Khmer Arts Ensemble in “A Bend in the River,” by Sophiline Cheam Shapiro. Photo by Khvay Samnang.

As part of the Season of Cambodia festival in New York, the Khmer Arts Ensemble performed Sophiline Cheam Shapiro’s “A Bend in the River” at the Joyce. Shapiro’s dance-drama draws upon the traditions of Cambodian Classical Dance—elegant shapes, refined hand gestures, codified positions—and combines them with a story drawn from folklore and an original score that extends the range of the pin peat orchestra. Like Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf, it is a story told on many levels: through narration, music, and movement. You can read my review for DanceTabs here.

And here’s a short excerpt: “Once in a while, a real modernizer comes along and shakes things up more radically. In the realm of Cambodian dance, it is Sophiline Cheam Shapiro….In past works she has combined the vocabulary of classical Cambodian dance…to stories like The Magic Flute and music by Western composers, including the New York experimentalist, John Zorn….With A Bend in the River…she has come up with a hybrid form that needs no justification.”

With a strong cast of stunningly elegant dancers and simply beautiful choreography, this comedy-ballet received a hearty reaction from the almost full house at the Wolverhampton Grand Theatre on Monday night.

Coppelia is essentially a love story with the essence of ‘Pinocchio’ as it tells the tale of toy maker Dr Coppelius (played by Alexander Kuimov who displayed some hilarious facial expressions within his performance) who has made a life-like doll (Coppelia – played by Yana Tugeva) whom he loves as his ‘daughter’. Yana Tugeva was indeed as pretty as a little doll and danced a technically complex solo in the second act. Dr Coppelius tries to entice Franz who is an impressionable village boy to fall in love with Coppelia, however Franz has already professed his love to a girl from the village – Swanilda. There is jealousy (on Swanilda’s part) and much cunning on the part of Dr Coppelius, but true love wins through.

Kirill Bulychev is a handsome and energetic Franz, his lines were perfect and his technical ability was incredible. Elena Pogorelaya was a beautiful and indeed mischievous Swanilda, telling the story with her eyes as much as her seamless dancing. A well matched pair who rose the roof in act two with their pas de deux.

The company as a whole were delightful to watch with many notable performances throughout and Anastasia Koreshnikova especially entertained as the Town Celebrity. The 25-piece orchestra were extraordinary and conducted enthusiastically by Alexander Yudasin, the music accompanied the splendour on stage rather than dominated it.

The scenery was quite ornate and the costumes were bright, colourful and lent themselves to the light comedy air of this particular ballet.

For more tour dates and to book tickets please see http://www.raymondgubbay.co.uk. The final performance at Wolverhampton was of Swan Lake last night.

First published 22.02.13

We had no need for such things
We only grabbed what we wanted
And checked out
This made me happy

So when you left
I knew it would be hard
To return to the hunger stopper
Without you by my side
I wish they sold boxes of fulfillment there
Cartons of contentment with no expiration date
Or at least a jar of let it go
That I could spread onto excitement
As a late night snack
I would eat with glee
When I can’t sleep
because I’m tip toeing
Between memory, fantasy and dream
Or as I like to call it “you”

I have a need for such things
I would grab only what I needed
And check out
This would make me happy

But the truth is I’m not happy
My walls remind me of you
The ceiling
The paint stained carpeted floor
I hate my door, the door knob, hinges and frame
What it stands for
A gate to lonely
A way in with no other way out

The day you left
I stuffed my face with comfort
And tried to swallow pillows
I couldn’t watch you wave so long
So you ran your throng of birds
down the crease of my ignorer
Still moist from our pas de deux
A final Act of Reprisal
I knew it was over
I learned a long time ago
Slamming doors are the codas of relationships

You had no need for such things
You only grabbed what you wanted
And checked out
This made you

LIVE & 3D!

FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY…

Thursday 6th June 2013 @ 6.15pm

BOOK NOW!

The famous Russian conductor Valery Gergiyev and a cult American film director, James Cameron (Avatar 3D, Titanic 3D), are preparing a surprise for the lovers of the Russian ballet art – A Live 3D broadcast of Tchaikovsky’s ballet “Swan Lake” staged by the Mariinsky Theatre of St. Petersburg. SCREENING LIVE AND IN 3D, DIRECT FROM ST. PETERSBURG.

LIVE & 3D!

FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY…

Thursday 6th June 2013 @ 6.15pm

BOOK NOW!

The famous Russian conductor Valery Gergiyev and a cult American film director, James Cameron (Avatar 3D, Titanic 3D), are preparing a surprise for the lovers of the Russian ballet art – A Live 3D broadcast of Tchaikovsky’s ballet “Swan Lake” staged by the Mariinsky Theatre of St. Petersburg. SCREENING LIVE AND IN 3D, DIRECT FROM ST. PETERSBURG.

Its will be from the 9th to the 13th of May!

Who is going. . . . ME!

I was smack in the middle of a miserable poem

When the ice cream cart that comes daily came

Blaring a boxy Tchaikovsky scene from its depths.

It was so Gothic I nearly yelled to the gathering kids

To go back to their game of basketball–

Swan Lake ice cream isn’t ice cream at all.

Download Swan Lake (Theme) by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky for Intermediate Piano Solo

About Swan Lake Ballet
Swan Lake is a ballet, op. 20, by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, composed 1875-1876. The scenario, initially in four acts, by Vladimir Begichev and Vasiliy Geltser was fashioned from Russian folk tales as well as an ancient German legend, which tells the story of Odette, a princess turned into a swan by an evil sorcerer’s curse. The choreographer of the original production was Julius Reisinger. The ballet received its premiere on February 27, 1877, at the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow as The Lake of the Swans.

Read more on Wikipedia.org

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Browse other “The Piano Student” free sheet music posts:

Free Sheet Music for Folks Who Dig Opera
Level 2/Easy Piano Solos
Level 3/ Intermediate Piano Solos
Free Sheet Music | Fur Elise for Piano
Free Sheet Music | Canon in D for Piano

ROBERT Curran gave his last performance with The Australian Ballet on November 26, 2011 – as Danilo in The Merry Widow – and took a year off to prepare for what he hoped would be his second act: running a ballet company. Such a role hasn’t yet come his way so the preparations continue, with Curran determined to prove he has what it takes.

To that end, earlier this year he took the position of rehearsal director for Bangarra Dance Theatre, a company with 13 permanent dancers based in Sydney. He still has a mortgage in Melbourne so doesn’t have a permanent base in the harbour city. He couch-hops, he says. Curran has a long-distance relationship, another sacrifice he’s prepared to make to achieve his goal.

Robert Curran at Bangarra’s Sydney headquarters. Photo: Quentin Jones

Curran, now 36, spent his entire 16-year career at the AB, where for a decade he held the top rank. He succeeded Steven Heathcote as the AB’s undisputed leading man, a title that is still up for grabs at the national company. He was much missed during last year’s season of Onegin. The title role in John Cranko’s ballet would have been a perfect fit for someone whose partnering gifts were unequalled in his time with the AB and still remain unequalled. But, as Curran says about the timing of his retirement, there’s never a good time to stop, but there is a right one.

He has been setting himself up for the future more than a decade. He has a degree in business studies (including psychology, human resources and marketing) and a certificate of elite dance instruction from the Australian Ballet School. He choreographed four short works for the AB’s experimental Bodytorque program and co-founded a small Melbourne-based, project-based, contemporary ballet company, JACK, which is currently on hiatus.

As well as working with indigenous dance company Bangarra, Curran has been asked to choreograph Nixon in China for Victorian Opera.

Curran and I spoke recently at length about his commitments with Bangarra and how he has gone about making himself an attractive candidate for an artistic directorship. His openness is engaging and his insights enlightening. This is an edited transcript of his views on ballet. – DEBORAH JONES

The ballet of the future:

I DEVOUTLY believe the classic ballets are just as important as a Turner or a Manet. Everyone should see the Coppelias and Giselles. That foundation is very important. For a dancer, the kind of training needed is invaluable. Those ballets need to be ongoing.

But we need new versions of the classics, and at the same time we need to push into collaboration with actors, onstage musicians, circus artists, to create works that will be tomorrow’s classics. Collaborations that come out of a more multi-disciplinary approach might create something that could be considered worthy of joining the canon of Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, Coppelia, Giselle. It might be a version of a story we haven’t heard of yet and [performance artist] Marina Abramovic is involved somehow. It might be that in 100 years dancers are fighting to keep that alive.

“I have this vision of a classical ballet dancer who has full dramatic skills, who can sing, can speak, can project their voice, can be in film, can be up in the air, multi-disciplinary, rich in their art form.”

I love going to the theatre, hearing the rumpty-tumpty music of Don Quixote or La Bayadere, or sitting in the dark hearing the overture to Suite en Blanc. You know you’re in for a pure classical treat. But I also like sitting in a traverse theatre [as he did recently] with 20 other people seeing a show with one actor playing every single role. The weirder, the crazier the better. I have this vision of a classical ballet dancer who has full dramatic skills, who can sing, can speak, can project their voice, can be in film, can be up in the air, multi-disciplinary, rich in their art form.

You need to be talking on stage, singing on stage, miming, putting yourself way outside your comfort zone. What you learn about your art from experimentation you can apply to Swanhilda or Odette. There is a maelstrom of activity [elsewhere] that is sometimes lacking in classical ballet. For many dancers there’s no awareness that you need to extend yourself.

I was reading Jennifer Homans’s Apollo’s Angels and was incensed at her last chapter [in which she expressed the view that ballet was in its death throes] … We could talk about this for hours. People have this expectation that we’re going to have to grow another limb to make dance new and exciting. The beauty of classical ballet is the rigour that results from that training; it’s the collaboration and trying new combinations rather than trying to come up with new movements.

There is no new movement. You go forward and back and sideways and up and down. You have two arms and two legs and one head. That’s kind of it.

Life at Bangarra:

I ARRIVE at around 8 o’clock and try to get as much administration done before class, which is at 10. So I’m doing schedules, co-ordinating a lot of the Safe Dance program for the dancers. I’m in charge of all their physio with the in-house team, organising teachers and pianists. There’s a lot, a lot of admin. I enjoy doing it; it gives me a good insight into management, dealing with a lot of different people, getting things to work for people as much as possible, and then I either teach class or I try to do class with the dancers.

“If you see someone working on their own body with a focus that starts before class and finishes after class it’s an important example.”

They have class every day for an hour and a half – ballet, contemporary, theatre craft, yoga, Pilates. It depends on what they need at the time. There’s a long-term and a short-term strategic thing in my mind about what’s best [to develop the dancers] technically and what’s appropriate for the time of week and year.

Stephen [Page, Bangarra’s artistic director] is very trusting about that – he’s too busy to deal with it. He has his over-arching artistic vision for the company and he would most certainly let me know if that wasn’t being reached or was heading in a different direction. He’s great about giving me the responsibility about doing what’s best for the dancers to facilitate their work.

[After the early administration work] either I teach class or do it. I’m trying to keep in shape. Where possible it’s good to set an example and I like the idea of being fit and healthy and being able to demonstrate without risking life and limb. It’s for my own safety but it’s also important for younger dancers to observe someone who knows what they’re doing for themselves.  If you see someone working on their own body with a focus that starts before class and finishes after class it’s an important example.

Rehearsals start at 12. At the moment Blak is being created – I’m not actively involved in those rehearsals but like to be in the room wherever possible.  Daniel [Riley McKinley, 27] is a dancer and choreographer for Blak, so he’ll need another set of eyes to help him. He’s very open to collaborating with the dancers and with me. He’s very open-minded and intelligent about opening up a dialogue. A very smart man.

Soon after he joined Bangarra Curran went to northeast Arnhem Land with the company on one of its regular trips back to country …

AND what a mind-blowing experience that was! Of course I had my mental model of what it was like and it was a very strange experience to have that mental model blown away. I was really happy to have it blown away.

We went to local sacred sites and held a workshop [in Dhalinybuy]. Bangarra dancers were teaching and being taught by the local children. Then we went to Bremer Island where [Bangarra cultural consultant] Kathy Marika is from. And that was amazing too. It was a tropical holiday but with such intense, wonderful cultural saturation.I found it almost intimidating.

I felt my perception of my responsibility growing exponentially, which was a little bit disturbing but also inspiring. It reaffirmed this opportunity I’d been given, but it’s impossible not to notice that I’m not one of them. Impossible to not notice that and to be aware that this is not my world. My world is traditional ballet and the future of that. It’s challenging.

So how did Curran come to be at Bangarra?

I’M not embarassed to say that I got a little disillusioned with my search for artistic directorships. I do think there is a prevailing conservatism; either that or people are lying to me. Because everyone that gave me feedback on all of my applications said that my vision was exciting and inspiring but my lack of experience was the only thing that meant it couldn’t go forward. I began to get very disillusioned about the whole process, thinking, how am I going to get the experience before I get a job that’s going to give me the experience?

“Robert said to me straight up if a ballet job came up he would go. We’re very open. I just hope that job doesn’t come up just yet. He’s a decent man and he’s passionate, he just hunts quietly.”

- Stephen Page in The Australian, February 14, 2013

I wanted to have 12 months off [after leaving the AB] but I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that about two months in I began to get itchy and not content to have it last that long. By November I was starting to really get my feet back in the water and I heard on the grapevine that my predecessor at Bangarra was leaving. It’s such a small world.

I’ve always had a huge amount of respect for Stephen. I’ve watched all of Bangarra’s shows; I really do respect what this company has done and is doing. So when the job came up I thought, well, I’m back in the studio, out of my comfort zone. I’ve always taken for granted what ballet staff do and artistic administration do, and it’s been great for me to get a deeper understanding of how much is involved. That’s a very valuable lesson for me.

The year off:

[AFTER his last show in Sydney] I had one night in Melbourne then went straight to New York for four or five weeks. I spent almost every day with American Ballet Theatre. They were wonderful. They opened the doors, said go where you want, meet who you want. Do what you want. In reality I didn’t spend that much time hovering behind Kevin McKenzie. It’s a really difficult thing to organise. I spent the time getting to know the company and their operations.

Then I went to [UK dance leaders’ forum] DanceEast. That was an interesting exercise because it really was getting at the crux of leadership. Not concentrating on networking or skills development, but very much more exploring what it means to be a leader in the arts.

A standout experience was the World Theatre Festival in Brisbane [in February 2012]. The potential for collaboration across artistic genres and artistic technologies was something I spent two weeks revelling in. It was such a wonderful two weeks. I went from London to Russia – I spent a lot of time in Russia, then went to Japan and then straight to Brisbane. There were some pretty exciting people – Belarus Free Theatre, Il Pixel Rosso, the Italian-British multimedia arts company, [Italian theatre company] Motus. It was really thrilling and inspiring.

I did a workshop with Il Pixel Rosso and and Motus. Il Pixel Rosso was specifically about multimedia, Motus was about the creative process and their methods of creation. I was really open and ready for it. I wanted to be outside my comfort zone, I wanted to get away from plies and fondus – for a period of time. Not to shun them, but get away from them for a time.

I thought it would be a good idea for me to spend some time exposing myself to other forms of theatre. I went to the Metropolitan Opera in New York, I saw the Bolshoi any number of times, I went to Kabuki theatre in Japan, symphonies, Melbourne Theatre Company, Sydney Theatre Company. Any night I had free I was filling up with being in the theatre. Which is something I never got to do as a dancer. That was also contributing to my desire to experience more and see how it can apply to dance.

Does he feel he is now on his way?

IT depends on the day, to be honest. What I’m desperate for is for some company to take a risk and employ someone who has a really exciting vision, and then trust in the rest of their organisation – that there will be conversation and the existing administration, the existing dancers will safeguard the organisation. It’s a risk; I do get that.

“I should never, ever be artistic director of Bangarra Dance Theatre, ever. I wouldn’t want to be … It’s not the right job for me and I’m not the right person for the job.”

I’m busy, I’m working hard, but Stephen knows that I’m looking for bigger things … I want more responsibility. I love the dancers in Bangarra, I love what this company does, and at the moment that’s fuelling me to go in and do the best I can do, but at the end of the day I have got a vision for ballet that I would like to put on a company.

We’re talking about a classical ballet company. We’re talking between 30 and however many classically trained dancers and what their potential is and fully exploring that potential. As I have respect for the heritage of Aboriginal dance, I have the same respect for the heritage of classical ballet, but I am really, really excited about throwing a bunch of actors and musicians and designers and classical dancers together in a room and seeing what exciting things they can come up with for whatever medium, be it film, stage, site-specific, flash mob-y, whatever.

It sounds trite, and it’s been said before, but they become the classics of tomorrow. That’s in my mind. That’s not being fulfilled at Bangarra. It’s not possible. I should never, ever be artistic director of Bangarra Dance Theatre, ever. I wouldn’t want to be. It’s not the right fit. It’s not the right job for me and I’m not the right person for the job.

What is the involvement with Nixon in China?

THE second half of the second act is a scene where Pat and Richard Nixon go to the National Ballet of China to see The Red Detachment of Women. I’m not going to try to recreate it – the production is contemporary, a little bit sparse, and Victorian Opera doesn’t have the budget for 50 women in military costume.

There are four dancers and there is a lot of interaction with the principals. I’m trying to focus on ideas of liberation and what kind of emotional involvement there is in that, all framed within the American visit. Is America there to liberate China, or is China already liberated and trying to show America that they are?

I’m working on it only for three weeks so it’s a very short turnaround, but Bangarra’s tour to Melbourne coincides with the production of Nixon so it’s perfect for me. It will be stressful, but I’m really excited about collaborating and extending myself.

Are there any boundaries?

WOULD I go anywhere? Yes. Sydney is not my home. I’m couch-hopping. I wouldn’t say I’m hedging my bets, but it’s ridiculous to spend $400 a week on rent … I’m seeing this year as an opportunity to clarify my vision so when the opportunity arrives I can confidently say, “Look, I’d like to do a new version of this; I’d like to put this ballet with this ballet with this ballet.” I’ve done that in however many applications I’ve done. But I am contemplating and consolidating that vision.

Last year was a year of flux [vacancies came up at Queensland Ballet and West Australian Ballet]. Whether I’ve missed the boat and it’s another 10 years before there’s this kind of flux I don’t know. But I keep my ear to the ground. It’s a really difficult transition to make. I thought I was doing the right thing with my teacher’s course, bachelor of business, starting JACK Productions – but it’s not enough. I’ve made sure in the [Bangarra] contract that the company won’t have difficulty if I leave [early]. It clashes a bit with my feelings about how things should be done, but the [ballet] year in Europe and America starts in September; here in January. There’s a disconnect.

“It’s important to have leadership experiences that are not limited to your own art form. I believe passionately that ballet is still relevant, and have a great passion for it, but we do need to keep up, to be adaptable, flexible and open-minded.”

- Robert Curran, The Australian, November 29, 2011.

Applying to Queensland Ballet was by far the best experience. Their recruiting process was really, really good. It was my first [application] and they really walked me through it. It was a time full of hope for me, but they managed my disappointment as well. The fact that Li [Cunxin]  turned up with all his wonderful assets, there was no way anyone was getting to get a look in. And West Australian Ballet had their eye on Europe. [WAB appointed Belgian ballet master and rehearsal director Aurelien Scannella to the post.]

Leaving The Australian Ballet:

NOT dancing Onegin was a real wrench. It was difficult. I didn’t want to do Onegin and not enjoy it because of all the other things going through my head at that time. There was no other way for me to look at it than I was on the other side of the hill and sliding down. I was never going to be opening night Onegin. That decision had already been made. It wasn’t just that in and of itself [that sparked his retirement]. It was a combination of things – can I constantly prove that I’m worthy of doing the work that these young boys are ready to do?

I was being told that these people were ready and I needed to share. I had an awesome year with The Merry Widow, After the Rain, Concerto, then after that was told I needed to step back, to share. I understood that; but that didn’t happen to Steven Heathcote. I was his understudy until he decided to go.

But I got to do a traditional Swan Lake in Hong Kong in August 2011 with Jin Yao [previously a guest artist with the AB]; a beautiful production. I really, really loved it. I miss performing, and I really, really miss partnering. It could bring me to tears talking about it.

Bangarra Dance Theatre’s Blak opens on May 3 in Melbourne before touring to Wollongong, Sydney and Brisbane.

Victorian Opera’s Nixon in China opens in Melbourne on May 16.

I think it’s important to embrace both sides in oneself! I am at the moment discovering my “black swan” and at the moment I am painting a portrait of Nathalie Portman as the ballerina in “Black Swan”, with my own interpretation of the subject! I like it so far, even though I have just made the first layer of shapes

Nathalie Portman-sketch for Black Swan-interpretation by Paulina Medepona Arts

Prologue:

“Assemble the men!” shouted King Stephen in the downpour of the rain. From the back of his large, strong, black stallion, Beltran, sheltered beneath the breezeway to the courtyard, he watched his men march in formation behind the trumpeters and drummers at the forefront of the assembly. The horse was monstrous, frightening to either man or child; a war horse from a young age, now a young adult, however equally as sound as an elder. The beast had long, flowing black mane, a thick, floor-length black tail, and black feathered hooves. Beltran had been sent to King Stephen as a gift after he’d been crowned King to the kingdom, one that he felt was now beginning to turn against him. The assembly arranged at the end of the cobblestone esplanade, and awaited him to bid farewell to his family.

Under the archway, he looked down as his beloved Queen Edythe as she held their young son, Gabriel, close to her chest. The boy’s eyes, confused and scared, continued to glance between the tears on his mother’s face and the uncertainty upon his father’s.

“Gabriel, my love, go with the servants, will you?” asked Edythe, running a hand over his hair and looking into his eyes. Handing off the one-year-old child to the hands of one of her hand-maidens, her voice was reassuring. She smiled as Gabriel’s eyes remained fixated on his father. The somber expression her son bore as he potentially gave him the last look of his life, made him feel the lingering feeling of death deep within his heart. He had no way of knowing he might never see his father again.

Edythe stroked back the growing brown hair upon his head, finally gaining his attention, and nodded, his hand lingering with curiosity at his bottom lip. As Gabriel was taken inside, so she could beg her husband to stay with her, the servant quickly pressed her back against the wall, hiding from the sight of the Queen. They were both inquisitive, the hand-maiden and Gabriel, and thus just as quickly as they were out of sight, did the pair duck behind the wall, huddled behind the closed door, where she  listened to the Queen and to the argument at hand.

Horse’s hooves of the army splattered mud against the stone of the walkway from the stables, whinnying from the uncomfortable closeness each steed shared with the other as  rain splashed against the armor of the King’s men; the clanging of metal suits rattling  in unison.

“Please, Stephen,” Edythe began. His broad chest was covered by a black chest plate, among shoulder guards, grieves, armored gauntlets, and boots. He bore his gold and ruby embedded crown atop his head, against his short, ebony black hair. His gray eyes turned to glance back at her against the weathered expression of his face. He was young; nearing the age of thirty-five. However the stress of ruling and monitoring a dangerous criminal aged him faster every day, and his patience grew even thinner.  “Do not put yourself in danger of this madman. We can take a different course of action!” she said, wringing her hands. It had always been a task to change his mind once it had been made.

“Edythe!” he hushed softly. “He’s dangerous… not only to us, but to our people, to King Wolfe’s citizens, and to my son. He needs to be taken care of. You do not understand…this is his entire plot. He wants to make sure that he can take one kingdom at a time – I will not let him achieve this. We have given him enough time of imprisonment, enough guards to check in on him for a single lifetime, and still he practices that dark magic! No amount of kindness I show matters toward his disposal any longer!” Her eyes averted, and thus he looked toward the men who occasionally glanced back to see his decision. An impending silence grew over them, until his wife spoke again.  

“What of his dark magic, Stephen? What if he is too powerful?” she asked. Pausing for a moment, she found her plea growing with desperation. “We need you, my love. Gabriel needs you most of all, please do not do this! Let the captain seek him out, but please do not leave us behind…”

King Stephen dismounted and approached his darling wife, resting a hand on her face, thumbing her tears from her cheek. Sighing, he said, “I do not wish to leave you both, and I know it is the captain’s duty to protect me…but these men also have families, and children of their own. I am King, but I am not above any other man or their willingness to risk their life for me. Especially when we all have loved ones for whom we must ensure safety. I hope you understand, my love…we can no longer afford to be selfish with our titles.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she exhaled softly, feeling her husband’s warmth slowly floating away as he remounted his horse.

“I love you, Edythe,” he said softly. “Tell me son the same…whatever should happen.” Quickly, Stephen whipped the reins of his whinnying beast, sending the stallion into a flying gallop at the front lines of his brigade. Behind the drummers and the trumpeters, who announced of the King’s coming, the rest of the men thundered closely behind him to meet King Wolfe’s forces at the edge of the Graycopse Forest.

Hurrying to a secluded tower, Edythe ran past the door where the maid sat holding Gabriel in her arms, going unnoticed. Her steps were quick, stumbling, until she finally reached the top; an old, secluded room made just for her, with a single chair, a single latticed window, and one nearly burned out candle, melted all along the side of the window ledge. It was there she watched him every time he left her arms. As she watched, they rode throughout the town, their figures growing smaller and smaller until they completely vanished amongst the buildings.

The horse’s hooves mimicked the rhythmic beat of the single bang on the drums, and massive thighs pulsed as each hoof struck against the stone. The trumpets aired a different tone, to alert, or more precisely to warn villagers to scatter from the streets so not to be stampeded by the army. The kingdom tapestry flags of black, gold, and crimson whipped through the harsh stormy winds, ripping at the ends, however brilliant and regal to the eyes of those whom looked to the King for guidance and protection. Those flags stood for the very freedom he fought for, against tyrants who sought to take it.

As the side streets crowded with villagers who pressed their bodies against the walls of the thrift shops and blacksmiths hut, soon, small flowers were thrown in their path, trampled by the beasts. Each peasant showed their pride in King Stephen, waving, yelling, and cheering, as he passed, and thus ensured him he had taken the right action.

Stephen knew it would be a harsh battle – and the riskiest one yet. There, the sorcerer Rothbart, sick, evil, and twisted, lurked deep within the Graycopse Forest; a haunted place, cursed by his magic. It is a forest that swallowed men whole and lured in curious strangers to never be seen again. Before the forest sprawled the adjoining graveyard of King Stephen’s and King Wolfe’s lands, where the dead from either region were buried. Where fog rippled and wreathed headstones both short and tall, whilst in the background sat the black, dead tree line of the beginning of the forest. The branches would take hold of you, the roots would upturn and drag you into the earth, the animals would attack you, and even bridges built by nature could fall out from under a traveler, only to rebuild itself moments later. Rothbart controlled it all. 

With the ability to summon lightning, control and warp nature to his advantage, turn men to stone and ash, the ability to curse, shape shift, summon flames, and swordfight, Rothbart  was a man to never take lightly in the event of a confrontation; this time, for King Stephen, the threat became too personal to not address. A threat on the life of his son was the same as a threat on his own life, and he sought vengeance.

After hours of traveling by horse, the trumpeters and drummers had backed off to let the army advanced forward, and soon they joined King Wolfe’s men atop a large, grassy hill just before the graveyard and the woodland beyond it. King Wolfe’s ivory-white stallion, named Oblivion, was mature, gracious, and just as strong and muscled as some of his bulkier cousins – a valiant steed, a protector, and sire to three young horses in Wolfe’s kingdom. Wolfe and his elegant steed had been introduced to one another when Wolfe was set with the task of raising him with his own two hands as a stable boy, while working for his own father.

Beltran and Oblivion whinnied and pushed one another. Beltran’s eyes matched Stephen’s, both entranced by the forest below.  In a bitter tone, Stephen became disgusted with mention of Rothbart. “He’s in there…somewhere. Hiding, like a rat,” he said. His voice was commanding, deep, and steely, matching his harsh behavior when it came to punishing those who disrupted the peace.

“We’ll find him,” King Wolfe replied. His blue eyes scanned the ground, feeling the tension growing behind him as they waited for the opportune moment to advance into the unknown. His short, light chestnut colored hair still shone in the overcast sky beneath his gold and sapphire embezzled crown. He scratched the stubble upon his chin before tightly gripping the reins of his horse.  Although younger than Stephen, King Wolfe was wiser, kinder, and kept his composure far better than Stephen ever could. At the age of thirty-one, King Wolfe had ruled for a little over fourteen years, and had never once executed a criminal in his kingdom; even this attack he participated in stretched his limits.

Raising a hand against his crimson-red robes and gold chest-plate, Wolfe signaled the men to advance toward the woods as Stephen took the forest from the side with his men. The ground was encased with buried rubble from years of rain and destruction. The tips of coffins protruded the mud in some areas, amongst upturned roots at the ends of the trees, boulders caked with black dirt. Cawing of large, sharp-beaked ravens perched at the tops of each branch. The flutter of bats with their small chirps gave the men goose bumps as they slowly stepped their way through the trees, the forest growing darker with each step.

“If you see any sign of him, men, speak his name!” Stephen called. Somber voices acknowledged his words. Unsheathing his sword from its holster, Stephen nudged his horse closer to Wolfe, his stallion seething as the mouth. “He threatened my son – I’ll kill him if I find him, I swear it!” he sneered through clenched teeth.

“Keep calm, Stephen, or Beltran will throw you from his back. Remember to stick to me. We cannot separate-”

“He’s there, Sire!” Stephen’s captain shouted.

“It’s him, Rothbart is there!”

Fury bubbled in Stephen as he glanced toward where his captain pointed. Whirling,  he saw Rothbart, cloaked in black, his face shaded by his long pulled over hood. Suddenly, the man’s echoing chuckle floated amongst the trees, against a sudden howling wind and trembling branches.

“Charge him men!” Stephen shouted. Raising his sword in the air, he shouted again, “With me!” A commotion of battle cries rang out, disturbing the ravens above, as he and his soldiers ran deep into the clearing where Rothbart stood, unmoving, and uncaring that he had been seen. A smile crossed his lips, which terrified Wolfe as he charged after Stephen.

“Wait! It’s a trap!” he screamed.

Just as they passed into the clearing, Rothbart’s eyes flickered. The middle of each tree was blocked with thick, thorny bushes, impenetrable by any manmade blade Wolfe or his men held. To Wolfe’s dismay, he watched as Rothbart’s body exploded into a cloud of black smoke, disappearing from sight. With every slash they cut at the blocking brush, it grew back taller and stronger than before.

Soon, through slits in the thorn bushes, which had by now reached a height of nearly six feet, swarms of ravenous bats and ravens swooped down and savagely pecked Stephen and his men to death.

Rothbart’s cackle could be heard echoing through the trees, yet it was Stephen. Swarms of vampire bites began biting the horses and harvesting them, causing them to kick and rear in terror, throwing their riders to their death, trampling them. As the same happened to Stephen’s stallion, Beltran bolted, Stephen clinging to his back as they sought escape through the forest. Large, black wolves were summoned to bite at their heels, yet Beltran could not outrun them. The stallion and his mount fought bravely as long as they could.

Wolfe stood outside the torture ring that had been created by the forest, horrified at the thought of what would happen to his closest friend. “Men! Grab the oil from our caravan, burn this forest down if you must!” he shouted.

In the forest, and rolling onto his stomach, Stephen coughed as strands of hair fell over his eyes, mixed with blood trickling from the gashes on his scalp. Dizzy, he lifted his head to see his men dying before him, some completely pulled apart. Beltran’s strong hooves circled around his master, waiting for him to rise, shielding him from any outside attack.

However, as he looked south into  the distance, he saw  Rothbart’s ruined castle, disheveled and dark gray, and he knew he had seen what they had been looking for all along. Gathering the last bit of strength he held, he reached forward a torn hand, pointing in the direction of the castle in hopes that someone would see.

 He shouted at the top of his lungs, “Wolfe! It’s there! The castle is there!”

His cries, however, were quickly silenced with a few arrows to his back. Blood gurgled in his throat. He heard Beltran scream out in the forest after his hind quarters were hit with arrows as well. Panicked, the stallion galloped off.

The sound of footsteps approached, and Stephen turned to find Rothbart glaring down at him, Rothbart kicked him in the side and then knelt down, grasped the collar of his royal cape around his neck, and pulled the King to meet his face. The sorcerer’s dark, auburn hair was pulled back beneath his hood, and his deep brown eyes gazed deep into the dying soul of his enemy. He had light skin, a large upper-build, and a malicious, hoarse voice that resembled the haunting stories of what death sounded like if he came for you. Smiling, Rothbart’s eyes suddenly change to a bright yellow with slit pupils, like that of snakes, and his teeth suddenly mutated to sharp, pointy, white fangs. Stephen gasped when he realized that the sorcerer was only part human.

“I’ll get everything, Stephen,” Rothbart whispered. “Your wife, your son, and I will take both yours and Wolfe’s kingdoms by force if I must!” He looked around, seeing his magic was short from holding on much longer. “You pay the price now for making me the outcast and running me out of your city. It will be a fogged memory years from now, and I hope you smile down from heaven on your boy, kissing me boots, you scum-sucking pig!” Shoving Stephen back to the ground, Rothbart grimly stepped aside as an old, ancient-looking beggar woman with a vacant expression came forward. She poured liquids down his throat, paralyzing him as she harvested Stephen’s heart for Rothbart’s dark magic. “Find a way inside! Do everything you can!” Wolfe shouted.

“We cannot, Sire!” shouted Wolfe’s Captain of the Guard. “It’s Rothbart! Not even the oil will take to flame, the forest is bewitched!”

Wolfe watched as they attempted to douse the trees, and yet not even a spark took to the oil. Nothing worked. Finally, the thorn bushes began to crumble away, exposing the sight of the massacre of Stephen and his men in plain view. They had been pulled apart, muscle from bone, skin from skull. Stephen lay on his back, utterly lifeless and pale.

“No!” Wolfe shouted, rushing to the side of his dearest friend. “No! God, no…” He cradled Stephen’s body in his arms against the rain. The open and empty chest cavity filled with water. He clenched his fists as he hunched over Stephen’s remains, trembling with loss until he his captain approached – a man who always kept Wolfe to his senses, even in the darkest hours.

“Shall we pursue Rothbart, Sire?”

Shaking, Wolfe looked up at him, his blood seething with revenge, yet kept his voice low, “Tonight, ambush him. I want you and your men to wait out here – he’s fled for now to regain his power, and he’ll be expecting a fallback. You wait until the opportune moment…and then take his castle by force!” He slowly laid Stephen back down and stood. He backed away from his friend’s body, seeing the men had fetched both of their horses from the lake nearby, and had pulled the arrows from Beltran’s hide. “I need to get to Edythe…and bring him back to my castle until his funeral is ready. I cannot let her view him like this…”

With a small company to follow King Wolfe, they passed by his Kingdom to surrender Stephen’s body to his servants, to clean him up and dress him in appropriate black robes for his planned funeral. They placed him in a coffin to be adorned with flowers on his behalf, and loaded his coffin into the back of a wagon secluded in a dry, cold area of the Kingdom’s stables. However, Wolfe knew he still had one further place to venture to. He grabbed Oblivion by the reins, tied Beltran’s to his own saddle, and solemnly rode back to the castle he had once called home before his friend’s untimely death.

King Wolfe sat atop his steed. His castle advisor, Jep, led the column of horses through the streets of the peasant town. Those who had gone back inside their homes for countless hours of no sign of their king soon pressed their faces against the fogging windows of every pub and shop along the streets. Without any cover from the rain, King Wolfe slowly shifted in his saddle as they proceeded calmly along the walkways, drenched from head to toe. He saw the utter shock and grief in the eyes of the townsmen as they slowly ventured outside. The grand, long-maned stallion, Beltran, head hanging, his saddle stained with blood and his body nicked with oozing, bloody wounds gave the clear sign that King Stephen had been lost.

In due time, the procession  made it way along the uphill stretch to the breezeway of Stephen’s castle; an outstanding edifice of old, weathered stone, lightly grazed with moss where the foundation  touched the earth. Dirt that stained the stones beneath the windows and under the rooftops from rain. The grass grew brilliantly out front, and in the fields behind; it was the only trait that made the kingdom appear lived-in and well kept. He circled around a parterre, weaving around a grand oak tree centered between two pathways after entering under the archway, and approached the courtyard of the kingdom. No trumpets sounded for King Wolfe’s arrival, only shouts from the guards and handmaidens inside the castle, followed by a shrill cry that echoed from the secret room in the tower as Edythe saw the outcome from her small, single window high above.

Wolfe dismounted Oblivion as Jep took the horse. Before Jep guided the exhausted stallion to the Queen’s guest stables, Wolfe held Beltran’s rope in his hand. He waited for what seemed like an endless eternity before Edythe showed herself in the opened doorway; her handmaidens crying behind her, one of them holding the young Prince Gabriel in their arms.

Her fair skin was drained of all color, pale and saddened, and her mousy-brown hair seemed even more washed out and less full of life than it had been a mere week ago when he had arrived to discuss how to take Rothbart’s fortress with Stephen. She wore a grand ball gown, as she always did, of her Kingdom’s colors; with large sleeves, rounded  shoulders, a close-fitting bodice, and a white, frilly covering over her chest and up around her neck.

Wolfe bowed his head as she moved forward, her eyes glistening with tears as she reached out to gently caress the snout of her husband’s poor, abandoned horse. Though he was a beast, he was a part of her family, handed down since he was a young colt for her to nurse, shelter, and care for when his mother had been killed by wolves. “It’s all right, love,” she whispered, stroking him. “You did your best to protect him…I know you did.”

Finally, her eyes turned to Wolfe, and suddenly her body seemed to crumble with sadness. Wolfe caught Edythe in his arms in the courtyard, her screaming reaching the heavens. Finally, he was able to move her inside, where he set her down at on a bench. Her gaze met his across the grand hall table, while the stable boys took Beltran away to mend his wounds.

The one table in the hall was fit for council meetings amongst the royals when an execution was being considered or battle plans of war were made. King Wolfe stood tall at his end. “We were ambushed,” he told her. Shaking his head, he could hardly look into her eyes as the memory of Stephen’s screaming entered his train of thought. “I’m so sorry, Edythe. My men are taking him by surprise tonight, to ambush him just as he did to us, to catch him before he can retain more strength. He will be imprisoned in my Kingdom’s dungeon until I determine what to do with him.”

Suddenly, her attention was caught as she glanced, bewildered, in his direction. “What to do with him? Put him to death! He murdered a King and his company! He was Stephen’s citizen to banish and do with whatever he pleased, and I as his widowed wife, should retain rights to his punishment!” Her chest heaved with anger, and in disbelief, slammed her fist upon the table. Catching her own anger, she stopped and regrouped herself, checking her trembling hands. “Please, Wolfe…he should pay the price.”

Nodding in agreement, he spoke. “I understand. Yet, we have destroyed whatever materials he’s retained inside the old, ruined fortress of his, but I am no tyrant. Not like him, and neither was Stephen. This sounds to me more like vengeance…not reason, Edythe. Shall we not simply banish him from both our lands and holdings? Where else will he have to go but to the noose, or bear a soldier’s death by blade? If he wishes to not seek death, then he will gladly leave, and I will send my men and inform other rulers to watch their borders.”

“Giving him the opportunity to rise up again while out of our reach?” she questioned. “If anything at all, Wolfe, keep him in chains in those dungeons for as long as he lives. He’s too dangerous to let out again! Think of my Gabriel, and think of your wife, Fleur! Your child has not even been born into the world, and already you let tyrants run loose!”

Wolfe grew discouraged at the mention of his heavily pregnant Queen and their unborn child. “Queen Fleur has nothing to do with this, Edythe, nor does my child. We’ve ripped him of all possible utilities,” he protested, pacing at his end of the table. “With that, he will likely die a hermit in another land. I’ve never condemned a man to death, and I will not now. Not for him. He deserves a long, lonely road of solitude somewhere else. My guards will send him on a ship to a secluded place outside our knowledge. I can promise you that.”

Folding her hands and bowing her head, she sighed in displeasure. Slowly rising, she softly rested her hands at her sides and stood straight and true as Queen. “Very well, Wolfe.” She knew her words were powerless to men with the title of King. However, perhaps he was right. “Do what you feel is the right path. Blood taken in revenge will not heal my heart from the loss of my husband. If we do execute him…it may cause for an uprising from followers we may not be aware of.”

Smiling at her ability to reason, he approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I knew you would understand,” he said. “I am leaving my advisor, Jep, here with you to help you – not to rule over you. I know life without Stephen will never be the same, but perhaps he can help with what you may need. He’s always served me well.” She nodded and offered his man a wan smile as Jep bowed to her from outside the doorway. Taking her hand in his, he rubbed the top carefully, and looked sincerely into her eyes. “I’m sorry I could not protect him. He was the brother I never was graced with, but I am pleased with the time I was given to know him. A few short years were enough to fill a lifetime.”

With a short sob, she raised her free hand to cover her mouth, and nodded quickly as the tears rushed back to flood her eyes. Taking her hand from his, she grabbed the ends of her dress and left his sight without a goodbye, and without any words of comfort.

Saying nothing and refusing to follow her, King Wolfe took a deep breath and bid his only advisor farewell. “Take care of her, will you?” he asked.

“You know I will, Sire,” Jep replied.

Jep was very tall, lean, and angular in build, with high cheekbones, a slightly upturned nose, and green eyes. His dark brunette hair lay against the base of his neck. He kindly bowed to Wolfe as he departed. As a kind, simple man, who loved Wolfe, and loved anyone who the King called friend – a true and loyal man; Jep would do anything anyone asked of him within reason, and was up to the task of helping Edythe raise her fatherless son.  Nodding as Wolfe looked back at the doorway from the back of his horse, he watched as Wolfe urged his horse into full gallop as he yearned to get back to his Kingdom by nightfall.

With the moonlight overhead, King Wolfe finally trotted into his courtyard as the stable boy greeted him to take Oblivion. His Captain of the Guard awaited him at the doorway with news he knew he wasn’t exactly ready for; to face his enemy after such a short time after the murder of his friend, Wolfe approached the captain and remained silent.

“How is the Queen Edythe?” the captain questioned. “Was her verdict on his punishment as you had predicted?”

“Yes – almost exactly what Stephen would have wanted, but to take blood for blood means nothing,” he told him. He felt disappointed and reluctantly looked back at his greatest knight. “I couldn’t let her kill him…because I knew later she would regret it, as I certainly would have.”

 “He’s here, Sire. Shall I take you to him?” he asked.

“Did the siege go as planned? Did we lose any men?” he questioned.

“Exactly as planned – Rothbart was so drained that by the time we broke through the wall of the fortress, he was on the floor, barely alive. He seemed…hungry, almost, though that wasn’t his condition when he was in the forest. Malnourished, and writhing,” said the captain. “I suspect it is due to the deprivation of his dark magic, or at least the elements needed to keep him strong. Also, the resources we had used were gone by the time we saw him – tables and tables of alchemy formulas, schematics, apothecary bottles, all but empty with remnants of ingredients. Perhaps he was so ill, he ate and ingested everything…and it still wasn’t enough.”

“Or someone stole everything whilst we retreated,” King Wolfe suggested.

“Do you suspect he had any…help? Followers to help aid him in his time of need?”

“No…not that we could be sure of,” he admitted, unfortunately. Though weary, he rubbed the stubble on his chin, finally prepared to meet the sorcerer. “Take me down.” Together they descended into the kingdom basement, and below that, three flights of stone-carved stairs jetting from a rock wall, winding down in a spiral to a specific holding cell, deep within tunneled caves in the underground. It was the only dungeon for men like Rothbart who were dangerous, unstable, and a threat to the innocent. The door at the top of the stairs was locked and guarded just as heavily as the area around his holding cell. A large wooden door impregnated the front stone-encased wall, where eight of his best men surrounded the outside. Inside, he heard the insane cackle of Rothbart’s laughter.

King Wolfe’s footsteps, along with the captain’s, echoed all the way down the staircase, bringing Rothbart’s curious face to the small cell window of bars in the door. Eleven torches were lit along either side of the single narrow hallway that dripped with moisture and gave off a warm, however eerie buttery glow. His hands were shackled together, as were his ankles, and one around his neck connected him to posts embedded in the stone walls behind him. He began to laugh at King Wolfe’s appearance.

“I always knew someday, Wolfe, that we would finally meet,” he sneered. He backed into his cell and sat on his haunches, elbows resting on his knees. “Shame it was not how I had hoped.”

“What did you expect, may I inquire?” King Wolfe’s tone was amused, however unwilling to reason if the menace made a move for him or his knights. He moved closer, peering down at him from the small cell window as they stared at one another.

“That I would be standing over you, watching you die,” he said in a hoarse whisper, spitting at him, and laughing. “However my dreams have an unusual way of coming true – we are still young in this world and time is my favor to plot your ending, as I did Stephen’s.”

“No, Rothbart,” King Wolfe objected. “You are going to be a demented old beggar. You have no magic left after burned we your castle, and everything inside – and nothing to return to once I ship you off this land. Your terror has met its end.”

“For now,” Rothbart hissed.

“Forever,” Wolfe ended. “I warn you, that if you return to banished lands, I will have men seeking you out along all the borders for years to come until I know of your death. If you set feet on the sand at the docks, I will have you killed on sight.” Shaking his head, he turned in disappointment and walked away, wishing to hear no more of Rothbart’s ranting. He paused as Rothbart spoke. 

“I did not peg you for someone so…ruthless, and cold-hearted,” Rothbart said.

 Wolfe’s back tensed at the words of cold and ruthless.

“I thought you were the kindest of all Kings – it is a shame to be misled,” he added.

 Wolfe continued alongside his captain and mounted the stairs as Rothbart’s malicious voice echoed down the hallway.

“No matter where you are, Wolfe, or where you go, or who you are with, I will hunt your heart until the end of time!”

Wolfe turned to face the dungeon door, thought which Rothbart’s visage appeared.

“And when I am successful I swear to you by my life and yours that I will hunt your children, and your children’s children, to make them suffer as I have suffered by your expense, and that of Stephen’s! Mark my words! Gabriel will die, your wife will die, your child will die, and you will never be rid of me!”

Listening to his words, King Wolfe and the captain finally emerged above ground, leaving the basement with the Knights to guard the entrance to the dungeon. They stopped in the Grand Ballroom. “Keep him down there – no food, no water, and when the ship arrives, take him away from this place once and for all.”

The Day of the Swan

Chapter 1

Hours began to feel like days, and days started to feel like months. Even after, to King Wolfe, the time seemed to pass in the duration of years as he awaited the birth of his first and only child. It had only been a week since the death of Stephen, followed by Rothbart’s banishment, and the funeral approached in three days’ time. Yet, as he paced the halls nervously, listening to his boots echo against the floor and the walls of his grand hallways, it did him good to have something joyful to look forward too.

The citizens gathered outside the gates of his castle, growing larger as each moment flew by, still without child. The doors would open at times, with maidens and other servants rushing in for hot water, washed cloths, and hot bed coals to keep his Queen warm and at ease through her birthing pains. He began to twist his hands together, trying to look in their bedroom from the hallway, standing on the tips of his toes, but still saw nothing that gave a hint to good or bad progress.

Wolfe remained worried for his beautiful wife, listening to her struggle at times. However, he kept his distance.  He could not help but worry about his first and only heir to his throne. All those who had come before this baby had been lost – a total of five. The couple thought they would surely die with no heir to the throne, with an abandoned Kingdom to be taken up by whoever was seen fit. Those fears were washed away nearly nine months ago when the Queen announced she was with child, and stayed with child.

As the months passed without complications, they grew overjoyed and knew that this particular child would be special. They held various ceremonies at the castle, where many of the Lords gathered to boast about their ill treatment to the castle servants as anxious parents-to-be. These things were said in an attempt to scare King Wolfe, being that each Lord knew he was soft at heart. Their attempts to firm his demeanor always failed. They coached him and advised him what to do if the servants would not allow him to see his wife; be brutal. King Wolfe could hear the men say the words, repeating them in his mind. They would say, Demand your rights as master of your establishment – fire them if need be, for no one defies a King! Leave them homeless; that will teach them to obey when it is necessary.

He always had known better though; his servants and maidens to his Queen adored them both for being as kind and as gracious as they were, and he in return, knew that they would always do what was in their best interests. Wolfe refused to treat them as lowly commoners, and gave them the respect that any man and citizen alike deserved. It was because of that that his people loved him, his company loved him, his wife loved him, and he was the most favored King throughout most of the land. Rumors of his kindness stretched far overseas.

As another servant left his wife’s bedchamber, Wolfe politely outstretched his hand. A young maid, only about eighteen, looked back at him in awe, for she had not once been talked to directly, only smile at in passing down the hallways. He could tell she was intimidated; however he tried to be as gentle as possible to help ease her in the presence of royalty.

“My King?” she questioned, her tone shaky. “May I get you anything, Sire?”

“No, my dear, thank you. Yet, I am going to pray in my private chambers – please send for me if anything should happen with her,” he told her, receiving another familiar smile. “I trust you, but I can no longer stand the wait – it’s killing me.”

“Of course, Sire,” she replied.

Nodding as she bowed and went about her business, he walked down the long corridor, hearing the hustle of his people just outside the castle walls, and closed the doors behind him. Sighing with worry, he removed his crown, wiped beads of sweat from his brow, and knelt down before the candlelight. Bowing his head in thought, he knew there was so much to ask in favor for; Queen Fleur was his entirety, his world, and without her in it, nor his child, it would be gray, dull, and blackened – she was the light, and he prayed that light would live for years to come. He knew that if God graced them with the opportunity of a single child, then they would be graced with many more blessings; this he felt sure of.

His spine tingled as he heard her struggling to bring forth his child, even from his chambers. As each hour passed, her cries seemed to grow worse to his ear. He paced in his chamber, returned his crown to his head, and tangled his nervous fingers together. Soon, however, a young maid appeared in the doorway, knocking to gain his attention.

“My King, I think it wise if you follow me, your child is near,” she told him.

He swallowed with a gulp, and hesitated. The thought of a new life, a child wandering these halls, gave him a sudden panic inside his heart as he followed the young girl. Would he be a good father? Would the child be as kind and caring as his Queen? Would they regret the birth of their only child if that child failed to meet their expectations? One foot finally stepped forward beneath his regal robes, right after the other, as he found himself trailing the footsteps of the maiden.

They walked the halls together, as she preceded him to the outside of the double doors of his wife’s chamber once again. She turned to stop him from entering; only women were allowed in the process of birth, and unless the King was insistent, even he would not be permitted entry. “My Lord, wait here, and I will retrieve you the instant your son arrives,” she said.

“Wait!” he said, catching his breath. “I have a son?”

“No Sire, forgive me,” she laughed. “It was only an idea. A son would be the only reason to cause this much mischief just to get into the world.”

He soon smiled, and she looked bewildered that she had that effect on anyone, let alone the King. “Thank you, I will wait for you,” he told her. She disappeared behind the doors, and he sighed once again, looking back at the open balcony. Again, he began to pace – it was all he knew to do during times like this. Never had it entered his mind what preference he had wanted in a child, as he thought back to the maiden’s assumption.

Naturally, as all great Kings do, his thoughts immediately pushed toward a son. He would learn to shoot a bow, parry a sword, carry a shield, ride a horse, and rule a kingdom as a skilled knight and ruler. To have another great man, respectful and as chivalrous as he, and his father before him, would only make their lands better, and give back to those that admired the long generations of kindness and compassion. Yet, in the same instance, he pondered and even envisioned what joy it would bring him if he had a daughter. If she would carry the same green eyes as his wife, the same blonde hair, or same light and fair skin or her soft lips, rosy cheeks and slightly upturned nose. If she would have the same delicate hands as did his wife, or be cursed with his strong grip. Smiling, and chuckling at his mind running away with him, he paused – no matter what would happen he would be pleased with child, prince or princess.

A last single cry rang out against the heavens from his love, and Wolfe quickly rushed to the door, placing a trembling hand against the wood. Soon, the first crackle of a baby’s mewling cry drifted toward him. His body shook at the surprise and triumph that filled his heart. The King had finally had a child of his own. As he waited in anticipation, the minutes began to pull into a longer period of time as he stood outside their room. He waited longer, stepping away from the doors in confusion, and once again paced the hallway. Against the faint cry of his child, he heard murmuring from his wife.

Time continued to pass, and the sun had changed its course from the beginning of day towards its time to set. His child had been born nearly three hours prior, and as he had found a chair in the hall, he sagged wearily into it and fell asleep, resting his head against the back, only to drift off to the sound of silence.

Wolfe…

Wolfe…

Wolfe…

His eyes opened, revealing the hallway around him, and saw his beautiful wife carrying their infant child in her arms, bundled and asleep – though he never saw the child’s face, only that of his Queen. Together, he holds his wife, and only then looks down  to gaze upon the face of his child, pulling away the blanket, revealing a gruesome, bloody sight with fangs, sharp teeth, and a horrendous screeching cry.

“Ah!” he shouted, jumping awake in the chair. Composing himself in his surroundings, he looked up as the sound of the door cracking open. Six hours had passed. His eyes could fathom the light inside the castle that the sun was nearly gone as the bright red, orange, and yellow rays hovered in the hallway. The young maiden appeared outside the doors, pale faced, carrying no bundle, with her hands folded in a gold chain interwoven between her fingers. He saw tears in her eyes. In a concerned glance, he slowly rose from the chair, and waited.

“My King,” she started, fumbling with the chain. “Your child is safe…but t-the Queen i-is dying. We have worked diligently trying to save her, but the birth of your child has taken all her strength. She’s lost quite a bit of blood, and she’s far too weak to fight.” She held back her tears and the yearning to fall to her feet and sob, and instead stood with grace and poise. “She is asking for you, Sire. She lays in bed with your daughter…I am terribly sorry…”

He could barely fathom the girl’s words as they seemed to flow together in a blur. His eyes looked around the room, pondering if he were still asleep, yet as they focused back on the maiden; he slowly nodded and stared at the ground as she placed the gold chain into his hands. Her feet tread lightly to the doors, opening them, and then backed away as other servants and maidens walked past. In their arms, they carried baskets of towels, wash cloths, bundles and blankets soaked and stained with his wife’s blood. Their faces were equally as pale with fear. Wolfe caught his breath momentarily, watching them as they hastily proceeded down the hall.

“Wait! You there!” he called after them. Their terrified faces turned, still hurrying away, until the young maiden reached out for his arm.

“Please, My King, I will tend to them,” she assured him. “Go and see to your wife and daughter, please.” Her face was as terrified as the other servants. However, Wolfe nodded and then exhaled shakily, understanding now that she wasn’t able to live on, and time was precious. His heart heavy with dread, he slowly moved forward. Circling around the doorway, he paused before he moved past the door and into the room. 

A faint melody from his wife’s childhood music box played sweetly, chiming every moment the pins inside plucked against the steel comb and winding cylinder on the inside. A gift sent to Queen Fleur as a little girl, when her family was overseas, the music box, now somewhat rusted, old, and falling apart, slightly distorted the chime, yet it calmed his daughter as her crying and mewling quieted for a moment. The box was wooden, decorated and carved in the shape of a swan, with fading paint from years of wear.

Could he really bear to see his wife this last time? He sighed again, preparing himself as he stood tall, and then stepped out from the cover of the hallway and half-closed door, seeing his beautiful Fleur weakly smile, even with the brush of impending death on her lips; their only daughter in her arms.

King Wolfe’s hand jumped to cover his mouth in shock, yet he removed it quickly, attempting to show strength against the reality that he would eventually lose his beloved. The entirety of the room seemed pale, even with the sunset glowing outside their windows – the entire room had lost its vivid life, along with losing its great Queen. The bed was disheveled, the sheets were a mess, and sweat beaded her hairline. 

Tracing a hand across the outer lining of the bedside with his hand, he stepped forward, finally gazing upon the gorgeous blue eyes of his daughter. He cradled her tiny hand in the palm of his. “Oh, Fleur…,” he whispered, utterly amazed. “She has my eyes.” They smile briefly at one another, and then looked back down at the precious daughter with which they had been graced. “She is everything I ever imagined our daughter would be.” He looked into his wife’s eyes, saw the color had washed from her face, and the consistent blush of her cheeks had gone. “I am…afraid to do this without you, my love.”

The pressures of having a child, and how he should raise her alone made his body quiver. He had no idea what to do, what to teach her, and what she would teach him. He only prayed that he would not fail the expectations of his dying wife. He could see that she knew he was terrified, and had not gestured to hold her in his arms yet. His hands shook, and his eyes remained riveted on Fleur’s.

“I’m afraid to lose you,” he finally whispered. “I never thought this would happen.” His eyes averted, he looked down at her hand as it lay softly in the palm of his. Thumbing the top of her hand twice, he glanced back, somewhat ashamed. Wolfe was supposed to be a fearless leader, a King, one who never faltered at the sight of a challenge – yet she was his heart, and he could feel her breaking from deep within his soul.

“I know,” she replied. She reached out her hand and touched his warm skin. She watched his eyes widen in terror at how cold her fingers grew. She placed her hand inside his, felt the chain of her pendant. Glancing down at it, she smiled faintly. “I did not either. I expected to watch you be a brilliant father, and I a brilliant mother…but it’s not as it seems. Nothing can be decided, nor premeditated. We knew this was a risk…and I would change nothing if I had another chance.”

“You wouldn’t?” he questioned.

“Never. You will not be alone, Wolfe – you never have been,” she replied, faint and lingering. “She is already far stronger than I, and I know she will carry a piece of me with her, to guide you the rest of your way. She very well may be taking care of you in the future.” A tear slowly trailed down the side of her cheek as she tried unsuccessfully to brush it away. 

Wolfe’s eyes welled momentarily at the sight of her courage against death. Fleur was always strong. To the very bone; her very core seemed to be made of solid stone, when it was most called for, and even now, she would say nothing about being just as scared as he was. She refused to be weak – even the single tear was too much for her, and he chose not to catch it, to respect her final moments. Instead, he brushed her pale blonde hair from her face, cradling her cheek lightly.

“She is just as beautiful as you,” he said. Lifting her shoulders gently from the bed, he carefully embraced her in his arms, holding both her and his daughter close. “You know I will always love you,” he said. Resting his chin atop her head, he stared out the window on the left side of their bed, viewing the people waiting for an announcement down below the balcony. His vision blurred with warm tears as he struggled to calm his voice. “To which I promise to tell her of you every day, and the strength you showed in giving give her to me.”

“I know you will,” she said, her voice growing ever weaker. Pushing her hand against his chest, she heaved, nearly unable to catch her failing breaths. Separating herself from him, she felt his kiss upon her forehead as tears fell to the blankets covering her. “Wolfe…,” she said, trembling. “Go, please. Take her, my love. Keep this memory of me with you. I do not wish you to see me die. It would be awful…”

“But, I cannot leave you –”

“Please, Wolfe…please,” she begged again.

King Wolfe nodded, shoving the necklace into a pocket on his robes before he pulled his daughter into the gentle strength of his arms. He hesitated as he sat at his wife’s bedside. He sighed again, and took to his feet, proceeding toward the doors, where he stopped again. Looking down at the closed, sleeping eyes of his daughter, he heard Fleur wheezing in her deathbed.

“Wolfe – what is it?” she asked.

He turned too looked back at his wife, remembering one very important detail. The most important part of a person’s life, had not yet been given to his child. “What shall her name be?”

She smiled in return, and caught her breath. “Odette, I’ve always loved that name.”

With Odette in his arms, Wolfe turned back to the open hallway, standing alone and beside himself. The entire staff of the castle had heard the rumors that the Queen laid on her deathbed. They crowded the hall behind King Wolfe. Many of them sobbed and whispered, yet many of them also waited to see what he would need from them in the Kingdom’s darkest hour.

He heard the shuffle of metal boots, sifting themselves among the servants, glancing to see the young maiden following his captain through the crowd. The servant girl had worried for the King that much, and called on his men to assure he was all right. Wolfe stared at the open doors that led out to the open balcony, where his public awaited him. Still he remained unmoving.

“Shall I send the people to their homes, My King?” asked the Captain of the Guard. However, Wolfe’s face was transfixed on the sound of the murmur below. “Sire?” he questioned again. Yet to no avail, his attention had not been caught. “Wolfe?” he asked a third time, growing more concerned.

The jolt of hearing his own name quickly snapped Wolfe back to reality, and he answered in a dull tone. “Yes, Captain?”

He stood at attention, his hands folded behind his back. “I can send the people to return to their homes Sire…if you wish it,” he explained.

“No, Captain,” Wolfe protested. “That will not be necessary.” He turned to the open doorway, and walked slowly, staring down at the beautiful young princess in his hands. He saw only the everlasting memory of his wife, and when approaching the stone railing, he heard a few shouts from below for people who caught his appearance after waiting so long. King Wolfe extended his arms, raising and presenting the Princess Odette to his people. Soon, a roar of applause and cheering erupted; hats were tossed into the air in praise, as the town was graced with the welcome of his daughter.

He smiled, for the first time realizing the pride one could have in their own child, even this early in life. Looking up at his daughter as the sunlight caught her small eyelashes, and glistened off her fair, light skin beneath the bundle in which she was wrapped, he knew that his darling, his lost love, would never die in vain. Yet, in the distance, he saw the young maiden and her assistant servants driving a small wagon down the trail and out of the kingdom, with all the bloodied rags, which instantly brought an ill feeling to the pit of his stomach. The words of Rothbart encircled his thoughts. Mark my words! Gabriel will die, your wife will die, your child will die, and you will never be rid of me! It frightened him how real the sorcerer’s predictions had become, yet he would fight to the ends of the earth to ensure that they would be safe. He would stop at nothing to give his daughter the life she deserved.

As the sun finally set behind the castle, casting a shadow upon the onlookers, Wolfe drew the baby Odette to his chest and bid the people goodnight so that his soul could rest on the day’s events. Turning back toward the hallway, he tried not to stare as the young maiden closed his bedroom doors shut, her head bent in sorrow – he knew his love was gone. Holding his breath, he held his head high and moved through his crowd of servants, yelling back at them. “She will be going with Stephen – prepare her for the service as well!” 

He then went to his private chambers, where a secret nursery was built to shield the princess from the outside world, and there he remained for the next three days, unwilling to show himself.

“Where is he?” Edythe questioned, dismounting Beltran with her guards, Jep, and Gabriel waiting for her in the courtyard. Word had been sent too late of Fleur’s death, and when she found out her body was to be a part of King Stephen’s service, she knew she had to get to Wolfe. Her long, raven black dress dragged the courtyard as she dismounted, and with her hair pulled back into a long braid over her shoulder, she met with Wolfe’s captain at the entrance door.

Walking before her, the captain guided her to the King’s bed chamber. Once remnants of Fleur’s death had been cleared, Wolfe had returned to his room. The young maiden, after her swift return from disposing of the bloody rags, had been given charge of watching over Odette on the day of the Queen’s service. The captain stopped at the bedroom door, slowly letting it groan open. As Edythe looked inside, she saw Wolfe sitting at the windowsill that looked out over the courtyard, the town, and the cemetery at the brink of Graycopse Woods.

Her footsteps tread lightly across the stone floor, covered with rugs. Making her way to his side, she placed a hand delicately on his shoulder. Thunderclouds formed ahead, and the light rumble of lightning against the darkened, gray sky flashed against the walls of the castle, and the blank expression of Wolfe’s face. “I am so sorry, dear Wolfe…I never knew till now,” she said. Bending down, she picked up the sides of her dress and sat opposite of him, with her back against the window.

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” he asked, grimly.

“What?”

“I know it was – you do not have to say it. I deserve this for the decision I made for Stephen’s murderer. Do I not?” he questioned. “I know this is what you wanted…for me to feel the same pain you felt.” His glance slowly turned to her with tear-filled eyes. “We’re even now.”

Pained, her chin quivered briefly until she gained composure. Placing a hand on his cheek, she shook her head, “I never wanted to be even. Not for a single moment, do you hear me?” He slowly nodded, his eyes averted. She lowered her hand to his, trying to gain his attention once more. “I’m so sorry you had to endure this. I would have never wished what I felt on anyone, especially you.”

“I know,” he replied. “Forgive me for my bitterness.”

“You have every right.”

“Thank you,” he said. With a heavy sigh, he looked back at the courtyard, where he saw the soldiers below loading the wagon with the two floral-dressed coffins in the back. Others secured the horses and the coach for both he and Edythe. “I believe it is time,” he said. He stood, straightening his silver armor, and black robes beneath. Then, he pulled his cloaked hood far over his face.

The small glimmer of his circlet substituting a crown reflected against the flicker of the lightning, and Edythe took his arm after he helped her to her feet. “Let us pray that we can survive and be the guidance our children need, without them,” she said, referring to their lost spouses.

“I know we can. It is only a matter of time for all wounds to heal,” Wolfe replied. Pausing to allow her time to pull her hood over her head as well, they stood in each other’s shadow before they were guided down to the courtyard by the captain. There, they were rushed into the coach. With a slow lurch, their coach, company, and the wagon behind them moved forward on the journey toward the cemetery.

Against the velvet textured lining of the padded coach interior, Wolfe remained silent, as did Edythe, both  staring out the opposite side window, letting the world seem to pass by. “Rothbart…was he departed safely?” she finally asked, still looking outside the window.

King Wolfe remembered Rothbart’s struggle against his shackles as they dragged him out from the underground dungeon and through the grand hall of his castle, into the open light of day. He remembered how tightly the sorcerer had shut his eyes against the sunlight; his jaws clenched tight, teeth seething with rage as he lunged toward Wolfe. The last he saw of Rothbart, they had placed a brown, cloth sack over his head, sat him against the shackles attached to the wagon, and rode off along the trail which led to the docks nearly an hour or two away. “Yes. When my men returned, they said he boarded the ship without too much trouble, and they tied him to the center mast, sailing away from any stretch of land in one-hundred miles,” he replied. “Did you not trust me?”

“Of course I did,” she said, looking back at him. “I only prayed that the worst would not happen – as it seems to have had a stroke of luck with us.”

“Agreed.”

Edythe trembled slightly and placed her hand on the King’s knee, grasping his attention. She felt bothered, and weary with exhaustion. “Listen, Wolfe…,” she paused. “While you have locked yourself away for the past three days, rumors have spread about our two Kingdoms – the people say that we’re broken from the loss of our spouses…and everyone, even I, am beginning to believe it,” she said. “They say our Kingdom’s are broken, and our time to rule is coming to an end.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve heard no rumors,” he protested.

Folding her hands together, she looked back at him in earnest, “Everyone is talking about it. Our servants, our soldiers, the people, your captain, everyone is beginning to believe it.”

“And you believe them?” he asked, bewildered. “I never thought I would hear the wretched tone of surrender in your voice. You know we will never give up our thrones – the people need us. They are just scared to see us in this moment of weakness. We cannot hold our sorrows for much longer if they are also affecting our citizens.”

“No…,” she said. “I guess not.” Retracting her hand, she looked back out the window, watching the rows of tombstones and headstones move past their coach, weaving around hills, up and down, until finally the leader of their holy congregation awaited them in the two burial places, side by side in the center of the cemetery.

White roses were strewn about either large, towering tombstone, decorated in a statue form to resemble the King and Queen that had been lost. Soldiers from either party stood in pairs, lowering the coffins into the ground by rope as Edythe and Wolfe stood at the foot of each grave, overseeing the burial of their loved ones. Finally, the graves were covered. 

“I never congratulated you on the birth of your daughter,” Edythe said. Their eyes were both entranced on the burial, yet remained in conversation. “I am sure she is just as lovely as Fleur was.”

King Wolfe smiled. It was the first time he had shown a smile since her birth, and it stunned him even further. He closed his eyes and nodded. “She is the very same in every way. I was astounded when I saw her. The most precious being on this earth, lay in my arms as her mother who brought her into this world left so suddenly. My heart is pained with its memory, yet I cannot deny that it was the most graceful moment in my life,” he confessed.

“Oh, Wolfe…maybe the people, maybe our servants, our maids…maybe they are all right,” she said. She looked to see Jep holding Gabriel as they too sat upon Beltran’s back, beside the graves, silently. “I only hope that they can change it; the fate of our Kingdoms. We have lost our time, Wolfe. It is only better now that they are expected to take our places…and only we can teach them. It is time to prepare for the inevitable.”

The soldiers patted down the tops of the graves, leveling the dirt with the ground, and returned to the wagon to load up and wait for the King and Queen to say their goodbyes. Yet against the cold winds, and the eerie feeling of the jet-black, dead, looming trees overhead, Edythe could no longer stay as her fears had taken hold of her.

Lightning and thunder had finally rolled overhead, covering the land in darkness. Soon, a large boom released the rain that had been held in check for the past few hours, pouring down on the party of mourners. The ground of the cemetery began turned into mud, and the soldiers feet began to stick as they pushed the wagon back onto the cobblestone pathway. Wolfe quickly escorted Edythe to the coach, and ordered his men to take her back to the castle before returning, requesting Oblivion to be his mount back to the kingdom, alone.

“My King, I cannot leave you here by yourself,” the captain protested from the back of his steed. The funeral party departed as Wolfe waved him away. “But Sire, it is my duty to protect you!”

“And it is also your duty to do as I say. Now, Captain, leave me and I will return!” Wolfe commanded. “See to it that they make it back on the correct path home, Captain. Please.” Kneeling at the foot of his wife’s grave, he heard his watchman curse before pulling the reins of his beast. He rode away, trailing after the carriage.

The stone, charcoal tone of the air encased King Wolfe as his knee rested in the lush green grass that circled in patches around portions of the cemetery; his darling was lucky enough to be buried beneath what looked like oncoming spring growth. In the distance, he heard the bells of the cathedral ring in tribute to the memorial, which seemed to bring him peace. Wreathes and rows of white roses were splashed with the  flecks of mud, however still beautiful against their newly tainted appearance,  gleaming brilliantly as the clouds parted in small pieces, revealing rays of demanding sunlight against the valley that was his kingdom.

Backed against a small mountainside, trailed and encased in the spring and summer months with full, thick pine trees, the Kingdom was parted by a grand river. The river separated the town down the middle, with a lovely stone bridge to connect both worlds, leading through the unknown lake deep inside Graycopse Wood, as well as exposing a small boat passage to the docks, leading out to the great sea. His castle, a light ivory stone, shaded with the sepia tone of age over the years, nearly three to four stories tall, sat high atop a level of a flat plateau overseeing his entire kingdom and the sunset to the west. Yet now, in the growing wintry months, the scenery was bare, rainy, and sometimes slated with a sheet of snow in the early morning. It was the only place he would forever call home.

The wind howled in brief stages as the rustle of the bushes and dead tree branches clacked together, and soon, the sound of cawing drew his attention upward. Looking up in fear at the ominous and haunting sound of the crows and ravens, Wolfe jumped back, hearing Oblivion’s panic as he reared. He recalled Stephen’s fading screams in the back of his mind. An ill omen, reminding him of Rothbart’s words, which began to grow on him in a superstitious way. His horse reared, whinnying and snorting, stomping his hooves and pulling on his reins as he tried to get away from the wretched little goblins.

“Easy, easy, Oblivion!” Wolfe said, pulling the steed’s face close to his shoulder and rubbing his neck. “It’s all right, it’s all right – perhaps now is the time to go, huh friend? Let’s get out of here.” The horse snorted and the King took that as a sign. He mounted and rode off. The chill of the birds still clung to his neck, yet when he made it into town, the warmth of the sun breaking through slowly shed the memory from his conscience.

Water embedded itself in shallow puddles on the surface of the stone and dirt streets; old wooden doors stayed closed as he steered his horse slowly through town, hearing the splashes as  Oblivion’s hooves struck puddles and stone. Yet again, eyes from the taverns and shop windows peered out near candles that had been lit in windowsills for Queen Fleur and few passersby laid down daisies as the horse’s feet. They were all seemingly terrified of King Wolfe, though it was only his regal presence that frightened common men and women.

He headed for the bridge, unaware of the growing number of footsteps following him.  Slowing at the middle of the bridge, he looked back and saw his people congregate at the base of the bridge behind him.  Many of them remained silent, though a few stepped forward; the blacksmith, a small family, an elderly shop keeper, and a widow.

Raising her old hand to meet his, the widow gave to Wolfe a single feather – white, long, and beautiful. Something their Kingdom was known for, and sold as treasury to other folk passing through. The elongated feather of a swan, the old woman smiled, and spoke. “In tribute to her majesty, and the little Swan Princess, Highness,” she creaked. 

King Wolfe held it in his armored gauntlet, and looked at his people – not afraid, but just as sorrowed as he, unable to fathom words that could express their gratitude for his bravery, and her beauty upon their land. Nearly speechless, Wolfe looked down at her, and bowed his head in thanks. “You’re gesture is truly appreciated, My Lady. I thank you, kindly,” he said. “I thank you all for believing in me the way you do…when it is not requested, nor demanded. Simply given; it is truly a treasure to have you as my subjects.” Raising his voice, he remembered the rumor of Edythe as her Kingdom seemed to bear ill faith toward her now that Stephen had gone too. He couldn’t allow the same fate to happen to his people. “I promise you this,” he called out to all who surrounded the bridge. “I will never give up on you as long as I live, and I know that the Queen’s passing is a dark cloud over us, but soon to pass. I will never leave you, and I pray that you never leave me. As true, gracious citizens, understand that I see you and the joy you bring, and know that you are always in my heart, lifting my spirits and my courage. You are what make me King, and I thank you.”

Pulling his reins again, he guided Oblivion forward, riding through the hopeful crowd of his people, and up the path which led to the open gates of his courtyard. Pleased that he had made an impression, he handed his horse over to the groom, and felt something he had not felt before; joy as he looked forward to seeing the daughter that reminded him vividly of his wife. Before addressing the people, her looks sometimes appeared as a curse to him, yet no longer.

Still in his somber, black and silver-plated attire, he removed his hood and soaked cloak, smiling as the young maiden seemed taken aback by the sudden joy that crawled across her King’s face as he entered the nursery. Gently rocking the infant in her arms, she cautiously transferred the baby to Wolfe’s arms.

 “I trust the ceremony went well?”

“They will both always be remembered. The flower arrangements were gorgeous. I thank you for taking the time to find them. They looked like a blanket of clouds. However, something more beautiful happened after I had left,” he told her.

“What was that Sire?”

“The people have hope now,” he replied, pulling out the long swan feather and handing it to the maiden. “They followed me, and I addressed their worried faces, giving them a message of good faith, and trust in them. That they are the reason I am a good King, which is true. Such a humbling moment between a King and his commoners…I never could have been blessed with that kind of ending to a tragic, grim reminder. They called Odette, ‘The Swan Princess’.”

“After her mother,” replied the maiden. “A fair title, I would say. Was the Queen Edythe as content as you are?”

“Barely,” Wolfe tensed. “She told me that she and I have lost our time as rulers. That perhaps we should be leaving it to our children, and those they choose to wed.”

The young girl smiled softly, touching the baby’s hand as it grasped at her father’s sleeve, cooing gently. “Or each other,” she said.

“Odette and Gabriel?” King Wolfe’s sounded bewildered at the idea; it had never once crossed his mind.

“It is only a thought, to betroth them seems to be sensitive to the both of you now,” she said. “Nevertheless, they will have known each other their entire lives and what better way to unite your two kingdoms?” Sighing briefly, she pulled away, tucking the blanket into the princess’s arms. “Only time will tell if love is even a possibility, yet ideas never die, Sire. Keep it as such, and do with it what you will.” Smiling again, she bowed to him, and began to take her leave, until King Wolfe stopped her.

“May I ask you of something? A favor?”

“Of course, my King.”

Wolfe moved past her, retrieving the Queen’s gold, swan silhouette-engraved pendant out of a drawer. He placed it into the open hands of the maiden. “Please, put this away in a safe place where no one can find it. Until Odette is ready to have it, I want it hidden. Her mother would have wished that,” he said. “Hopefully, I can give this to the man she will marry one day, to give to her, whether it be Gabriel, or not.” He winked at her, and watched her smile at the thought of her own suggestion.

“Absolutely, Sire,” she said.

“Please,” he interrupted her leaving once more. “You may address me as Wolfe. You have been very gracious and humble throughout the events that have taken place, and I thank you. You deserve to address me as a friend, rather than your ruler.”

“Yes, Wolfe, of course,” she replied, leaving the room. “You may address me as Maid Maridithe – or Marie.”

“Thank you Marie…,” he said softly.

Cradling his daughter in his arms, Wolfe stood near the dimming fireplace, rocking her slowly back and forth. Her little eyes gently closed and soon, she fell asleep against the sound of the crackling wood, and the safety of her home.

“My little Swan Princess.”

The Past

Never Dies

Chapter 2

During the following year, the young Princess Odette grew in size every day, and became a likeness to her mother rather than the small infant she had been not so long ago. Her laugh was small, precious, and adorable, as was her smile, and her blue eyes matched that of the sea – nearly two shades darker than Wolfe’s eyes had ever been. Her pale blonde hair had grown in, though not very long even still, and she developed small rosy cheeks to add to her elegant, preserved, dollish appearance.

Still keeping her closely bundled, as the winters in the Kingdoms were harsh, Wolfe held her close always. Today, she wore a small green gown beneath the wool protection, and would be bundled even more excessively when they left their kingdom for their once-monthly visit Gabriel and Edythe’s kingdom. Being that she couldn’t play with children in the town below, as a risk to her safety, King Wolfe found it unnecessary for her to be trapped behind stone walls at the start of her young life. Even he, without Fleur, had begun to grow mad from the same surroundings day and night.

King Wolfe carried Odette in his arms as they stepped into the coach and began their ride toward the docks to sail to Edythe’s castle. Accompanied by the captain, who kept guard behind the carriage from horseback, and maid Marie on the other bench across from Wolfe, he caught them both looking at one another from afar; silent and humble, but blushing nevertheless. It was clear their fondness for one another had grown in the past year.

 Sitting in the coach as they jostled slowly along the pathways, he handed Odette over to the handmaiden and relaxed briefly in his seat, watching them both together. As the young princess became fussy, the maiden pulled out the old, worn music box, letting the child hold and examine it in her two tiny hands, whilst she turned the handle on the outside – every time, it instantly calmed her, and she believed it put her King at ease as well.

“You are very natural in caring for children,” Wolfe told her. Marie glanced up and smiled, then gazed back down at the Princess.

“I’ve had a lot of practice, with more years of work in the future, haven’t I?” She smiled and wrinkled her nose, playing with Odette’s hands and tucking her into her bundle when she squirmed out of it. “I hope you know I’ve loved every minute of it – she will grow to be a fine young woman, Wolfe, I know it. She will make you a very proud father.”

“I have no doubt of it,” he replied, chuckling as she giggled briefly. “You would make your father very proud as well, my dear.”

Her smile faded for a moment at his comment to her. Yet the King was always persistent, and at times, he knew his kindness and understanding was overpowering when others did not wish to speak. “Why does your mood change when I mention your father?” he asked, concerned. The topic was obviously difficult for her, as she took her time replying

“I never knew him,” Marie replied. “I’m ashamed that I do not know, yet I was just a young girl, only fifteen when I came here to live with my mother so long ago, and then she died only for the other maids to look after me. This was long before your captain had arrived, and just perhaps a year or two after you had taken your father’s throne. It terrifies me to think of a man who would abandon his children or his wife like that…and though I do not think badly of him, or send terrible thoughts toward him…I believe I was better off never knowing. I hope that I never have to meet him.”

“I can see that his absence had no effect on the great woman you are now,” Wolfe reassured her. “Yet, I see the way you look at the captain, and I see the way he looks at you. Do not let the tragedy of what your father left you interfere with loving someone. It is the greatest gift you can have throughout your lifetime, and it may hurt to lose it, but I do not regret a single moment of loving Fleur.”

Slowly rocking the Princess into a soft slumber, the maiden sighed briefly. “Is this about what I told you some time ago?”

“Yes,” he replied. “And no. You’ve been a great aid and friend to me, and though you stay in my Kingdom, I do only want the best for you and your happiness. If that is with my captain, then let the journey take you there, for I will not reject the union if you both so wish to marry later on. It will only make us stronger.” Referring to the betrothal between his Odette and Edythe’s son Gabriel, he was beginning to accept the idea the more he thought about it, but he knew he needed to pick at Edythe’s mind to see if there was even a possibility that she would agree to such a thing.

Marie’s brown hair fell, braided over her shoulder. She wore a simple, long black dress and a dark brown cloak around her shoulders. She swiped away loose ends of hair that had fallen into her eyes and glanced out the window at the captain, who rode beside the coach. “I may take your advice,” she smiled.

Wolfe noticed the flash of lovely teeth and light rose lips as she obviously thought about the man with whom she had interest, as he was so close, yet so far from her.

After nearly an hour of traveling, the carriage came to a halt, and the captain opened the door, announcing their location at the docks. They were ready to board. He bid farewell to his young friend and nursemaid and scooped up Odette in his arms, guided by a group of his men toward the docks. There in the water, being prepared for travel floated his personal sailing ship. Made with strong, dark wood, it carried two faded, however solid red stripes on either side of the ship, with brilliant white sails sporting  gold trim, and a solid gold figurehead of a beautiful woman adorned in flowers and single cloths to cover her bare bodice, mounted to the rail and trailboard beneath the bowsprit of the ship.

A wedding present to his Queen, Wolfe had dubbed the ship, “La Reine de Fleurs” which meant “The Queen of Flowers”, and in his dearly beloved’s case, it suited her beauty, grace, and the embodiment of what she had been; a beautiful rose. Yet to him, with her presence absent, it seemed as though this ship also lost its life, and magic that he knew with which it once thrived.

The sailors lowered down the gangplank to the docks for him and Wolfe boarded, bidding his officers away. He stepped to the ships wheel, passing his daughter to another maiden on board solely for the purpose of caring for children. King Wolfe had declared that after his wife passed, he would be the only one to sail the ship, and every time he boarded, he reinforced that order, taking command of the entire staff.

The sails, once dropped and secured, filled with the wind that was on their side for this journey, and the ship was released from its prison against the docks, surging away with the water as they made their way for Edythe’s shoreline.

Built on its own fortress of jagged rocks, Stephen’s Kingdom was a true symbol of darkness, which is why his people feared him. The walls appeared ruthless, tall and strong as they seemed to morph from solid rock to a structure of patterned stone, surrounded by the unstable moods of the sea. An elongated bridge jutted from the front of the arched breezeway and downward over the water below, connecting to the land on the other side of the shore.

The fortress boasted  eight towers of various  height, whereas the two smallest were built at the far east and west side of the castle walls as guard towers, the next two  kept directly in the center, close together, and the final four  dispersed unevenly. The tallest tower was dedicated to Edythe alone, positioned at the forefront of the castle, and the other three providing simple rooms for Stephen or guests.

Grime and barnacles had begun to attach and grow to the ends of the castle walls from a constant clash with the sea, the sturdy walls resistant against its constant onslaught of crushing weight. The rest of the fortress appeared slashed and beaten with a gray overtone of smoke from the fiery battles it had endured with sea-goers and citizens alike. A truly historical monument of courage and power, its visage also brought gloom and a threatening stare. Queen Edythe had never wanted her only home to look the way it did, or to be used as a battle frontier for others, yet while Stephen had been alive, she had no control of what went on, and simply had to endure the pain from afar, while keeping a common respect and faith in her husband’s unruly ideals.

Docking the ship and making for Edythe’s castle, King Wolfe had a horse-drawn carriage waiting for him, and he galloped past the wooden fences of her fields and stables, heavily guarded with soldiers who watched over the servants caring for her animals. Approaching the gates, after having to carefully walk the upward climb of the bridge, he was let inside, though the doors to the breezeway were shut abruptly behind him by her most highly trained knights. Now that she had hardly any protection, he understood the reason for taking extra precaution against outsiders. Cradling Odette in his arms, he was greeted by two full armored knights, gleaming in silver from head to toe.

One spoke, his voice echoing from inside his helmet. “The Queen is waiting for you in the garden, Your Majesty,” the knight said, bowing slightly.

“Thank you – as you were,” he replied. The knight resumed his stance at full attention at his post near the gate.

Walking through the courtyard and around the large, old tree that grew in its center, he made his way through the grand hall of the castle, toward the back of the fortress where a personal garden had been built to overlook the sea at sunset. A small stone yard tiered off into three long and wide stairs, eventually ending at the lush, green grass that transformed the area into a dreamland of colorful flowers, organized and square cut maze shrubbery, and rose bushes. The garden was surrounded by  a small half-sized wall made of stone and iron fencing to keep Gabriel, and anyone for that matter, from falling off the cliffs, or even worse, jumping.

“Ah, Wolfe, I was curious when you would arrive!” Edythe said.

Her face lit up at the sight of him, and he sensed she was exceptionally lonely in her barren castle. She plucked Odette from his arms and removed her bundling blankets, at which Wolfe quickly grew concerned. “She could catch her death of cold, please put those back on her!” he exclaimed, stooping down to pick them up from the ground, where they had fallen.

“Wolfe, now how can you shelter this young lady?” Edythe scolded. “She is meant to wander and to play – she does know how to walk, does she not?”

“Well…yes,” he said.

“Then let her be,” she replied. Kissing the Princess’ cheeks, Edythe put her down on the ground and watched as she shakily walked toward Gabriel, picking at flowers, playing with the dirt and grass, and searching for insects.

“You have just unleashed a monster,” King Wolfe laughed. “Now she’ll never want to be held again, and she’ll start wandering from home. You have created quite the task for me when I return home.”

Edythe laughed in response, shaking her head. “Oh, Wolfe, you worry far too much.”

“I worry? Did you see your guards at the front gate? Like silver trees, the men are enormous! Expecting a dragon to attack you? Easily deferred with knights as those,” he replied. “What is all the fully-guarded protection for, Edythe? Have there been any disturbances?”

 She paused, and shook her head with chagrin. “No. Nothing to report at all. It is somewhat embarrassing, but I would have it no other way.”

“Then what are they there for?”

She sighed and began walking slowly, trailing the children as they wandered amongst the flowers. “I cannot go out, and no one can come in, other than you and your servants. I fear far too much of the company I keep in my town. Without Stephen here, I feel that if I step outside, someone will try to kill me and take our throne. They are not the same as your people, Wolfe…they are dark, eerie, and they lurk outside these walls, staring…”

“As did my people at one point,” he replied. “After you left from the services, I rode back to the castle alone.”

“Are you mad?” she exclaimed. Slapping his arm, she caught his attention. “You could have been killed, Wolfe! Why would you do such a thing?”

“Perhaps I wanted to see if I died on the way back,” he replied solemnly, accepting the fact that, for a moment, he had wanted to see if someone would murder him in his Kingdom. He had been proven wrong. “I rode through town, and when I came to the bridge…they were all gathered there.”

“Who?”

“The people. One side of the town all gathered behind me, and the other in front of me, and they all waited and watched to see what I would do or what I would say. Only a few people came to my horse, but they came to me because they were worried for their King. I imagine they hoped I wouldn’t go mad or ill with sorrow, and for the first time since Fleur’s death, I addressed them publicly and reassured them that their concerns were not needed.  I saw the support they have given me, and I accepted all of it. Perhaps that is just what your people want from you; to see you out in the sunlight. To know they aren’t waiting on a ghost,” he told her.

She nodded, knowing that he did make sense, however her fears always had the best of her. “In time,” she said.

As Odette followed Gabriel, examining everything he set his hands on in the garden, Wolfe glanced at Edythe and took a deep breath, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Y-you know, I wanted to ask your opinion on something, actually,” he said. Receiving a strange glance in return, he continued. “I wanted to ask your opinion on betrothal. Some rumors have spread throughout my people that it should be in Odette’s best interest if I betroth her so that the Kingdom will have a sure heir to my crown, and a sure King to take my throne.” His attempt to determine her opinion on the matter was met with a laugh. She had already figured him out. “Dear Wolfe, you never knew how Stephen and I met, did you?”

“No, actually, no one had ever mentioned it.”

“We were betrothed at a very young age, due to suggestion,” she replied. She smiled as she remembered, recalling their months together over the years before they were old enough to wed. “It was perhaps around our tenth birthday when we were formerly introduced to the idea by our parents. They would consistently keep us seeing one another during a few months each year, and they taught us our normal studies. Stephen would learn history and sword fighting, and we would ride horses together, and he learned how to dance with me. As we grew older, I was taught how to be formal and lady-like at royal gatherings, while he was taught military tactics.”

“What happened then?” he asked.

“I began to notice something, as our time together was being cut short the closer we arrived at our wedding date,” she said, pausing. “I began to realize that I loved him. Something I never thought in a million years would happen, being that most of the time, we despised each other. Yet, I did, and I found myself missing him terribly. So badly in fact, that we would ride to meet each other in the dark of night, and ride out into the woods just to be alone. It became so frequent, that we soon learned another skill – escaping my father’s guards and search parties.”

For a moment, she blushed, and her cheeks grew red with remembrance. Her eyes traveled to Gabriel, and soon her expression faded.  “I know you miss him,” King Wolfe said. “I know it must be difficult to see your son, while trying to cope with Stephen’s loss.”

“Please, Wolfe,” she said. Brushing away a tear clinging to her eyelashes, she placed a hand on his arm and shook her head with shame. “It is not any easier for me than it is for you when you have Odette to remind you of Fleur. We are on the same path, you and me. I appreciate the sentiment of my feelings from you, but please understand that I too feel your pain, and your suffering should just as openly be recognized. Do not try to hide from me. I know all too well as what we’re going through.”

“As you wish,” he replied.

“I do only wish that our youngest years had stayed the same. As we grew older, and after we married, everything changed in a bitter tune,” she finished.

“I always thought you both were so happily married – I never pictured anything different,” Wolfe said.

“He departed frequently from the castle. Stephen always felt it was his duty as King to solve every problem in town, and to make a personal appearance to the lawbreakers. Only to let them know their King was watching. He put himself into more and more danger, until he met Rothbart…and that is when it all began to get worse.” Queen Edythe sighed and tried to brush away the memory of the dreadful man that had taken her husband.

Wolfe had never known how ruthless Rothbart had been on their lives, and finally, he knew that this was the opportune moment to tell her the truth. Taking her hand, he guided her to a stone bench against the shrub hedges, and in sitting down beside her, Wolfe could see that she had an idea of what he was about to say.

“I never wanted to tell you what happened that night, because it was far too awful to hear so close to his departure,” he began. He choked up trying to get out his words. “I believe that Stephen wanted to kill Rothbart…more so then, than ever before. He showed himself finally, deep in the woods in a clearing…and Stephen went after him, faster than I could catch him. I tried, Edythe, I tried so hard…but he was gone, and I could no longer see him, but I could hear…” Wolfe’s voice trailed off in disappointment, rubbing his face with a single hand to wipe away the tears and fatigue which had suddenly grasped ahold of him.

There were neither tears nor emotion from Edythe’s face this time around. The time parted from her husband was enough to keep the feelings of his death dormant in Wolfe’s presence, but she nodded in response, taking the hand from his face to catch the attention of his eyes. “It was tragic, and it has been difficult to part with him, but we have heard nothing of Rothbart, and it seems you were right with your decision on his punishment,” she told him.

“I still bear my deepest apologies for not being able to save him for you,” he said. “Yet I cannot disagree – death on his behalf would not have been the answer.”

Silence hovered between them as they listened to Gabriel and Odette laughing, running around the grass pathways, until Edythe asked a question. “What of you and Fleur? How did you meet?”

“We met at the first ball I hosted after taking the throne of my father; I was unmarried, and many of the people were sure enough that I would die alone, as I had no ambition to find a wife to rule beside me. I was stubborn, and needed no one, at least until I met her. Yet, it was one fleeting moment across the grand floor where I saw her. She had long, wavy hair, and wore a green dress, and she never once looked up at me until I approached her and asked her to dance with me. We did not speak, and it was only the look in our eyes that connected us. Time faded away, as did the crowds, and the staring, burning eyes of the other men and women. When it was all over at the end of the night, we both knew that we needed to find each other – and it was as just,” he told her. “Fate brought us together, and destiny would be the one that forced us apart.”

“Why did she have to grow so ill?” Edythe questioned. She looked out into the distance, gazing at the sea beyond the edge of the kingdom walls. “She was so beautiful, so graceful, and matched your kindness. From what did she grow ill?”

“No one knew what it was,” Wolfe stated. “I cannot lie to everyone and claim that I was surprised by her death; for a long time, I knew it would lead to this. Every day, Fleur became worse. She would have night sweats, a fever, and a retching cough that vibrated through her lungs. I believe it was one reason she had such a difficult time bearing children; her body rejected them consistently. How Odette seemed to stay was a miracle in itself, and I will not question the existence of my daughter. I know now that I was losing her faster than I imagined. I did not want to believe it, I could not…but I realize now that I should have for the sake of my time with her.”

Every time he spoke of mentioned Fleur’s passing, a bitter taste touched his lips. It was the bitterness of regret, and hatred in him for allowing her fate to pass by so quickly, yet the past could no longer be altered, and time was unchangeable. He needed to accept her death, as Edythe did Stephen’s, and move on with the remaining life he had left. “I trust you cannot be completely lonely, now that you have Jep?” he asked.

“Gabriel does adore him, and I know that he will impact Gabriel’s life more than his father ever did, or ever could have done, but Stephen can never be replaced. He was dark, dangerous, and had a soul greater than the depths of the ocean – a unique man, and the love of my life. There was no one else like him, and I do not expect anyone to fill his role as King, other than my son,” Edythe told him.

“What was Rothbart’s affinity with going after your Kingdom?” Wolfe asked. He never understood the full tyrannical being of the sorcerer, and wondered how much of a threat he truly was.

“He was power hungry – starving was more like it,” Edythe replied. “His plan was to rule the kingdom by killing Stephen, or Gabriel, or both. I was never an issue in Rothbart’s plan, and he never viewed me as a force with which to be reckoned. He was persistent with his threats that he would one day take this land, but he crossed boundaries when he threatened our son.”

“A young boy has nothing to interfere in the squabble between men,” Wolfe said.

            “He threatened that he would kill Gabriel long after he killed Stephen. Rothbart had found an ugly force in them that would not give in without a fight. I could see it in his eyes if we had detained him in our dungeons – he was petrified of Stephen, like a frightened dog backed into a corner. Nevertheless, the fearful beast bit, and got what he wanted.”

            “I’m sorry,” Wolfe said. “I know my ruling on the situation did not make things easier for you.”  

Edythe eyed him carefully. “He frightens you too…doesn’t he?” she asked.

            “His power was great before we destroyed it, and at times…yes, I do fear his power. If he has the courage to show his face here again, I’ll kill him for the pain we suffered on his behalf.”

            “Agreed,” Edythe replied. She paused, sensing that his soul was still uncomfortable, and a piece of him still imagined that Rothbart was out there. She touched his cheek and smiled. “Do not let his words haunt you.” Leaving his side, she retrieved Gabriel’s hand as Wolfe lifted Odette into his arms.

“You are welcome to stay for an elongated period of time – you are always welcome in his home, Wolfe.”

            Over the next four years, Odette and Gabriel both continued to grow, and again Rothbart’s lingering, looming terror was slowly forgotten, shed away with the wind. The thought of betrothing the two still tugged as Wolfe’s mind, yet he waited until the time was right to ask for Edythe’s permission. He would wait for as long as he felt it was necessary.

            In memory of the Queen’s death, and Odette’s birth in the same union, Wolfe declared the day to be known as, “The Day of the Swan” and permanently had his Kingdom symbols reflect the tribute to the graceful animal. It was declaration of elegance, beauty, heaven’s light, and the purity of blessed angels as a great white swan with wings extended. A small crown adorned its head, and a floral wreath of roses around its webbed feet, mounted against a gold and red tapestry flag. The tribute draped against the front walls of his castle. Every year, Wolfe’s Kingdom was decorated with white roses wrapped around the pillars of the Grand Hall and the balcony, in which he held a large celebration of gifts for the Princess and the gathering of surrounding Lords and Ladies. However, the next few years would be the most remarkable of all and only time would tell if fate, destiny, and true love really did exist, contrary to what others thought.

New Love &

New Beginnings

Chapter 3

As another year came and went, Wolf’s Kingdom hosted the fourth annual Day of the Swan, during which Odette would turn five years old. She grew into a beautiful young child; the spitting image still of her dearly departed mother. Maids walked around the castle, serving the other royals small platters of food. A large line of guests continually arrived to bring gifts to the little Princess’ table.

Though the day had now become a part of tradition, Wolfe had begun to grow tired of the same crowds who stuffed his kingdom’s halls. Every year, they told  the same stories; what had happened to King Stephen and the great battle between him and Rothbart, the apologies of his wife’s death, what a grown lady Odette was getting to be, stories of wars long past, and the same peg-leg story from one of the  Lord’s son, a sailor who lived off shore. Yet, all Wolfe could do was keep an eye on his daughter as she danced through the sunlight shimmering down through the ceiling-high windows, jetting across the wood floor. She wore her pale blonde hair pulled back into a bun, and her small white dress floated around her with every movement she made.

Her little white shoes patted against the floor, invisible against the sound and commotion of her party, of which she had no interest. Seeing that Gabriel followed close behind his daughter, Wolfe smiled at the trials of a childhood game, bewildered that they were so close. Edythe’s son was so fond of her. Perhaps young love does exist, he thought.

“You know he loves her, do not you?” questioned Edythe, standing to his left. Wolfe quickly looked around, seeing the guest he had just ignored in favor of watching his daughter had slowly shifted to other groups at the ceremony.

“I suppose,” Wolfe replied. Placing his hands behind his back, he sighed with comfort. “They’ve been destined friends ever since Odette was born, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I think they’ve been destined to be more than that, Wolfe,” she admitted. She gave him a knowing smile. “You know it’s true. Our children could never make a better pair…and I think that it was meant to be this way so that they would need to find each other, to fill what they’ve lost.”

Her reference to their deceased spouses nearly brought tears to Wolfe’s eyes, because of the fact that she was right, and always had been the stronger to admit it than he was.  “Long ago, when I brought up the subject of betrothal…it was actually Odette’s maid’s idea – Marie. She had suggested it best if the two were betrothed, because of the fact that they were already friends; if one could love their best friend, would it not be a pleasant, gratifying union? At first, I did not believe in it…and I did not see what good it would bring. I do now,” he admitted.

“Your maid is smart. What a way to unite two broken kingdoms, wouldn’t you agree?” She paused, watching him smile. “I’ve always wanted a daughter, and Odette will be a fine, young woman. They are lucky to have one another.”

“We are lucky to have each other as well – you’ve been a great friend, Edythe, and I thank you for sticking beside me when you could have dealt with Stephen alone, and I could have been alone with Fleur. I couldn’t have gotten through it without you,” Wolfe said. He nodded toward their children. “They will be the same way.”

Soon, a loud thump and crying came from the distance, and as they both looked up in worry, the crowd parted. Wolfe saw that Gabriel had pushed Odette to the floor, and she in return had kicked his knee, each of them tearing and wiping their cheeks.

“Well, at least for now anyway,” Wolfe laughed. Joining the Queen, they approached their children, splitting them apart for a while. He brought the Princess into the grand room to begin opening her gifts. Many of them were handmade dresses from the women guests, and delicate trinkets, small pieces of jewelry, hair pieces, and a few small wooden horses. Things that Odette truly cherished however grew tired of as many children do when overwhelmed with too many presents.

Yawning and stretching her arms, his daughter grew tired, however there was one particular moment that Wolfe  enjoyed most every year at the end of the celebration; the grand ball. During this one single dance, everyone attending found a partner and danced in the same room among the Queen with her son, and with King Wolfe, who danced with his beautiful daughter. As little as she was, he loved holding her in his arms, and she put her hand in his as they waltzed around the room together, smiling, laughing, and enjoying the classical music played by the small group of musicians from town.

About him, the revelers passed by in one giant blur for a moment, lost in time, everyone gazing into the eyes of their partner. The room seemed to empty for each and every one of them. Groups of red, dark blue, green, gold, silver, white, peach, and lavender-colored dresses mixed together, and the men’s royal robes and chest plates gleamed against the candlelight of the chandelier hovering over the center of the floor. Yet nothing else mattered when dancing with Odette, and for a moment, Wolfe could see Fleur again, understanding the preciousness that his only child held in his heart. Her soft head lay against his shoulder as she began to grow tired, and after the music ended, and guests noted that she had fallen fast asleep on her father’s shoulder; their applause was gentle and hushed. 

The guests soon began to leave, the castle doors and the front gate locked by the guards, and Gabriel and Odette were laid on blankets before the grand fireplace in Wolfe’s library, asleep to the sound of Queen Fleur’s old music box. He, Edythe, maid Marie, Jep, and Wolfe’s captain  gathered there to discuss the plans of their arrangement, the uniting of their lands, the age they would marry, and which kingdom they would rule.

“Now, though they are very young, when is the time they will be told of their engagement to one another?” Marie asked both Wolfe and Edythe.

            “I would say it is best to begin their months together perhaps at the age of twelve and thirteen?”  Jep commented. “By this time, they will have a better understanding of what it all means when they are told; trying to make a younger mind understand that their future is already planned out for them, may simply end up being taken as a game.”

            “I agree,” Edythe said. “We cannot let them think that way. However, in the meantime, we will visit one another as often as possible, Wolfe, so that in the process of their growing years, we can finalize everything.”

            “And what will be the uniting of the lands?” asked the Captain.

            “I say that we simply unite everything from the seashore to the cemetery, and to the cathedral. Nothing should be excluded if we are to ensure that this is a stronger union for both our citizens,” Wolfe replied, watching Edythe agree in silence.

            “What kingdom do you wish them to rule over, Wolfe?” Edythe asked.

            “They will take mine. If it does not bother you, I will help your kingdom and return your people to a better state. The stability of Stephen’s people should be restored before we throw our children to a public that may not accept them,” he said. He saw the release of tension in her shoulders; she was terrified of her people, and she needed Wolfe to get them to trust her again.

            “How long will they spend with one another?” Wolfe asked Edythe. “You said before that you spent months with Stephen.”

            “Yes – usually three months at a time. We could start from May to the end of August, and switch between our two kingdoms so that we both have an impact on the future of their marriage and their leadership. However, they will also need to write to each other during the winter months, and they will have studies whilst at our two castles as well,” she told him.

            “While at her father’s castle, I could teach Odette and Gabriel how to dance?” Marie remarked. “I could also teach Odette proper table etiquette and manners. Queen Edythe, perhaps while at your Kingdom you could teach her the history of art, music, and the trials of being Queen. Our good Captain could teach Gabriel how to fight with a sword and shield, and military tactics. Lastly, while at your castle, Edythe, Jep could teach Gabriel history and archery, and then the two of them horseback riding?”

            “I think that sounds perfect,” Wolfe agreed.

            “Then it is settled,” Edythe replied. “To a happy future for our Kingdoms.”

Seven Years Later

            Waiting in the grand dining room of his kingdom, Wolfe sat at the end of his table, which sat a total of twelve people. A roaring, six-foot high fire in the massive fireplace cast a beautiful orange and yellow flicker against the walls. Warmth filled the halls as snow fell lightly outside the castle windows. With his hands behind his back, he paced patiently, ringing his hands in a moment of pure nervousness. His hair had begun to grow slight strands of silver gray, and his beard was accompanied by more every day. The years had passed by so quickly. When Wolfe could still picture his small five-year-old playing with Gabriel in the grand hall, he had imagined what he would one day say to her when it was time to tell them of their engagement. Yet now that the moment was here, his mind ran blank, and his thoughts ran into a panic under his calm demeanor. Soon, the door opened, and there stood his little girl, grow into a beautiful young lady. Odette wore a lovely blue and white dress, her hair long and wavy around her shoulders.

            “My dear,” Wolfe said. He crouched down, arms extended as his daughter ran to him. He lifted and twirled her in the air. She released a peal of giggles, then, he set her back down lightly. “You look beautiful tonight.”

            “Thank you, Father,” she replied.

             Wolfe pulled out the chair for his daughter, and as she sat, slowly took in his seat at the head of the table. As the dinner was served and Odette began eating, Wolfe picked at his food; a role they had seemed to switch in the event of his nervousness.

            “What’s wrong father?” she questioned from her chair immediately to his right. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.      

“Oh nothing, my dear, just thinking,” he replied. He didn’t know how to jump into the conversation. However, there was no holding out any longer with summer approaching in a few short months. Cutting the turkey breast on his plate, he spoke. “So you haven’t seen Gabriel since this past summer. Are you doing alright without seeing your best friend for so long?”

            “Well, winter is always quite boring. It’s too cold outside, but no, I’m not terribly lonely,” she said.

            “Do you miss Gabriel?” Wolfe reiterated.

            “Well…,” she paused.

            “Well?”

            “I mean, he’s all right – he is a boy after all, but I guess at times I do miss him. He’s funny, and we always play a lot of fun games together when we’re at Edythe’s castle. How come they never come here?” she asked.

            “Queen Edythe is afraid to leave her home. She gets lost easy,” Wolfe told her, avoiding a new topic of conversation. She nodded slowly, and resumed eating.

            “What do you think of Prince Gabriel, otherwise? Is he nice to you?” Odette asked.

            Wolfe laughed and nodded, “Yes, darling, he’s a very nice young man. I’ve known him just as long as you have – since he was a baby, and he’s always been a very nice boy. This is why I wanted to talk to you tonight, just you and me.”

            “About Gabriel? What for?” she asked.

            “Well, sweetheart, you see…when you and Gabriel were very young, Queen Edythe and I thought it would be best for both of you to spend quite a long amount of time together,” he said. Hesitating around his words was no longer an option, as he saw she grew confused. “You see, Edythe and I wanted to betroth you and Gabriel…to be married one day.”

            Odette frowned.  “With Gabriel?” she asked, her tone no longer amused.

            “Yes, darling. You two will be married by the time you are both twenty-one, and for the next few years, you will be spending every summer together, with only me, or Edythe, as companions.”

            “You want me to marry Gabriel? Oh, Father, that will not work!” she protested. Her speech was always very eloquent, but Wolfe had recently noticed that she sounded more like her mother each day.

            “Well, why not?”

            “Because I do not love Gabriel,” she said simply. “Did you not once say that you must love someone to marry them?”

            “Yes but there are exceptions, Odette. People can always learn to love one another. Perhaps, one day, you will come to find that you love Gabriel – and he will come to love you, my dear. Queen Edythe was married that way, and I didn’t know your mother. After just one dance with her, I loved her. Just try, please, my love?” he requested.

            Soon, she was back to picking at her food, as normal. Nodding, she sighed and rested her chin in her hand.  “All right, Father…I’ll try. But if he is going to be disgusting, and push me down in the mud, and try putting frogs in my pockets forever, than you can forget it!”

Emitting a loud belly laugh, Wolfe startled Odette, and she too started laughing, their joy echoing in the halls of their kingdom, in hopes for a better future to come. After dinner, Wolfe scooped Odette up in his arms and carried her to her bed, putting her beneath the covers and kissing her goodnight. Yet, as he retreated, he felt a small hand grasp his. Looking down at her, he saw her smile as she pulled him back down to sit at her bedside.

“Father,” she whispered. “Do you think Gabriel will love me one day, as much as you loved mother?”

            Leaning down to kiss her forehead again, he whispered in reply. “I know he will.”

            “Tell me more about Mother,” she said.

            “Well,” Wolfe sat, brushing her hair away from her face. “You look more like her every day you grow into a young woman. I never thought that I would ever be without your mother, but when God gave me you in her place, I knew she was still here with me. You carry a large piece of her, Odette, and I hope you know that was the piece I loved most about her.”

            “What piece?” she asked.

            “Her heart,” he replied. “Her heart was as big as the sea, and she was so kind, loving, and generous to not only me, but to the people. When she left us for Heaven, many were scared and were unsure if our Kingdom would make it without her. Many thought, even I thought, that I wouldn’t be able to survive without her – but I did. I survived with you, because you carry it, and in her heart, she left bravery, love, and beauty to thrive inside you. I see more and more of it all the time, and I know Gabriel will see it too.”

            Odette sighed in happiness as she thought of her personality being a part of her mother’s, and then her expression became concerned. “What about Gabriel?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Did his father leave him anything?” she asked.

            “Now that’s hard to say,” Wolfe replied. “Gabriel was born before King Stephen went to Heaven.”

            “What do you think?” Odette prodded.

            “I think Stephen left something behind for Gabriel, too,” Wolfe said.

            “What?”

            “I think he left for him courage, like you, but I think he also left him strength, and something special,” Wolfe told her.

            “What is the special gift he left, Father?” Her eyes were wide, her mind clearly crossing leagues as her imagination ran away with her.          

Wolfe smiled and pulled  the covers over her chest as she laid back into her pillows, eager to hear the explanation. “Now, you see, this something special is only there for you. Stephen left with Gabriel a gift that doesn’t have a name, but a gift that only a man can have. It is a gift that makes a man do bizarre things. It makes them protectors; it makes them angry, makes them honorable and heroic all in one. A gift that would make Gabriel follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond if you were in danger. It is a gift that instills in him the desire to do anything to ensure your happiness, and to ensure that in your eyes, he is a good man. Not every man has this gift, remember that, and do not take advantage of it, my dear Odette,” Wolfe assured her.

            “That sounds wonderful,” she whispered.

            “Only a father can give that gift to his son. You see, you’ll often hear that Stephen never had that gift. This is not true. Stephen’s father gave him the gift, but you see, after years and years of forgetting about it, Stephen finally lost sight of it and he became something ugly, something angrier than pleased, a man without a joy in the world. He was lost altogether. You must remember to keep Gabriel aware of his kindness, and his compassion. It will help him to remember his gift,” Wolfe told her.

            “I will, Father,” she replied.

            “All right now, my sweet, off to bed,” he said. Patting her leg, he kissed her little hand and watched as she rolled over and closed her eyes. Rising from the bed, he walked toward the door and began to close it until he heard her voice call for him again. “Yes, darling?” he asked.

            “I am happy you haven’t lost your gift,” she told him.

            “As am I,” he said. “Now, go to sleep, my little one.”

            Nodding, she rolled back over and he shut the doors. Afterward, he headed to his library, where he sat at his desk to write a letter to Edythe about the conversation he had with Odette. He was amazed at how brilliant she was, and how sound of an imagination she held. It pleased Wolfe that she was willing to try to love Gabriel, and he only hoped that Gabriel would have the same feelings in return.

My Dearest Edythe,

            I am writing you to let you know Odette accepts the plans for engagement with Gabriel, after, of course, careful consideration on her part. However, I am also writing for another purpose.

Tonight, the bond between my daughter and me was taken to new heights when she inquired again on the subject of her mother. What I explained to her was that Fleur had given her a gift – when she was born, Odette was given her heart to fill her place in our castle and in her heart, she carried bravery, love, and beauty. Astounded, she then inquired as to what your son was given.

I explained to her that Gabriel was given a very special gift, a gift that only a father could give to his son,  a gift of undying devotion. That he would travel to the ends of the earth to save Odette from any danger, as Stephen would have done for you, as well as invested his soul.

I know it is never easy to rethink upon his life, but I wanted to spare you a few good future instincts so that your son may know how important his father’s gift of being a humble, gracious man, truly was when he shined best at it. I know Gabriel will be a great King once he takes his throne, and I have no doubt that the best of both worlds will bring new light to our people.

King Wolfe

After reading over his words, he sealed the missive with red wax, and then walked down the hall to meet his captain at the front gate. “Please give this to the late carrier when he arrives at midnight. I hope to get this to Edythe within the next few days,” Wolfe told him.

“Yes, Sir,” Captain replied, taking the letter in hand.

“Thank you.” King Wolfe then looked up  at the stars, folding his arms and sighing as he stood lingering in the captain’s presence.

“Pardon me, Sir, but-”

“Yes?” Wolfe asked, looking back at him. Receiving an awkward glance, Wolfe smiled and patted him on the back. “I only wish to be in good company, Captain, and propriety is not necessary at this time. Be at ease, you’ve been at my side for years as a serious man. Relax, Captain.”

“Thank you, my King,” Captain replied, shifting his stance and looking up at the stars as well. Stretching his neck, he sighed and glanced over at the man who ruled over a single population. “Did the introduction of marriage go over well with the Princess?” he asked.

“At first, no,” Wolfe chuckled. “She was somewhat irate at the fact that she would be marrying a disgusting little boy who put frogs in her dress and in her shoes.”

“A classic case, if I’ve ever heard one,” Captain responded.

“Yes. However, afterward, she said it was all right, with no life at all in her voice. I am only pleased that I did not try to get out of this conversation for the third night in a row. I was nervous she wouldn’t understand, and it would be a horrible, failed attempt…but it was very different, to my surprise,” Wolfe said.

“Many things are beginning to shift in a new direction, Sire,” replied Captain. Turning to look in the corner of his eye, he saw the maiden at the door of the castle, looking on at him and her King standing together. Wolfe too turned and noticed their eyes meet from a distance.

Wolfe turned back to the stars. “When I saw Queen Fleur for the first time, we danced together…and that was it. She had my soul, and life was never the same without her.”

“Sire?”

“I see the way Marie looks at you, and I see the way you look at her. Something lays there, Captain, whether you wish to ignore it or not. I am telling you, that just because you are in my walls, does not mean, nor has it ever meant that you cannot have a family of your own. You do not have to serve mine forever,” Wolfe told him. “You are free to live your life as a part of my family, Captain.”

“Of course, King Wolfe,” he replied. “Thank you.”

Nodding, Wolfe left the captain’s side, and as he walked past Marie, he placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Follow my advice, and listen to your heart,” he told her. “He’s waiting for you.” Her eyes jumped to the captain standing at the gate, and she bit her lip nervously as she descended the steps.

Getting ready for bed, King Wolfe dressed in his nightgown. Then he looked out the window and onto the courtyard. There, he saw the maiden with her hand in the captain’s, until finally, he slowly pulled her toward him and they locked lips in a loving, passionate kiss. King Wolfe sighed again, shaking his head at the two new lovers, and went to his bed to lie down.

Everything was slowly coming together, and a new chapter of their lives would soon begin. Perhaps it was a new era for their Kingdom after years of looming gray clouds of sorrow? Whatever it was, Wolfe knew that this needed to happen for the sake of all the occupants in his Kingdom, and his town below. The time for regrets, fears regarding his personal decision of Rothbart, were coming to an end. He no longer wanted to look over his shoulder night after night, year after year, wondering and praying that the sorcerer would not come to take his life, or his daughter’s. The time for sorrow over Fleur’s absence was long overdue for closure, and this day would mark it.

With that, Wolfe closed his eyes, and breathed another sigh of relief as he waited to drift off to sleep.

WHEN David McAllister walks onstage at the end of an Australian Ballet performance it usually means just one thing, and so it was the afternoon of April 6  in Sydney. McAllister named Ty King-Wall, 26, the AB’s newest principal artist after his performance as Basilio in Don Quixote.

King-Wall said the next day he had no warning, thinking his parents had come from his native New Zealand simply to see him dance. Afterwards they thought they should be receiving all the congratulations, not him, King-Wall joked. “And that’s right.”

Ty King-Wall, new principal artist of The Australian Ballet. Photo: James Braund

With King-Wall it wasn’t a matter of if he would be promoted, but when. He has been dancing principal roles for years, taking the role of the Prince in Stanton Welch’s Sleeping Beauty as early as 2009, just three years after he joined the Australian Ballet. In 2010 he was the Prince in the Peter Wright version of The Nutcracker, Franz in Coppelia and Octavian in Graeme Murphy’s The Silver Rose.

McAllister needed to find the right moment to make the announcement, and more or less had it thrust upon him. He likes a dancer’s family to be in the auditorium if possible when he promotes a dancer so phoned King-Wall’s parents in New Zealand to suggest they might like to think about planning a trip to Sydney. He was told his call was timely: they were just about to get on a plane. So that sorted the date – April 6, at the matinee.

King-Wall’s father had not seen his son dance since his Australian Ballet School graduation performance – coincidentally of the third act of Don Quixote.

Fortunately for McAllister, King-Wall gave a principal-worthy performance on the 6^th. He claims to have been “feeling a little bit down after the first act – there were a couple of things I wasn’t really happy with. I had to tell myself to pull it together and I really enjoyed the third act.” From the auditorium things looked just fine. King-Wall has lovely proportions and elegant bearing. He had easy elevation, the cleanest of pirouettes, the occasional special effect thrown in without triumphalism, his double tours were landed in firm, tight fifth positions and he confidently negotiated the tricky one-armed lifts in Act I. While King-Wall isn’t naturally an ebullient character, his Basilio was charming, sweet and amusing.

He was well matched with principal Leanne Stojmenov, a lively and funny Kitri with lovely touches of sensuality.

There had been buzz about King-Wall within the company during the Melbourne season of Don Quixote and in Brisbane when the AB performed Swan Lake (the Stephen Baynes version). On April 6 one enterprising dancer asked McAllister if he was going to promote King-Wall that day, basing his question on the fact McAllister was wearing a suit. McAllister was thus attired because he was taking part in a talk later, but when a story is on the move anything will be examined for signs.

In any event, it was that day. King-Wall had no warning but wasn’t especially surprised. He has been “working towards this for a long time”.

His parents weren’t initially followers of the ballet. King-Wall began taking classes when he was seven because a friend had started and “was a bit apprehensive and wanted a guy to keep him company. I said sure, I’ll give it a go.” The friend quickly fell by the wayside but King-Wall was hooked. At 16 he was accepted by the Australian Ballet School and joined the AB in 2006. McAllister describes him as “a born prince”.

“It felt the right time for him to take on that mantle,” says McAllister. “He’s really proved his worth.” Even though King-Wall is the youngest of the AB’s 12 principal artists (soon to be back to 11 when Yosvani Ramos leaves at the end of the Don Quixote Sydney season), he could have been elevated even sooner had he not had a significant back injury. “He did have a setback,” says McAllister, “but in a funny way the injury made me more sure that he was right for promotion. He was so professional and committed, and had the tenacity to make sure he rehabbed and rehabbed properly.

“Once he got back, I thought yep, he’s going to be fine. The way he approached it I knew that it was going to be all right.”

King-Wall says the company’s support during his period of injury has made him “relieved and grateful” that he now has reached the top rank. The promotion puts him at the same rank as his off-stage partner, AB principal Amber Scott. “I have a deep respect for the rank and what it means,” he says. “I understand the responsibilities and expectations.”

He’s happy, too, to be as busy as possible. “It’s a short career and you want to make absolutely the most of it.” The AB will be getting its money’s worth in the upcoming Vanguard triple bill, as King-Wall is cast in each work – Balanchine’s The Four Temperaments, Jiri Kylian’s Bella Figura and Wayne McGregor’s Dyad 1929, created on the company in 2009. He has danced only in Dyad 1929 and is looking forward to exploring the other two works.

Ty King-Wall is scheduled to appear in Don Quixote at the Sydney Opera House on April 12, 17 and 22. Vanguard opens at the Sydney Opera House on April 30 and in Melbourne on June 6.

The St. Petersburg Ballet came to do perform their Swan Lake Ballet at the Palais des Congrès in Paris!! Obviously I bought tickets. It was my first live ballet, and I’m so glad that Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake was my first. He is just the best!

So, I’m still kind of hung up on my classmate’s reaction to Gumi, (I guess I should have found out about Nightcore before Moss did and put on that for them) so there’s only one way to settle this (Brad’s way).

Are ya ready?!

Okay… well, since you can’t see me dancing to PonPonPon or Butterfly on Your Right Shoulder, I’m just going to have to edit the word “dance” out, and replace it with “song”!

A song fight! :D

Ladies and gents, I am about to present to you some (but not all- it would take HOURS) of my favorites songs! But before you start clicking away to close this post because you don’t want to hear about One Direction, there are 2 things you should know. 1) I don’t like 1D or JB and stuff like that. 2) I bet I will include style that you like, because these are my songs, and they beat everything, because I like everything! I like variety! From Aqua to Regina Spektor! (Yes, I like classical music, too.) SO YEAH.  Except rap. I can’t stand songs that have people rapping the WHOLE time. A little rap is fine! I also like 70’s, 80’s and 90’s punk/heavy metal/rock/alternative rock/depressing songs and so on and so forth and what have you because I can’t name every genre.

Only 1 problem: WordPress is being mean to me and I can’t add videos, like, from YouTube, so y’all will have to deal with links.

D:

And I’m sorry if this post doesn’t have anything you like because these are my most recent favorites/finds, so you can add your faves in comments.

Let’s start… with classical music. I only really love one song, and this is the main theme from the ballet “The Swan Lake”.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpX37bgIbH0&feature=player_embedded

Next, I shall put in one or two examples of today’s current music that I like. Now, I’m one of those people who choose to like a song not because of its lyrics, but mostly because of its notes and rhythm. Lyrics are just a bonus.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9OSXsB946k&feature=player_embedded

Listen to how the pitches drop or jump. Major Tom is not very repetitive, and it has certain qualities that I like.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvjSoHo0TGk&feature=player_embedded

For this one, this is where the lyrics are to be blurred out, unless you listen to the clean version, which I have provided, because I don’t believe in swearing heavily. I suggest you listen to only the first minute of the song, but the whole song is very interesting!

Amazing, right?

Next are foreign songs, songs not in English! I shall include 2 languages: Spanish and Japanese.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymw_0HGHyyU&feature=player_embedded

The title means “Makeup” and I just really like it ^_^. You can see why.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzEUeWnV73U&feature=player_embedded

This is a stupendous song; I absolutely cannot get enough of it. I also LOVELOVELOVE the Multilanguage version, because it is so beautiful. If you are to choose between this version and the Multilanguage version, then I urge you to listen to the second one. Other great and catchy Japanese songs are Zoetrope, Recall, Crossing Field and PonPonPon.

2 more genres left, guys! Look at the consistencies, and the differences! Listen closely.

Vocaloid. That is the next thing on my list. I think I love Vocaloid more than the above songs and my own faves. I’ll restrain myself from blabbing about my 40+ songs, and I’ll reduce it to 2. Aren’t you so proud? :3

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0-2lzA7_Cg&feature=player_embedded

My first Vocaloid song. I heard it in the 5^th grade, I did not know what it was, and I just really liked the song and dance.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovzr0zl0h1Q&feature=player_embedded

Gumi is pretty awesome. I really like this song because it is catchy and the lyrics are very entertaining! Other Japanese Vocaloids I enjoy: Paradichlorobenzene, World is Mine, Kokoro, Chemical Emotion, etc.

Vocaloid is also available with English, Spanish, Korean and Chinese voices.

Lastly, we’ve got my newest obsession, Dubstep and Nightcore remixes! I’ll include 1 example of each. FYI, Nightcore is very similar to Dubstep. Look up any song, for example, “Grenade” and then type “Nightcore” to get the Nightcore remix of Grenade. Some Nightcores are much better than others. The not so good Nightcores have the original song sped up and higher pitches, and that’s it. Beware those.

Dubstep= http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhZ1rvV_fLc&feature=player_embedded

Nightcore= http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O309-OTTStw&feature=player_embedded

I don’t think I have time for more…. I can’t have you spending the whole day here, can I? So thanks for putting up for this very long but very awesome post! Toodles!

Trfn,

~Sage

The Moscow City Ballet have just left Guildford following a three-night run of their productions of Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty, the former of which I went to see for myself. As I mentioned in my review of BalletBoyz, I have not seen much in the way of ballet – in fact, my only past experience was an adaptation of Wuthering Heights about 4 years ago. Nevertheless, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake is one of those must-see productions, and the tour at GLive was too good to miss. I took my sister for her birthday as she’s longed to see it for years, and we went off with anticipation and a level of ignorance.

This review isn’t about the quality of dance, it is about the quality of show – and MCB know a thing or two about that. The costumes were exquisite – even from the upper circle, the intricate designs and detailing were apparent, creating a true theatrical spectacle that highlighted both the sense of story and the ability of the dancers. Prima Ballerina Liliya Orkehova, it almost goes without saying, was truly remarkable to watch. Her lithe form gliding across the stage with such ease was enchanting, and her constant strength was comparable only to that of Talgat Kozhabaev who performed Prince Siegfried. A surprisingly tall ballet dancer, he was graceful and consistent, playing not the passive male but confident and engaging in his solo performances.

However, for me the show was stolen by Artem Minakov, who performed as the Jester. With incredible precision and skill, he executed phrases of dance with wonderful expression that had us laughing and cheering. The combination of unavoidable talent with comic timing and character made Minakov unmissable, and magnetic to the eye, occasionally overshadowing the principal dancers with his mimed reactions to the story and small quips to the audience.

As my first experience of traditional ballet, it’s safe to say I couldn’t have made a better choice. A classic piece filled with iconic and stirring music conducted by Igor Shavruk, Swan Lake by the Moscow City Ballet had everything a performance should be. Keep an eye out for their return to the UK.

Far longer than forever
I swear that I’ll be true

Ladies of Non-Disney → Odette

Description

Another photo taken of a beautiful swan gliding across  a local lake.

Camera used - SONY Alpha a100

• Swan Lake
• Goosing Around
• Duck
• Duckin’ Shadows
• Animals

You probably need to be as old as I am to even remember Dame Beryl Grey. Prima ballerina, first Western dancer ever invited to dance with the Bolshoi Ballet despite the Cold War, who dreamed as a scholarship student of having to save the day at short notice by going on in Margot Fonteyn’s place – and who did, at the age of 14.

She and my mother had been BFF and when she was dancing in Johannesburg as Odette / Odile one year she arranged for me – aged 8 – to be allowed to join the corps in rehearsals for Swan Lake. I dreamed I’d be so brilliant they’d include me as a small, pudgy but astonishingly talented cygnet in the production but not all ballet dreams come true.

Although the Festival does not take place until Memorial Day weekend (May 24-26), planning and preparations begin months ahead of time.  Our tourism personnel have been going like the Energizer Bunny around here, making plans and arranging marketing strategies so that people outside the Sumter community will know well in advance that this is an event worth celebrating—and worth traveling to attend.  Over the next couple of months, there will be magazine and online ads, billboards, and a lot of other information spread throughout South Carolina and our neighboring states to promote Sumter’s biggest annual event.  This year, it’s been extra time-consuming because the Festival itself will be extra-special, featuring the Vietnam Traveling Memorial Wall (at the gardens May 24-27).

In the meantime, there is still plenty to see and do, and several good ways to stay on top of things.  The easiest thing to do is visit us online at www.sumtertourism.com and click on the Calendar of Events to find out what’s happening in the area.  You can also subscribe to our weekly newsletter by sending an e-mail to events@sumter-sc.com.  There are also the options of following our Twitter page, or “liking” us on Facebook.  Finally, you can pick up the phone any time Monday through Friday between 8:30 a.m. and 5:00 p.m., and the friendly staff at the Swan Lake Visitors Center will gladly keep you in the know.

Things here should settle down soon, and we’ll be back to our normal bi-weekly schedule.  But don’t miss out—please take advantage of our other resources for spreading the word about the great things happening in Sumter. 

And we’ll see you here again soon!

by Colette Daniels