The day Bertie Wooster was born, all the churchbells rang on their own, and the gentler beasts forgot to fear humans for one golden hour. A dozen fairies were gathered to bless him. They made him beautiful, graceful, and sweet-tempered. They gave him the gift of song, they gave him gentleness and courage, and they made him fleet of foot and pure of heart. Every possible princely gift was his with eleven fairy kisses on his tiny, wide-eyed face, and the last and least of them waited patiently for his chance to bestow intellect, the one thing his fellows had missed.
No one was expecting the thirteenth fairy. She hadn't been seen for so long that everyone had supposed she was dead up in her bone-white tower. Naturally, no one had dared to check, and all were shocked when she came in, her bleached, tissue-thin bat wings folded tight against her back. She had come to give her gift, and by all fairy law, none of them could stop her. Truthfully, none of them could stop her whether there was a rule about it or not, for she was a being of fearful power. So piqued was she at not having been invited, despite everyone pointing out that no one had even known she was alive to attend, she cursed the child, whose naturally sunny temperament had dissolved into piercing howls almost as soon as she appeared. She said that in his sixteenth year he would prick his finger on a spindle and die, and vanished in a puff of acrid smoke that just made the poor child cry louder, barely drowning out the collective gasp of shock. No one had expected a death curse. Such a thing simply wasn't done, and the king and queen stared in helpless shock.
The local fairies were predominantly beast fey, and Jeeves, the twelfth, was no exception. He had the wings of a raven, and the feathers rustled softly as he went quietly to the cradle and lifted the squalling infant, rocking him gently. "There, there little prince." He murmured. "You shall not die. At least, not before your time." He kissed the baby's forehead. "I cannot undo the thirteenth fairy's curse, for she is older and stronger than I. But I can give you this: not death, but sleep, from which only the first kiss of true love shall wake you."
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I'll come back to this later.
Date: 2009-07-12 12:12 pm (UTC)No one was expecting the thirteenth fairy. She hadn't been seen for so long that everyone had supposed she was dead up in her bone-white tower. Naturally, no one had dared to check, and all were shocked when she came in, her bleached, tissue-thin bat wings folded tight against her back. She had come to give her gift, and by all fairy law, none of them could stop her. Truthfully, none of them could stop her whether there was a rule about it or not, for she was a being of fearful power. So piqued was she at not having been invited, despite everyone pointing out that no one had even known she was alive to attend, she cursed the child, whose naturally sunny temperament had dissolved into piercing howls almost as soon as she appeared. She said that in his sixteenth year he would prick his finger on a spindle and die, and vanished in a puff of acrid smoke that just made the poor child cry louder, barely drowning out the collective gasp of shock. No one had expected a death curse. Such a thing simply wasn't done, and the king and queen stared in helpless shock.
The local fairies were predominantly beast fey, and Jeeves, the twelfth, was no exception. He had the wings of a raven, and the feathers rustled softly as he went quietly to the cradle and lifted the squalling infant, rocking him gently. "There, there little prince." He murmured. "You shall not die. At least, not before your time." He kissed the baby's forehead. "I cannot undo the thirteenth fairy's curse, for she is older and stronger than I. But I can give you this: not death, but sleep, from which only the first kiss of true love shall wake you."