Once upon a time
Once upon a time…
This is how all the good stories we love to hear begin. But is it really the appropriate beginning for that of the Cursed Prince?
Who knows?
Let us embark on the adventure together, and see what it might give.
So…
Once upon a time, a kingdom named Alua. It was a land like one finds everywhere else, neither better nor worse. The ocean on one side, a few mountains, plains, fields.
A common people lived there, with its highs and lows, its feasts and its sorrows, its fears and its hopes.
Nothing abnormal, you might say. Nothing that deserves to have its story told.
Yet, in its great normality, let us fly a little closer to that great castle, nestled on its promontory, facing the sparkling ocean, and a stone’s throw from the magnificent Emerald Forest, neighboring kingdom of the sylvan beings.
In this great castle then, privileged domain of King Servan and Queen Beltine, a simple and tranquil life reigns.
The neighboring kingdoms have been at peace for several generations. Trade is going well. Nature offers a gentle clemency in the respect given to it.
As for the royal family itself, the King and the Queen have been blessed with two children. Prince Alarion and Princess Tilia. Two beautiful rascals full of joy and life who joyfully animate the interior of the castle.
What more is there to say? A simple life, no major worries, everything is for the best.
The end?
No, not so fast curious reader, for there begin the premises of the tale. As you will have understood, it is not the story of the King, of the Queen, or of the kingdom, but indeed that of a Cursed Prince, that of the young Prince Alarion.
Now that the picture is painted, let us plunge into the depths of the adventure.
On a cold winter’s day, Queen Beltine could not get up. She was weak and feverish, afflicted with a deep illness.
The royal physician came immediately to her bedside. But all his science could do nothing. At the end of his resources, he strongly advised King Servan to go to the neighboring kingdom, the Emerald Forest.
It was publicly known that the sylvan beings were endowed with knowledge and powers that no human could benefit from. No doubt it was the ultimate recourse to save the Queen.
Madly in love with his wife, King Servan left at once, escorted simply by a few knights. The road was not dangerous, and the relations with the sylvan beings were good.
That very evening, he was received at the heart of the forest palace by Queen Sylvine. The latter listened attentively to her visitor’s request.
It was not in their customs to intervene with other races, nor to interfere with the natural cycles of life. Nevertheless, touched by the deep and sincere feelings animating the King, she agreed to consider his request.
She turned to her shaman so that she might question the spirits of the forest. Only on the condition of their agreement would she obtain help.
Unfortunately for the King, the spirits refused.
Torn by a deep sorrow, he left the palace, returning home by crossing the forest.
It was then that a little fairy, fluttering around his head, came to murmur a few confidences to him.
She had heard him address the Queen. She had felt his heart heavy with pain. She offered him a secret, that of the Moon Source, with magical properties, healing all the ills of mortals.
A mad hope germinated in the heart of the crowned man. She warned him, however. For going there without legitimacy could have grave consequences.
But the poor King could not resign himself to losing his wife.
He had himself guided in complete discretion to the famous source, a place of purity and divine essence. He drew a waterskin of this iridescent water full of powers and promptly returned to his kingdom.
His heart beating, remembering the refusal of the sylvan Queen and the fairy’s warnings, he nevertheless made his Queen drink, while she was at the end of her strength.
Praying to the Gods that she might recover her health, he did not have long to wait for the fever to disappear and life to reclaim its rights over the face of his beloved.
But when she reopened her eyes, when she offered him a tired but radiant smile, a voice rang out in the mind of each of the inhabitants of the kingdom of Alua.
King Servan.
You have gone against the will of the spirits of the Forest.
You have profaned the Moon Source and stolen its water.
You have gone against destiny and the natural cycle.
I, Queen Sylvine of the Emerald Forest, curse you.
For having saved your wife destined for death,
You and your lineage will see all the women you love fall into eternal sleep.
Now, and for the rest of your lives.
Responding to this heavy sentence, several of them collapsed into a deep sleep.
Their hearts were still beating, their breathing and their features were peaceful. Everything suggested they would wake up at any moment.
But nothing came to disturb their sleep. Neither hunger, nor noise, nor pain. No remedy, no incantation. Not even the passing of time.
Many came to the palace to offer their miracle solution.
But the more the attempts multiplied, the more the disappointed hope hurt and haunted the heart of the poor King.
He even tried to return to the forest kingdom, seeking forgiveness, ready to offer his pride and much more to repair his fault.
But the doors of the sylvan kingdom were closed. The forest had densified, preventing any entry, a veritable vegetal wall.
The years passed.
The young Prince, aged about ten at the time of the curse, witnessed the agonizing descent of his father’s spirit into bottomless abysses.
The King eventually abandoned the affairs of the kingdom, remaining at his wife’s bedside. He was no more than the shadow of himself, a ghost of the castle.
Alarion found himself almost overnight without family. His mother, his sister and their nurse were asleep. His father was absent, offering him no more attention.
And finally, the fear of the curse soon caught up with him. All the women and young girls left the castle. They feared attracting interest and falling asleep in turn.
The walls of the palace filled with silence and sadness.
Surrounded by his preceptors and advisors, the Prince gradually took the reins of the kingdom, replacing his failing father.
Far from any form of love, his heart gradually closed, protecting him from pain.
He became with time a strong and proud young man. A bitter but wise fighter and sovereign. He could appear hard and intransigent, but had never shown malice or injustice.
He was what had been made of him, a future King without feelings.
Thus begins the story, thus begins the epic…
…That of a Prince without a heart, because destiny had stolen it from him.
But is this how his adventure will end? Without hope and without love?
Oh no believe me… for…
Once upon a time, a Cursed Prince, who without knowing it, was seeking the one who would make his wounded heart beat again…
