The life of the blind prince

There once was a man who wore a long stretch of cloth over his eyes, he was blind. As brother to his king, he did his best to not embarrass him of ineptitude and stayed out of his way. Always respectful and upright, he spent his days listening to servants reading him stories but what he enjoyed most of all was music. The prince had singers and musicians come from all over the kingdom to perform for him so much that before he was full grown, the castle was already known far and wide as the melodious palace.

The notes and vocalizations animated his empty world. From nothingness, he could almost see the sounds dance in harmony in his mind.

His enthusiastic sister, enjoying the constant melodies livening the castle, organized extravagant balls to go with them. Men and women of high birth came to hear the rumored divine harmonies of the melodious palace. They were charmed instantly and the place became instantly popular for both renowned dancers and artists hoping to have their instruments heard.

Tap, tap, crunch, echoes in the dark.

Noises unceasing, blurry background to a disjointed cacophony.

Helped by a servant, the prince wandered the halls searching for what were those painful sounds disturbing his charming peace.

He found it, louder and louder he heard what felt like the whole world talking and stomping wildly.

"Guide me there." He told the servant.

He slipped in the room, unnoticed.

He leaned against the wall and took in the sound of chaos, curious.

For days he repeated those actions, slowly attempting to sense what was happening around him.

For him, this was a sort of game, a way to pass the time. Asking himself what they were all doing, what they were saying.

At first, he mastered the voices, attempting to listen to all conversation at once, through the loud music and cheers.

Then, the incessant tapping, what was it, what were they doing in the hall? Where all these sounds feet? Following the beat of the instruments in an ambiguous synchronicity.

Dancing.

He could hardly tell what it looked like through the soundscape, there were too much noise mixed in to follow.

"Would my lord care for a dance as well?"

A voice, gentle and feminine, just at his side, the servant. A longtime confident.

A misinterpretation of his desires born from good intentions.

"Not here."

He stepped out of the hall and extended a hand for her to take. The music still clearly audible here behind the inner door, no witness to his inexperience, a perfect place to try.

Her fingers entwined with his own and he brought her close in answer to her kind instructions.

Her flesh warm with life, the skin of her hand smooth as a daisy on one side and rough on the other, damaged by work. Her scent, a mix of lilac and honey, was appealing but offset by traces of smoke from his fireplace. Her breath caressed his cheek while her words had him move in tandem with her.

This moment was burnt in his heart.

Neither were good dancers but it mattered not.

The dance itself mattered not.

It was the proximity of each other they enjoyed, a pretext to share those moments.

Nonetheless, the prince applied himself to the task, wishing to impress her with his performance.

They repeated the experience time and again, the man was no longer content of being a cripple.

He willed her loyalty and affection rewarded. After months of daily practice, he learned to hear her steps perfectly, the rustling of her clothes as they moved, her heart beating according to his own.

They were ready, to her surprise, he led her by the hand, not in the backroom but in the main hall instead.

She wanted to flee but he held her hand firmly.

She wanted to protest but still followed at his behest.

He cut straight through the crowd, dodging the moving nobles by listening to their heels clapping on the marble. Reaching the main stage, he had his oldest friend stand in front of him and in a flurry, undid the cloth masking his eyes.

Those were useless, they could not see but they could still move and locked their pupils to her face.

The world he could not see and the crowd he could not distinguish but her he could feel. She was the only thing he could see, in nothing but infinite darkness without colors nor shape, she was there. The shape of her face, the texture of her clothes, the curls of her hair and the loving warmth of her hands. Those all were like resounding colors to his ears, perfumed shapes to his nose, through the darkness, a sweet light to his lips.

He wanted her to see through his dead eyes the life he wanted to share with her for a long time more.

Once more they danced, this time for real, taking the eyes of visitors from all over the kingdom as witness.

They lost themselves to the rhythm.

His world was made of only her, when something intruded, he would lead the dance away from it. In the center of the crowd, nothing reached him or his beloved. The steps around them quieted, the voices ceases, all stared, transfixed by the enchanting performance the prince and the servant presented.

The world he perceived reshaped itself to match his steps, as the dances around them resumed, their discordance dissipated with the echoes of the old notes. A new dance had begun, none dared to step out of the prince's beat. All followed into his world, the sounds merged into a perfect harmonious whole. The songstresses vocalized their awe as the musicians colluded wit the rest and soon, the whole castle was lit with divine harmony, the whole surroundings and even the whole capital city soon resounded with it.

Then, his feet stopped and his lips met hers, silence all around but for the beat of their hearts peaking like never before.

Then the clamor of applause came from all sides, starting from the sister of the prince and spreading spontaneously.

When the clapping abated, a voice resounded through the hall. It was a sound like brushing leaves and rivulets of water, clear and pure but melodious like a songbird.

"Splendid!" It claimed.

"I had long heard of the melodious palace and wished to see for myself. I did not come in vain."

Rustles of disquiet were heard throughout the place, something was off.

"Truly, this kingdom is a place of fine arts. I am the old fae of the underforest and I wish to reward you for you are the root cause of this magnificent work."

The mysterious fae offered him what felt in his fingers like a whistle of rough wood. In typical fairy fashion, she told the crowd that she would make one of his wishes come true, but only one. When he was ready, he only had to blow once into the whistle and she would soon be by his side.

After the old fae had left, the prince married his faithful servant and continued to sharpen his senses and coordination. He led a good life until one day, the kingdom knew war, assaulted by their neighbors intent on making a vassal out of them.

The prince greatly desired to help his brother but he did not posses the means to do so. His wife told him that his brother would be able to handle it by himself but he feared he might not be enough.

Deep into the night, when no one was looking, he called upon the age old entity, almost forgotten after years of peace.

He told her of his wish and she agreed to make it come true.

"I will show you how to help your brother, for you it will be easy. Love and hate, peace and war, life and death, move thy fate, cease and soar, wife you met. You could hear it for a long time already, all are the same. Feel the drums of war for they are your lover's heart, play the string of their hearts and hear the echoes of their hate. This is the first stage, engrave it in your bones.

If you want to dance with death,

can't chance your breath.

Feel your own life, clear.

Breathe, can you hear?

A rhythm of your own.

Attune it, overgrown,

through the world, all is one.

This is a dance for kings not everyone.

Rule your heart to rule theirs too.

Get your arms, not one but two.

One above to chase the blow.

One bellow to close the show.

Can you see ahead, nothing

moving left, spinning

moving right, twirling

Can you see behind, nothing

Living, shift, dying

Going, shift, coming

shock them with a pincer

Back them in a corner

Faster and faster

Until a third master

now, do not hear the music

now, breathe, be the music"

The words acted like a spell on him. Was it fairy magic or ancient sorcery, he knew not. Then, he felt something take a hold of him. Soft hands, viscous appendages, rough needle-like fingers, the sensation wrapping all around his body changed constantly.

"Accept the changes, they will help you just as much as the words. Those are the teachings of my kind, if you can understand them, I will come back to teach you what's next. This is the royal sword dance, it can sing life and death."

The very next day, he was heard in the yard with twin swords in hands. Just like when he had learned to dance for the first time, he practiced incessantly, this time for a very special dance.

The fairy came back soon, and then again, and then again.

When he had almost mastered the fourth stage, he marched with the royal army and met a great general in combat.

A knight challenged him and was instantly defeated. The prince could see the whole battlefield, sounds everywhere to feed his senses. He could pinpoint everyone from their breath and beating hearts, dodge arrows by the sound they made piercing the air and escape swords by the slicing sound they made cutting wind.

Another one came, he reached the second stage. His arms a blur cut through armor and bones.

Five came at once, he reached the third stage. He now seemed immobile but they died all the same.

Twenty came to stop him, he reached the fourth stage. Six swords gleamed in the sun but all the prince saw were the sounds of a myriad weapons colliding around him. Spells came from above and bellow, he spun about and and chained the blows. In a circle around him, the knights rained swords upon his form but did not hit their target. He gave them a smile and stomped the ground in rhyme.

He needed not touch his own blades for they only needed the song of his life to follow his cadence.

As he danced in this field of death, the swords surrounded him like they had a life of their own. They dove at his rhythmic commands and fell back with a timely step.

His battle was won, but the war was lost.

He had stalwartly held the enemy in place but there were too many and from a split, came from the far south. The kingdom was forced to surrender.

A voice came from ahead, telling him that if he laid down his arms, he would escorted back home safely, nothing would be done to him. It was a trustworthy voice, the prince agreed.

The kingdom fell and became a vassal but both king and prince lived with all those who surrendered.

The prince was recognized for his heroic performance and made into the all important duke of the northern grove. The enemy general, greatly admired his technique and often came to visit in a friendly way eventually binding himself to the prince's sister. The kingdom did not suffer and the prince calmed down. He never ceased to practice the dance but never had to use it in war again. Only his enormous ballroom saw its grace and dignity again.

He had many children with his single wife and ended his days peacefully in his own palace north of the kingdom.

--- Woes and heroes of our woods. The life of the blind prince.