The Prince

The Classic story of Sleeping beauty but from the perspective of the prince who saves her.

As he peered out at the vast brambled and twisted woodland that was ahead of him, Prince Florian grabbed onto the reigns of his steed, keeping the horse as calm as possible. Slowly but surely, he and his squire followed the huntsman onwards. The second son of the powerful king Ardent, Florian was not to inherit the throne of the Hallow’s French as his eldest brother was. Thus, he was driven by a desire to carve out a name for himself entering the strange woodland that once covered this world most men called the “Hallow”. Populated by all sorts of monstrous horrors, the first men to inhabit this world were Pagan Germanic peasants who cowed before the witches and their false Gods, even sacrificing their children. Then into this twisted world came Florian’s forefathers. Fleeing from a catastrophic war waged between their original homeland of France against a rival kingdom called England, Florian’s great grandfather, the Count William was given the keys to the Hallow by a trusted alchemist. Florian always conquered any fear of the deep woodland by remembering how his French forefathers, clad in metal armour, guided by the true God did battle with these monsters.

Equipped with steel weapons and mighty bombards, cannons and explosive firesticks men called “muskets”, the Frenchmen slew many monsters and in place of twisted woodland, erected their tall cathedrals and labyrinthine stone castles. All Florian knew growing up was the Hallow, and France was now a distant memory to him and his kinsmen. His reason for this particular trip was not merely to hunt. Amidst the dark forest, his sleek but elegant tunic and plumed beret made him stick out like a sore thumb. But either out of stubbornness or raw courage, Florian continued till he heard a young Germanic voice called to him.

“Your Highness, over here!”

Curious, Florian rode over to where his young fair-haired squire, dressed in a yellow tunic was in deep conversation with a huntsman. A much older man with a long beard, dressed in a simple tunic and wolf pelts, the huntsman notably scowled when he saw the towering, well-built but much younger prince come into view. Florian had crystal blue eyes, a mop of short, tidy, jet-black hair and a fair smoothly shaven face. Florian’s swagger and pride seemed to come apart as he saw the giant wall of thorns that lay before them. He now began to get chills up his spine, even clinging to the sheathed broadsword attached to his belt as he dismounted his horse. The huntsman’s tone was harsh as he addressed the squire.

“Well, young Hansel, this is the place, the wall of thorns. It is said that beyond here, a whole Christian kingdom disappeared and no man for a hundred years has crossed this wall. Many young knights tried and failed! If I were you, I’d turn back!”

Although nervous, Hansel turned to Florian. His voice was clearly shaking.

“Your highness…the huntsman says we should turn back. No man has crossed this place for a hundred years.”

But Florian simply looked at the thorns. Hansel could tell that though he was afraid, Florian was clearly drawn to the thorns as if determined to see what was beyond. Florian turned to Hansel.

“But we can’t! This is the place in my nightmares! I know who lies beyond and I have to find her!”

“No!!”, the huntsman snapped, “You idiots!! Only death awaits you! Turn back!!”

“Are you afraid, Huntsman? The whole of this cursed woodland covered the Hallow before my great grandfather came. I’m sure he was told that triumph was impossible!”

“Afraid? No good prince, we simple German folk have learnt that caution is not the same as cowardice. I have slain many wolves with this axe but there are places in the Hallow that even I would not go!”

Florian was stunned by these words. But though there was much wisdom in what he heard from the huntsman, Florian’s determination to brave the thorns only grew. He turned back to the huntsman.

“Forgive me sir, but beyond those thorns lies a fair maiden who has haunted me in my dreams since I came of age. Some terrible monster has her at her mercy and it is clearly the will of God that whatever evil lurks here, it shall be slain. Anyone who wishes to come with me, please do.”

The huntsman looked at Florian with a mixture of frustration and begrudging respect. Young Hansel could only admire his courage and felt a desire to follow him. As Florian and Hansel began to climb, the huntsman’s tone was solemn.

“If the God of Christ wills it, so be it. Fight the evil that threatens this place. Hopefully you will triumph where others did not.”

He waited as he saw the two disappear up the wall and beyond. He sighed sadly, remembering the last knight he guided here to the walls. That knight went alone with a similar determination. He never saw that youth again.

As they slashed their through the thorns, using their knives to anchor themselves, Hansel got an eerie feeling as he followed Florian. Florian carefully maneuvered himself through the wall, sometimes brandishing his gleaming broadsword to slash his way through the thorns. As they pressed on, Florian suddenly shuddered, enough for Hansel to notice.

“Are you afraid, Florian?”

“Afraid, of course I am, but a whole kingdom needs my help. I know it…”

“Would it not be someone in particular? Is it true the stories that are told about this place? That a whole French kingdom went into a trance because the princess lies sleeping…”

“I believe so, I believe she’s the woman who haunts my dreams. But no one knows for sure because no man has ever returned from…”

Suddenly squire and prince alike went deathly pale at what they saw next. For tangled and trapped in the thorns ahead were the corpses of countless knights and princes, their eyes and mouth wide open in pure horror and pain. All these boys and young men looked as fresh as they were when they died. As if some force preserved them from decay, blood still dripping from their heavily armoured bodies. Such a sight chilled both Hansel and Florian to their bones. The way these men looked showed that all of them died in horrible pain as they got entangled by the thorns. As if determined to triumph where these knights failed, Florian and Hansel pressed on. Hansel clearly shivered through the situation for he had not known this kind of terror since he was a little boy. He remembered how he had been trapped in a cage to be eaten by a witch. Thanks to his older sister he had escaped but Hansel continued to be scared of that unnatural woodland. Yet here he was, following the younger son of King Ardent beyond the wall of thorns.

These walls were clearly the work of dark magic but what sort of witch was powerful enough to bring down a mighty French kingdom like this? Hansel and Florian pressed on till they finally cleared through the thorns and reached a clearing. In the distance beyond, Florian could see a giant stone castle, ringed and walled like the ones his forefathers built when they carved out their territory of the Hallow. Cautiously, he and Hansel approached the stone structure, for it had the uncanny feeling of being both dead and alive. It was adorned with vines and brambles. To their surprise, the gate was wide open. Hansel’s curiosity only grew.

“Your Highness, doesn’t this look too easy?”

“I know, whoever did this must have banked on the wall of thorns to keep us out…come on.”

The sun was setting and the moon was beginning to rise in the background. Crows had flocked to the castle walls. Hansel and Florian approached what looked like an altar made of pure stone, adorned with vines; lying on its surface was a book. Florian approached the altar as carefully as possible. He cautioned Hansel to stay back and light a torch as he opened the book. Florian was clearly impressed by the beautiful tapestry designs of the book but before he could turn another page, the wind began to blow around him. Hansel watched with alarm as Florian looked upwards towards a light in the sky. As it glowed upon him, Florian had to shield his eyes as he heard a soft feminine voice speaking to him.

“Royal Prince! You’re the first to come here in one hundred years! If you wish to press on and vanquish evil, read on…”

Hungry for answers, Florian turned the page of the book, only to be suddenly drawn into a vision. He could witness but not interfere as he saw the events that befell this lost kingdom. It had all begun with a war between the Hallow’s fairy folk: between the Seelie Court and the more monstrous Unseelie Court. The good creatures of the Seelie Court were on the verge of defeat so the French King Stefan had intervened to save them, turning the tide of the war. In reward, the three Queens of the Seelie Court attended the christening of his new born daughter Aurore, a name that Florian strangely remembered from his dreams. But out of spite at not receiving an invitation, Carabosse, the high queen of the Unseelie Court gate-crashed the christening, cursing the princess to die on her sixteenth birthday.

The third queen of the Seelie court reduced the power of the curse so that she would not die but fall asleep, and be awoken by a brave youth who loved her. But the curse remained. Seeing that Florian was in some sort of trance, Hansel nervously approached him. He reached his hand out to Florian only to be drawn into the vision. They both saw what Florian had often seen in his nightmares: the fair, golden haired princess, clearly bewitched as she came up to the spinning wheel. Florian now tried to move, but he couldn’t. He was forced to watch as she approached, briefly raising her hand, looking to inspect it. Florian could hear Hansel shouting.

“No!! No, my lady!! Don’t!! It’s a trap!!”

But the princess clearly couldn’t hear them. The two could only look on in horror as a clawed hand emerged from the hooded finger by the spinning wheel. The clawed hand grabbed the hand of the princess and jabbed it against the spindle. The two felt a visceral shock as they saw the beautiful young maiden stumble as if struck by a headache. She fell to the ground and the cackle the hooded figure let out terrified Hansel. But Florian felt a different emotion: Resolve. For as soon as he and Hansel snapped out of the vision, Florian brandished his gleaming broadsword and under the darkening sky, looked up at the castle. Coal black crows waited eagerly on its walls, croaking as the moon glowed upon the scene. The two heard a shrill scream that chilled their spines. Hansel was now feeling chilly.

“Your Highness, what was that?”

“That must be Carabosse, Queen of the Unseelie Court. She must awake each night and she’s not happy to know we breached her wall of thorns.”

“And you’re going to face her with just that sword?”

“By the name of God, yes! We’re going to face her. Those dreams I’ve had; they were signals from Aurore herself! Come on!”

Summoning his courage, Hansel held the torch high and let it glow as he followed Florian to the entrance of the keep. Sparks emitted from the burning torch as the two entered. There was a weird feeling at the sight of the various members of Stephan’s court in heavy sleep scattered around the castle. Ranging from pages, maids to heavily armoured royal guardsmen, their bodies decorated the keep. As they navigated a dark corridor up to the lady’s bedchamber, both Hansel and Florian could see that the walls were adorned with all sorts of weapons of all kinds. They ranged from swords, halberds to some sort of repeating crossbow. As he looked around him, Hansel was rather disappointed not to see any of those explosive firesticks that the King’s men now wielded against beasts. But his eyes widened with curiosity at the crossbow. He reached his hand to touch it when suddenly of footsteps could be heard shaking the ground. As soon as he heard a guttural snarl, Florian grabbed a shield from the wall. He braced himself and held his broadsword in position as against the wall was a massive hunched shape with clawed hands. Even Florian began to shudder as he saw her sickly green eyes in her elongated and grotesque face.

Clearly enraged that Florian had breached her wall of thorns, this ogre like monstrosity didn’t wait to introduce herself. She slashed at Florian with her claws, but he braced for these attacks with his shield. At times, Florian parried her swipes with his gleaming broadsword, even managing to slash her arm. Much to his horror, Florian noticed that the deep wounds his sword inflicted on Carabosse healed up quickly. Still, he fought on, buying Hansel time to grab and load the repeating crossbow. Just as Carabosse raised her clawed hands for another slash, Hansel unleashed a volley of crossbow bolts which drilled into her chest and embedded themselves there. Enraged, she lunged at Hansel, who grabbed his torch and swung it in sheer panic. Touched by fire, Carabosse screamed in agony as the flame seared through her green flesh of her arm. Furious, she raised her razor-sharp claw to lunge at Hansel, only for Florian to slash the arm, making a permanent wound.

Hansel and Florian looked at each other with surprise. Hansel, remembering his own nightmarish past felt an idea flash through his head.

“Your Highness…I have an idea!! Follow me!”

Too busy to question Hansel’s plan, Florian carefully retreated down the steps, bogging down Carabosse at every step. When his sword broke, he grabbed another weapon from the wall to delay her. Thus, he bought his ever-faithful squire time to reach the fireplace of the keep and start a fire. Hansel felt his heart race as he bent over the fireplace, desperately coaxing the flames into life. By now, Florian’s shield was torn to pieces and the sweating prince was now wielding a giant two-handed sword. Ducking her blows, Florian held her at bay until Hansel had succeeded lighting the fire. Grabbing the crossbow, Hansel fired more bolts at Carabosse to get her attention. Enraged, her green eyes glowed at him and she lunged at Hansel with both clawed hands extended on front of her. At the last second, Hansel ducked out of the way, leading the Unseelie Queen to plunge straight into the fireplace. Her screeches echoed through the castle as she lit up in flame.

With one final blow, Florian brought down his two-handed sword. The metal blade slashed through her neck, silencing her screeches for good. Both Hansel and Florian panted in disbelief as they saw Carabosse’s charred corpse before them. Now sensing the smell of burnt flesh between his nostrils, Florian just stood there. He heard Hansel’s voice beside him.

“You did it! She’s dead!!”

Florian wrapped his arm around his squire.

“No, we did it. Come on, Hansel, one last deed to perform. We didn’t just come here to kill a faery.”

Hansel followed the Prince up the winding staircase of the keep till they reached the lady’s bedchamber. Slowly and nervously, Florian opened the door as Hansel held the glowing torch. Florian’s blue eyes widened as he saw what lay before him. Hansel also gasped as sprawled on the bed, laying there like a statue was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Dressed in a bluish green embroidered dress, her skin was bleached white and her lips were drained of any colour. Her corn yellow hair went right down to her waist in long golden tresses that covered her shoulders. Hansel broke the silence with a whisper.

“Is that her? The Princess?”

“Yes, just like how I saw in my dreams.”

“She’s beautiful…how do we wake her up?”

“She was pricked, maybe that is the key.”

Hansel shone the torch, giving Florian the light needed to check Aurore’s left hand. There, Florian saw that the spindle was still stuck in her finger. Summoning a certain level of courage, Florian drew the spindle out of her finger. Hansel tore a part of his tunic, giving it to Florian to wrap around Aurore’s finger. Florian checked to see if there was any change in her predicament but there seemed to be none. Puzzled, Florian shook her gently, but there was still no response. Hansel watched as the prince sadly kissed her on the forehead and solemnly kneeled beside her, closing his eyes. As he knelt, Florian suddenly sensed movement on the bed and heard a gentle female voice call to him.

“Florian? Is that you? After all this time?”

Surprised, Florian opened his eyes in pleasant shock as he saw the princess now awake. Her aquamarine blue eyes fully open looking down at him from her bed. Her skin was now flushed pink; her fair cheeks had turned rosy while her lips were red. The sight of her so full of life made Florian overjoyed but he was also confused.

“It is I, Aurore, but how do you know my name?”

“You came to me Florian, in my dreams.”

Suddenly, Florian, clearly overjoyed at the triumph of his quest stood up. He lifted Aurore into his arms as they embraced and kissed. But then Aurore became nervous.

“What of Carabosse? Will she catch us?”

“Carabosse is dead, my dear. We slew her.”

“We?”

“Oh…”

Florian lowered Aurore down so that she could stand up. She leaned against Florian to balance herself, for she had not stood up in a hundred years. Hansel sheepishly bowed before the princess.

“My squire, Hansel. He was a peasant boy; my father found him and his sister abandoned in the woods. His quick thinking allowed me to slay Carabosse.”

Hansel felt embarrassed as he stood before these dazzling and gorgeous grown-ups. He felt sad as he saw more love between them in this brief moment than he had ever seen between his own parents. But then, clearly glad that the boy had helped break her curse, Aurore reached out her hand, beckoning him to come over. She hugged him, still keeping an arm around Florian. As the three embraced, the sun could be seen gleaming through the castle’s windows. The church bells clanged as the kingdom returned to life.