herald trumpet

A Prelude to Love

She was a pale, slender girl, clothed in an almost sheer white gown that flowed as she walked.  But she stepped so lightly, it was as if her feet barely touched the ground at all.  Like a ghost had wandered into my mother’s rose garden.

I called out to her and she turned in surprise.  But instead of fading away, she patted me kindly and kissed my forehead.

Shouldn’t you be in bed, little boy?”

Endymion woke with a start, nearly tumbling out of bed.  He knew that voice, didn’t he?  Slightly embarrassed and still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Endymion began untangling himself from the sheets. It had been awhile since he’d had such a restless dream.

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Cinderella (Chapter 2)

Prologue

Chapter 1 


You walk out into the marketplace, heading towards the cloth maker’s shop to pick out some material for Susan and Lucy. ‘They seem to need a lot more than usual’, You thought to yourself as you walk down the street.

Soon, you reach your destination and make your purchase. Just as you are lugging your bags back to the castle, you hear the sound of a heralding trumpet, signaling an important royal announcement.

You drop your things and watch as a crowd forms around a faun who shouts to the crowd, “Hear ye, hear ye! Their Majesties Queen Lucy, Queen Susan, King Edmund, King Caspian, and King Peter hereby invite you to a royal masquerade ball that shall be held at Cair Paravel in a week’s time.

“By royal command, every eligible woman, be she noble or common, is invited to attend.”

As soon as the scroll is rolled up, the whispers start flying around. All sorts of rumours start to form, with the most common rumour being that one of the Kings will choose a bride.

You catch a few snatches of conversation here and there as you make your way back to the palace.

“What shall I wear? This occasion calls for something new.”

“I wonder which one of the Kings shall be married.”

“Maybe something new and exciting can happen. I might even fall in love.”

You smile to yourself as you leave the marketplace and make your trek back to the palace. However as soon as you enter, you come crashing into someone, sending all the cloth you bought tumbling to the ground.

“Sorry,” you apologize to whomever you bumped into as you scramble to salvage the cloth before they get dirty.

“That’s alright. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” a deep, familiar voice says and you freeze, your eyes traveling to meet clear blue ones for the second time that day.

“Oh, Your Majesty, I didn’t realize-“ You start to stammer but it is cut off by a chuckle.

“It’s alright, Y/N. And I’ve told you to call me Peter. You are, after all, a family friend,” he says.

You smile at the ready familiarity he uses when he says your name. “Well then, Peter, I’m sorry but I must keep going. I have to get these delivered.” You then tug the heavy basket into your arms, making your way down the hall once again.

However, instead of hearing receding footsteps, you hear them approaching you. “Allow me to carry that. That must be heavy for you.”

“It’s nothing to worry about. If I can walk from the marketplace up to Cair Paravel carrying these, then I can make it through a few hallways,” you tell him.

“After such a task, I think you deserve some rest. If you’ll allow me,” he says, holding out his hands to take the basket.

You wouldn’t say it out loud, but the rather long walk back had tired you out and it was rather chivalrous of him to offer. Just another quality you lo-liked about him.

“Well, if you insist,” you say, giving him the basket, your hands brushing against his for the briefest of moments. Something sharp and electric courses through your hands as they connect. Judging by the small start Peter gives, he feels something too.

“Um…after you,” he says, his voice unusually flustered and breathless. You nod in agreement before walking down the corridor once again with him by your side.

The silence is awkward for a little while until you break it. “How are the plans for the ball coming along?”

He turns to you in surprise. “The invitations have been sent out already?”

“Well, just an announcement here in Narnia, as far as I know. Rumors started spreading after it had been announced.”

“What rumors?” he asks.

“They say that one of the Kings will announce his bride-to-be on the night of the ball. That is why the invitation went out to all the eligible ladies of the land.”

“And what do you believe the purpose of the ball to be?” Peter asks, looking at you intently.

“Well, if I may be so bold, I do believe it to be for the purpose of marriage. Like I mentioned earlier, the ball does ask for all the eligible women to attend.”

“Would you attend the ball if that was the purpose?” Peter asks, curious to hear your answer.

Your stomach swoops at the question. Truth be told, you want to show him you could be someone worth noticing. You want to take this chance to dazzle him but you also know the odds of that happening were slim. And ultimately, it would be his choice on whom he would pledge his love to and the chances of that person being you seemed to evaporate as you thought this.

“It would be a fine thing to attend a ball as grand as this, marriage possibilities notwithstanding,” you tell him.

His eyes light up in relief, which breaks your heart further. ‘He probably thinks I’m one less candidate to worry about,’ you think.

You two stop walking when you reach the dressmaking room. You take the basket from Peter’s hands. “Thank you once again. This is where I leave you.”

You curtsy as best as you can and turn to leave. Before you enter the room, Peter says, “Y/N, I’d still like to see you there. It would be good to know I have a friend there.”

You smile, despite the little sting in your heart. “But how would you find me if I have a mask?”

He chuckles. “I think I’d find you anywhere.”

You blush at his words, trying not to read too much into it. “Goodbye, My King.” And with that, you enter the room, somehow forgetting you could breathe.

I will preface this one by saying that I am mad ill - like, ugly sick, weird fever, unexplained contextual bends in my reference sphere - and so I thought what better time (and also gotta keep busy or death will claim me, 100 percent) to tackle the episode with the Metaphor of the Three Candles, which is a staunch, businesslike metaphor and will probably keep me nailed down as my head (two? three sizes larger than usual?) bobs about the corners of the room.

So: things may be shaky.

We begin with the camera cutting straight from a close-up of Wakaba’s onion dome to an exterior shot of Utena gazing wistfully out the window, which slowly pans in, giving the impression that Utena is eavesdropping on Wakaba’s conversation from a completely separate building, but, y'know, everyone makes mistakes.  Why read into it?   I mean you could say that it serves to underscore the way that Utena cannot usefully take on board Wakaba’s common-sense advice to Prince Onion - that a fundamental schism has taken place [see episode 20, faithful fans] and that Wakaba is no longer able to save her from the attentions of predatory dudes, having demonstrated herself to be entrenched in a culture that enables them.  But it’s probably just clumsy editing.

All this talk of first kisses has Utena thinking about her prince, which means it’s time for the cock tower to loom out at us once again.  We find that Akio has baked a cake.

It’s even rarer to find a guy who can bake a metaphor.  This all has the feeling of sympathetic magic about it - maybe the dude has learned a few tricks from his witch sister.

Utena fawns over Akio’s cake-making skills.  Wakaba arrives and repeats Utena’s fawning word for word.  Utena successfully identifies this as flirtation when Wakaba is doing it, but doesn’t make the connection to her own behavior. Then she looks at Akio and makes this face:

And then her eyes stray down to Anthy and her face changes.

She knows, on some level, at this point.  Doesn’t she?  That’s guilt, isn’t it?
The candles gutter in the wind.

Then, inverting the Friendship Between Girls tarot card, Wakaba tells Utena that if she doesn’t lighten up, she’ll never fall in love.

A smash cut to the sacrificial authority figure from Episode 1 underscores that Wakaba is currently doing the work of the female wing of the patriarchy, the collaborationist Stasi of this divided state, who strive to keep everyone behind the Dudely Curtain at all times.   The guidance counselor tells Utena that she needs to be more feminine, because going through life in drag on the battlefield is no way to be.   Utena risks never developing into a functional member of this society if she persists in ignoring her role.  The representative of genuine power present here puts this another way.

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“This is Yuki & she’s turning 16 next month!”


My goodness, a fine young lady!  She looks very dexterous, I bet she has better handwriting than me. Her coloring makes me think she’s a birdie angel! All dressed in white with a kind face like that… I can hear the trumpets heralding her every move! Happy Almost Birthday, Yuki!!

“There were no trumpets, no gladsome shouts of welcome, nothing but the smell of tar, the thump of ropes, and the raw voices of seamen crying, ‘Landing! Tie her!’

For years Mary had imagined landing in Scotland as an adult queen returning to her childhood home. She and François together, of course, standing at the rail, seeing a great company of mounted councilmen awaiting them, silken banners flying, caparisoned horses gleaming, heralds shouting their trumpets, crowds cheering.”

- Mary Stuart’s arrival in Scotland after the death of François II, from Mary Queen of Scotland and the Isles by Margaret George

My God glories in war and darkness. He pours His wrath upon the world and is heralded by trumpets and fire. He breaks our chains and razes our cities to the ground. He is the silence between a lightning strike and the clap of thunder. He is simultaneously terrible and awesome. To see Him is to die. To be touched by Him is to burst into flames. To love Him is to accept madness, for it is right to fear Him.

Don’t tell me that we don’t acknowledge every bit of our Lord.

The Lullaby

Words: 5,215 
Pairing: Revel and Elsa (Revelsa)
Rating: K
A/N:  As promised my lovelies, a holiday short for all you Revelsa fans. I cannot account for any feels or strong emotions felt in this short. Happy reading and Merry Christmas! 

        “A shame you couldn’t grace the dance floor with your beauty this Yule, Queen Elsa,” Duke Ferdinand chuckled as he swirled the golden champagne in his fluted will-ice glass. Already his cheeks had taken on a ruddy hue from consuming quite a few glasses, making his brown eyes sparkle playfully in the warm light of the ballroom. The gentle buzz of conversation and the scent of spiced cider and pine filled the air, suffusing it with the essence of the holiday. Beyond the tall frosted windows—adorned with strands of garland and delicate will-ice decoration—lazy snowflakes drifted from a cloudy sky, the first real snow of winter finally marching over Arendelle, announcing the season like a trumpet herald.

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DAY 2103

      Jalsa, Mumbai            Jan 17/18, 2014               Fri/Sat 2 : 22am

……….and so on and on and on … the events trumpet a herald which is desperately seeking to move ahead … ahead to bed !! 

Its one of those days …

My love to you 

Amitabh Bachchan