1-Whitey
A Prince is born
This is an adult gay story if you aren’t an adult or “gay” isn’t your thing, you’d better look for something else to entertain you. Cheers, Blake.
Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, nestled around some graceful, rounded hills, lay the charming little town of White Swallow. On a rocky spur, stood the castle of good King Bigben. It was a winter morning, and good Queen Gloria was sitting at the window, intent on sewing a pretty lace, occasionally glancing at the falling snow. The park was a white expanse; tall trees, their branches bending under the weight of the white powder, dotted the esplanade like old, trusty guardians. In the distance, the hills rose higher, but the Queen could not see them, hidden by the snow blizzard. -So, so beautiful,- she thought, -how lucky to be the queen of such an enchanting kingdom!- But the view had distracted her, and the needle she was carefully holding pricked her thumb.
It was only a light prick, but as soon as the needle pinched her skin, three drops of blood, the colour of rubies, fell onto the white lace. The queen put her thumb to her mouth and smiled for she knew those three drops were a request from the fairies, and she knew exactly what she had to do to keep the fairies happy: make three wishes.
She thought for a while, she had to choose carefully. She knew she was carrying a child, she just knew it: the night before the king had come to her chamber, the way he had taken her, the way she had trembled with ecstatic joy, the way they had spent the rest of the night together, the king holding her in his arms as if she were a porcelain doll, she just knew that the seed had taken and she knew it was a boy.
“Fairies , fairies let him be as handsome as the stags that roam our forests, as pure of heart as the snow that falls on our kingdom and...” She couldn’t think of a third wish, because for Queen Gloria beauty of heart and beauty of body were all that could be desired. Then, feeling mischievous, she smiled and whispered: “Fairies, fairies, let my son be as well endowed as my beloved husband.” Just the thought of King Bigben’s imposing sceptre made her long to be back in bed with him again.
Lo and behold, nine months later, a beautiful little boy was born. He was a rosy, smiling baby, a soft veil of black hair already covered his round tiny head, and how they giggled when they saw what was hidden between his chubby little legs. The fairies had listened!
“Will call him Snow White!” The King and Queen proclaimed from the castle balcony to a jubilant crowd under a snow of white rose-petal confetti.
The years passed, and hardly a day went by without the charming kingdom rejoicing at one of the Prince’s successes: Whitey, as everyone would call him, the sweet baby, turned into a diligent student, a humble youth among his subjects, and a worthy athletic champion at the White Swallow water sports Games. He was still only sixteen, but many a young debutante already dreamed of one day becoming the chosen queen.
Unfortunately, on a cold winter’s day, all this idyllic upbringing was suddenly brought to an abrupt end, along with the long and peaceful history of White Swallow: the neighbouring kingdom of Anvar decided to invade. It was the young King Hardon who broke the centuries-old peace between the two kingdoms. In a surprise attack, his troops easily overcame King Bigben’s soldiers. The king fought valiantly but fell victim to an archer, his blood staining the pristine snow of the castle park.
Sad and dark years for White Swallow followed. Queen Gloria was forced to marry the young usurper, only a few years older than her own son. And for Whitey’s life, it changed beyond recognition: only thanks to queen Gloria desperate pleas his stepfather decided to keep him alive on condition for him to work as a stable boy, live in the stables, and, of course, renounce his title.
More time went by, White Swallow was no longer the charming kingdom of yore: crops failed, buildings went unkept, and people lived in fear of their usurper king. It must be said that the young new royal was not only icy cold of heart, but also very vain of character. And if we are to be completely honest, we must also admit that his vanity was fully justified, for the king was one of the most handsome men alive. Certainly the most handsome in his kingdom, especially according to the magic mirror he had brought with him to his new abode. Not a day went by without the king asking the mirror the same question: “Magic Mirror, what’s your call? Who is the most handsome of them all?”
The Mirror had always responded thus: “My dear king, nothing new for no one is as handsome as you.” How delighted he was to hear those words: there was no better way to start the day, and yet, every morning, the king’s vanity had to be satisfied by this silly routine.
On the morning of Whitey’s 21st birthday, however, the king’s little game turned into one of his greatest fears, for, after a moment’s hesitation, the mirror replied with a warning: “My dear king, don’t be blue, but there is someone as handsome as you!”
It wasn’t possible; how could anyone else match the finest features and the most beautifully body in the land?
“Who? I want to know!” the king shouted out of his mind. But the mirror, which it has to be said, was actually a kind being, decided to lie. “I feel it’s a blow, but that I don’t know.”
Every morning, the king returned to the mirror, asking the same question and tormenting himself with getting the same answer. It wasn’t enough that his whores kept reassuring him that they had never slept with anyone as majestic as him, because he trusted the mirror more than anything else.
Months passed, turned into years, the same struggle every day, the same rage simmering in the king’s soul, until, on the day of Whitey’s 25th birthday, the mirror’s answer pushed the king over the edge: “My dear king, don’t be too blue, but there is someone more handsome than you!”
