Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. This not-for-profit piece of fan fiction is not intended to infringe on that ownership. The author's copyright applies only to the creative content and her original characters.
After enjoying the Legends of TOS series, I had to do this. Not a legend and corny as all get-out, but it incorporates one of my favorite stories.
Jim Kirk stared at his computer screen. It hadn't been easy, making the computer understand that he wanted the answer in the old-fashioned Terran format, not a stardate, and certainly not a string of numbers from the Vulcan-standard calendar. But now at last he knew Spock's birthday. And it was only four days after his own.
Which meant it was coming up in three days.
The captain smiled warmly at the memory of the, ahem, celebration the night before. Until they'd become lovers, he would have said he knew his first officer pretty well. But since then, Spock frequently surprised him. The fact that the Vulcan had understood the significance of a birthday--especially the first birthday since their relationship had changed so dramatically--Well, it was enough to move the intrepid captain to tears. But that would be completely inappropriate so he laughed instead.
Three days. Not much time. Hmmm...
For forty-eight hours, Kirk worked at the problem like a dog with a bone. It had to be more than special lovemaking--that would be stealing Spock's thunder. So it had to be a gift. And there weren't many opportunities for shopping while patrolling the Neutral Zone. In fact, none at all.
Finally, admitting defeat, he simply asked.
"What would you like for your birthday, Spock?"
"It would be illogical to celebrate the anniversary of my birth."
"And this human wishes to acknowledge your birthday."
"Very well. I suggest we celebrate mine in the same manner in which we celebrated yours."
"Spock, I want to give you something. Something special."
"If you insist." The Vulcan steepled his hands and thought briefly. "For my birthday, I would like you to tell me a story."
The last person who had made that request of the captain had been his nephew, Peter, at the age of five. Surely Spock didn't mean...
"Jim. Storytelling is a very strong tradition among Vulcans. I wish to hear a Terran story."
"Yes. Tomorrow night I shall expect to hear a story."
Kirk's first thought was "The Three Little Pigs." That was the story he had told Peter. But the idea of lying in bed with Spock, trying to explain the incomprehensible behavior of beings who judged their climate equally suitable to houses of straw, sticks, and brick--No.
Something less childish. He thought back to the books he had enjoyed as a boy. King Arthur, Robin Hood, the Iliad. Beautiful tales of gods and heroes. Tales that deserved a real storyteller. He had the uneasy feeling that he would make the death of Arthur sound like a log entry. Scratch the classics.
Well, maybe not entirely. Maybe something less epic, but a classic nonetheless. Something he'd heard many times. Something just a little sexy. Ah! Of course.
Spock settled his head comfortably against his lover's shoulder.
What did Jim call this? "Basking in the afterglow." The first time Spock had heard that expression, he had complimented the captain on an accurate yet poetic statement. Jim had laughed and confessed that it wasn't original. In fact, it was considered a cliche.
Cliches. Cliches were almost as foreign to Spock as humor. On Vulcan, if words were accurate, they were accurate no matter how often they were used. Apparently, humans require novelty and originality.
Perhaps that is why they are constantly remaking themselves, he thought. He filed that insight away for closer inspection later.
"Are you ready for your present?"
"Very well." Kirk cleared his throat. "I'm not sure this is what you meant--"
"I shall be satisfied with whatever story you tell."
"I haven't done this in a long time--"
"Then perhaps you will enjoy the novelty of it."
"I don't know how good this will be--"
"The beginning is most pleasing. You are indeed a poet."
"Um...Spock? All these stories start that way."
"No, not a cliche. A tradition."
"It would be an interesting exercise to quantify the number of repetitions that differentiate between a cliche and a tradition."
Once upon a time, there lived a king and queen. And they were good rulers, wise and kind, but they had no children and that made them sad. Finally, after many years, they were blessed with a daughter. To celebrate her christening, they held a huge banquet and invited all the important people from throughout the land. Everyone brought wonderful gifts for the princess.
At the height of the celebration, an evil witch entered the hall--
"Jim. Do none of these people have names?"
"Names are a very important part of Vulcan stories. As is lineage."
"Next time I'll read you the begats in the book of Genesis."
As I was saying, an evil witch entered the hall. She was very angry because she hadn't been invited to the celebration. But she smiled and told the king and queen that she had a gift for the princess.
She approached the child and laid a terrible curse on her. On the princess' sixteenth birthday, she would prick her hand on a spindle and die.
The queen screamed and fainted dead away and, in the hubbub, the witch disappeared. The king was in total despair over the horrible fate that awaited his newborn daughter. But a good fairy who had not--
"Jim. I apologize for the interruption but how does one differentiate between a fairy and a witch?"
The storyteller sighed in exasperation.
"The same way you differentiate between a cliche and a tradition."
Spock paused thoughtfully. "Am I correct in assuming that you are being--"
"Sarcastic. Yes. Would you mind holding your questions until the end?"
All right. The fairy hadn't yet presented her gift so she approached the baby. Now she wasn't powerful enough to remove the curse but she was able to modify it. On the princess' sixteenth birthday, she would indeed prick her hand on a spindle. But instead of dying, she would fall into a deep sleep from which she would awaken only when kissed by her own true love.
Spock raised an eyebrow but wisely said nothing.
The king immediately ordered the destruction of all the spinning wheels in the kingdom. And when that was done, he was certain that his daughter was safe.
"Had he considered the impact on the local economy?"
"Logically, the loss of such a crucial industry--"
"*Spock*." God, this was work. "The king sent the spinners to be cross-trained in new professions and the country imported all its yarn from then on."
Years passed and the princess grew up into the most beautiful ever seen. As her sixteenth birthday approached, the king and queen planned a great celebration. They had forgotten about the curse that hung over their lovely daughter.
On the day of her birthday, everyone was busy preparing for the great banquet and the princess was left alone. She decided to climb to the highest tower of the castle to look at the view. When she entered the tower room, she saw a old woman working at a contraption she'd never seen before.
"Surely her grandmother had not been living in the tower--"
"It wasn't her grandmother. It's...an honorary title for an old woman." Suddenly picturing Spock addressing Admiral Margaret Garland that way, Kirk quickly added, "It's fallen out of usage."
The princess said, "Grandmother, what are you doing?"
"Why are you doing that with your voice?"
The captain blushed and mumbled, "That's how girls sound."
"I believe a visit to Dr. McCoy for an assessment of your hearing may be in order."
"Do you want to hear this or don't you?"
"I am fascinated by it. Please continue."
The old woman said that she was spinning and offered to teach the girl. The princess reached out and pricked her hand on the spindle. Then she sank down on a nearby bed and fell into a deep sleep. The old woman, who was really the witch, disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Now the spell was more powerful than anyone thought, because at the moment the princess pricked her finger, everyone in the castle fell asleep, too. The king, the queen, the courtiers, the servants--they all fell fast asleep at what they were doing. And over night, a thick, dark forest of sharp thorns sprang up around the castle.
Many brave young men tried to rescue the princess but none succeeded. And when none returned from the quest, others were reluctant to try. And as the years passed, most people forgot about the princess sleeping in the wood of thorns.
After a hundred years, a handsome prince from a neighboring kingdom decided he would give it a try. So he set out for the castle and on the way, he met the good fairy who gave him a magical sword. For she knew that he was the princess' own true love.
So the prince fought his way through the thorns and climbed the steps to the highest tower. And there he found the princess, fast asleep, and still as beautiful as she'd been on her sixteenth birthday.
He bent over her and kissed her softly. She opened her eyes and immediately fell in love with her rescuer. Soon everyone in the castle was awake and very shortly afterwards, the prince and princess were married.
And they lived happily ever after.
"I am...uncertain how to respond. I believe I specifically requested a Terran story."
"Jim. Your modifications did not render the tale unrecognizable."
"I have heard that story many times before. It is considered a primal myth on Vulcan."
"Sleeping Beauty is a Vulcan myth?"
"Indeed. Although the spell is cast on a young boy instead of a princess and his rescuer is drawn to an oasis in the middle of an uncrossable desert--"
"Wait a minute. I swear this is a story that every child on Earth has heard hundreds of times."
"But the symbolism is obviously Vulcan--"
"A young woman awakened to love? By a man with a magical sword?"
"A fate that is sealed in early childhood so that two who are destined for each other will be brought together at the appropriate time."
"I'll be damned. Betelheim never thought of that."
"A twentieth-century psychologist who analyzed the symbolism of fairy tales."
"Fascinating. If he lived in the twentieth century, he could not have known of Vulcan."
Kirk considered this and chuckled.
"So if we analyze this according to Vulcan mythology, you're the princess." He laughed loudly and continued, "That makes Sarek and Amanda the king and queen. I guess T'Pau is both the witch and the fairy. And that makes..." The captain stopped laughing. "...that makes *T'Pring* the prince."
"No," Spock corrected him gently. "I believe T'Pring was one of those who failed."
Kirk smiled with cat-like satisfaction. "So I'm the prince."
"Perhaps." Spock turned and whispered into a delightfully round ear. "However, I prefer to think of you as happily-ever-after."
I'd love to hear from you! Please use my Guestbook to leave story feedback. Your guestbook entry can be public or private. You can also sign up to receive new stories by email.
If you navigated to this story from anywhere on my website, that window is probably still open right behind this one. If you navigated to this story from anywhere else, please visit Invisible Planets for more of my stories.