Narrative: SWAN LAKE

Swan Lake

A voice exclaimed, “Ah, here he comes,”
And the queen, who was greeting her guests on the terrace of the palace, looked up with some relief, and saw her son, arriving on horseback, late for his own birthday celebration. By the gate of the garden he dismounted with arrogant agility, before springing up the steps on his long legs.
Many of the guests were gathered on the lawns before the palace. The royal and noble families of all Europe were well represented. And there was a particularly plentiful supply of pretty princesses of marriageable age. Now the message went around:
“He’s here, he’s arrived,”
All eyes were trained on the terrace, where the queen was presenting her son with his birthday gift. It was a crossbow with a silver handle that was intricately engraved with scenes of wild birds, hares, dear, and other game. There was polite applause, as Prince Siegfried slung the hunting weapon across his shoulder by its leather strap. He still wore the gift while he did his duty and mingled with the guests.
The prince had to find a handful of polite words for each and every guest. He found it somewhat trying at the best of times to make courtly small talk, and each time he was presented with a blushing princess, he could not help but feel irritated. He knew perfectly well what everyone, especially his mother, expected him to do. He was supposed to pick a princess for his bride.
That evening, he was greeted by mouths that were toothy and grinning, others that were delicate and demure, and still others that were luscious and red. He could choose from eyes that were feline green, chocolate brown, sky blue, or owl grey. There certainly was no shortage of princesses in all shapes sizes and complexions. But the whole situation seemed to him quite unbearable. Even a prince cannot be pressured into falling in love right on cue. As darkness fell, he slipped away from the crowd and retrieved his horse. By the time his birthday fireworks were lighting up the sky, he had reached the edge of the forrest.
Very little light from the stars of the moon came through the canopy of trees, but he and his horse knew the track well. They trod carefully, but he may have taken a different turning from usual, because he soon came across an unfamiliar clearing in the forrest, which, as he soon found, opened up onto a lake. The prince sat down on a tree stump not far from the water’s edge and listened to the gentle lapping of the waves. His thumb stroked the silver handle of his crossbow. When a group of swans came gliding across the moonlit water, he recalled that swans are said to mate for life. That, he thought, is because their love is natural and sincere. No-one tells a swan when he or she is supposed to marry.
One of the swans rose out of the water onto the bank ,where she stretched her long neck and flapped her wings. Prince Siegfried raised his crossbow and took aim. His finger felt the trigger, but although hunting was one of the keenest pleasures of his gilded life, he could not bring himself to shoot a creature so peaceful and beautiful. He lowered the weapon and put it on the mossy ground beside him. As he did so, his eyes grew a little misty.
“Dash it. Not tears,” he thought. His finger wiped away a salty drop from the corner of his eye. Now he saw that that a star was shining directly onto the swan. But she was no longer quite a swan. Her feathers were fading, and she was undergoing some sort of magical moonlit transformation. He stood up and walked towards the remarkable vision. By the time he reached the spot where she stood, she was more woman than a swan, and then she fell gently backwards into his arms.