I own nothing but my words.

This is a One Day Wonder. As soon as Grammaw Raven eleven is beta'd, it'll be up, I swear!

I always wanted to rewrite a fairy tale. So, may I present a Sentinel Fairy Tale -- or maybe a Fairly Stupid Tale (bonus points for anyone who gets the reference) -- based on one of my favorites from when I was a child: The Twelve Dancing Princesses. In a big way, this was Fox's fault. she said, "Entertain me!" so I did. Or at least I *tried*!

Heart's Desire or
The Twelve Dancing Heirs, a Sentinel Fairy Tale by MrsHamill

Once upon a time there was a man, an ex-soldier who had seen the world, fought the world, and grown weary of it. He was scarred -- inside and out -- and tired. While still young enough to enjoy his life, he left the army he had served for so long and began to travel, looking for something or someplace or someone, not knowing if he would find any of them, but still seeking.

One day, as he approached a large, well-kept city, he noticed an old woman. She sat by the side of the dusty, crowded road, her head bowed, rocking back and forth -- apparently in some distress. The man, as he approached the place where she sat, saw several well-dressed travelers hurry by her, ignoring her. But he was a kind-hearted soul -- for all he had killed many times in service to his army -- so as he came abreast of her, he stopped and crouched.

"Old Mother," he said softly, touching her shoulder. "What's wrong? Can I be of help to you?"

She looked up, and he was saddened to see the tears pouring down her face. "My cat, my cat," she sobbed pitifully. "He's my only companion and he's trapped in a tree, deep in the forest. I cannot get him down. And no one will help me."

The man looked over her shoulder to where the dark forest -- one that started near the city and went on for miles -- began. "Let me help you," he said, thinking most people wouldn't want to help her because a cat was considered bad luck -- or perhaps assuming the woman was a witch, or cursed, or mad. "Can you lead me to the tree?"

The old woman smiled toothlessly, wiped her eyes on her grimy shawl, and nodded. "Oh, thank you, thank you," she said. "But I have no coin to pay you," she added, and he waved his hand.

"No need, Old Mother," he said, smiling. "It will not harm me to take some time out of my day to help one in need. Come now, show me where your puss is caught."

She slowly, painfully climbed to her feet and began to hobble off toward the woods. After a moment, he stopped her. "It would be faster and easier for both of us if I carried you," he offered, hesitantly, lest she find his offer patronizing. "You can hop on my back, if you've a will."

Her smile turned beaming. "Truly you are a good boy," she replied, climbing on his back once he had crouched down for her. "What is your name, son?" she asked, gripping his broad shoulders tightly.

"I am called James," he said, striding off in the direction she indicated, "from the town of Els. It is a long way from here," he added.

"Well, James Els-son, you have a good, kind heart, which deserves reward," she said confidently. "You see that large tree? Take the left fork of the path there."

For nearly an hour the old woman directed James on his path, deeper and deeper into the cool, shadowy wood. Carrying her was no problem; James' shoulders were strong and his back still unbowed, for all there were the beginnings of gray in his short hair. Finally, they stopped at the foot of a tall, straight elm tree. From far above him, James could hear the pitiful yowling of a cat, and his heart softened further.

"Oh, my poor baby..." the old woman sobbed, climbing down from her perch on his back. "Can you help him? He's all I have left and I fear for his life should he be here overnight."

James examined the large tree. The lowest branches were many feet above his head, and the bole was smooth, with no place for hand-holds. Scratching his head, he glanced around the small glade, trying to figure out a way to get himself up into the tree. While he thought, he removed his belt and shoes and set his broadsword and pack aside. About ten feet away from the elm grew an ancient pin oak; the branches of both trees mingled overhead to dapple the ground in a pleasant green light. The oak divided much further down, and James headed for it.

Climbing the other tree was easy, and soon James was many feet above the ground and out on a long branch which reached for the elm. Carefully, he swung his feet over and looped them around a branch, then inched his way in towards the bole of the elm. The cat still cried above him, so he kept climbing. Before long, he burst into full afternoon sunlight, and there, trapped in a cleft of the tree, was the cat.

It was a smoky black in color, and had one blue eye and one green eye -- both of which examined him warily. Chuckling, James held his hand out for the cat to sniff, knowing that the old woman's scent would cling to him. "Well, it's a pretty pickle you've gotten yourself into, puss," he murmured as the cat rubbed his face against his hand. "Looks like your paw and tail are wedged in there pretty good. Let's see if we can free them."

Wrapping his long, strong legs around the now-slender trunk of the tree, James gently and patiently began un-sticking the poor cat. Although it tried to fight him -- out of panic, James knew, and not from malice -- James ignored its claws and shortly had the cat free of the tree. Encouraging it to go down backwards, he led the creature down.

As he descended just below and to one side of the cat, it seemed to James that the small animal he had freed was becoming bigger and bigger, until it was almost as long as he was tall. Frowning, James stopped and shook his head sharply; surely he was mistaken. But as he got closer to the shadowed ground, he realized the tiny cat had become a large, ferocious-looking predator, and the old woman he could just make out on the ground below him seemed no longer to be bent and wizened, but instead appeared to glow with her own light.

James did not believe in sorcery. He believed in the power of his sword, of his fists and of his head, and he had seen too much in his life to be concerned about magic of any kind, bad or good. Yet here he was faced with a puzzle. Should he continue down he might be facing some sort of magical death. But then again, he had faced death many times and had not quailed, and anyway, where else was he to go?

Sliding carefully down the last ten feet, James landed with a thump at the base of the tree and turned to face the woman. It was true: the cat was no longer a puss but instead a huge jungle feline, and the woman no longer aged, but ageless, her long red hair cascading in curls down her back, porcelain skin on her elfin face.

She smiled down at the cat, which rubbed its great head against her leg, then turned back to James.

"James Els-son," she said, her voice no longer cracked but musical, "you have proven yourself to be good, kind, gentle, and wise. You have helped an old woman with no thought of reward for yourself, and for that alone, deserve a gift. What would you have the lady Naomi give you, James Els-son? What is your heart's desire?"

James blinked. Obviously, this Lady Naomi was a woman of some power, and while he didn't wish to offend her, he honestly could not think of a thing. "I don't know," he said finally. "To say truth, madam, I don't really understand what's in my heart yet, and therefore can't request what it desires. I'm sorry."

"Honest, too," she murmured, smiling. The great cat sat at her feet, and James could feel its rumbling purr from where he stood. "The town you approach is Sand's Burgh," she said, "and the king there faces a dilemma. Are you aware of it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied promptly. "He wishes to know what happens to his twelve heirs every night, and the one who finds out gains one of those heirs as consort and half the kingdom." He smiled a little, wryly. "I had thought to perhaps try my hand at the puzzle myself, except I'm very fond of my head and wouldn't want to lose it by failing."

She threw her head back and laughed musically. "A good answer. Very well then, for helping me, I will give you what I believe you need, James Els-son; and, if you choose to use my gift to help King Sand, a second thing I will give you, as well. My gift to you is the senses of my pet, this cat here. You will now see, hear, feel, smell and taste better than any man alive; you shall hear and feel merest flutter of a gnat's wing an ell off."

James' eyes opened wide in shock -- it was true! The forest, before then merely a dark and quiet place, now came alive for him, with all the noises, rustles, breezes, scents and light that he could have never heard, seen or felt before. Entranced, he spun slowly in place, his face reflecting his rapture and awe. A loud crunching noise signaled a beetle chewing on a leaf. A glimmer in the distance was a cardinal landing on a branch yards and yards off. The scent of skunk came strongly to his nose, but his ears told him the creature was on the other side of the wood. How miraculous!

Turning back to her, he bowed as low as he was able. "My lady," he gasped. "This is a gift beyond compare! I -- I don't know what to say!"

She seemed pleased at that, and smiled in acknowledgement. "Will you now go seek to help King Sand with his problem?" she asked, her eyes serious.

James' brow furrowed in thought. With his enhanced senses, he should be able to figure out the puzzle within the three days given. Even though he wondered if half a kingdom was actually his heart's desire, he didn't really have to accept it if offered, anyway. "Yes," he decided. "I believe I shall."

Beaming, she drew herself up and, before his very -- enhanced -- sight, began to fade away. "Then my second gift to you is your heart's desire," she said, her voice fading as her body did. "You will know it when you receive it," she added; then she was gone, and only the great cat was left.

Eyeing the creature thoughtfully, James put his boots back on, refastened his sword, and threw his pack over his arm. When he was ready, the cat stood, turned, and -- with one look over its shoulder -- walked back the way they had come. "Clearly, you're to show me the way out," James murmured, and the cat paused, glanced back at him, and continued.

Before long they were back at the edge of the wood, and James looked out at the road and the town in dismay. While his senses were a joy and a delight in the quiet of the woods, the crowded road and even more crowded city jangled at his nerves harshly, causing him to wince at the sounds, the sights, and even worse... the smells. He looked down to the cat by his side. "How do you stand it, cat?" he asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

The cat looked up at him, almost seeming to laugh at his predicament. Then it shook its head violently, sneezing explosively. "Bless you," James said, automatically, then grinned. "Ah. I get it. You don't. But you ignore what you can."

With one gentle head-butt, the cat turned and loped back into the woods, leaving James to his fate. Squaring his shoulders, struggling to dampen and contain his new senses, James walked back to the road and into town, to his fate.

King Sand the Ninth faced a terrible problem, the chamberlain explained to James as he led the ex-soldier into the palace. He had twelve heirs, both male and female -- not one of the lot any good. They were from different mothers -- as was the custom in that land -- ranging in age from seventeen to twenty-three, and ranging in disposition from spoiled to lazy. Afforded the best education the king could find, they nonetheless showed no interest in much of anything, including learning how to rule the kingdom. The king was getting on in years. A successor must be chosen.

But worse than that puzzle was the puzzle of the shoes. Every night, the twelve heirs were locked into their suite, which comprised most of the east wing of the castle. There was no way for any of them -- much less all of them -- to leave without being noticed, and of late, his Majesty had doubled the guard. But every morning, the heirs woke late, exhausted, and their dancing slippers were worn out, as if they had walked and danced all night. It was simply impossible.

Spies had been sent in. They all failed, having fallen asleep or become ill or something. The heirs always stridently professed their innocence. But still, every night the shoes were worn through.

In desperation, the king finally announced a trial: one person, locked into the suite with the heirs, for three nights. Whichever person solved the riddle of the shoes got his or her choice of the lot as consort, and half the kingdom. The whole kingdom better yet, the chamberlain muttered quietly -- to himself, he thought, but James, of course, heard it and smiled secretly.

James allowed himself to be bathed, groomed, and dressed properly for presentation to the king, all the while thinking about the puzzle. Shortly after sunset, he was wearing fine blue silk and white linen, feeling more than a little foolish, and entering the long dining chamber where the king would eat with the royal heirs.

One by one the young people entered the dining room, and all of them noticed James. They stopped and stared -- some curiously, some belligerently, some speculatively. However, none of them noticed how much he noticed them -- the six handsome young men and six lovely young women were all carefully assessed by the ex-soldier. Most had dark hair but some had reddish-brown. Most had blue eyes and most were slightly below average height. It didn't surprise James to see that the king, when he entered shortly after the last of the heirs had come into the room, was small in stature with dark hair and blue eyes.

He seemed to be, however, a good and wise man, exasperated by his children and worried for his kingdom. He greeted James heartily, as one man to another, cutting short the bow James tried to give him with a tut-tut. Before seating James at his right hand, he introduced his brood.

Three of the young people in particular caught James' eye. One, introduced as Belinda and the eldest, had dark red-brown hair and a heart-shaped face that appeared haughty and aloof. She nodded to James when they were introduced, assessed him quickly with a penetrating and avaricious gaze, then just as quickly dismissed him. She would bear watching, he thought, for she seemed to be as scheming as she was beautiful.

The second, Baird, was the second-eldest of the male heirs, and seemed to be as much captivated by his own body as anything. He was well-formed and muscular, and seemed strong, but James could tell by the grasp of his hand as they were introduced that those hands had never done any work beyond lifting weights. Baird gave James a languorous once-over that made James feel like a piece of meat. Somehow, however, James felt the assessment was more for his possibilities as an opponent than as a lover.

The third to grab James' attention was the youngest male heir -- number nine in the hierarchy. He was shorter than the other young men; his hair was dark and curly and fell about his face like a cloud. No body-worshipper he, but still, James could sense a wiry strength within him, and his hands were callused like a scholar's. He gave James the only true, honest welcome of the evening -- aside from the king's -- and his smile lit the room with brilliance. His name, James learned, was Blair.

While food was served, the king talked to James, asking him penetrating questions, looking for information on the places James had seen, and obviously assessing James as a possible successor. The dinner was lively and loud, and James found himself more than once wincing at the high-pitched laughter of the ladies. The gift of the Lady Naomi -- whoever she was -- was almost as much of a curse as a boon, he decided, a wry smile playing about his face. But then again, James was always as much at home in the forest as the city, and the idea of living in the peace there did not dismay him.

Blair, seated to the king's left, caught the smile and returned it. "Do you find us so amusing, Sir James?" he asked in a teasing voice. The king glowered at him, but Blair merely grinned back.

"It's just James, Your Highness," James replied, unable to keep from smiling at the young man. "I've never received a commission. I'm merely a common soldier."

"Common is right," he heard another girl -- Beryl, he thought -- whisper to Belinda. "He certainly looks edible, but he's hardly fit to be seen in public."

"Not to worry, sister," Belinda replied, sotto voce. "He'll fail, like all the rest. In three days' time that hard, lovely neck will be separated and..." Belinda had glanced up and found James' eyes on her, and now she blanched slightly, falling silent. James tried to keep from scowling, but knew he was making a poor show of it.

He was saved from the situation by Blair's voice, which was just as lovely as the man himself. "Father," Blair was wheedling, "I know it's expensive, but I simply must have it. It's a one-of-a-kind. My collection is simply not complete without it. Please, Father."

Before James could speculate on what type of collection it was -- animal? weaponry? -- the king spoke. "Blair, the trip to Byzantium is much too far, and much too dangerous, and all for a book? I don't think so."

"But it's not as if you don't have enough heirs, Father, you could miss one," Blair argued. "I'm sure I'd be fine, and I'd be back within the year."

"No." Cutting off further conversation, the king rose and a silence fell at the table. "My children. This man, James of Els, is your new, ah, guardian. I expect you to accord him all due courtesy." He glowered around the table and saw only angelic smiles in return. "As you know, I'm still struggling with the question of succession. What happens to James of Els may yet have a bearing on that question."

Belinda's eyes narrowed at that, James noticed, and one of Baird's eyebrows went up. Blair didn't seem to have a reaction at all, as he was still stewing over his father's refusal.

Nodding to the table and especially to James, the king said, "I retire now. Goodnight, my children." The king left the table then, followed by his page, his seneschal, his chamberlain, two footmen, four guards and a cat. James watched him go with a slight smile, realizing that he had grown to like the old man during the short time of their chat.

Lock-down, as James thought of it, came at ten o'clock. Once the suite was secured, no one would be allowed in or out until daybreak. Before that time, he strolled in the garden outside the east wing, a pleasant place of fragrant trees and bushes with a small, tamed stream running through the middle of it. Standing under a large flowering tree, James let his new sense of smell overwhelm him with the fragrance of the blossoms, cleansing him of the stench of the city and its inhabitants. A whisper caught his ear, and, frowning, he focused on it. It was Blair, to his surprise, with another of the heirs -- Benjamin, he thought, but there were just too many B names to remember them all clearly.

"I don't like it," Blair was saying. His voice held a plaintive cast. "Sir James seems like such a good man. I'd hate to have him behead--"

"What, you want to go against Belinda and Basil?" his companion hissed. "You know the compact they made."

"They made it, Benjy," Blair replied. "Them, not us. We don't have anything to do with it."

"Semantics, Blair, semantics," was the exasperated reply. "You go with us every night, therefore, the compact affects you too." James pricked up his ears. "I don't like it much either, you know. But once you go..." There was a rustle of cloth that James interpreted as a shrug. "It's addicting. You know that."

Blair made a soft, dissatisfied noise, and the two young men drifted off, leaving James to think, and think hard.

The bed he was shown to was just inside the door to the suite of rooms claimed by the royals. Anyone coming or going out would have to go past his bed, ensuring that the front door was secure. Before he settled in, James made a fast pass through the rooms, familiarizing himself with the layout -- as any good soldier would -- and checked for any other entrances.

The suite was comprised of a short hallway, ending in a large mirror, with four doors on opposite sides. On the left was a large bedroom for the ladies, with a washroom adjacent. On the right was the same, for the gentlemen. There were no windows, no other doors, no other egress other than through his bed chamber, a medium-sized room directly off the front door.

Settling in for the night, James was relieved to get out of the fancy silks and into his plain cotton shirt and pants. He removed his boots, but left a pair of soft hunter's footgear nearby, so he could easily put them on. He laid a few necessary items out for himself, including his knife, his cloak, and his flint and steel, before lying back on the too-soft bed.

Before he could quite get comfortable, a soft rap on the door brought him back upright. From the sound of it, it was at least two of the ladies. One of them, unless he was mistaken, was Belinda. "Come in," he called, and the door opened.

As he had suspected, Belinda stood there, with one of the other girls -- Brenda? Beatrice? -- who held a silver cup. James hastily stood and bowed. "Oh, no need for that, sir... Sir James," Belinda said, and it was obvious the honorific stuck in her throat. "We just wanted to wish you a good night, and to share an evening cup with you."

James' nostrils flared. He smelled the dark wine within the cup, and also smelled the strong soporific the medics used on the field of war to deaden and relax those badly injured. The wine was laced liberally with it, enough to keep him sleeping all night and most of the next day. Not letting any of this revelation show, he smiled at the two of them. "That's very kind of you, Highnesses," he said cautiously.

Belinda took the cup from her sister and offered it to James. "May you sleep the sleep of the just, sir," she said, leaving James with a quandary. He could not drink the drugged wine, and yet could not refuse out of politeness (and as well, he felt this might be the way to solve the riddle).

He was saved by a crash from the hallway. He looked beyond the girls through the open door, which made them turn as well. He quickly poured the wine into the overstuffed pillow at the head of his bed, then by the time they turned back, had mimed drinking. "Someone must have slipped," he said, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. "I thank you for the wine, Highnesses, and wish you a good rest."

Frowning slightly, Belinda and her sister nodded perfunctorily to his bow, and turned to leave his room, closing the door behind them. James pulled out the damp pillow and secreted it beneath his bed, making a mental note to find a small basin for the next night. He had little doubt that the same scene would occur. He laid himself down on the bed, pulled the covers up to hide the fact that he was still completely dressed, and closed his eyes.

When the door eased open a crack, about fifteen minutes later, he was busily sawing wood, hoping his fake snores were good enough for his observers. Apparently they were, for the next thing he heard -- through the cracked-open door -- was giggling, the rustling of clothing, and the steps of slipper-clad feet. James sharpened his augmented sight and peered through the crack in the door.

All twelve heirs stood in the hallway, dressed in their party-going finery. They giggled quietly and shushed each other, milling about eagerly and a little nervously. Belinda stood before the big mirror at the end of the hallway and called out quietly, "Has anyone checked up on our soldier-boy?"

"Yes," one of the younger siblings said. "He's sound asleep. Open the portal, Belinda!"

Smiling somewhat ferally, causing James to shudder, Belinda turned around and faced the mirror. "'Portal to the world below, open wide so we may go,'" she chanted softly. Slowly, the mirror seemed to dissolve into an open doorway, leading into darkness. "Go, Belinda," said one of the boys, and, laughing, they all went through the door, descending as they went so that James thought there must be stairs on the other side.

As the last of them went through the doorway, James quietly climbed out of bed. With his hearing, he followed them as they moved away, ensuring that none of them turned back. Quickly, he gathered his knife and flint, drew on his soft boots and crept down the hallway to the door and peered through.

A flight of steps, dimly illuminated from below somehow, led off into darkness. He could smell fresh air and plants, which surprised and puzzled him, and could hear the heirs still moving away swiftly. Crouching low, James eased himself through the opening and slipped down the stairs.

Oddly enough, at the bottom of the stairs was a garden that appeared to be moonlit. If there was a moon up there, however, James couldn't spot it. A white stone path was easy for him to follow with his now-strong eyesight, and far ahead he made out the bobbing torches which told him where the heirs were. As he made his way down the path after them, he noticed that the trees, rustling in the light breeze, sounded odd. Pulling down one branch to examine it closer, he found that the leaves were made of diamonds.

Gaping, he looked about and saw other trees with rubies, emeralds, sapphires... the entire garden was gems.

The fading noise of his quarry brought him out of his reverie, and he hurried along. At the end of the path he found another set of stairs, this one not as long, that led to a large boat dock on a dark, quiet lake. The heirs were in the process of getting into rowboats as he watched, the young men rowing and the young women as passengers. James ducked low at the top of the steps, but apparently he wasn't fast enough, and he heard Blair gasp.

"What is it?" Belinda, his passenger, asked, turning to look behind them.

"I... I thought I saw something..." Blair said, leaning on his oars. His face and voice were both puzzled.

"You're being silly," Belinda said in a supercilious manner. "There's no one on this side of the lake but us. Well, and the guardian. But it won't bother us, so you've no need to worry. Come along, we're falling behind."

Still frowning, Blair rowed them off across the lake. Sharpening his sight, James followed the line of little gray boats until he saw the glow through the slight mist rising from the lake. A castle. A golden castle, from which poured light and music, tugging even at James. Some sort of everlasting party, then, that the heirs were drawn to, had stumbled or -- somehow -- contrived to find. James sat down on the top step and thought.

He could feel the pull of the party even this far across the water. That, to his untrained and skeptical mind, indicated magic of some sort -- well, hell. The whole thing smacked of sorcery, even to James' skeptical brain. It was obvious from the way the heirs dressed that the party was for a higher class of dress than a homespun shirt and trousers; he'd need something fancy to wear for the next night. He glanced at the dock; yes, there were rowboats left over by whomever had set this place up. He'd be able to follow them the next night. He had to... the lure of the mystery was too great.

And he was worried for Blair.

It wasn't difficult to play asleep when the heirs returned, shortly before sunrise. James had been sleeping, in fact, but had woken when he'd heard the first step upon the magical stair. He waited until he heard the incantation to close the mirror door -- 'We are done with world below; portal close so none may go' -- and listened to the exhausted young men and women creep into bed before rising himself. He was, by nature, an early riser, and knew that once the heirs were asleep and dawn broke he would be able to leave his room and seek out the chamberlain. He'd need supplies for the next night, and he'd need them from a source that wouldn't talk about it. The chamberlain seemed ideal.

After breaking his fast and speaking to the chamberlain -- who was mystified over his request for fancy ballroom dress but promised him it would be ready by the evening -- James went back out into the garden. He found a sunny spot near the stream and lay on his back in the soft grass, letting his senses play.

The gift he had been given amazed him. Normally a very reserved, almost stoic man, it didn't bother him that no one else could -- or rather, should -- know of the gift; instead, he reveled in it privately, enjoying hearing things no one else could hear -- until he stumbled upon a rather lusty pair of stableboys going at it in the barn. His face flaming, James hurriedly turned his ears elsewhere.

To his surprise, if he concentrated, he could actually see stars in the blue vault above him. An eagle soaring many ells above the ground was a mere speck to most people, but James could see each individual feather, could see the eyes of the bird fiercely watching the ground for prey, could hear the beating of the great heart, and could almost feel the wind rushing through its pinions. He could hear children playing outside the castle walls, could smell the delicious food being prepared in the kitchen; indeed, it felt like he could almost taste the sunlight bathing his body.

Bemused, James fell into a doze, one long blade of grass hanging out of his mouth.

Some time later, a splashing noise woke him. He noted by the sun that he had been asleep -- or at least dozing -- for about an hour, and lunchtime was at hand. He smiled; if this kept up, this doing nothing but dozing and eating, he'd grow fat. A sniff drew his attention to his left and the small footbridge that crossed the stream.

Blair stood on it, his back to James, absently tossing rocks into the stream. His bowed back spoke volumes to James, as did the faint scent of tears. Rising, James quietly moved to the bridge, startling Blair when he caught sight of him. "Oh! Sir James. I didn't see you," Blair said, swallowing hastily.

James smiled. "As I said last night, Your Highness, it's merely James. I'd be pleased to be called that by you."

Looking down at the rock he held, Blair replied, "All right, I'll call you James if you'll call me Blair, not Highness." He threw the rock with force into the stream. "When you have eleven siblings, and you're fourth from the bottom, 'Highness' is rather a misnomer."

James leaned his elbows on the rail of the footbridge and watched the fat, lazy goldfish below. "It would also please me to be able to call you Blair," he said, as nonchalantly as he could. "To be your friend would honor me."

Blair smiled shyly. "I don't have any real friends," he murmured. "I'd like that."

Taking in the dark rings around Blair's eyes and his sagging posture, James mildly said, "Then, as your friend, I'll be blunt. You don't look very well. Nor happy."

"I'm not." Blair pitched his last rock into the stream gently, then copied James' posture. "James," he began slowly, studiously avoiding looking at his companion, "have you ever had to keep a secret? A secret that became a burden but that you were honor-bound to keep?"

James thought for a long moment, realizing it was pretty obvious where this conversation was going. Nodding, he said, "Yes, I've sworn a few oaths I'd rather have broken, and kept a few confidences I'd rather not have had," he said. "For a soldier, honor is paramount. What is actually right is not -- necessarily, anyway."

Blair sighed. "Yeah." Resting his chin on his folded hands, Blair contemplated the water. "I would tell you, though," he finally murmured, "and damn the consequences."

"Are you sure?" James asked, equally softly. "Wouldn't it prey on your conscience, knowing that, even though you might have done the right thing, you still broke a solemn oath?"

"But it might mean your death," Blair whispered, sniffing. "And I'm so tired of good men dying for this."

"Ah, but might doesn't necessarily mean definite," James said wryly, letting humor infuse his voice. Blair looked up at him sharply, and the naked hope on the younger man's face nearly made him blush. "You can never tell what lies beneath, Blair," he said, and Blair stood straight, blinking up at him. "My old mam used to say, no sense counting your chickens before they're hatched." He winked and touched the side of Blair's nose. "A good soldier always has a few things up his sleeve -- besides his arm."

Blair's face lit up like the sun, and James' heart went thud. He found himself smiling back stupidly, his finger still tingling from the one, slight touch to Blair's face. "Come then," he said hoarsely, "walk with me, my friend. Let's enjoy the sunlight. Plus, my nose tells me it is nearly lunchtime, and if you'd like, I would eat with you."

"I could eat," Blair said, his shoulders straight, looking like the weight of the world had lifted from them. "And I know the cook. Perhaps lunch out here in the garden would suit you?"

I would eat anywhere, go anywhere, with you, James thought to himself wonderingly, but merely nodded.

The second night went much as the first had gone, but this time, James was prepared.

He had spent most of the day with Blair, walking in the sunshine, telling him of his travels and the places he'd been; or inside in the library, which was as much Blair's as anyone's. From the moment they had met, the younger man had captivated James, filling a void he hadn't known was there. Blair was still spoiled and flighty, and he talked incessantly. But he was young yet, nearly ten years younger than James, and James could tell that eventually, Blair would grow into a sane, honest and decent man.

Dinner was once again a lively affair, and the king seemed delighted to see the friendship growing between his youngest son and the ex-soldier. To his majesty's discreet inquiries, James merely nodded and smiled, darting his eyes to the other heirs at the table, who scrutinized him carefully.

After dinner, as those heirs were preparing themselves to be locked in for the night, Blair parted from James with a sad, rueful smile. James smiled back, encouragingly. While he hated to withhold the truth from Blair, he was cognizant that he could not admit it either, not until he had more information.

James met Belinda and one of the young men -- Basil -- this time at the door to his room, shortly after ten o'clock. Belinda once again held a cup of drugged wine, and James pretended sleepiness, clutching his borrowed robe about himself tightly. "It must be the bed or the food," he apologized when he yawned. "Last night I slept like the dead. I'll gladly take your cup, milady, and finish it as I read tonight."

Belinda smiled thinly at that, but allowed it. As they walked away, he heard Basil tell her that a blow to the head would work as well as a drug, and James smiled.

When the door eased open half-hour later, the spy found an empty cup on the floor and James snoring away, on top of the covers to his bed, still dressed in his robe. By the time Belinda spoke the words to open the portal, however, James was at the slightly open door, watching carefully. As the last of the heirs disappeared down the steps, he threw off his robe, revealing the party clothes beneath, and slid on dancing slippers. His careful walk through the gem garden got him to the dock as the last of the rowboats disappeared into the faint mist. He waited a bit longer, until he could hear no more sounds from the lake, then stepped into a boat and began propelling himself across.

The castle, as it turned out, was on an island in the midst of the placid, dark lake. Music and golden light poured out of it, joining the sounds of laughing and dancing and the mouthwatering smells of food and wine. Easing into a slip near the other rowboats, James crept up the small slope to a large window and peered in.

Dozens of couples swept around the floor, wheeling under brilliantly lit chandeliers. The room was magnificent, a marble floor and walls, mirrors everywhere, and a full orchestra at one end. After a moment, James realized that half the dancers and all of the serving people were masked -- the only ones without masks, in fact, were the heirs.

That simply made it easier.

Creeping around towards the other end of the castle to a spot where he could see serving people entering and leaving the ballroom, James searched for a inconspicuous entrance. Once he had found it, his enhanced hearing allowed him to hide from all eyes until he found a wall hung with masks. Selecting one, he put it on his face and boldly strode into the ballroom.

He found most of his charges dancing, but a few were not. Extending his hearing, he heard sounds of lovemaking -- moans and gasps, even some cries of pain -- coming from curtained alcoves around the room. Shaking his head, he moved discreetly about, watching and listening carefully. He did not see Blair, and that saddened him.

As the revelry grew louder, he noticed that the food and drink appeared to be laced with some kind of taint... a drug, perhaps, which lowered inhibitions? Careful not to eat or drink anything, James kept his eyes open. The siblings all appeared to be having a good time, but what was the draw here besides an endless party?

Belinda and her masked escort -- she giggling madly, he smiling sickly under his mask -- stumbled past him, heading for an alcove. She was draped all over the young man with her, and was acting quite differently than the normally controlled princess James had seen in the castle. When they opened the curtain, she shrieked with laughter and cried, "Blair! What are you doing in here all alone? Go out and dance, you idiot!"

James' head whipped around to see Blair step from the alcove alone, shame-faced at being caught. He was immediately swept into the arms of a tall, masked woman, and although he followed the steps of the dance, he didn't appear to be having a good time.

When the music changed to a slightly slower tempo, Blair managed to extricate himself from the woman and move rapidly away. He appeared to be heading for the buffet table, but James managed to intercept him. Taking his cue from the other revelers, James did not ask, but rather swept him into his arms and began to dance. He felt Blair stiffen initially, but then relax in defeat.

Deliberately pitching his voice lower than normal, James said, "You do not appear to be having a good time, milord."

Blair jerked his head up and looked at James. He blinked several times, then said slowly, "Of course I am, good sir. Why would I not?"

"That would be for you to decide," James replied, pulling his companion closer as the tempo of the music gradually slowed. Into Blair's ear, he whispered, "Perhaps I can help you have a better time."

Blair melted into his arms, sinuously following his lead in the dance. James almost felt as if he'd been drugged -- perhaps there was something in the air too? he wondered -- but he had never felt so happy, so content. So aroused.

The scent of Blair's hair was dizzying, and the warmth and feel of the young man in his arms fair bid to bring him to his knees. They danced for what seemed like forever, lost in a sensual cloud. One of the more inebriated dancers bumping into James brought him abruptly to himself, and he shook his head sharply. Blair still seemed lost, though, so James steered them out to an open terrace door, hoping fresh air would clear both their heads.

It seemed to work, for slowly Blair's head lifted from its place on James' shoulder, and he looked about, dazed. James pulled him over to a shadowy corner, out of the light, and had him sit on the broad rail around the terrace. Blair reached up to caress James' cheek under the mask. "You're not like the others," he said dreamily. "You're alive, you're real. Aren't you?"

James was about to reply when a shrill giggle made him realize someone was approaching. Grabbing Blair by the shoulders, he lifted the smaller man and pushed him against the castle wall, hiding both of them in darkness. Instead of protesting, Blair merely lifted his face and kissed James deeply.

The explosion of taste nearly knocked James to his knees. Before he knew it, one of his hands was buried in Blair's hair and the other was around his ass, pulling him closer. They both moaned in delight as their tongues met, sliding against each other, tasting each other deeply. They ground their hips together in time to the music, and Blair's head lolled back in pleasure, breaking the kiss. James buried his head beneath the slim jaw and kissed there, hoping for more of that intoxicating taste. His mask hindered him, and he moved to rip it off...

Then froze. He couldn't do that, not here, not now. He still had one more night, and this mystery had to be solved -- James was a very methodical man and simply could not let it lie. He took a deep breath and looked down; Blair was still panting and hard against him, and it was all James could do to leave the intoxicating image. But inside, he heard the rustling and murmurs that told him the night was mostly over -- how could it be so? -- and, with one last, lingering kiss, he vaulted over the low balustrade and moved off into the shadows.

His hearing told him that it took Blair several minutes to come out of his daze and return to normal. By then, James was rowing quickly and quietly across the lake, and the other heirs were beginning to gather on the terrace to leave. Hurrying, James made it back to his bed in time to present the image of a deeply asleep guard before the exhausted siblings returned, closed the portal, and staggered to their beds.

It wasn't long before fake snores became real, and James fell into sleep dreaming of soft lips and hard flesh.

Everyone rose late the next day, feeling bleary-eyed and dragging. James was used to hard labor on little sleep, though, and was able to function normally after eating. He spent most of the day in the library, trying to find a reference to 'the world below' or the golden castle. Blair was in and out, and kept studying him, staring at him with a puzzled frown on his face throughout the day. Although James noticed, he said nothing, not sure he could hold down his desire to touch and taste the young man again, should he be presented with the chance.

The third night passed nearly exactly as the other two had. Certain now in their duplicity, the heirs barely gave James a thought before opening the portal and moving down the stairs. One thing did give James pause; through the slightly open door to his room, James saw Blair, the last to descend, hesitate and look back wistfully towards the guardian's room. But a call from below had him reluctantly turning and following.

This night at the golden castle, James concentrated on getting proof and solving the mystery of why the heirs would wish to dance the entire night at a castle which lay underground. He felt there was definitely something amiss with the whole situation, but could not put his finger on it.

Exploring the castle -- what he could get to -- revealed nothing. Upstairs were only bedrooms, but oddly, bedrooms with no windows. All the windows he saw gleaming in the darkness must be false, then, which simply added to his puzzlement. He was completely unable to get into certain parts of the castle, no matter how he tried -- doors which opened for some would not open for him.

As a last resort, he waylaid one of the young masked men and dragged him outside, intending on questioning him when he woke. One look at the face under the mask, however, changed his mind.

The next morning, James was up with the sun. Quickly gathering the evidence he had gathered the nights before, he stashed it in a large bag -- provided by the chamberlain -- and left the bag with that worthy. He was to make his report that evening, after dinner, and was quite confident he now understood all. His one duty for the day was to find Blair.

That mission was accomplished finally in the library, where Blair was sitting in a window seat, gazing out of the window with a lost expression on his face. James smiled down at him for a moment, unnoticed, then asked quietly, "May I join you, my friend?"

Blair jerked around and laughed nervously. "James. You have a way of sneaking up on one, don't you."

Smiling easily, James made himself comfortable in the deep embrasure, lifting one foot on the cushion and wrapping his arm around his knee. "Part of being a soldier, Blair. You learn to move quietly."

"Ah. I see." Blair looked despairingly into James' face, then looked away.

"What's wrong, Blair?" James asked.

After a moment's silence, Blair blurted out, "You should leave here, James, today. Now. I'll help you get away. You can be miles from here before dinner..."

"Wait, wait, hold on," James laughed, holding up his hands. "I'm not going anywhere, Blair. Why should I?"

"Why?" Blair responded, incredulous. "Why? Because you'll die if you don't," he hissed out. "You're a good man, James of Els, and I'll not see you beheaded because of my thrice be-damned sister and her..."

James put one hand gently over Blair's mouth. "Hush there, Chief. Didn't I tell you that there's more here than meets the eye? I have no plans on dying, not for a good long while yet." Blair's eyes met his over James' hand, and almost against his will, James' touch became a caress. He dragged his thumb over the lush mouth that had haunted his dreams, and stroked the soft cheek with his fingers.

"Chief?" Blair asked huskily, leaning into the touch.

"Huh?" James asked, absorbed in the skin beneath his fingers.

"You called me chief," Blair said, then turned his head and lightly kissed the fingers caressing his face. "Why?"

James shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. "I--I don't... you remind me of someone. A warrior, a chief's son. He was smart and strong like you, and talked a lot as well."

"'Talked a lot'?!" Blair reared back, away from the petting fingers, and tried to paste an expression of wounded dignity on his face. The grin made it difficult. "I'll have you know I do not talk too much," he said.

"Yes, you do," James replied, also smiling. "Entirely too much." Blair inhaled sharply and his eyes widened. James reached his other hand out and managed to get both of them tangled in that thick, curly hair, then pulled gently and leaned in. Two pairs of blue eyes sagged shut as lips met delicately, sipping gently, caressing. When James pulled back slightly, Blair opened his eyes, and James saw the same dazed expression on his face as he had seen two nights before.

"I dreamed of this, I think," Blair whispered.

"Did you now?" James asked, lightly brushing his nose against Blair's, gently playing with his handfuls of hair.

"Yes, I think so," Blair said, his eyes closing again. "But this is much better than dreams."

James tilted the head in his hands just so, then leaned back in. Slowly, the kiss turned more aggressive. Blair opened his mouth, moaning into James', and James let one hand slip down to Blair's waist, pulling the younger man to him. Blair went willingly, and shortly James had a lapful of eager, beautiful man.

Blair wrapped both arms and both legs around James, as far as the window seat would allow, carding his fingers through James' short hair. James allowed his hands to roam, coming up under Blair's tunic and gliding down silky, hairy skin. "So beautiful," he mumbled, leaving Blair's mouth and nipping his way to one ear. To his delight, he found two earrings there he had not seen before.

"No," moaned Blair, "you're the beautiful one. So strong, like a sculpture..." Blair wiggled on James' lap, causing James to groan as his erection was rubbed by an enthusiastic bottom.

"I want you, Blair," James breathed into Blair's ear. He felt the younger man shudder. "Since I first saw you, I've wanted you."

"Want you too," Blair gasped. James's roving hand had found his way into the back of Blair's trousers, and his eager fingers were exploring the treasure there. "James..." Blair groaned, burying his head in the other man's neck. "God, love me, James," he added, licking and nipping at the flesh under his mouth.

"Yes, yes, love you," James replied tenderly, surprising himself with the level of his feelings. Such a short time he had known this young man, and already he was so deeply buried in his heart.

They both hitched up a little, causing their trapped erections to jump at the additional pressure. James' hand was now all the way under Blair's bottom, fingering his opening gently, and Blair was constantly keening under his breath.

Their lips met again in a ferocious kiss, and James removed his hand from Blair's pants to grip him in a tighter hug. Gods and goddesses, with his new senses it was just so much better than it had ever been before. He was practically sobbing, nearly coming with the intensity of it; the man in his arms felt better than anyone he had ever loved before, male or female.

A door slamming in the hallway made both of them jump a bit, then suddenly remember where they were -- on a window seat in the library, of all places, making out like two randy servants. Reluctantly, they pulled away from each other slightly, drinking in the sight of flushed faces and swollen lips while they panted, trying to regain their breath. James realized Blair was partially sitting on his bent knee, and that his whole leg had gone numb. He winced a bit, and shifted Blair, who instantly realized the problem.

"Oh, I've hurt you, let me move..." Blair said, trying to stand.

James wouldn't let him get all the way up. "It's nothing, nothing, just numb," he said, carefully straightening his leg and then settling Blair back firmly against his chest, crooked in his left arm. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, looking back down into that dear face.

"Infinitely," Blair replied, looking fatuous and entirely too pleased with himself. He lifted one hand and delicately traced James' face with his finger. "I'm sorry, I can't believe I let myself get carried away like that," he murmured, smiling.

"My fault, love, my fault," James replied, capturing the finger and kissing it.

Blair blushed, and James realized with a start he had called the younger man 'love.' "I've never met anyone like you, James of Els," Blair said, entwining their fingers. "I feel like... like you're the other half of me. My heart's desire."

James blinked and his eyes grew wide. Heart's desire... He drew a breath to speak, but an insolent voice from the doorway interrupted his thought. "Well, now. Isn't this a cozy picture."

Blair jumped in James' lap and would have gotten up, but James tightened his arm and kept him seated, giving him a reassuring smile. Blair smiled back and relaxed slightly, then over his shoulder said, "Something you want, Beryl?"

James could hear her sharp intake of breath, and decided that Blair's response was not exactly what she was expecting. He gave her a mild look past Blair, and she frowned. "Father says dinner is a half-hour earlier," she finally snapped out. "In order for... Sir James to give his report."

"My thanks, Highness," James said neutrally. Blair had tensed up in his arms and begun trembling with her words. Beryl huffed and flounced out, shutting the door with a muted slam. James ran his hand soothingly through the thick hair, reassuring Blair. "Shh, it's all right," he murmured.

"I can't lose you now, I won't," Blair said, his voice muffled from where he had his face pressed into James' tunic.

"Easy, Chief, my lordling, my love," James said, calming the trembling man. "Sit here with me for a while, hold me, and let me hold you. Everything will be fine, you'll see."

Slowly, the shaking stopped and Blair allowed himself to be engulfed in strong arms. "I can do that," he murmured finally, wrapping his own strong arms around James.

Dinner that night was an interesting affair. Blair was pale and didn't eat much, and a few of the other heirs were also off their form, merely nodding to their siblings' jests. Others were nearly hyper, laughing too loudly and making rude comments. His Majesty sat at the head of the table and glowered, but James was completely calm and the picture of equanimity. He ate his dinner heartily, nagged Blair into eating more of his, and confused the king and the other heirs by entertaining them with stories of his travels.

At last the too-long meal came to a close, the serving staff cleared the dessert plates, and the king rose. "Now comes the hour of reckoning, I deem. James of Els," he said, looking somewhat sadly down at the man sitting to his right, "you have had three days to solve the puzzle set to you. What do you have to say?"

James smiled at Blair across from him, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and rose. Bowing, he said, "Perhaps this would be better if all -- all -- of us repaired to the east wing, Majesty."

On the king's and Blair's faces, hope blossomed. Others at the table scowled. Motioning for the guards, the king nodded. "Very well, let us do that then. Children?"

Given no choice, the heirs rose and followed their father and James out of the dining hall. The guards -- and the chamberlain -- drew up the rear, ensuring that all indeed went to the party.

On the way through the room he had been using as a bedroom, James drew a sack out from under the bed, then motioned the group to the short hallway beyond. As he stopped before the mirror, he noted that Belinda's face was white and furious, and Basil's hands were formed into tight fists.

"Your Majesty; heirs to the kingdom," James began, bowing low and formally. "As Your Majesty has asked, I have solved the riddle of the shoes." A gasp ran through the assembled throng, and the king smiled. "Each night, your eldest daughter, Her Highness the Princess Belinda, comes to this mirror, where she uses an incantation to turn it into a door to the world beneath."

"YOU!" Belinda shrieked, pointing at Blair. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" she yelled, attacking him. James easily caught her and subdued her, then handed her off to one of the guards.

Checking to make sure Blair was all right -- he was, but pale -- James continued. "Each night, Her Highness came to me with a drugged potion, hoping I would drink it and fall into a dead sleep." Belinda suddenly stopped squirming and fighting the guard that held her, and gaped at James. "I am familiar with the potion used to lace the wine, and, well, I've had a gift bestowed upon me which I will tell you of later. I did not drink the potion, and therefore, did not sleep. But I feigned sleep in order to watch what happened beyond my chamber door."

Turning to the mirror, James said in a loud voice, "'Portal to the world below, open wide so we may go.'" As he had expected, the mirror shimmered and seemed to melt into a dark doorway. The dimly-lit steps could be seen beyond. The king and chamberlain gasped and peered through the darkness.

"At the foot of these stairs is a dark garden, where all the flowers are gems," James said. From the sack at his feet, he pulled out several leaves and branches, studded with various precious stones. He presented them to the king with a flourish. "Further past the garden is a dim, quiet lake, with a dock. Your children board rowboats and row themselves across the lake to an island, on which is a golden palace." From the sack, James produced a golden goblet, which he also presented to the king. "There, they dance the night away with masked courtiers, eating food and wine that is heavily laced with some kind of euphoric drug."

"You LIE!" It was Baird this time who roared and charged James. They were nearly of a height and similar in build, but Baird did not have years of experience as a fighter behind him. James easily subdued him as well, and handed him over to the long-suffering guards.

"Why, my children?" the king asked, his voice choked. "Why spend your evenings with sorcery, living in the dark instead of the light?"

"We will ALL be kings and queens there," Belinda spat. "Instead of vying for one tiny throne in a large world, we will rule the entire world below, as kings and queens, and never have any further worries! Let me GO," she said to the guard, who released her. "So it has been promised us, when the time is ready. We all made the compact..."

"Not all of us, sister," Blair said, and she glared at him. "Not all of us. You, and Basil, Baird, Beatrice... you made the compact with the darkness. Not the rest of us."

"But you went along with it," Belinda sneered, "you enjoyed it as much as we did. And when the time came, you reneged on your word, turned against your family, dishonored yourself, all for a good fuck." She snarled at James, who looked back mildly.

"You do your brother a disservice, Highness," James said. "He has not broken any word, nor compromised his honor. All that I have said here, I have witnessed with my own eyes, in my own way." He bowed to the king, who bobbed his head back, then turned bleak eyes on his children.

"This... this is almost more than I can bear. That my own flesh and blood would willingly seek such darkness..."

"There is more, Your Majesty," James began solemnly, but was interrupted by a hideous, incredible screech from within the portal. Clapping his hands over his ears, he winced and doubled over in pain. Blair was immediately at his side, holding him up, trying to help him.

"The guardian!" Belinda cried. "The time is nigh! We have to go NOW or we'll be denied!" Baird wrenched himself free of the awestruck guards and raced, along with Basil, Belinda, Beatrice and two others, for the portal.

"No, my children, NO!" the king cried, trying to follow them, but the chamberlain held him back.

There was another screech, but James was ready for it this time. "We are done with world below; portal close so none may go!" he bellowed, just as something monstrously huge, black and foul barely appeared in the light from the hallway. The mirror shimmered and the portal closed, leaving all gasping. Gently pushing Blair aside, James drew his broadsword and swung it at the sorcerous thing, shattering it into a million pieces.

"My children..." the king grieved, sobbing into the chamberlain's arms.

James looked about, to make sure no-one was hurt. Of the remaining six heirs, he saw shocked and white faces, some openly crying, some gasping in relief. Blair, he was happy to note, was trying to help the chamberlain soothe his father.

"What will happen to them, Sir James?" one of the remaining heirs asked softly.

"I wasn't able to finish my report," James said heavily. "Last night, when I followed you, I captured one of the courtiers you dallied with at the castle." Several blushes followed that statement. "I recognized him. He was a princeling from a kingdom in Gaul, gone missing these ten years past. It was thought he was abducted; I fought in the war that resulted from that belief --" James sighed. "When I waylaid him and removed his mask, I discovered he was -- well, he appeared to be -- dead. Maybe it were better said 'undead.' His heart did not beat; no blood flowed in his veins. Had you stayed, you would have become like him, I deem."

Two of the young women fainted; all of them looked ready to go down, including the king. "My liege," the chamberlain said quietly, "I think we should leave this place of sorcery."

"Yes, yes," the king said, then looked up at James with haunted eyes. "You have condemned six of my children to the darkness they sought," he said softly, sadly, "but you have saved the other six. I owe you, Sir James."

James bowed low, his face was sad. "I cannot say it was a pleasure, Your Majesty; would that I could have saved them all. But you owe me nothing, truly. I would have helped for no other reason than to help."

"You are a good, wise and kind man, James Els-son," the king said, and James blinked. "Let us go into the gold drawing room, there to fortify ourselves against the darkness."

In the end, only James, Blair, the king and the chamberlain went into the drawing room; the others opted for bed -- in another part of the castle. A servant passed around snifters of brandy, and they took seats around the fire. James was heartened to have Blair join him on the divan, sitting close to him.

"My poor, wounded Belinda," the king finally said, looking deep into the fire. "And Basil. I can hardly countenance it. Where did I go wrong?" There seemed to be no answer to that, so the room fell silent. Suddenly the king looked at Blair. "I'm glad you did not go, Blair," he said firmly. "I always suspected you would be the level-headed one. Your mother, Naomi, was a strong woman."

James' mouth dropped open. "Naomi?" he croaked. "Long red hair, green eyes, elfin-ish face?"

"Yes, that sounds like her," the king said. " I miss her. She died in childbirth."

Somehow James wasn't too sure of that. But before he could speak, the king continued. "You have solved the riddle of the shoes, Sir James. As promised, half the kingdom is yours... all of it, if you will agree to be the consort to my successor."

"I have neither need nor want of kingdoms or thrones, Your Majesty. There is only one thing I would ask of you," James said sincerely, taking Blair's hand tightly in his. "I would ask for the hand of your son, Blair of Sand's Burgh. He and I--" he looked down at Blair, then gulped and had to blush at the naked love shining from Blair's face-- "he and I have discovered love, sire."

The king beamed at them, though his happiness still did not quite banish the pain from his eyes. "I will give my consent and my blessing, my sons, and gladly," he said. "And you have earned the throne as well, since Blair will be my successor."

It was Blair's turn to gape. "Father?!" he gasped. "Oh, no, no no... I can't..."

"Oh, yes, you can, and will, my child," the king said firmly.

"The throne?" Blair seemed on the verge of a panic attack, so James wrapped one arm around him and patted him gently.

"You can do it, my love," he whispered in Blair's ear. "I have faith in you, my heart's desire."

Calming himself with a visible effort, Blair gave James a tremulous smile. "With you by my side, perhaps I can," he murmured.

Breaking the mood, the king said sternly, "But you are still not going to Byzantium."

"And they all lived happily ever after," Blair said smugly, looking down at his lover, who was currently sprawled across his lap.

"You made that up," Jim accused him. "That is NOT a Grimm's fairy tale."

Blair raised his hands in a classic "Who, me?" pose. "Why Sir James, how could you doubt your heart's desire?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, 'Princess Blair'--" Jim paused to remove the sofa pillow that suddenly smacked down on his face-- "that story had holes in it big enough to drive a semi through."

"Jim," Blair said in his patented 'I am being patient with the doofus' voice, "It's a fairy tale. It's not supposed to make that much sense."

"Oh please. It isn't even a proper fairy tale. The Brothers Grimm would be spinning in their collective graves at the thought of homosexuality in one of their stories." Jim's eyes were gleaming and his mouth kept twitching up, despite his best efforts to restrain it.

"Actually," Blair said thoughtfully, "you might be surprised. Some of the original stories are pretty sexual... weird and sometimes nasty, too."

"I still say it was ridiculous."

Feigning exasperation, Blair gave Jim a noogie. "Fine, then, you big lunkhead, you tell me one."

Jim raised both eyebrows at his lover, then grinned. "All right then, maybe I will."

Blair gaped at him in surprise. "Oh, lord help me," he moaned, as Jim chuckled evilly.

end (for now!)

End Heart's Desire or The Twelve Dancing Heirs, a Sentinel Fairy Tale by MrsHamill: thamill@cox.rr.com

Author and story notes above.

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