Chapter Text
Prologue
The Fae Prince, the Spring Faerie, is about to be born.
The whole kingdom of Fae is in a rush. Faeries are flying over the vast fields of the kingdom, sprinkling golden dusts to aid the flowers that are yet to bloom. The nymphs are patiently waiting for the winter ice to finally melt, letting them bring the lake back to life. The forest spirits, who are tasked to make the leaves grow on every tree in the kingdom, are on standby. Their hands are stretched out, palms on the bark of trees that are in winter slumber. Last minute preparations are made. Everyone is ecstatic and anticipating.
Any minute now, the first flower of spring will bloom.
And that means the Fae Prince will be born.
The Fae yearns for the little prince that will be born. It took them a few decades, but constant love poured onto the Peony of Life has borne its fruit.
The Peony is about to bloom!
The Peony is the most beautiful flower of all – the spring of life. It had been centuries since the Peony had remained wilted – a direct consequence of The War. The Peony cannot grow into a cold, barren region. It needs love, compassion, and constant care to bloom and yield the Prince of Spring.
“Why do we need to wait for that flower to bloom, Mama?” The little Winter Prince pouted.
The winter is about to cease. The Daemons had done their job. It was time for them to go back to their kingdom, but the little prince is caught off guard when they must stay to witness the Fae’s preparation for Spring. The little Winter Prince wanted to go home, snuggle into his cozy bed, and just sleep the whole day away for it is not easy keeping and managing the winter season. For this year, the little prince was tasked to keep the small ponds frozen, quite a feat for a small kid like him.
“We have to give respect to the Faes. Their little prince is about to be born,” his mother explains.
“He’s going to be born from that huge flower?” The little winter prince points at the Peony.
“Yes, my dear,” the Winter Queen smiles as she ruffles the curls of her son’s hair. “He’s going to be as bright as the spring sun and as beautiful as the spring flowers.”
The little winter prince blows raspberries. “Babies are not beautiful. I’ve seen a lot of them back at the kingdom of Dae.”
“Babies in our kingdom are beautiful too, my child,” the mother continues. “With the exception of the baby goblins, of course.”
The little prince chuckles. Goblin’s offspring are usually hairy… they are like hairy balls. The little prince should know for he once escaped from his winter studies and hid from his winter tutor to witness how baby goblins are born. It was an experience he would not dare forget… it was eye-opening.
Birth is painful and often unsightly.
The little prince shivers at the recollection of the birth of baby goblins he witnessed back when he was way younger. He could not comprehend why some mothers say that they cry in happiness when he heard them scream and cry in agony. For the prince, birth is akin to torture.
The Daemon prince looks at the Peony and sees the Queen of Spring gently fondling the petals of the unbloomed flower. The Spring King is right next to her, his hand on top of the queen’s.
“If the Prince of Spring will be born from the flower, does that mean that his parent is the Peony?”
The Queen of Winter chuckles, “No, my child. His parents are the Spring royals. The Spring Prince is borne out of the love of his parents and the whole kingdom of Fae. He will be their cherished possession as you are the Dae’s.”
The little winter prince shrugs his shoulders. The whole kingdom of Dae indeed adores him – enough to let him do whatever he pleases. He is naughty, but the Daemons just let him be. He is a child afterall, even if a handful one. The Daes believe that children are inquisitive in nature, hence letting them explore, make mistakes, and learn.
Suddenly, the nymphs start playing their harps. The Faeries begin to hum their hymn. It is a soothing sound, something that reminds the little prince of sweet, delicate lullabies. Everyone is still. The once hectic kingdom becomes tranquil – the atmosphere was solemn and serene.
Slowly, the Peony starts to bloom amidst the fading winter. The soft petals, rosy in color, shyly opens the bud, greeting the first sunlight of spring. The morning droplets on the petals shine as if gems decorated the flower of life. It is a slow – the Peony taking its time to open up and present the prince of spring.
The little winter prince could feel the bated breath that the Faeries are releasing. The hymn is beginning to take a quicker tempo, as if cajoling the Peony to open its bud quicker.
And then the flower blooms fully.
It is majestic.
Soon enough, the all the flowers of spring bloom in sync, as if being risen by the Peony. Colors start to paint the gray winter, turning it into a warm splash of life. Animals start to flock the trees and the skies, joining in the celebration of a new prince.
The little winter prince takes a deep breath, inhaling the young scent of spring.
A loud cry follows.
The Faeries begin to soften their hum, lulling the little babe.
The little winter prince tip toes to look at the Peony better. On the middle of the flower is a naked babe. His skin is rosy, as rosy as the petals of the Peony. His hair is almost the color of the sun – it is golden – a stark difference from the winter prince’s ashy hair. The babe has his eyes closed. The little winter prince could not determine the babe’s eye color.
The spring prince could have been beautiful but–
“Mother,” the winter prince tugs on his mother’s coat.
“What is it, my love?”
“Why is the spring prince wrinkly and pink? He’s ugly.”