Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Once upon a time, there lived a lonely prince who cared little for anything and everything, save for books, his only joy and escape from the mundane world he called home. He worked every page like a spell, and with a flip of the parchment, he would invoke himself into worlds of unimaginable wonder. Worlds like his own, worlds of the past and the future, worlds filled with terrors and heroes, and an endless adventures. The prince loved these worlds more than his own, for not only were the worlds grander than his, but he could become someone else. He could live as a man or woman, hero or villain, he would be the tallest and most handsome champion of a kingdom, or a wandering vagrant, or a master magician that wove spells with the tip of his wand. He loved the worlds dearly, and with every page, he grew more resentful of the world he had been born in. He began to spend more and more time alone with his books, his gateways into the fantastic lands of ink. He wished to forget the world in which he was born, he wanted to leave it forever and find solace in the many realms and planets of his books. One day, however, he wished the read outside, as spring had been born and with it came the wondrous sounds of nature, which he imagined would go perfect with his reading. So the young prince grabbed his favorite book and left the recesses of his room and wandered out into the world. Despite its beauty and majesty, he could only look upon the blooming flowers and fresh leaves with disdain, for they were blemishes compared to the beauties that ornamented the lands of his books. When he found a suitable spot beneath a fat tree, he sat against the cool, smooth bark and opened his book, but before he could spirit himself away to his favorite realm, a faint snap caught his attention and turned his eyes away from the pages. Another crunch, and another again, and soon a young princess emerged from a shrub, and the boy forgot his book the instant he saw her. He remembered the tales from his stories, of the beauties that enchanted both woods and men alike. He watched her for a moment, and felt his cheeks set ablaze when their eyes met. She offered him a smile and a name, and the prince quickly rose to his feet, his book left beneath the tree as he approached her. With every word she spoke, every blink of her eyes, every smile upon her lips, the world which was once so boring grew into something more fantastic than any realm that lied within his books. The leaves' whispering became songs, the flowers grew so bright with color that the prince wondered if they were painted. No matter how beautiful the world became, however, the girl was still more beautiful. He wondered if she were a flower brought to life, a goddess who had lost her way, or perhaps an enchantment by the land's greatest wizards. He asked her many questions, and she answered with questions of her own, and the two passed the entire day in conversation. When the sun grew heavy and began to sink into the hills, the two parted. The prince was stricken with melancholy the instant she left his sight, and sulked home, begrudgingly carrying his book with him, although he had lost all interest in it. He returned to his room, and carefully tucked the book into his shelf, and stood back a moment, looking over his collection of gateways, portals that would whisk him away to any world of his choosing, yet he no longer had any desire to visit any of them, for in those realms, the young girl he had met did not exist. Only in this world, the one which he had hated, did she live and breathe and enchant his mind with such things that no book could mimic. He blew out the candles and lied back in bed, choosing to fill his head with daydreams rather than the words of his books. He dreamed of their meeting a thousand times, and a thousand times more did he sigh at being alone. He slept peacefully that night, dreaming of the girl and her smile that captivated him. When he awoke, he rushed back to the spot, leaving his books to slumber in their shelf. He stood resolute beneath the tree, and watched the sun rise, and wondered if it had always been so dim, or if it merely looked darker when he compared it to the eyes of the girl. He smiled and waited, but soon the sun was falling again, and the day had been wasted, the girl never appeared. With heavy feet, the boy returned home again, but found the girl there, waiting for him. She explained that she was the princess of another kingdom, and that she would be staying with him and his family for some time. The boy rejoiced and every day was spent in her company, they played and talked, they laughed and cried. The prince's books grew dusty with every passing day, and as the two grew, his books remained closed. The boy, now a man, wondered why no books were written about the beautiful princess, no odes to her beauty, no myths of her perfection, no prayers to her radiance. So when the prince was alone, he wrote up a hundred tales about their days spent together, and when he wrote the hundredth story, he knew it wasn't over. For the one hundredth and first story, he wrote a tale of romance and blushed at its ending. He dried the ink with a gentle sigh and closed the pages. He rose and ventured through the castle until he found the princess, and asked her whether she liked to read. She answered that she did, and the two sat together as they read to each other, and came upon the last story just as the sun was setting. The prince remembered the story, and his face pulsed like a flame as he tried to close the book, but the princess refused to let it go unread, and read it aloud. Upon finishing the tale, both were red and smiling, and the two kissed so that the last story was a reality. They would read the stories every night, adding to them whenever they pleased, until many volumes were written, chronicles of their love and life. The prince wished to be with her forever, and looked upon his dusty tomes with a curious eye. He fetched a servant and had his collection hauled to a shop, and sold off, allowing him to purchase a gift for the princess. He returned to her and offered her the present, a gleaming ring, and asked if she would like to continue their story until the very final page. The princess agreed and the two were wed. They filled the prince's bookshelf with their own tales and volumes until it was full once more, and the two lived happily ever after.
Happy three month anniversary, my princess