To Melt A Frozen Heart

ForevaXena's FanFic . . .

To Melt a Frozen Heart

Disclaimers: There are no copyright disclaimers on this story because it is all mine. This is not a Xena story; it’s not even an Uber, at least not in my mind. But it is a lesbian faery tale. My characters are not based upon any other characters. So why is this story here? Well, because I wrote it and want to share it with others. That means that I have to put it on web sites where people have a chance of finding it.

Subtext: As I stated above, this is a lesbian faery tale. That means that there are depictions of a loving relationship between two women. If this offends you, is illegal in your state, or you are under the age of 18, then don’t read it! Alas, for those of you looking for explicit sexual scenes, I don’t write those in my stories. If anything I’ve said makes you decide to not read my story, you are free to look for something else. It’s just too bad for you because you’ll be missing a rather good story.

General Info About the Story: In writing this story, I have attempted to create a feeling of something from the Middle Ages. In doing so, I have used a more archaic sounding sentence structure than what we generally read in today’s time. I have also made use of kennings and formulaic adjective phrases throughout the piece. What are kennings? They are metaphors that are used as nouns and are made up of two words. One example from the story is the use of “songsmith” to mean “bard.” Formulaic adjective phases are ways of modifying nouns…except that the same phrases are used over and over again, rather than coming up with something new. They were used to a great extent in epic poetry to help the singers remember what came next. Ovid used things like “rosy-fingered dawn” as formulaic adjective phrases…so “dawn” was always “rosy-fingered.”

Educational Disclaimer: If you’ve gotten this far, be warned that you just got an English lesson in the paragraph above.

Dedication: Whether I ever have children or not, one of the many reasons I began this story was because I want to have something I can read to my future daughters, and that my friends that want or already have children could read to theirs. I wanted to have a story in which the children could see a couple that looks like their mommies. In extension, To Melt a Frozen Heart is especially for anyone who reads it to a child with whom they have some sort of relationship.

Comments may be sent to Ambyrhawke@sbcglobal.net

Pronunciations and Artwork:

Ælfwynn : 'Ahlf-wen

Ceinwen : 'Cane-wen

Emric : 'Em-rick

chirurgeons : Kie-'ur-gens (doctors)

CLICK IMAGES FOR LARGER SIZE >

Ælfwynn

Ceinwen

Part One

Once upon a time, there was a small kingdom which had a noble ruler. The king and his queen were kind and well loved by their people. For many years the gentle-hearted queen remained barren, and the royal advisors feared there would be no heir to the throne. But the noble king never spoke the smallest word that would cause distress to his lady, for he loved her more than throne, duty or life itself. She was his world, and he made sure everyone knew it.

The bard of the realm was a close friend of the king's. They had grown up together and kept their friendship in spite of their differences in station. The bard and his lady would often spend evenings alone with the royal couple laughing and singing in the woods where the fae folk gathered.

On one such evening, the four were in the woods with the fae folk listening to the elf bard sing songs in honour of her wise queen. When she paused for a moment, the king's friend stood and asked if he might sing a new song of his own, to which the elf queen eagerly agreed. The man sang a beautiful ballad about the faery ruler which he had toiled on night and day for a full turning of the moon. So delighted was she with the song that she granted him a boon...anything he desired. The bard looked to his friend. He asked for his queen to be blessed with a child, that the royal advisors might stop bothering the couple.

This show of love moved the sovereign of the faeries, and she agreed to give not only the mortal queen a child but also the bard's own wife. At her word, the elf bard knelt before the two women and Sang a Song of Quickening to their wombs.

Thus it was that in nine month's time, on the same day, both the gentle-hearted queen and the bard's sweet wife bore baby girls. The bard's daughter came into the world first and was named Ælfwynn, meaning "Elf joy," for it was the joy of the faery queen which brought about the blessing. The baby princess was named Ceinwen, meaning "fair and beautiful jewel," for she was as precious as any gem to her parents. Though the advisors grumbled that the child was not a boy, the noble-minded king proclaimed her the heir apparent and said the matter was closed for good

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Ælfwynn and Ceinwen were reared together from the start. At first, it was the king's wish, however, in time the princess would not tolerate a separation from her friend for long. The two girls spent almost all of their time together making mischief, climbing trees, or hiding from their nurses. Most nights found them both sleeping in one or the other's bed.

The four adults doted on the young girls yet never spoiled them. They comprised a solid core of love in which Ælfwynn and Ceinwen thrived. This core was, in turn, supported by a wider circle of affection from the faeries. All the others in their lives, while not cruel, concerned themselves more with what was proper than with being affectionate.

As she grew up, Ælfwynn's name became more appropriate than anyone could have imagined, for she was the joy in the elf bard's life. None of the fae folk had seen the wordweaver so happy since the deaths of her wife and daughter three hundred years earlier. This was especially true when Ælfwynn proved gifted with a voice as silvery-beautiful as the elf bard's own. And well it should be, for Ælfwynn was a descendant of the wordweaver through her father.

With her father's duties at court keeping him busy, the faery woman saw to the young girl's musical training. In no time at all, her fingers flew over elf-gifted harp strings like a master. She soon spent her days forging songs for Ceinwen's eternal delight

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One day when they were almost sixteen, Ælfwynn and Ceinwen were walking along in the woods hand in hand. The spring sun shone down on the light green of leaves and grass. Birds chirped in the boughs overhead, and rabbits hopped along the twisting pathways.

The two girls looked like sunlight and shadow as they walked along. The princess was fair with hair equal parts light brown, golden and strawberry. She had deep brown eyes that reminded one of a fawn in their softness. Those eyes now danced in merriment. She wore a long light blue dress edged with silver knotwork embroidery.

The young bard stood slightly taller than the princess. Long waves of ebony hair so dark that it shone fell from her head. Her eyes, slate-grey and often thoughtful, would flash with fire when she sang, seeing worlds that existed solely because of her imagination. For now they drank in everything around her...all of her senses absorbing every detail of the day, storing them until such time as they could be transformed into bits of music or story

They stopped by a small stream where solid beams of sunlight fell upon the great moss-covered rocks. They were talking about their upcoming birthdays.

"Have you chosen my present yet?" the princess asked innocently.

The songsmith's deeper voice queried, "Why? Is there something in particular you crave?" Seeing the brown eyes sparkle, Ælfwynn smiled wryly, "Let me guess...another song mayhaps?" Ever since they were five, Ceinwen had always asked for a song as her gift, though she would get the song and other presents as well from her friend.

The autumn-gold hair swayed from the princess' shake of her head. "No, this time I want a promise. I want you to swear that you'll never leave me, Ælfwynn."

The bard looked in surprise at the suddenly solemn expression. She stood quietly for a moment, her face growing sad, "You know I'm going to become a journeyman soon...I'll have to leave."

"No, you won't. I'll have my father assign you to court.”

Ælfwynn bowed her head and spoke in soft, sorrowful tones, "A promise like that won't matter in a few years' time.”

"What in the world do you mean by that?" the princess asked with an incredulous look on her face.”

"Ceinwen," her friend tried to make her understand, "you're going to be the queen someday. I'll just be a bard."

"That didn't matter to our fathers." Seeing the pain in the shadowy bard's expression, Ceinwen stepped back, suddenly unsure. Her words came out in a whisper, "Or is it that you want to leave? Does your heart long for adventure?”

Reaching out a hand, Ælfwynn raised the sunlight princess' chin. "No, I don't want to leave. I'm afraid that you'll forget me...."

"Promise me. Please," pled the higher voice of the princess.

Ælfwynn looked at her friend and knew that she could not refuse her, nor did she want to. Nodding her head, she agreed, "All right.”

Ceinwen's face broke into a smile as she reached up and placed a light, quick kiss on the bard's lips. Ælfwynn glanced up in shock at the warm touch. The sunlight, it seemed to her, sparkled in the brown eyes a bit differently than it had before.

In her excitement over the promise, the smaller woman grabbed Ælfwynn's hands and hopped over the trickle of the brook. She smiled and urged her friend, "Promise me. Promise that you'll never leave me."

Ælfwynn caught and held the gaze before her. "I swear by the air, land and sea that I shall never leave you, Ceinwen. I will always play for you. Even if I should die, I'll find a way to bring you music.”

Ceinwen gazed up at the songsmith. She spoke her own vow with conviction, "And I swear to you, Ælfwynn, by the air, land and sea, that I shall never forget you. When I am Queen, I will not ignore you. You'll always be first in my heart."

"And you'll be first in mine," the silver voice added softly. "And if I should be forsworn, then may the sky fall down upon me, may the earth swallow me, and may the sea rise up to drown me."

The autumn-haired princess nodded, "If I should be forsworn, then may the sky fall down upon me, may the earth swallow me, and may the sea rise up to drown me."

The two girls came together, hugging closely for a time, and then began to walk again. Ceinwen linked their hands together. After a few steps, she peeked up at Ælfwynn from the corner of her eye, "So what kind of song did you write me?"

The bard's musical laughter rose through the wood, a second, higher laugh quickly joining it.

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Three years later in the dark of the night, footsteps were heard pelting down the dimly lit halls of the castle. A door slammed open, and a tall form burst in out of the shadows, skidding to a halt. Black hair disheveled from sleep and the wild run through the hallways framed Ælfwynn's face. Her tunic, crooked and unbelted, gave further testament to her having been asleep some five minutes previous. She panted for breath as she took in the tear-streaked face before her.

The pain in the brown eyes spurred the bard forward in a rush. Ceinwen fell into her arms with a sob, holding on to her shadowy friend as if her life depended on it. Ælfwynn pulled her closer with soft words, "Lass, I just heard. I'm so sorry...." Tears were spilling down her own cheeks as she stroked her friend's autumn-gold hair

The king and queen had both become ill. All the chirurgeons worked hard to keep them warm in the damp winter air of the high-towered castle, but soon a rattling of fluid could be heard in the gentle-hearted queen's chest. She crossed over to the next world in the night. When she had gone, the noble king just seemed to give up, and he too passed away.

Ælfwynn's parents had both died within the last year. The two women held each other tightly as they slowly realized that, of all the people in the world who truly loved them, only they were left. The princess wept harder than before now that the songsmith was there, for Ælfwynn had always provided the path to the other woman's deepest emotions. The candlemarks slipped away as they sat together on the bed, shadow cradling sunlight within strong arms.

After a time the king's advisor, Seneschal Emric, entered the room. He was an ancient man who had been Seneschal to Ceinwen's grandfather and her father after him. Lord Emric was tall and stately with flowing white hair. He would have been handsome in his age were it not for the frown he always wore.”

If there was one thing Lord Emric believed in, it was absolute propriety. Everyone had a role with certain duties and ways of acting, and these should be performed perfectly. He was one of the people who made sure things got done in life but did not much care if fun was had in the doing. Ceinwen's father had constantly confounded the man with his relaxed method of ruling.

Lord Emric came to a stop out of earshot of the princess' bed. He quickly motioned for Ælfwynn to join him. The ebony-haired songsmith disengaged herself from her friend's hold, whispering that she would be back shortly. She approached and bowed her head, "Lord Emric...."

"Ælfwynn. You may leave now," rumbled Lord Emric's barritone voice.

The woman's brow furrowed, "I beg your pardon?"

Milky blue eyes looked down at her, "You may leave. Your presence is no longer required."

Ælfwynn glanced back at the bed which held the crying princess and took a step closer to the Seneschal. "I'll not be leaving. My friend is grieving, and my presence is very much required."

"The princess will be getting dressed and leaving for the ceremony presently."

"What ceremony? The king and queen just died a few candlemarks ago, may the gods rest their souls. It's too early for the funeral."

Lord Emric crossed his arms and said lowly, "You don't know what must be done, bard."

Slate-grey eyes flashed with anger, "And you don't care what she's going through right now, Lord Seneschal. Ceinwen's just lost both her parents for Goddess' sake!"

"What's going on here?" The two looked up at the soft words. Ceinwen's eyes were red from weeping, but the tears were dried.

Though Ælfwynn moved toward her friend, Lord Emric spoke first, "Your Majesty, the vigil for your parents will start at sunrise, and as their only child, you must be there. Harsh though it may be, you are now the queen," he looked at the bard meaningfully. "And duty to your kingdom must come before personal pain."

The princess gazed at the floor for a few moments. When she lifted her eyes and nodded, there was a slight hollowness in her voice, "You are right, Lord Emric."

Ælfwynn quickly turned fully to her, offering to be by her side. Ceinwen caught her hands, drawing them both away from the tall man. She spoke to her friend, "Thank you...but I must do this alone." The expected protests were forestalled with soft fingers against the bard's lips. "I have to appear strong, not leaning against someone else. Let me do what I have to. I'll be all right, Ælfwynn."

Pained grey eyes searched the brown depths before them, and what they found caused Ælfwynn a nebulous unease in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite understand. "Are you sure?"

The shorter woman nodded, "I'm sure. Thank you for staying with me tonight. Go and try to get some rest."

Reluctantly, the silver-voiced songsmith hugged her friend and took her leave. The unease kept quietly gnawing at the back of her mind.

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The next few years were busy ones for the young-crowned queen and ebony-haired bard. Each had many new duties which demanded their time. They saw each other as often as they could outside of court, but it was never as often as they hoped. In the moments they could steal away from others, they laughed together about things going on in the high-towered castle.

Over time, the silver-voiced songsmith began to notice that the autumn-haired woman's laugh did not come as easily nor sound so freely as once it had. The mantle of rulership proved a heavy burden which taxed the queen's soul. And so Ælfwynn took up the battle to cheer her friend, listen or provide a shoulder...whatever was needed.

At one such time, Ceinwen asked about the bard's work, "What's this I hear about you not working on songs for Yule?"

"Why should I work on them?" the shadowy woman scoffed. "They have been finished for weeks. Everyone's just stressed because I'm not up night and day like father was."

Ceinwen smiled, "I think you dream your songs, Ælfwynn. It wouldn't surprise me if you went to sleep at night only to have them appear in the morning like magic."

Slate-grey eyes flickered over in mirth, "Well...there was that one time when your father swore he caught me writing music out with my eyes closed, fast asleep." It was a story she had never lived down, so the silence in the room startled her into looking up fully. Ceinwen's face was set in a distant, trembling mask. With determination, she struggled to regain control of herself.

A thousand clues suddenly locked into place with a jarring force. Ælfwynn cautiously tested her newfound insight, "It's okay to cry for them...."

The smaller woman stiffened, "It is not seemly for a queen to cry."

"That's Lord Emric talking. Ceinwen...it's me, Ælfwynn." She gestured to the small room, "We're alone here. You don't have to be 'The Queen' around me, you know that!" She began to dread the other's stony silence. "When was the last time you cried for them?"

The young-crowned queen turned her head away from the silver-voiced bard. Ælfwynn let out a pained whisper, "Sweet Goddess...you haven't cried since the night they passed away, have you?"

"Leave it be...."

"Lass, you can't go on like this. A person has got to grieve; you told me so yourself."

The brown eyes turned to her in weary pleading, "I don't want to cry. My friend, help me forget. Play me something happy. Please?"

"It's not good for you to forget."

"Please...." The words tore out of her small chest huskily, "If you love me, you'll do this for me, Ælfwynn."

That statement took the bard's breath away. Tears welled up in the grey eyes, and she spoke fervently, "I do love you, Ceinwen...more than you know. But what you ask of me is no act of love. I can't do it. I won’t do it."

The stony queen's face took on an expression her friend had never before seen. She shouted in anger, "I order you to play for me!"

"No...."?

"Do you forget that I am your queen?"

Ælfwynn's whole body shook with emotion, "I will never forget that I am your friend, Ceinwen. I won't help you hurt yourself like this."

The reply came out in a growl, "If you won't play, then get out of my sight!" The queen turned her back on the songsmith.

A gasp shot out of Ælfwynn's lungs as tears fell from her eyes like waterfalls. She fled the room, leaving her harp where it sat. The long halls echoed her sobs and footfalls as she made her way blindly through the high-towered castle. Unable to see past her tears, the bard's instinct guided her flight.

Ælfwynn ran out of the mighty, ancient walls and into the dark of the forest. The winter wind whipped the snow about in all directions. It tore through the bard's tunic, and snow seeped into her indoor boots as she stumbled and fell into the white drifts piled high along the pathways. She felt none of the cold, so sore was her heart.

When she reached the glade where she had spent so many happy times with Ceinwen, their parents and the fae folk, she threw herself to the ground. The storm's fury lessened only to be replaced by a keening wail that rose again and again from the figure in the snow. The world had no answer for the heart-shattered question of, "Why?"

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The storms beat down on the land with a fury that grew each day. The winds, a battle-mad monster trying to reach its enemies, buffeted the high-towered castle. All of the people within went about their tasks more subdued than usual. When the mighty, ancient walls would creak and groan under the weight of the assault, fearful whispers could be heard declaring that, surely, the gods were angry.

Finally Yule had arrived, the longest night of the year. Though darkness would reign supreme on this night, dawn would see the rebirth of the god, the Sun-Child. The entire castle and surrounding populace gathered in the great hall for an eve of revelry. All fears gave way to mirth, even in the face of gloom. For how could even gods remain angry with the return of the Sun-Child?

The great hall was ablaze with light from the fires in the hearths and the flames of countless candles. A moving tapestry of colors filled that vast hall as people, finely dressed, sought out their friends with well wishes upon their lips. Laughter was the order of the festivities.

The autumn-haired queen sat upon her finely-carved throne at the head of the hall. Never had Ceinwen looked more beautiful than at this winter's feast. She wore a long, full gown as green as the deepest parts of the pine forest. It had a fitted bodice which laced up in the back. The sleeves were narrow at the top and flared out into long pointed drapes at the cuff. The bottom was bordered by gold embroidered knotwork lions. A gold link belt circled her waist in a V-shape with an extra span hanging down the center of her skirt.

The young-crowned queen's long hair hung loose except for the red-gold circlet which proclaimed her the realmlord. Her only piece of jewelry was a crystal on a chain around her throat. Smokey in color, tongues of fire seemed trapped within, giving the appearance that the crystal lived. A small green stone was set against it as well.

The festive mood seemed to have captured even Ceinwen's spirit, for she was laughing at the antics of a tumbler when she called over her shoulder, "Ælfwynn, play us some music."

The whole of that great hall, from length to breadth, became suddenly silent. Only the wind whipping about the castle's high towers could be heard. When the silence dragged on, the queen spoke again, "Ælfwynn, I asked you to..." her words trailed off as she turned and saw only an empty place where the silver-voiced woman always sat. Looking around, the queen spotted the Seneschal, "Lord Emric, where is Ælfwynn?"

As if one being, the populace gathered in the vast hall gasped and looked nervously about. For the first time in all remembrance, tall and stately Lord Emric stumbled for words. "Your Majesty...Bard Ælfwynn is dead...."

"Dead?”

"Y-yes, My Queen. She passed away from a fever and fluid in her lungs a fortnight ago, may all the gods rest her soul.”

"Why was I not informed?"

The ancient seneschal twisted his hands, "A message was sent...but Your Majesty was quite busy with affairs of state."

The woman stared blankly at the place where the silver-voiced songsmith once sat. Then she turned back, "Why was she not replaced?"

"My Queen?" Lord Emric's voice squeaked as the hall's occupants gasped again.

The queen's face clouded over, "This is Yule, and I want there to be music." In a voice that filled the space, she asked, "Who will sing me a song?"

Out of that vast emptiness a bold voice, music itself, sounded out, "I shall sing you a song, Your Majesty." All eyes turned to the speaker who stood and slowly approached the young-crowned queen upon her finely-carved throne. Her cloak billowed behind her like ravens' wings. Her tunic was the same shade of piercing blue as the flashing eyes framed by flowing raven-black hair.

Ceinwen recognized the woman approaching her at once and smiled, "Ah, the bard of the elves. It has been a long time."

"Indeed, it has been. Many things have changed since last we met." The wordweaver bowed yet kept her gaze locked on the seated woman.

"But surely some things remain the same, " the queen said lightly. "Your voice is the only one I have ever heard which was sweeter than Ælfwynn's."

The dark head inclined, "Would that she were here to challenge that claim."

A heartbeat passed before the young-crowned queen answered, "You said you would sing me a song...."

A wide smile broke out on the faery woman's face, but Ceinwen seemed to not notice the iciness within the eyes of blue, "So I shall." She gestured to the sovereign, "One fit only for a queen such as yourself. And when I am done, I shall tell you a story."

"Indeed! What is the story about?”

The wordweaver spoke in a hall-filling voice, "It is a tale of love and loyalty too poorly rewarded."

The autumn-haired queen frowned petulantly, "Should we not hear something more fitting to the mood of the season?"

"Oh, it mirrors the season perfectly, Your Majesty, and its ending is...most satisfying, I assure you." All, except the queen, who saw the elf's face felt their blood run cold.

Settling into her seat, the small woman smiled, "Very well then...sing your song and tell your tale."

The wordweaver stood behind the elf-gifted harp where it sat, ownerless, in its spot on the floor. She began spinning an intricate web of notes on the strings. The music put the entire room in a thrall. The populace fell into a deep sleep while the young-crowned queen became motionless upon her throne. Only then did the elf bard, weaver of words and power, begin to sing....

Still as earth,

Still as stone.

A shell of granite,

Shall be your home.

A heart once warm

Has turned to ice,

And by my song

You'll pay the price.

For closing your eyes

To those who care,

For all the times,

You were not there.

So upon your throne,

Oh haughty queen,

Shall you sit

But ne'er be seen.

A lady of stone,

To all you'll seem;

This nightmarish curse

Spent in waking dream.

Our minstrel friend

With dying breath

Bade me heed

Her last request.

And so I swore

That I would give

Your callous soul

A chance to live.

So, if Love can reach

Through stony sleep.

And melt frozen heart

Enough to weep

Then grief-filled tears

And nothing more,

Can end this curse;

Your life restore.

When the last notes died away in the far corners of the great hall, the dark elf turned to the throne. The queen sat unmoving. She looked as she had in life except that she was now stone. However, only her body changed...she was a statue robed and bejeweled in cloth and gold.

The wordweaver stepped close to the stone queen. "And now I promised you a tale. 'Tis one of which you know half already. Six years ago, you and Ælfwynn swore oaths to each other...yes, the Sidhe heard those oaths as you made them. She kept hers to you. She played for you. She loved you more than anything in this world, even her music. And how did you repay her?

"You broke your own oath to her. When she tried to save you from yourself, you treated her not like a friend, but like a slave to take orders. When she refused, you turned her away.

"Ælfwynn fled into a raging storm with a heart shattered by your hate-filled words. That thin tunic you last saw her in was all she had on. When I found her, she was frozen half to death.

"For weeks she was mad with fever. I sat by her side, heard her beg you to forgive her. After the cruel way you treated Ælfwynn, she still loved you. She pled with you...said that she would play anything you wanted if only you would come to see her.”

The elf bard shook with barely contained fury. "We sent you word, but you never came. Ælfwynn woke countless times, always asking me if you had come. Every time I had to say no, I could see her will to live slip further from her. I even went to you myself and heard you tell the Seneschal that you were too busy to hear about 'the songsmith.' She was your friend, and you didn't even cry for her just now!"

Tears slid from the bard's blue eyes, "Ælfwynn was as much a child to me as was my own daughter, and your cruelty took her away from me. Before she died, I told her you would pay for being the soulless oathbreaker that you are, but she begged me to give you a chance to live again. So as stone you will sit, yet you shall be aware of everything around you. Uncaring Queen, you will learn what it is like to not be seen...to have your cries ignored. Had Ælfwynn not begged me with her dying wish, I would have made your curse last forever, and I would have been happy to do so. But melt your frozen heart and cry a tear of grief for Ælfwynn, and you shall live again. That is...if you even have a heart left."

With that, the wordweaver strode out of the great hall, her cloak flying behind her. At the door, she spoke one word before leaving. The people awoke and looked around, bewildered. Eventually they started searching for the young-crowned queen, each wondering how the lady of stone had come to sit upon the finely-carved throne.

As if in a dream, the oathbreaking queen saw and heard everything around her. She called out to the people who gazed at her...but no one seemed to hear.

The darkness deepened as the storm raged even more fiercely around the high-towered castle. Dawn broke the next day, and still the furious winds blew.

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Part Two

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