The Two Princes of the Forest
Written down by Rhederon Eastfall
Commissioned by Lord Vubralm of House Calvern
The 15th day of Alystigon of the year 432 E.I.
Once upon a time, in the old lands of Fyrthia, a forest they say, unlike any other,
For the lands, twisted and wicked from the ancientest spirits,
Whose forests are dark and foreboding and hold long-forgotten secrets,
For long, long ago, when there was no crown of Ochoreon nor Daghland,
When lands had yet to know of a Fire Queen nor of Incaedia,
When the sun and moon both held the sky,
They say the celeste up above were as purple as an indigo dye…
There was a kingdom whose name we ought and could not these days pronounce,
And in this kingdom, ‘twas ruled by a mighty sovereign,
Kind and caring to all, as was his tongue, which oft was recorded to have spoken soften,
For this mighty sovereign had two heirs, twins of a most miraculous nature,
His eldest was as kind as his elder, described as sweet, soft, and tender,
However, to the dismay of his father, his younger was truly crueler,
After becoming a ward of his grandfather,
This old man, whom the children called their grandsire,
Was a wicked man who oft’ spoke like fire,
But thus the things were and would be, up until the fall of the king, like an old and dying tree,
Dead was this sovereign, and his realm should pass to his twin sons,
The grandfather, barred by his son-in-law from the regency of office,
Would corrupt the mind of his grandson to think himself better befit for such a high-ranking role,
This is where we stand: two sons in grief, a grandsire in plotting…
And a beast knock, knock, knocking at the door.
Upon the manor gates arrived a fowl and hideous thing, a thing of unseen magicks,
When accepted at the door, the lowly servants cowered and screamed at the things ugliness,
The youngest prince, soldiers behind him, beheld the best but was too scared himself,
The lordling through tight clutched teeth told the thing to leave him be,
But the only thing the lordling heard in return was…
“Princeling, Princeling, shall you give me no quarter?
“For have you forgot the ways of old?
“One does not simply turn away a guest,
“Unless of course, you wish to make your life any shorter.”
The young prince turned away, soldiers still at the ready,
But they had thought better than attacking such a magick and wild a thing,
So after a minute or two of the most intense starring the elder prince appeared,
The beast’s wicked jaws twisted up in a smile,
Seeing a new and fresh face, he repeated his rhyme,
“Princeling, Princeling, shall you give me no quarter?
“For have you forgot the ways of old?
“One does not simply turn away a guest,
“Unless of course, you wish to make your life any shorter.”
The older of the princes thought and contemplated,
He cleared his throat, and his men awaited,
The princeling accepted the beast into his home, even to the dismay of his servants,
The beast smiled his wicked smile, thanked him, and entered,
Thus did two young princes haven a beast for a guest.
The grandsire took aside his favorite son,
Beckoning him come to his lair far from the righteous light of the sun,
He bemoaned and complained to his grandson,
“This thing, this beast, this fae abomination, this ghoulish king,
“He dare threaten us at our gates and daren’t listen to the true master of this house,
“And yet he pulled up the old rites as if we were the ones tempting fate,
“You my heir, the one true king of your father before you,
“You must take this dagger and smite the beast and your sniveling older brother.”
So the brother took the dagger, with glassy eyes,
Unseeing and unhearing to anything our true grandsire taught of no brother shall kill brother,
He snuck down the hall, he snuck down the stairs,
He snuck up corridors, and he snuck up the passageways,
Until upon he found the beast and his older brother enjoying comfort and laughter,
The younger brother sneered with disdain,
He thought, ‘How could my own blood laugh and fain?’
He took the dagger high above his head,
Prepared and ready to strike the monster dead…
Until the beast turned and caught the blade and said:
“Tsk tsk tsk, so pitiful really,
“For many call me a beast, but what I see is less pretty,
“Perhaps your heart shows a more authentic nature,
“From this day forth, you shall be forgotten,
“And your heart will show thy true self, which is something truly rotten.”
And as it said, the young princeling transformed, heavy, hairy, and heartless,
For it turned out to be a witch under a cloak of disguise,
For the young Prince would never know a day when his skin did not match his inner tone,
And for the elder prince, who was as wise as he was kind,
Would never have to fear to be misled again,
As truly wise witch joined mighty sovereign,
In a realm which they hoped should never be forgotten,
And some say it never truly is, so long as your heart is your guise on your outside.
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