FAKE: One Fairy Tale, Very Freely Adapted
Summary: Once upon a time -- well, maybe if Dee will stop interrupting.
Notes: Fluff. Unbeta'd fluff. Written mostly to cheer up my roommate. I apologize in advance.
ONE FAIRY TALE, VERY FREELY ADAPTED
*
Once upon a time --
(Yes, it does have to start that way. Because fairy tales always start that way. If you don't want me to tell a story -- Well, then. If I can continue.)
Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince. (Not a word, Dee.) His parents had invited all the right people to his christening, and he'd done his best to fulfill all the splendid prophecies that had been given then. He'd also been told not to touch spindles --
(Spindles. You've never seen an old-fashioned spinning wheel, have you? Of course. Silly of me to think you might. Well, it's not impossible that at the orphanage... In any case! When someone was spinning wool into thread, the spike that the thread wound onto was called a spindle. They've put knobs on them since, but back in the days of fairy tales, they were very dangerous looking. Like that stiletto that ex-friend of Bicky's was waving around. Yes, very nasty.)
Where was I? Spindles, thank you. Our prince had been told not to touch spindles, but since he was sensible, in addition to everything else, he hadn't gone near a spinning wheel. His parents, being equally sensible, had stored his mother's spinning wheel up in the attic, and told the prince so he wouldn't get curious.
Then disaster struck. The king and queen vanished, while on a trip to the boundaries of their kingdom. The crops failed. The courtiers drifted away, even the ones the prince had counted as friends. And thorns began to grow in a hedge around the castle.
The prince tried to stop them, at first. He still had hopes that the crops would pull through and the courtiers would return. But they only came back, thicker than before, until it was as if he was looking at the world through a veil of vines. Finally he went looking through the castle for something to stop this, upstairs and downstairs, through the dungeons and to the attic. And up in the attic he found the spinning wheel.
(No, I'm not going to stop now. Hush. You're the one who asked for a story, remember?)
Whether he thought the spindle would cut through the thorns, or whether he simply thought that nothing the spindle could do would be any worse than his life, he touched the spinning wheel, dragging it toward the door. He'd just got it over the threshold when his hand slipped, and he fell into a deep sleep.
He woke up to the sound of his stomach growling, and someone yelling from outside. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found a window and looked out, and there was someone on the other side of the thorns. "Oi! What's with the hedge? Not very neighborly."
"I wasn't trying to be neighborly," said the prince.
"Then you should try harder," said the other man. "Come here."
(...Dee, stop laughing. It's not over yet. Yes, I know that you know where it's going, but - mmph. Mmm! Mmm...)
-[temporarily] the end-
Notes: Fluff. Unbeta'd fluff. Written mostly to cheer up my roommate. I apologize in advance.
ONE FAIRY TALE, VERY FREELY ADAPTED
*
Once upon a time --
(Yes, it does have to start that way. Because fairy tales always start that way. If you don't want me to tell a story -- Well, then. If I can continue.)
Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince. (Not a word, Dee.) His parents had invited all the right people to his christening, and he'd done his best to fulfill all the splendid prophecies that had been given then. He'd also been told not to touch spindles --
(Spindles. You've never seen an old-fashioned spinning wheel, have you? Of course. Silly of me to think you might. Well, it's not impossible that at the orphanage... In any case! When someone was spinning wool into thread, the spike that the thread wound onto was called a spindle. They've put knobs on them since, but back in the days of fairy tales, they were very dangerous looking. Like that stiletto that ex-friend of Bicky's was waving around. Yes, very nasty.)
Where was I? Spindles, thank you. Our prince had been told not to touch spindles, but since he was sensible, in addition to everything else, he hadn't gone near a spinning wheel. His parents, being equally sensible, had stored his mother's spinning wheel up in the attic, and told the prince so he wouldn't get curious.
Then disaster struck. The king and queen vanished, while on a trip to the boundaries of their kingdom. The crops failed. The courtiers drifted away, even the ones the prince had counted as friends. And thorns began to grow in a hedge around the castle.
The prince tried to stop them, at first. He still had hopes that the crops would pull through and the courtiers would return. But they only came back, thicker than before, until it was as if he was looking at the world through a veil of vines. Finally he went looking through the castle for something to stop this, upstairs and downstairs, through the dungeons and to the attic. And up in the attic he found the spinning wheel.
(No, I'm not going to stop now. Hush. You're the one who asked for a story, remember?)
Whether he thought the spindle would cut through the thorns, or whether he simply thought that nothing the spindle could do would be any worse than his life, he touched the spinning wheel, dragging it toward the door. He'd just got it over the threshold when his hand slipped, and he fell into a deep sleep.
He woke up to the sound of his stomach growling, and someone yelling from outside. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found a window and looked out, and there was someone on the other side of the thorns. "Oi! What's with the hedge? Not very neighborly."
"I wasn't trying to be neighborly," said the prince.
"Then you should try harder," said the other man. "Come here."
(...Dee, stop laughing. It's not over yet. Yes, I know that you know where it's going, but - mmph. Mmm! Mmm...)
-[temporarily] the end-