Warning: Slash, implied. Duncan/Methos. In the
alternate universe in which I write, Richie was not killed
by Duncan. I am not a member of the Clan Denial, but
I cannot stand the writing of the those episodes and
cannot cope with the idea of Duncan killing Rich. It
simply hurts Duncan too badly and for no good reason.
I am not sure how well I have followed directions about
this all being a fairy tale. The fairy tale is embedded
within a story in my universe within the on-going
relationship between Duncan and Methos.
Furthermore, I broke the rule about no beta readers.
This story was betaed by shrewreader and I am most
grateful for her feedback and edits.
Botticelli, Snow White, and the Beanstalk
Methos grinned at the sight of Duncan holding his new
god-child, George Duncan Frasier, the new son of
Louise Frasier and Theresa Johnson. Various adults
buzzed around, directing the party for the christening
into the foyer for hors d’oeuvres before the dinner to
follow.
A group of small and medium sized children surrounded
the Scot and the baby, asking endless questions.
Duncan answered patiently, for several moments,
growing more and more frazzled, especially when the
baby started crying, and then asked them, “Would you
like to hear a story?”
There was a chorus of agreement, and Duncan, with a
wicked grin, nodded in Methos’ direction, saying, “My
friend, Adam, there, tells wonderful stories. I’m sure
he’d be willing to give you one.”
Seven pairs of young and hopeful eyes fixed on Methos
whose eyes widened. He nodded at the children, and
gave Duncan a look that he sincerely hoped
communicated his intention of ‘getting oh so even with
you,’ sat down on the floor, put his back to the wall,
and gathered the smallest child into his lap.
“As he said, I’m Adam,” he began. “Who are you?”
“Sarah,” the youngest one confided.
Methos nodded and solemnly shook her hand,
repeating the procedure with the other seven children
who surrounded him. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
“Now, shall I tell you the story of the good prince who
was cursed by a black knight and a troll and how the
spell was broken with the help of an advisor to the
prince, a fool, a witch, a giant, a very wise and good
man, a holy spring, and a magic sword?”
“It’s a tale of a dark curse and mighty magic and deep
and abiding love and faith, and the triumph of good
over evil and love over hate. Does that work for you
guys?” Methos asked.
“Are there fights in it?” twelve year old Michael
demanded.
“Oh, yes,” Methos agreed.
“And magic?” eight year old Elizabeth asked.
Methos nodded.
“Dragons?” nine year old Brad asked.
Methos considered. “There might be,” he said. “I’m
not sure I remember all the story quite yet. We shall
see. Now let me think a moment, so I can get it right in
my head.” He looked up at Duncan who was still
holding his newest godson whom he had succeeded in
soothing to quietness.
Duncan smiled down at him. “Thank you,” he said
quietly.
Methos grinned. “You can say thank you when I finish
this story. And by the way. . .” his eyes went distant
and far away “were you the wife of Claudius, the
Emperor of Rome, a woman who was a well renowned
harlot and strumpet and who poisoned her husband?”
Methos went on with the game of Botticelli that he and
Duncan had been playing since they had left Seacouver
on this trip to Portland.
“Oh, futz,” Duncan grumbled. “I know her name. I do.
Arghhh. . .”
“Take some time to think about it,” Methos suggested.
“Maybe your baby addled brain will start working in
time.”
“It is a possibility,” Duncan conceded. “And my brain
is more addled by a certain impossible to get out of bed
and out of the house and on the road, especially on the
road, individual, who almost drove me insane this
morning.”
“Oh, really?” Methos’ eyes started sparkling. “I
wonder who that might be.”
“I wonder,” Duncan said drily.
Children fidgeted and squirmed. Methos looked
around. “I do think I have an impatient audience
waiting, Duncan. Can we continue this later?”
“Our discussion about this morning or the game of
Botticelli?”
“Both.” Methos turned to the children and started.
“Once upon a time, there was a very handsome, very
honorable, very mighty Prince, named Duncazar.”
Duncan who had been about to turn and walk away,
stopped dead. “Unfortunately there were times that he
was so bloody honorable that he forgot all about taking
care of himself, and then all of his faithful followers and
minions had to run around like so many idiotic chickens
with their heads cut off to take care of the silly Prince.”
Joe Dawson chuckled as he settled into an armchair
near the story telling activities. He and Rich had driven
down separately from Duncan and Methos to the
christening. Joe looked up at Duncan who was
standing stock-still with raised eye-brows and held out
his arms to take the baby. “Serves you right, Mac,” he
said quietly. “I can’t wait to hear how this story goes.”
“Oh, nor can I,” Duncan replied, handing over the
drowsy infant.
“Now in a kingdom close by Prince Duncazar, there
lived a black knight named Kronotrode who had a
magic mirror. Every day he would go to his magic
mirror and ask ‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the
mightiest knight of all?’ The magic mirror always
answered, ‘Sir Kronotrode, I tell you true. The
mightiest one is always you.’ But one day, when Sir
Kronotrode asked his rather ridiculous and totally
repetitive question–“
Joe snorted with laughter. Methos fixed him with a
mock reproving stare and continued, “the mirror
responded with a deep and sorrowing sigh--that
actually disguised the mirror’s ecstatic happiness at
breaking the boring routine. Even magic mirrors look
forward to a little variation in a day’s activities–and the
mirror said, ‘Sir Kronotrode, now I tell you true.
Prince Duncazar’s might’s the greater of you two.’ The
magic mirror wasn’t at all sure the rhyme scanned
exactly and correctly, but at least she had something
different to say and that made her very happy.”
“How do you know the magic mirror was a girl?”
Sarah interrupted.
“Oh,” Methos said solemnly. “Because her name was
Emily Puff, and we all know that people and mirrors
named Emily Puff are girls.”
“How come all of these people have names that sound
like Pokemon?” Brad asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” Methos with seriousness that
equaled his solemnness in answer to the previous
question.
Duncan, who had settled down on the arm of Joe’s
chair, snorted and said quietly for Joe’s ears only,
“Because he used to baby sit a child on Saturday
morning who watched Pokemon cartoons.”
“Baby sit?” Joe’s brows came up.
“Tell you later. Listen now. I am fascinated.”
Methos went on with the story, “Well, Sir Kronotrode
was NOT at all happy, and he asked the mirror to
show him Prince Duncazar. Emily Puff happily
complied, glad again to have something different to do
besides the usual boring routine. Prince Duncazar was
at that time living with one red-headed, freckled dwarf
named Richeon–“
“Hey,” Rich protested. He had been listening to most
of the story, had drifted off to get food and was just
coming back in with a plate piled high with chips, dip,
salsa, Swedish meatballs, cheese and crackers, nachos,
miniature tacos, and several cocktail sandwiches. “I
am NOT a dwarf.” One of the sandwiches fell from his
overloaded plate.
Methos caught the sandwich in the air and took a bite.
“Fairy tale, Rich. Has nothing to do with YOU, idiot
boy.”
Joe muttered, sotto voice, loud enough for Rich to hear,
“And might be referring to your moral stature, anyway.”
Rich grinned and slid down the wall to sit nearby.
The children stared at the almost incomprehensible
adult interaction, or semi-adult interaction, and turned
their attention back to Methos who continued, “Prince
Duncazar was expecting a visit from an old friend,
named Koltekey who was a Native American shaman
who ate the souls of evil men and made them good.
The Prince was very much looking forward to seeing
his old friend and had told the dwarf, Richeon, all about
him.”
“But,” Methos went on, “Sir Kronotrode found all
these plans out via Emily Puff. He went to visit an evil
troll who lived under a bridge, as most trolls seem to
do, and I have no clue why since one would think that
under a bridge would be a damp and nasty place to
live.”
“But then trolls are most unpleasant and beastly sorts of
folks so it’s no wonder that they would choose to live in
a clammy and disagreeable place. This troll was named
Caspeowth, and he had a book of magic spells. He
helped Kronotrode to put a spell on Koltekey so that
the next time Koltekey ate an evil soul, the evil
overtook him and instead of making the evil good, poor
Koltekey became evil.”
Methos paused and allowed the children to consider
the enormity of that tragedy. He then went on, “So
when Prince Duncazar met his friend, Koltekey, his
friend still looked like his friend and still sounded like
his friend, but was no longer his friend. He had
become totally black and evil. Much to the Prince’s
surprise, his old and good friend, first attacked Richeon
with a sword. The Prince, of course, defended his
dwarf, and Koltekey ran away.”
“Prince Duncazar was heartsick because he
remembered when the Shaman Koltekey had healed
him of hatred and evil in his heart by taking him to a
magic healing place of the soul. He didn’t want to fight
with Koltekey who had delivered him from all of his
anger and hatred.”
“But when he met Koltekey again, Koltekey attacked
him with a sword, and Prince Duncazar had to fight him
to save his own life. The Prince won, but at an
enormous cost. All the evil that had consumed
Koltekey entered the Prince and made him evil.
Suddenly, Prince Duncazar was not only the mightiest
warrior in all the world, he was also the most vile and
evil.” The children gasped. Methos looked at them
sadly.
“Yes, Prince Duncazar was then completely cursed
and weakened by the black knight, Kronotrode,
because his essential nature was good, and he was not
as strong when he was evil.” Duncan sighed and
closed his eyes. Joe reached up and put a hand on the
Scot’s forearm.
“Prince Duncazar went home and turned on his faithful
dwarf, Richeon, attacking him with a sword. Richeon
grabbed another sword and tried to defend himself, but
his fighting abilities were minuscule beside the prowess
of the Prince. Richeon put up a heroic fight, but the
Prince disarmed him and had a sword to the dwarf’s
neck when suddenly an arrow pierced the Prince and
brought him down.”
The children were listening wide-eyed as Methos went
on. “The Prince had an advisor, Dawsonsour, who had
come in and seen the fight and realized the Prince was
not himself. He took out a bow and arrow and shot his
Prince. While Duncazar was knocked out,
Dawsonsour sent Richeon away. Richeon was
distressed and hurt, but he left as Dawsonsour insisted.
Dawsonsour tied up Prince Duncazar and healed his
wound.”
“When the Prince awoke, Dawsonsour tried to talk to
him, but Duncazar only swore at him and dared his
advisor and friend to kill him. Dawsonsour realized his
Prince had been cursed. He was stricken with grief,
and freed the Prince. Prince Duncazar fought a mighty
battle within himself and left without harming
Dawsonsour. The good side of the Prince won over
the evil, and he did not hurt his friend and advisor.”
“Well, he has that part right,” Joe muttered quietly, his
hand still on Duncan’s arm. “Mac, is this getting to
you?”
“I’m okay, Joe. Just wondering . . .” Duncan
murmured quietly.
“Prince Duncazar disguised himself and ran away.
Deep in his heart, he knew he was not himself, and he
simply wanted to escape and get away and not harm
the people he knew and loved. In the meantime,
Dawsonsour called one who deeply and desperately
loved the Prince. He was called Methochu, the Fool.
Shall I tell you all about Methochu, the Fool?” Methos
asked brightly. The children nodded, almost in unison.
“Methochu had long been a Fool. For many centuries.
He had been cursed with eternal youth and eternal
foolishness until he had the wisdom to love truly and
win the love of one who could love him truly. For
many years, Methochu had fought beside the side of
the Black Knight, Kronotrode and had loved him and
been loved by him. But it was not a true love, for a
Black Knight cannot love truly no matter how truly he is
loved.” Methos’ voice was quietly, almost
unnoticeably strained.
Duncan started to rise and Joe held him back gently.
“Let him go on,” Joe said softly.
“Methochu FINALLY came to his senses and ran
away from the Black Knight. He went out into the
world on his own and had many adventures. Now,
mind you, I told you he was a Fool. Have any of you
seen a Tarot Deck?”
There were a couple of hesitant nods. Methos grinned.
“In a Tarot Deck, the Fool is just about to step off a
cliff and fall into experience and wisdom, and that is
what Methochu was about to do. He fell five thousand
feet, learned much from his experience, and atoned for
many sins, but he still had no wisdom. He was still a
Fool. He was still in search of true wisdom and true
love.”
“Methochu met a wise and holy man named Darius
who told him that his true love would be Prince
Duncazar. Methochu had not one clue what to think
about that, but then he met Duncazar and fell hopelessly
and deeply in love. All he wanted in all of his life was
to keep Duncazar safe and unharmed which was very
difficult because Prince Duncazar kept insisting on
putting his life in danger. And Methochu, the Fool, was
often most exasperated.”
Joe chucked again and Duncan sighed, half in
exasperation and half in recognition of the truth of what
Methos was saying.
Louise Frasier, one of the mothers of the child who had
been christened, stood in the middle of the room and
announced that dinner was about to be served.
Methos looked around at the children. “May I finish
this story after we eat?” he asked politely.
“NO!” Sarah protested. “I want to hear it NOW!”
“I’m so sorry,” Methos said gently,. stroking her back,
“but ‘now’ is time for dinner. I’ll meet you all back
here after we eat.”
********************************
Methos was sitting between Joe and Duncan at one of
the dinner tables and talking to Joe. “Anyway,” he
said, “I was totally caught up in gathering together
CD’s and tapes for music to listen to on the trip down
here to Portland–“
“He was stumbling around like a zombie and groggily
mesmerized by the task of organizing enough CDs and
tapes to suffice for an entire expedition to Mars,”
Duncan said. “After it took me half an hour to talk him
into getting out of bed because I really didn’t think he
could get ready to go in less than hour, and he had
done not one thing to get ready the night before.”
“I got the directions to the reception hall,” Methos
protested.
“And left them upstairs in the loft when we went down
to the car,” Duncan said pleasantly, over-riding Methos
who started to speak, “along with your cell phone
which we needed because the last instruction in the
directions was to call when we got to the intersection of
Walker and Virginia. Not to mention your wallet you
had somehow managed to leave under the bed.”
“You see, Duncan’s cell phone was sauteed from the
last time he took a Quickening so we had to have mine.
And,” Methos took up the narrative, with a sigh, “the
lift wasn’t working. Broken. Up and down four flights
of stairs of stairs to get loaded. We had decided to
take my Volvo because it was more comfortable for a
long trip than his T-bird. I was in the midst of loading
up the first set of CDs when I realized I had forgotten
the directions, and I looked at Duncan and said ‘Oops,
I seem to have forgotten the directions.’ He rolled his
eyes and said, ‘Okay, pull out and go to the front of the
dojo, and I’ll get them.’”
“And while I was gone, he realized he’d forgotten the
cell phone,” Duncan said.
“I offered to go back and get it, myself,” Methos said
with a grin. “And you just told me to ‘*please* do
continue playing with your damn music, oh beloved
one.’ The ‘oh beloved one’ was fairly dripping.”
“Hey, I was afraid if I let him go back inside I wouldn’t
see him again for a week,” Duncan explained.
Joe started laughing helplessly as Methos continued,
“And then to my utter horror, I realized that I had
forgotten my wallet. Duncan got back to the car with
the phone, and I stared at him in utter consternation,
and said ‘Ummm, Duncan, I seem to have forgotten my
wallet. I can go upstairs and get it.’ And he said with
brain-fried patience ‘No, I am becoming enamored
with running up and down four flights of stairs. You
stay right here.’ And then he was gone for, oh, about
six hours–“
“I was supposed to know you had decided that under
the bed was the ideal storage facility for your wallet?”
Duncan demanded.
Methos went right on talking at the same time. “-- and,
finally, came back, drenched with sweat, and with my
wallet. And, Joe, you want to know what was the
worst of it?”
Joe nodded, still shaking with laughter and Methos
went on, “We hardly listened to any music on the whole
drive down. Hardly any. We played Botticelli non-
stop–“
“I was *not* in the *mood* for music,” Duncan
snapped.
Methos turned and stared at him for several seconds
and then said to Joe while carefully keeping an eye on
Duncan, “It seems we have a return of the recently
recurring appearance of the irritated and brooding
Duncan. And I don’t seem to have my receipt and
can’t take him back and demand an exchange for the
amusing, even-tempered Duncan.” Joe snorted.
Duncan half-glared and Methos reached out and
unobtrusively stroked the Scot’s hand.
“Is okay, Duncan. I don’t much mind you in irritated
and brooding mode. You’re sometimes even amusing,”
he said with a quirk of his mouth. “Now, speaking of
Botticelli, have you come up with a name for the wife of
Claudius?”
Duncan looked carefully at Methos for a moment,
accepted the change in subjects, thought for a moment,
and groaned. “No, drat it. The name Melissa keeps
coming to mind and waltzing merrily around and will not
leave me alone. I assume it is related, but I know it’s
not correct.”
“Not bad,” Methos said judiciously, “Messalina.”
Duncan groaned again. “I knew that. I just couldn’t
make it come to mind.”
“Perhaps you’re being cursed with premature senility,”
Methos suggested. “Anyway, now, I get a yes/no
question.”
“Wait a second,” Joe interrupted. “What have you
established so far?”
“Oh, dead, female, eastern hemisphere, not European.
This is what I get for complaining that he only chooses
dead white European men for this game. Were you in
the Northern Hemisphere?”
“No.” Duncan grinned.
“Drat. Were you the grandmother of the Emperor
Claudius?”
“No, I am not Livia.”
Methos shrugged and thought for a moment, then
grinned. “Are you the grandfather of the author of the
novel, ‘Jaws?’ A well renowned author yourself who
was published in the New Yorker in the 1920's.”
Duncan stared and rolled his eyes. “This is, of course,
presuming I have the foggiest idea who wrote ‘Jaws.’”
Methos kept grinning and waited.
***************************
Seven pairs of pleading eyes were fixed on Methos as
he took the last bite he wanted of some very rich
chocolate mousse. “All right, all right, all right,” he said,
smiling. “Story time it is. Why don’t we retire back to
the lounge and let the cleaning crew have at the dining
room?”
Methos grabbed a glass of wine and a carafe from the
table and led the crew of children back to the lounge.
Joe and Duncan quietly followed and reclaimed the
armchair. Rich suggested to the lovely blonde with
whom he was conducting a flirtation that she come with
him to listen the tale being woven, and the two of them
sat on love seat nearby. Methos settled back down on
the carpet with Sarah back in his lap and continued.
“So Dawsonsour called Methochu and told him what
had happened to Prince Duncazar. The Methochu
Fool was quite concerned because he had heard of
such curses before and knew that they were very
difficult to break. He went to the good witch
Amander-Puff and asked to look in her magic crystal to
find the Duncazar and to find out who had cast the spell
and what needed to be done to break it. Amander-
Puff was quite concerned about the situation because
she was *very* fond of Prince Duncazar–”
Joe snorted. “Now there’s an understatement,” he said
in a very low voice. Methos wrinkled his nose at the
other man with a slight grin and went on.
“However, the crystal made it clear that Amander-Puff
could do nothing to help except provide the wisdom of
her crystal. Methochu was horrified that the Black
Knight Kronotrode had perpetrated the spell. He had
never wanted to see or have anything to do with
Kronotrode again, and he was very relieved to find that
he could help to break the spell without encountering
Kronotrode. He only needed to find and get
information from the troll, Caspeowth, but he had
known Caspeowth before and knew he was one very
tough cookie.”
The children giggled. Methos went on, “However,
Methochu knew a friendly giant whom he knew would
help him. This giant, Silaseon, was very fond of pets.
Methochu, the Fool, went out and found a lovely
Rhesus monkey who been brought from Africa on a
ship, and after much dickering, he managed to buy the
monkey to take as a gift to Silaseon. The trader threw
in an old, flea-bitten cow as a bonus. Methochu had
not one clue what to with the cow, but he took her,
thinking that a gift might be useful at some point.”
“Methochu, then, had to buy some magic beans from a
Trickster named Fitzcairnazour, and, oh, Fitzcairnazour
was quite the Trickster. Fitzcairnazour, at first
pretended to have no beans, and then demanded an
exorbitant price for the silly beans.”
“But as the Fool was cursing the Trickster and all his
tribe of Sassenach, Methochu let slip that he needed
the beans to save Prince Duncazar from a dreadful
curse. Fitzcairnazour was shocked because Duncazar
was an old, good friend and demanded to know how
the Prince how been cursed. When he heard, he had
to quickly turn away to wipe a tear from his eye
brought on by the knowledge that his friend was
stricken by a curse that had made him evil.”
Duncan felt his own eyes moisten as he thought of Fitz
and smiled as he thought of what Fitz might have done
to try to save him if he had known about the Dark
Quickening. Probably most of it would have been
foolish and unwise, but still done with a stout heart and
deep caring. He felt Joe’s hand on his forearm again,
absently patted the other man’s hand, and continued
listening.
“Fitzcairnazour turned back and looked at the cow that
Methochu was leading and said, ‘Oh, what a handsome
cow. I’ll gladly take that cow in exchange for my
magic beans.’ Methochu blinked twice and stared at
the flea-bitten elderly cow who had bugs on her dungs,
had flies in her eyes, with a bump on her rump big
enough to be a hump. . .and agreed, handing over the
cow and taking the beans the Trickster handed him.
“The Fool went to an empty field, planted the beans,
secured the pretty monkey in her cage, and took a nap.
When he woke, a mighty beanstalk rose far up into the
sky.”
Sarah, who was curled up in Methos’ lap, protested,
“Aren’t you mixing up a lot of fairy tales all together?”
Joe snorted and Duncan hid a smile behind his hand. “I
guess so,” Methos said, with a faint grin. “Call it a
fractured fairy tale, okay?”
Sarah giggled. Methos went on. “Methochu, the Fool,
got up, stretched, groaned, and started climbing up the
beanstalk, protesting to himself that he would change
his name to Jack over his own dead, headless body–“
Joe burst out laughing, as did Duncan. Methos looked
at both reprovingly and went on, “He went up and up
and up and up . . .and found a castle in the sky. In the
castle, he encountered Silaseon sitting at his table,
eating, and Silaseon said loudly, ‘Fee, fi, fo, fum, I
smell the blood of Englishman.’ Methochu said, ‘Well,
I don’t *think* so.’” The children giggled.
“And Silaseon roared with laughter and embraced
Methochu, thundering out his greetings, because
Methochu was an old friend and one whom he
considered a brother. Methochu offered Silaseon the
monkey. Silaseon was pleased beyond pleased and
delighted with his monkey whom he immediately named
Doris, gods only know why.” The children giggled
again.
“Silaseon then offered Methochu dinner, and over
dinner Methochu asked Silaseon for his help in dealing
with the troll, Caspeowth. Silaseon agreed reluctantly,
because he had once considered Caspeowth to be his
friend and brother, but Doris was such a lovely
monkey, and actually Silaseon had always loved
Methochu better and more deeply.”
“So Silaseon and Methochu went down the beanstalk.
In the meantime, Prince Duncazar was in a quandary.
The goodness inside of him was at war with the evil,
and he sent a message to the wisest and goodest man
he knew asking for help. He sent a message to
Seancey , who was a healer and a wizard of sorts.
And Seancey sent a message back offering to meet
with him.”
Duncan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Methos looked up at him, took a deep breath, himself,
and went on.
“Silaseon and Methochu went to the damp, disgusting
lair under the bridge where Caspeowth lived.
Methochu asked politely to see the book of spells and
Caspeowth refused with a wicked laugh. So, Silaseon
picked Caspeowth up by his heels, held him in the air,
and shook him until Caspeowth was gasping, shaking,
and trembling. Methochu demanded to know where
the book of spells was hidden, and still, Caspeowth
growled out that he wouldn’t tell them no matter what
they did. Methochu sighed because he realized that
part of the problem was that Caspeowth was afraid of
the Black Knight Kronotrode.”
“But Methochu asked Silaseon to continue as planned,
and Silaseon dunked Caspeowth over and over in the
river until the troll was half-drowned. Methochu asked
again, still very politely, but Caspeowth refused to tell
them. Methochu sighed again and asked Silaseon to go
on as planned, and Silaseon started banging
Caspeowth’s head against the bridge. After the tenth
hard bang, Caspeowth spat out the location of the
book of spells.”
“Methochu, the Fool, took the book of spells and
quickly found the counter- spell to expel the evil. He
discovered that he had to find a Magic Sword and take
the Prince to a Holy Spring to break the curse. But he
also found out that the spell of the curse was not certain
to be broken unless the spirit of a good and wise healer
was present to help.”
“And Methochu despaired because the best and most
holy healer he had ever known, the man Darius, was
long since dead, senselessly killed by misguided humans
who thought he was a demon.” Methos paused and
sighed. The children were spell-bound and waited
patiently as did Joe, Duncan, and Rich.
“The troll also had a scrying pool, and Methochu
looked into it and saw that the Prince Duncazar was
getting himself into trouble. Methochu hastily said
good-bye to Silaseon, who was amusing himself with
the troll by tossing him the air and playing catch with
him. The giant absently said farewell and thanked him
again for Doris, the monkey. And Methochu hurried
away.”
“The evil in Prince Duncazar had taken over, and he
had threatened the virtue of a loyal wife of a knight in
France. The knight arrived in time to save his wife’s
virtue, and the knight threatened the Prince with a
cross-bow. The Prince fled, but the knight shot him
outside his home. Methochu arrived, in time to take
Prince Duncazar into his carriage, and take him away to
a church, to holy land where the Fool hoped that the
Evil inside would be less powerful.”
Methos took a very deep breath. “The Prince awoke,
healed of his wound, for the Evil inside had given him
magical healing powers. He recognized the Fool and
wondered what Methochu was doing there. The Fool
begged him to fight the Evil and to reclaim the good,
but Duncazar just laughed at him, pushed him away,
and drew his sword. Within moments, the sword was
at the neck of Methochu, and Methochu wondered if
each breath he took would be his last. He looked at
Prince Duncazar with fear and with all the love he felt
for him in his eyes and waited.”
Again, Methos took a very deep breath. “Time hung in
the balance and Methochu stared into the Prince’s eyes
which were full of hatred and anger. But somewhere. .
.deep inside . . .Methochu, the Fool, could see the
goodness that was fighting to come back . . .and as
their eyes locked, Methochu could even imagine that
somewhere deep inside of Duncazar, he could see a
love for him that returned the love he felt for the
Prince.” Methos felt tears welling in his eyes and
blinked them back.
Duncan brushed off Joe’s hand, took two steps,
slipped to the floor, slid in behind Methos and put his
arms around the older man, carefully not dislodging or
disturbing Sarah on his lap. “Oh, aye,” he said huskily
and quietly into Methos’ ear, “it was there. I dinnae
know it then, my love, but it was there.”
Michael sighed with exasperation. “And?” he
demanded, wanting to know the rest of the story. He
had been around adults couples of all gender
combinations all his life. He was not interested in their
love lives. He wanted to know how the story ended.
“It was a moment frozen in time,” Methos said quietly,
resting his back against the chest of his lover and
gratefully accepting the strong arms around his chest.
“Methochu froze and waited. Once again, the good
inside won, and Prince Duncazar ran out of the church,
stole a carriage, and drove away.”
“Methochu panicked, rode quickly back to Amander-
Puff, and used her crystal to find the Prince. His heart
stopped in his chest when he realized that Duncazar
had gone to Seancey who was among the goodest of
the good and could ill be spared from among the living.
He quickly rode to Seancey’s place and found that the
Wise Man was indeed trying to help the Prince. But,
oh, to the horror and pain of Methochu, Seancey
could not reach through the Evil. The good inside of
Duncazar tried to win and failed. Even as Methochu
arrived, Duncazar had drawn his sword and was
threatening Seancey. Methochu felt his heart pause
again.”
Duncan felt his own heart freeze, and his arms tightened
around Methos. Tears were stinging at the back of his
eyes. Methos took one arm from around Sarah and
stroked Duncan’s arm. “It will be okay, Duncan,” he
murmured and then went on in a louder voice.
“Seancey didn’t even bother to put up a fight. He just
kept talking to Duncazar, trying to bring out the good in
him. But . . .” his voice became very sad, “it was all to
no avail. The good was buried deep by then, and the
Evil took over. Prince Duncazar beheaded Seancey.
Then with a huge rush, all the deep goodness in
Seancey rushed into the Prince and threw him to his
knees. Methochu rushed up and tried to arouse the
good to take over, but it was too soon. The Prince
pushed Methochu away, but still did not really hurt him.
Methochu wondered again if maybe the Prince really
did love him deep inside.”
Duncan murmured in Methos ear. “He did..” His arms
tightened around his lover as his heart lay heavy in his
chest with the knowledge that he had indeed killed
Sean when he had been possessed by the Dark
Quickening.
Methos stroked Duncan’s arm. “Methochu fell over a
cliff and ran away. He rode back to Amander-Puff and
used her crystal again to both find Prince Duncazar and
find the Magic Sword. He had to go to Scotland to get
the Sword, but Amander-Puff worked a magic spell to
get him quickly to the Sword. He met the guardian of
the Sword, a woman named Rachael, and talked her
into giving him the Sword to save Prince Duncazar.
Amander-Puff’s magic spell brought them both back to
France, and Methochu, the Fool, ran immediately to
find the Prince and save him, leaving Amander-Puff to
explain to Rachael.”
“The Prince was in the chapel of the Holy Man, Darius,
who had died several years before.” Duncan arms
tightened again as he felt even more tears welling in his
eyes which he blinked back yet again. Methos
caressed Duncan’s arm again and whispered. “It’ll be
okay.”
Methos again raised his voice and went on with the
story, “Methochu went to the chapel and convinced the
Prince that the good was winning over the Evil. He
persuaded Duncazar to go with him to the Holy Spring
to be healed..”
“When they got there, Methochu gave Duncazar the
Magic Sword which very much surprised the Prince.
The Fool took the Prince to the entrance to the Holy
Spring. Duncazar went into the spring, and he fought
the hardest battle of his life. The Evil inside of him
separated from the good, into two separate bodies, and
they fought. The good held the Magic Sword. The
Evil held his regular sword.” The children listened,
utterly fascinated.
“The battle was hard and dreadful, and for many
moments, the good Duncazar thought that he would
lose. Then the good, wise healer who had entered him
came to life and said clearly and strongly, ‘There is
more that is noble in you than is evil in all that you have
destroyed. Summon all that you are, all that you’ve
been, all who’ve loved you.’ And Duncazar gathered
all his strength and defeated the evil Prince within him.”
The children gasped with relief. “Was he okay, then?”
Sarah asked.
Methos sighed sadly. “No, he was not completely
okay, Sarah. He was very sad and hurt that he had
killed his good friend, the wise and gentle healer,
Seancey. He had a very hard time allowing himself to
grieve, and he had a *very* hard time talking to his
friends about it and allowing them to help him with the
grieving he needed to do.”
Methos felt Duncan tensing up behind him and stroked
his arm again. “Easy, love. Almost done,” he
murmured quietly to Duncan and then turned back to
the children. “But, back to the story. Methochu came
down into the spring and lowered a hand to help
Duncazar out. Prince Duncazar climbed out of the
Holy Spring and was himself again. He was again
noble, honorable, and good, but made a little wiser and
a great deal sadder by the knowledge of the evil
potential that lay within him.” Duncan rested his
forehead on Methos’ back and closed his eyes.
“Did they realize then that they were in love with each
other?” Elizabeth asked eagerly.
Duncan’s arms closed even more tightly around
Methos as his throat closed on unshed tears. Methos
stroked Duncan’s arm again and said gently, “No, it
took them several more years and more adventures
with Kronotrode and Caspeowth and Silaseon, and
others before Duncazar realized he loved the idiotic
Fool, Methochu.”
“But why did the good, wise Seancey have to die?”
Brad demanded. “The good guys aren’t supposed to
*die.*” Several of the children nodded in empathic
agreement.
Methos felt Duncan’s almost imperceptible flinch and
said quietly, “No, the good guys aren’t supposed to
die, but the reality is that in and out of fairy tales they
sometimes they do. Sometimes it cannot be helped. In
this case, I think it was what’s called a Senseless
Tragedy.” Methos deliberately made his voice
capitalize the words. “It was a great loss for Prince
Duncazar and for all the world. Such losses sometimes
happen for no good reason. All we can do is grieve the
loss and go on.”
Duncan felt his chest tighten and more tears welling that
he again blinked back. He briefly contemplated
strangling his lover for even starting this twisted fairy
tale that was bringing up far too many feelings that he
had been trying to avoid thinking about for the past few
weeks as the anniversary of the Dark Quickening had
approached.
Methos felt Duncan shuddering, looked at the children,
and said firmly, “But for now, that’s all. Prince
Duncazar defeated the evil inside him and returned to
his life. Richeon and Dawsonsour and Methochu came
back as his friends and advisors, Kronotrode was
thwarted and all lived happily after after. For the
moment. Story to be continued at the next party. All
right?”
Michael grumbled, “And who knows when that will
be?”
Methos chuckled. “We’re all friends. It’ll be this year.
I hope you all enjoyed.” He rose to his feet and gave
Duncan a hand up as the children chorused out thank
you’s. Methos bowed slightly. “And you’re all very
welcome.”
***********************************
Methos pulled Duncan into his arms on a bench in a
secluded corner of the gardens outside. “Oh, Duncan,”
he said, brushing his lips against each eye that brimmed
with unshed tears.
“I loved you then,” Duncan said quietly, “I just didn’t
know it, yet.”
“That’s not the issue,” Methos said gently, holding,
stroking, and caressing. “The issue is whether you’ve
ever properly grieved for Sean.”
Duncan’s breath caught hard. “Of course I have,” he
protested.
“Uh huh,” Methos said. “Tell that to someone who
doesn’t know you well. I think there is a ocean of grief
inside of you for Sean Burns. And he was a very good
man. I liked him very much.”
“You knew him?” Duncan’s breath caught again.
“Yes, Duncan. I knew him very well,” Methos said
gently. “Now, do me a favor and let it go.”
Duncan let out one shuddering sob and then another
and then leaned into Methos’ embrace and started
crying quietly, as the other man held him closely,
rocking, and soothing. “That’s it, love,” Methos said
gently, “let it out and let it go. You loved him, and he
died.”
“I murdered him,” Duncan choked out, trembling with
suppressed sobs.
“No, Duncan,” Methos said softly. “The Dark
Quickening did that. It was no more you than if you
had been possessed by a demon. It was not your
fault.”
“I should never have . . .called him,” Duncan said.
“You needed him, Duncan,” Methos said simply.
“Without his quickening inside you, you might never
have succeeded in defeating the Darkness. And as I
said then and still say now, you are too important to
lose. I think Sean felt the same way.”
“Sean was too important to lose,” Duncan cried out
and was then lost in deep, heart-rending sobs. Methos
held him tightly.
“And for as long as you live, my Duncazar,” Methos
said softly, “we’ll never completely lose Sean. He lives
inside you. And, yes, love, I miss him, too, and I
always will. Let it out. Grieve. This is one wound that
has been far too long unlanced and left to fester. Let it
go.”
Duncan relaxed in his lover’s arms and sobbed, his
tears soaking the shoulder of Methos’ shirt until he
found himself surprised by a sense of tired, sated, relief.
Methos continued to stroke and caress, murmuring in
some ancient tongue words of comfort and
reassurance, and gently brushing the hair back from
Duncan’s face.
Duncan took a deep, shuddering breath and slid from
the bench putting his head in the Methos’ lap and
wrapping arms around his legs. “Oh,” he asked, with
another shaking after-sob, “how did you know how
badly I needed this?”
Methos again brushed the hair out of Duncan’s face
and ran a long finger over one cheekbone. “How could
I not know?” He dropped off the bench and into
Duncan’s lap wrapping his legs around the other man’s
waist and pulling the Scot’s head down on his shoulder.
“I’m not a fool, you know,” he said with a grin. “All
your fault, too.”
Duncan wrapped his arms tightly around Methos’ back
and simply held on, feeling muscles relax that he’d not
even known were tense.
“Now then,” Methos said comfortably. “Are you the
actor who played Maynard G. Krebs on ‘Dobie Gillis
Show’ in the 50's and later played Gilligan on
‘Gilligan’s Island?’”
Duncan burst into laughter. “I have not one bloody
clue. And I thought the ground rules were to choose
people that any reasonably well educated person would
have heard of.” He leaned back and looked at Methos
with amused affection.
“Uh huh.” Methos quirked a corner of his mouth.
“What has education to do with either ‘Dobie Gillis’ or
‘Gilligan’s Island?’”
“Not much. But I bet you $1000 that every single adult
inside that reception hall could name every single
character who was on “Gilligan’s Island” and sing part
of the theme song.”
“You know I’d almost be willing to lose the money just
for the sheer pleasure of forcing you to ask every single
person in that reception hall to name every person on
‘Gilligan’s Island’ and to sing the theme song.”
“Are you?” Methos grinned.
“I don’t *think* so,” Duncan said. “And I have not the
faintest idea who played Maynard G. Krebs. Methos,
was there a really a character named Maynard G.
Krebs on a show called ‘Dobie Gillis?’”
“Uh huh. I actually kind of liked it. Maynard G. Krebs
was a beatnik. And Dobie Gillis periodically simply
stopped the action on the show and spoke to the
audience. In a odd sort of way, it was a rather
existentialist show.”
“And are you going to suggest that ‘Gilligan’s Island’
was a rather existentialist show also?” Duncan asked.
Methos started laughing. “Only in the sense . . .that . . .
‘No Exit’ is . ..” he choked out between gales of
laughter. “Now, do you give up or not?”
“I totally give up.”
“Bob Denver,” Methos said. “Are you political?”
“Yes,” Duncan admitted.
Methos grinned and nodded. “Are you a Prime
Minister of India who was assassinated by Sikh
nationalists?”
“Yes, I am Indira Ghandi,” Duncan admitted. He
leaned over and kissed Methos on the tip of the nose.
“And you’re it.”
Methos rose to his feet and pulled Duncan up after him.
“I know,” he said. “I’m thinking about it. And I swear
I am going to get even with you for Jim Henson.”
The end.
“I totally give up.”
“Bob Denver,” Methos said. “Are you political?”
“Yes,” Duncan admitted.
Methos grinned and nodded. “Are you a Prime
Minister of India who was assassinated by Sikh
nationalists?”
“Yes, I am Indira Ghandi,” Duncan admitted. He
leaned over and kissed Methos on the tip of the nose.
“And you’re it.”
Methos rose to his feet and pulled Duncan up after him.
“I know,” he said. “I’m thinking about it. And I swear
I am going to get even with you for Jim Henson.”
The end.
Notes:
1. Inspired by a misspent youth reading ‘Man from
U.N.C.L.E’ books, written by David McDaniell, I
learned to play Botticelli as Illya and Napoleon played
it. ‘Botticelli’ is a trivia ‘guessing’ game played
between two or more players with two stages. The
person who is “It” chooses a famous person that any
reasonably well educated and informed person would
recognize as the “secret person” to be identified. The
Opposition asks It a question that is designed to stump
them, for example, “Are you the actor who played Yuri
Zhivago’s older brother in “Doctor Zhivago.” If It
answers only “No, I’m not,” the Opposition may then
ask a ‘Yes/No’ question, such as “Are you male,” “Are
you real,” or “are you from the eastern half of the
northern hemisphere?”
On the other hand, if It answers correctly, “No, I am
not Alec Guinness,” then 3Opposition must ask another
‘stumper’ question, for example, “Were you an 18th
century Hanover prince whose father had Porphyria?”
Anyone who does not understand the rules of Botticelli
from this story and whom would like to get them from
me can write me at dswdiane@aol.com and I will give
them to you.
2. Peter Benchley wrote “Jaws.” He was the
grandson of Robert Benchley who was to quote from
the dictionary, “Robert Charles 1889-1945, American
humorist; drama critic for New Yorker (1929-40);
member of famous
‘Algonquin Round Table’ at Algonquin Hotel in
Manhattan.”
3. “who had bugs on her dungs, had flies in her eyes,
with a bump on her rump big enough to be a hump” is
almost a direct quote from “Into the Woods” which is a
wonderful musical written by Stephen Sondheim a
blend of many fairy tales. I highly recommend it.
4. Thank you to totem who sent a lovely and wonderful picture from which to work and spin my tale. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And most thank you for sending me a Duncan/Methos pic since I really only write Duncan/Methos. I am very grateful and I hope you like the story.
Mail Diane
Back to index