Author’s notes: This is a very late birthday present for one of my favorite people – my cyber-daughter Chrissy. One of the very first people that started to respond to my LJ entries – she has since become not only one of the best friends that I have never met, but also my number one daughter and confidante. This one’s for you (she asked for Chris and Justin angst but with a happy ending); I just hope it passes muster.
I have tried to do a little research on Ireland for this story and I believe that most of what I wrote is accurate, however it is very possible that I got some it wrong. I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies.
Remember this is an AU AND a fairy tale. The names have been Irishfied to protect the innocent. And can I just tell you there aren’t a lot of Irish names that start with the letter J?
Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time…amidst the lush emerald hills of the far-away land of Erin, there lived a handsome prince named Jarlath.
But this prince was no ordinary prince. He was a prince in the Seelie Court – faeries of nobility and white magic that made their home in a land of perpetual daylight. And he was more than handsome; he was beautiful. The curls atop his head were as bright as spun copper, his skin as unblemished as the finest porcelain, his eyes seas of endless blue. Even among the otherworldly beauty of the faerie, he was considered one of the fairest.
And although the prince had beauty, riches and immense power, he was not completely happy with his life, for he had never known true love.
Then one day, when all of the Seelie Court was out on one of their infamous wild rides through the countryside, they came upon a fierce battle in a clearing. Jarlath, his curiosity piqued by the shouts and cries of mortal men, slowed his great steed. The Faerie Queen saw this and turned towards her son.
"Come child, it is merely humans warring with one another. There is nothing to see," she said as she slowed her own mare.
But Jarlath could not seem to tear himself away from the strange sights and sounds. He pleaded with his mother to let him stay and she finally agreed. With a smile she instructed her court to continue and in a flash they were gone, the echoes of their melodic voices the only evidence that they had ever been there.
Jarlath barely noticed their leaving. His attention was already back at the human battle. Because he was young, he had seen few men up close, but even he knew that some of these men were members of the Fianna – the infamous group of warriors that protected the king and his lands. He watched, fascinated, as the men drove sharp metal into each other’s bodies over and over again. He watched as they fell to the ground, their mortal blood staining the ground red.
And as he continued to watch, one man among the many caught his attention. He had just fallen, his side having been pierced by one of the metal instruments of another. But he was clearly not dead, for his chest continued to rise and fall, albeit slowly.
Jarlath drew closer until he could see the man clearly.
He lay on his back, his hands clutching at his open wound, his body so still amidst the maelstrom of activity that surrounded him. His eyes stared up at the sky, seemingly unaware of anything else around him.
Jarlath looked into those eyes and found that he could not look away. They were beautiful, despite the agony that swam in them. Such a deep color of brown…and the dark lashes set against that pale skin…so very pretty….
Before he could think about what he was doing, Jarlath was at the human’s side, desperate for a closer look. The man did not see him of course - no man could unless he allowed it.
So Jarlath sat there, invisible to all around him, and stared down at the man’s face; completely fascinated by his beauty. Before too long however, he realized something about the man.
He was dying.
It was clear in the amount of blood that was pooling on the ground beneath him and the way that his breathing became more labored with each passing second.
The thought that the man would soon die filled Jarlath with a sadness that he had never before experienced. It was a sadness so intense that it actually pained his heart. It was then that he decided that he could not bear to watch this man die. He placed his hands over the wound in the man’s side and kept them there, letting his magical energy flow into the weaker body, healing it until it bled no more.
After that was done he stayed at the man’s side, making him invisible to anyone who might harm him. He watched as the man’s eyes closed from the pain and exhaustion. And after they were closed, he watched over him as he slept peacefully.
He kept his vigil over the man until the battle ended. And when the victorious solders of the Fianna began to bury their dead and care for their wounded, Jarlath made certain that the mortal at his side was one of the first ones they found.
The soldiers quickly carried away the injured man and Jarlath found himself alone in the bloody field, his thoughts occupied by only one thing – the mortal man with the dark eyes.
He did not linger there for long; there was no longer any reason to. With a speed that no mortal could ever hope to match, he mounted his steed and rode back to the sidhe, his home within the hills.
Time passed, as it must, and the young prince returned to his normal life, expecting to forget all about the mortal whose life he had saved. None was more surprised than he when he realized that instead of forgetting about the man, he was thinking about him constantly. He literally could not get the dark-haired man’s image out of his mind.
One day, when he could no longer bear to have the man’s image haunt him any longer, he decided that he would go and find him.
He had to see the man again. Just one more time. And then he knew that he would be rid of this obsession.
He was preparing for the ride to the mortal lands when his mother walked up behind him. She laid a hand on his shoulder and he turned to find her smiling at him.
"You’re going to find him, aren’t you?" she asked.
He was not at all surprised that his mother knew exactly what was on his mind. She was a powerful faerie. She knew everything. "I have to Mother. I must see him again," he answered.
She nodded, then asked, "And when you do? What will you do then?"
"I do not understand your question," he said as he shook his head in confusion.
"When merely seeing him is not enough for you. What will you do then?" she explained patiently.
"I hadn’t thought about that," he admitted.
"Be gentle when you bring him here," she said.
"You seem so sure that I will," he said.
Her smile brightened. "I know my son."
He leaned forward and kissed his mother lightly on the cheek, and with a smile of his own he was gone.
He rode his steed hard and was soon at the human dwelling where he knew the mortal to be. It was near midnight and all was dark and quiet within the human’s bedchamber as he entered it. The man himself was in his bed, sleeping peacefully.
Jarlath walked up to his side and gazed at him. Silver moonlight fell across the man’s face, making his beauty such that it stole Jarlath’s very breath from his lungs.
He reached out and gently touched the man’s cheek with his fingertips, not expecting him to awaken, but awaken he did. The man sat up instantly, his body already moving into a protective stance despite the fact that he had just come from a dead sleep.
"Who are you?" the man asked, his voice a mere whisper.
"Do not be afraid. I am not here to hurt you," Jarlath said as he drew back.
The man saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see what it was. His eyes opened impossibly wide when he saw that there was a white horse in his bedchamber. He turned his head back to the man at his bedside.
"Are you…?"
"My name is Jarlath. I am faerie. A prince in the Seelie Court."
The man blinked at him as he tried to comprehend what was happening.
"What is your name?" Jarlath asked as he drew closer to the man.
The man was no fool and he knew that it did not pay to make a faery angry. Even one of the Seelie. "My name is Criostoir," he answered without hesitation.
"The name suits you," Jarlath said with a smile.
"Why are you here? What do you want of me?" Criostoir asked.
"I want you to come with me," Jarlath said. He stretched out his arm and opened his hand in invitation.
Again, Criostoir knew better than to resist a faerie, so he took the prince’s hand and passively allowed himself to be led onto the great steed. Once mounted atop the horse, they rode through the night air swiftly. So swiftly that even Criostoir, a seasoned warrior, clutched at Jarlath’s waist in fear.
They arrived at the sidhe within mere moments, and Criostoir found himself standing within the most majestic castle he had ever seen.
Criostoir wrapped his arms around his body and turned toward the prince. Despite the stunning beauty of the castle and the prince himself, he could not help but be afraid.
"Why have you brought me here?" he asked.
"To be with me. Here…in this castle…as my husband."
The warrior shook his head in disbelief. "But…I am a man. And betrothed."
But the prince did not understand. This was one of the highest honors that could be bestowed upon a man or a woman. To be wanted by a member of the Seelie…any mortal should feel flattered. "Your betrothal does not matter. And neither does the fact that you are a man. I can have husbands."
Criostoir stepped back. "No…"
The prince moved forward quicker than Criostoir’s human eyes could possibly track and before he knew it, the prince was behind him, holding him in a tight embrace.
"You will stay here with me and you will be mine. And I will love you forever." And with that he turned Criostoir around and kissed him deeply.
And Criostoir did the only thing that his mind and his body would allow him to do.
He returned the kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The days passed quickly for the young prince. He spent as much time with his beautiful warrior as he could, most of it spent entwined in each other’s arms. He was happier than he had ever been and every day he thanked the gods that he had found someone so wonderful that he could truly love.
Then one day the prince returned home from another one of the Seelie’s wild rides to find Criostoir sitting in front of one of the windows, staring out at the expanse of green and gold fields before him.
This time instead of summoning Criostoir to him and immediately drawing him into his embrace, the prince walked up beside him and touched him lightly on the cheek.
Criostoir turned towards him and the prince was surprised to see the deep sadness in his eyes.
"What is the matter?" he asked.
"Nothing my Lord," Criostoir said as he quickly wiped at his eyes.
The prince fell to his knees in front of the man and grabbed his hands. "Please do not lie to me. I can see and feel your sadness. What troubles you?"
Criostoir did not want to voice his thoughts. He was afraid that the prince would be angry with him, but he simply could not hold them back any longer. They were threatening to overwhelm him with their intensity.
"Sometimes, my Lord, I feel as if this is wrong," he said slowly.
"What my love?"
"This," Criostoir said as he pulled away from the prince and held out his hands. "I feel like I do not belong here. I am a human…and I miss my home…"
The prince shook his head, trying to understand. "I thought you were happy here. With me. Do you not love me?"
An anguished look came over Criostoir’s face then and the prince felt the man’s pain as if it were his own. "I think I do. But I do not know for certain. When I am with you, I feel as if my mind is not my own. As if I have no control in how I feel."
"But you are here because you want to be."
Criostoir shook his head. "I am here because you brought me here. You never gave me a choice. You never have."
The prince sighed deeply and stood. "What would make you happy Criostoir? Whatever it is, I will do it. I cannot bear to see you like this."
"Time, my Lord. Just a small amount of time. To go home again. To be in my own world and make my own decision as to you and our love."
The thought of being without Criostoir for any length of time, and possibly forever, was crushing to the young prince, but he knew he could not hold the man here knowing his unhappiness was so great. His decision was made quickly. "I would never hold you here against your will. I do not wish for you to be unhappy."
"Then you will allow me to leave?" Criostoir asked incredulously.
The prince nodded sadly. "I will give you 30 days in which to make your decision. At the end of the 30 days we shall meet in Aran Glen. Do you know it?"
Criostoir nodded.
"You will give me your decision then. And if you wish to remain in your mortal world, then I will do nothing to stop you." He stepped forward and ran his fingers through the man’s dark hair. "Does that suit you Criostoir?"
"Yes my Lord. Thank you. Thank you so much. It is so much more than I expected…thank you."
"Fine then," the prince said as he fought to hold back tears. "Close your eyes and count to ten. When you open them you shall be back home."
Criostoir stood and kissed the prince gently, then he stepped back and closed his eyes. As Jarlath watched him disappear, he smiled sadly and whispered, "Away with ye now."
Once Criostoir was gone and he was alone, Jarlath turned and began to weep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first, Criostoir spent his days enjoying the mortal world again, certain that his love for the prince was nothing more than a magic spell cast by the faerie. However, an unusual thing happened as the days continued to pass – he found himself missing the prince, missing his smile and his laugh. Soon he was longing for his touch and his kiss, and longing to have the strong arms around him once again.
It was mid-way through the month that he realized that he did indeed love the prince – not because of any enchantment or spell, but for the simplest reason of all – because being with him made him happy.
The warrior sighed as he accepted the truth. He was glad that he had asked for this time. It allowed him to make his own decision about Jarlath, but now that he had made it, he was inpatient to be reunited with the faerie.
He looked up into the bright blue sky as he thought about how wonderful it would be to once again be in Jarlath’s embrace.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thirty days passed slowly for the prince. But he waited with the patience of one whose life knows no end, and at last the time came to meet his love.
He traveled to Aran Glen, their agreed-upon meeting place and looked around, desperate to see his love and discover his fate.
Just when he was beginning to believe that Criostoir was not going to come, he saw a dark figure lying in the grass.
He ran towards it and to his horror saw that it was his love, Criostoir. He dropped to his knees beside him.
It was indeed his Criostoir, and he looked much as he had that first day – blood flowing from many wounds, his skin pale, his body shivering despite the warmth of the day.
He reached out and touched a blood-streaked hand and Criostoir’s eyes opened slowly. The prince looked into those eyes and felt his heart break into a thousand jagged pieces.
Criostoir spoke, although it pained him greatly to do so. "My Lord…I am so sorry…there were too many."
The man’s words brought crystal clear images of what had taken place to Jarlath’s mind. He could clearly see that Criostoir had been ambushed by thieves. He saw that Criostoir had fought them valiantly, even mortally wounding two of them, but in the end, there had simply been too many of them.
Jarlath forced the images from his mind and gave his full attention to the injured man before him. "Quiet love…its all right. I will heal you."
The prince laid his hands on the worst of the wounds, but nothing happened. The wounds would not close.
Criostoir gave a minute shake of his head. "You cannot…it is my time…" he said. He began to cough violently then, and bright red blood flowed from his mouth.
The prince shook his head in denial. "No. You will not die," he said as he gathered the man into his arms.
"My Lord…Jarlath…" Criostoir began.
"Hush…you have to save your strength…" Jarlath admonished as he caressed his lover’s face.
Criostoir’s voice was whisper-soft, but there was a strength in it that surprised even Jarlath. "No…you must know this. I…I love you. I came here to tell that I would stay with you. For as long as you might have me, Lord."
Jarlath briefly closed his eyes as he finally heard the words that he had waited 30 long days to hear. But not like this. He had not wanted to hear them like this.
"Remember always that I did love you," Criostoir said as he reached up to touch Jarlath’s cheek.
Jarlath opened his eyes and looked down. His sadness turned his voice rough and angry when he spoke again. "Stop it! Stop speaking as if you are dying. You will be fine!" he said desperately.
But it was already too late.
The man he held in his arms lived no longer.
The hand that just a moment ago had been at his cheek, now lay still on the bloodied ground.
Jarlath hugged the lifeless figure up to his chest and rocked him back and forth as if he were a sleeping child.
The tears he wept now were so bitter that they scorched the earth below him. His choking sobs so full of pain that they deafened any creature unfortunate enough to be within hearing distance.
And it was like this that he stayed, mourning over the lost love in his arms, for several days and nights. None of the faeries could convince him to let go of the man’s body, for Jarlath had made it so that he appeared only to be sleeping. He would not even hear the pleas of his mother, who held them both in her own strong arms and pleaded with him to come back home.
But Jarlath had already vowed never to leave Criostoir. As long as he still breathed, he would be at the fallen mortal’s side.
Eventually, his sorrowful lament reached the ears of Danu herself, the most powerful of all the gods and the mother of all faeries. Curious to see for herself what had caused such pain, she left her home high in the heavens and headed for the green earth.
When she came upon the prince and the warrior in the glade, she stood before them and whispered, "Child."
Jarlath looked up. "Mother," he said with great reverence, for she truly was the mother of them all. And for the first time in so many days, his tears began to slow.
"Why do you weep so?" she asked.
"He is dead…my Criostoir…my beautiful warrior is dead and without him, life is so empty Mother."
"But he is merely a mortal, and he has passed. It is time for you to leave him and to return to your home."
Jarlath shook his head. "Without him life is not worth living, Mother. Without him, there is nothing to return home to."
Danu nodded as if she had been expecting his answer. "I see…well, I can do nothing to alter his fate, but I can alter yours. I can take away your immortality so that you may join him in death. Is that what you so desire?"
The prince did not hesitate. "Yes. I would rather be joined with him in death than continue to live in this world without him."
Danu smiled and bent down as she reached forward with her hand. Jarlath closed his eyes in preparation for the touch that would end his immortal life, but it never came.
Confused, he opened his eyes to see that her touch was bestowed upon Criostoir, and that Criostoir’s eyes were fluttering open slowly.
Jarlath stared up at the goddess in disbelief. "How? Why?" he asked.
"Such love and devotion should not be rewarded with death, but with life," she explained. "And the life that he now has is as yours is – life everlasting. So that you may never have to part again."
Jarlath’s heart soared with joy. "How…how can I ever thank you for this gift?" he asked.
"Simply live well, child. Live well together," she said, and a moment later she was gone.
Jarlath smiled and looked down at the new immortal in his arms.
Criostoir’s eyes were now fully open and he was staring at Jarlath in awe. "I heard everything. You would have died for me," he said quietly.
Jarlath grasped one of Criostoir’s hands in his own. "I would have done anything for you. Anything."
"And I you, my Lord. And I you…I love you…so very much."
Jarlath smiled. "I love you. So very much."
"My lord, I…"Criostoir began as he struggled to sit up.
"Hush now," Jarlath said as he held Criostoir in place. "There will be plenty of time for talk later. For now, just kiss me."
And Criostoir smiled and gladly did as his lover asked.
With all his heart and soul…
And the two lived happily ever after…