and stop all those who would ever harm them.”
And with that end, I would promptly fall asleep, though so many questions ran through my head that I would forget to ask in dawn’s light. And though the story was tragic and sad, hearing it always gifted me with a peaceful night’s rest.
88888888
Author's Note: This story is written as a show of my love and appreciation to my good friend ObsessedLove/EvlVenus/Gabby for all she has done for me over the years that I have known her. Hope you like it. Sorry if grammar is bad, I didn't want to trouble my beta for just two pages.