Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in a kingdom long since lost to legend, there was born a fae prince. He was young and strong, and possessed a bitter, icy magic so powerful that it was said to have been gifted to him by the gods themselves. He was well-loved by all in the kingdom, and was set to inherit the throne as soon as he came of age.
However, the young prince grew arrogant in his power. “Never before have I been beat!” He would boast, flaunting his magic for all to see. “There is surely none in this kingdom who can best me.”
He was right.
The prince faced countless opponents in the name of the crown, claiming glory to his parents and to his kingdom. The true glory, however, was claimed by his hubris. He had never before tasted defeat, and his self-importance swelled to outrageous levels.
He grew so confident in his strength that he began seeking out opponents to face him in combat, inciting conflict simply to stroke his ego. Many urged the royal family to put an end to their son’s warmongering then and there, but the king and queen refused. The young prince was their only son, and they denied him no pleasures.
And so it went for a good number of years.
When the prince’s coronation began to draw near, however, the pleas of the royal advisers and noble families grew ever more desperate. For as the prince grew and matured, so did his magic. If we was not leashed soon, he would never submit to the wills of others. Already, in the eyes of the people he was soon to rule, he had become a dangerous menace, more likely to bring war than peace. Where he and his companions rode, fear followed them like a noxious cloud.
When his parents finally chose to heed the warnings of their subjects, however, it was too late to summon their errant son home. The prince had finally grown bored of ‘mortal’ opponents, and had turned his gaze to far more formidable threats. For the prince had learned of a deep wood that was secluded in the very heart of the kingdom, and of the dark secrets that it guarded.
The last of the ancient fae queens who built his very kingdom was said to slumber in that forest, and to guard her, dozens of immortal warriors from countless ages past.
And in the prince’s mind, what better opponent for an invincible prince was there than an immortal warrior? And what better way to prove his prowess to the kingdom than to woo and marry a beautiful queen with powers that would surely almost match his own?
It was a foolproof plan...... Or so the young prince thought.
For when he and several of his closest companions arrived in the heart of the fae queen’s forest, they found it empty. No matter how thoroughly they searched every glen and niche of the woods, the fae queen and her army were nowhere to be seen.
Overcome with embarrassment and rage, the prince refused to leave the woods without a trophy to present for his troubles.
In the end, he rode home with the corpse of a single, moon-white barn owl, the symbol of the queens of old.
Consumed by his shame and anger as he was, the young prince did not notice the blackness that consumed the stars above him. It followed the young prince all the way home.
No fanfare heralded his arrival in the capital. There was no parade to welcome the young prince and his brave companions home. In fact, it seemed that there was nobody left to celebrate at all.
I n ominous silence, the group made their way back to the throne room of the king and queen, anxiety mounting with each step.
They arrived to find seats of the monarchy were gone. Replaced, instead, by a throne woven of bone-white antlers. Draped across the throne was a creature of cobwebs and obsidian. The forest had not been quite so empty after all, for it was unquestionably a queen that now lounged in the throne room.
A queen whom had been gravely slighted.
The fae of old bore two forms, whereas the prince’s generation remembered only one. Mastery of both beast and humanoid skins was the claim of those ancient ancestors, and the barn owl which the young prince still carried had been one such ancestor.
In fact, it was the fae queen’s lover which dangled lifelessly from the young male’s hands.
In retribution for her lost lover, she bespelled the prince into a beastly body that she found befitting his true nature. His companions, though not directly guilty of crime, were cursed as well, their bodies bent into the forms of the beast-selves that their kind had long forgotten.
And what of the prince’s kingdom you ask? The grief-stricken queen razed it and all the people in it to the ground. She left the foolish prince and his companions with a prophecy, and vanished back into the dark woods from whence she came.
“A beast you were at heart, and a beast you are now in form. By love you are bound to me, and by love you may be freed. Only when the selfless love of another reaches your monstrous heart will the life debt owed to me be paid-.”
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Aelin Galathynius slammed the book shut with a disdainful sniff, and thunked it down on the table beside her chair. Curses, queens and true love. How cliche.
“Don’t you have anything more.... dastardly?” Aelin asked, wiggling her brows hopefully at the shop worker.
The stout older man shrugged and flashed the young woman an apologetic smile. “Nothing that you haven’t already read, miss. I’m afraid we’re running out of new materials for you. People in this town aren’t much for reading.”
Aelin sagged slightly and blew a small raspberry. “It was worth a shot.” She said mournfully, and heaved herself out of the plush chair. “Thank you for your time today, Vern, as always.”
The bookkeeper, Vern, smiled at her again. “And as always, you’re welcome to come back anytime. You’re about the only company me and these dusty books will get in this village.”
“I’ll be sure to stop by soon.” Aelin assured, a grin spreading across her face. “But for now, I have a shift to catch.”
And with those parting words, she breezed out of the shop and into the crowded morning market.