|Current mood:|| creative|
Story, "Ice Fairy Tale" WIP
Title: Ice Fairy Tale (working title)
Author: Meli aka Mouse
Notes: This story seems to be telling itself backwards. I had no idea who these characters were when they popped into my head, and I'm only getting tiny glimpses of who they are now. But I'm rather eager to find out.
Before him rose the high glassy mountain of Winter. At eye level was a thin slot, and Gil looked closely at it. He had no key, and the slot was too small to allow his fingers access, and for a moment his heart filled with despair. Then the words of the frog returned to him, and he turned his back on the mountain, looking back the way he had come.
"The color is the key to opening Winter's icy heart," the frog had told him, just before it hopped away. Gil went into the forest of Autumn and searched high and low until he found the most brilliantly colored leaf, then he took it back with him and slid it into the slot.
Ponderously, the face of the mountain fell away, and Winter was unleashed. Snow began falling at once, and Gil felt his skin prickle as the cold air flowed over him. Plucking up his courage, and thinking of the pale Prince, he began his journey into the mountain of Winter.
It was hard going. The cold made his hands and feet go numb and tingle. Frost grew on his cheeks like the beards of old men, and his eyelashes froze and stuck. Still, Gil walked forward, tucking his hands beneath his arms and stamping his feet, and the Winter wind howled angrily around him.
Freezing rain fell on him, each drop at once turning to ice as it touched his skin. His eyes, mouth and nose were covered, and Gil was forced to stop. But he merely pried at the ice until it came off, returned his hands to their warm place, tucked his chin to his chest, and went on.
The wind howled around him, blowing so hard that Gil had to fight for each step. He could feel the cold of Winter creeping into his veins, running toward his heart. The Prince was waiting, and Gil went on, battling the wind and the cold.
Just as he felt the first brush of the ice touch his heart, he saw the door. The wind, ice and snow battered him, and Gil could feel his heart freezing within his chest. It was so hard to think, hard to move, but Gil continued.
Though he could no longer see his path, Gil pressed on, and his questing hand touched the cool knob of the door. The storm redoubled, Winter bending all of its will upon keeping him from his goal. Gil, though his heart and blood were ice within him, and his eyes and mouth had frozen shut, thought of the Prince, and turned the knob.
A last screaming, howling gale struck him, and then all was calm and unbearably warm. Gil shuddered at the change in temperature, and dimly felt gentle hands guiding him farther into the room. He thought he could faintly hear the sound of a voice, but his ears were frozen shut, and he couldn't be sure.
His wet clothes were stripped from him, and he was wrapped in a dry blanket. His frozen lips were gently pried apart, and a spicy liquid dribbled into his mouth. Gil swallowed, choked, and swallowed some more, feeling the blood in his veins begin to thaw. All his skin, limbs and organs moved with new life, though his heart was still a lump of ice within him. Gil opened his cold eyes and beheld the Prince, and felt his heart melt at once.
The Prince held a cup still, and smiled. "Can you hear me now?" he asked, and Gil nodded, then shivered, still colder than he'd ever been in his life. The Prince let him have more of the liquid and Gil sipped slowly, feeling it bring heat into him as it trickled down his throat.
"Can you speak?" the Prince asked softly, and Gil tried to, but found his mouth was still too cold. The Prince set aside his cup, took Gil's face gently between his hands, and kissed him, warming Gil's lips and tongue with his own. He smiled into Gil's shocked eyes when he pulled back. "What about now?"
Gil worked his tongue and teeth, but felt the words freezing as they reached his throat. He shook his head and reached for his throat, only to have the Prince's warm hands catch his icy one. The Prince chafed it, and set it back beneath the blanket before tilting Gil's head back to allow access to his throat. Burning mouth on his neck, and Gil gasped, feeling the unspoken words thaw. "You kissed me," he said, the words newly melted on his tongue, and the Prince sat back looking satisfied.
"I did. My name's Sebastian, but my sisters always called me Bas." He picked up the cup again and offered it to Gil. "And yours?"
Gill swallowed all that was left in the cup, tasting for the first time the honeyed wine and spices that melted his insides. "Gil," he said, shivering, and handed the cup back.
Prince Sebastian took it and offered his hand, pulling Gil to his feet and leading to where the fire burned bright in the hearth. "Good Gil. Sit," he said, and Gil obeyed, feeling the warmth of the flames envelope him. Bas sat beside him, pressing the length of his side to Gil's. "Tell me of your journey, how you came to find me here." He wrapped an arm around Gil's shoulders, drawing him further into the Prince's body heat.
"It would be a long tale, your Highness, and not very interesting."
Bas laughed. "I wish to hear all of it, brave Gil." He turned Gil's face to him. "Please. And call me Bas."
"Yes, your Highness," Gil replied, and began his tale.
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