DANSE MACABRE [Jaskier]

DANSE MACABRE

DANSE MACABRE
[ˌdɑːns məˈkɑːbr(ə)]

NOUN
'another term for dance of death'
+
'an artistic genre of allegory of the Late Middle Ages on the universality of death: no matter one's station in life, the Danse Macabre unites all'

~

epigraph;
"Come on," She dared, spitting a mouthful of blood into the grass and readying her stance,
"I stand for all of us."

~

"I want to ascend. But I don't want to lose myself."

~

IN DUE TIME, they will recite this story how it is meant to be told.

A tale spun from one bard and passed on to another, the details becoming more convoluted and outlandish, changing aspects to fit their romanticised idea of what a compelling story should look like. But what would remain consistent throughout each tale are two very important variables.
The first of which, would be the ever-addressed notion that the heroine - our muse for this illustrious tale - was very much a forgotten Redanian princess, and more importantly, a fiery-haired mage with a penchant for conjuring fire from the mere palms of her hands. With eyes glittering in the embers she had left in her wake, she was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with and her power, when not harnessed properly, was all too chaotic. Her ability to crush an entire army into powdered bones, if she so wished, was both feared and admired all the same.
And the second, it was simple. She was in love.
And so was he.
At first they didn't even know it. For his attention span tended to resemble that of a fly's. And she had harnessed the power to control her emotions. She was modelled to be nothing short of magical greatness. He was a wanderer, a nomad. Spurred on by the promise of good stories and songful merriment. And yet if she called for him, he would run to find her. And find her, he always did. Because destiny had a way of intervening.