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The Golden Harp	By : Philotes Category: Fairy Tales, Fables, Folklore, Legends, and Myth > Fairy Tales Views: 7333 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction: any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I do not own the original story of 'Jack and the Beanstalk' from which the Golden Harp is taken

Chapter List
- 1-The Golden Harp
- 1
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young fairy, with golden-blonde hair and glittering green eyes. She played a golden harp, sitting in the corner of inns and taverns, in palaces while noble lords and ladies danced and praised, or sat in the fields with the wind as her accompiament. And, more often than not, some young (or not so young) lad (or lass) would catch her eye. She would smile a little, meet their gaze, and the song would change. And, more often than not, upon feeling their pulse quicken and their breath hitch, her lover-to-be would smile back, and when the room emptied, would join her in bed. How long a fairy's lover will last is uncertain. Some may have only a night, or less, before interest wanes, while others may have days, weeks, even years. The nature of fairies is well known, and most (not all) fortunate enough to catch the eye of a fairy took what was offered and didn't complain when it was over, and generally agreed that it was well worth it.
But one day, she caught the eye of a rather crotchety wizard, who grew steadily more enchanted with her, and steadily more jealous of her lovers. He plied her with gifts, praised her skill with the harp repeatedly, and she never once glanced his way. Quite simply, she found him unattractive, for all that he was reasonably young and good looking, and had no intention of taking him into her bed. When he finally cornered her and confronted her about it, she told him as much. Furious, he worked a great feat of magic and turned her into a golden harp, her wings forming the instrument, her body the column. With a satisfied smirk, he tapped the end of her now gold nose, and plucked a string.
"There, my dear - now you and I shall make as much music as I wish."
That was a long time ago, and probably far far away...

Leon surveyed the harp in the candlelight. It had been in the family for a few generations, since his great-great-grandfather Jack had, apparently, stolen it from a giant. The tall tale was generally dismissed as nonsense, but Leon was rather more open minded to the magical side of things than his parents, and had always loved the story. He let his eyes rove over the figure. As a small child, the woman-in-the-harp had just been a pretty instrument, and he hadn't understood why his mother hadn't wanted him looking at it. As a teen, he had to admit the femine part of the harp had caught his imagination rather more than the instrument aspect. Whoever had made the harp had clearly not intended for 'modest' to feature in descriptions of their masterpiece. Her arms reached back along the neck of the harp, pushing her breasts forwards. The head tilted back to lie against the neck between the arms, glittering emerald eyes wide, smile seductive, the body arched forwards, one leg cocked. What little clothing had been included was moulded to the contours of the body, clearly showing the outline of stomach muscles and the dip of her navel, thin straps only just covering her breasts and the skirt ragged and asymmetrical, leaving the straight leg entirely bare and only just shielding the join of her thighs from view.
Gently, he reached out and touched a lock of the short golden hair, following its curve across the forehead and around one eye. The metal was cold, but silky smooth, as always. He sighed.
"I'm a fool, you know that, Aria? A magic-befuddled fool." The thought didn't stop him from continuing the path of his finger around her cheek and along her jawbone. He hesitated, briefly. Then he gave a slight shrug. After all, if he was wrong, all that would happen was that the harp would stay a harp. Keeping his left hand where it was, he reached past the figure to pluck a string. As always, the sound was slightly off - not out of tune, but just a little...off. Unmusical. He traced the outline of her lips, felt a slight warmth that probably wasn't just his own body heat being taken in by the metal, cupped the metal face with his hands and kissed her. It was rather uncomfortable, but the metal under his mouth began to soften, just slightly. It was a start. He pulled back briefly to look for any change. The mouth parted, just slightly, and he leaned in to kiss her again. This time the metal was definitely warm, and moved under his lips. His hand slipped from the strings to slide down the curve of the narrow waist, resting a moment on the hip before continuing down the thigh. Her mouth made a sudden movement - a silent gasp? - and the movement of her lips became more frantic. Her tongue slid into his mouth, twining with his, and he pressed closer, the hand still on her cheek falling to trace the outline of one breast. With a moan of pleasure, Leon trailed kisses down the cool skin until he found the other with his mouth. Again, the metal softened, giving way and moulding to his touch as though it were flesh and blood. The hand that still idly stroked her thigh shifted higher, reaching below the non-existant skirt hem to stroke the perfectly moulded folds between her thighs. After a few gentle strokes the flesh softened, and on the fourth deliberate flick the hips jerked towards him. Grinning around the nipple he suckled, Leon found her clit with his thumb and massaged it, causing Aria's hips to buck into his hand.
It was then that Leon became aware of the music. The harp was playing itself. He pulled back, puzzled, and the music slowed, gradually fading. Except for the highest few notes, which kept playing in a irregular riff. Experimentally, Leon ran a finger up the inner thigh of her bent leg, listening to the change in the tune. He stood, a little regretfully, and moved until he was poised as though planning to actually play the harp, rather than seduce the figurehead. Keeping his eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror, he gently stroked a few of the higher strings. Her lips moved again, tongue darting in and out of her mouth, searching for an absent contact. Leon's hand shifted gradually down the strings, noting the response of her body to each, feeling his own erection grow even harder. This note made the nipples peak into prominence, while that note caused a shiver along her spine. The lowest strings caused her hips to jerk again, and he watched in mixed fascination and arousal as the movement sped up with his plucking of the string, faster and faster, while the delicate fingers on the hands clenched and unclenched, and the higher notes resumed their irregular gliss, louder and quicker. Arousal overcame curiosity, and Leon was hardly aware of moving back to the figurehead and pressing against her, matching the frantic movement of her body with his own, mouth crushed into hers and right hand resuming its teasing of her clit, left hand sliding behind the curve of the body to pull himself closer. Her folds were wet and warm, and he felt her arch towards him as he slid a finger into her, then a second, pumping in and out. The feel of something cool tangling in his hair made Leon jerk back slightly, before the hand that clutched his head pulled him back to her mouth. Her eyes were real now, not just pretty stones, half closed, pupils wide with arousal. Her other hand scrabbled with the tie on his dressing gown, pulling the knot undone and clutching at the back of the material. Leon struggled out of the thin fabric, letting it pool at his feet as his hands returned to her waist and back, her hands tugging him forwards. Frantic with need, he thrust into her, and was met with equal desperation. Her bent leg left the floor, curving around his waist as he surged in and out, her hips matching his rhythm. The music swelled, building in speed and volume, until he felt her muscles spasm around him and her hands clutching his shoulders. His own orgasm rippled through him and he shouted as he found his own release. His legs trembled, and he slid to his knees rather than fall, trailing kisses down between her breasts and over her waist, before pushing himself away to look at her. Gradually the music faded, first the lower notes, then the higher, until only the repeated irregular runs of the highest notes remained, matching the heave of her breasts as she panted. Her arms rose once again to lie either side of her wings, the leg once again bent such that a tiny scrap of modesty was just preserved, and as the final notes faded, her head rolled back into its normal caught-in-escasty arch, eyes turning back to unfeeling stone that, as always, seemed to be looking at him wherever he was standing.
With a sigh, Leon heaved himself to his feet and glanced out of the window. The sun was just beginning to rise. He pressed a last kiss to Aria's mouth (a name he had given her in his teenage years, when he decided he should at least have a name to give to his fantasised lover), but as expected, there was no response. He stooped to pick up his dressing gown and shrugged it on, loosely tying it, before pulling up a stool and seating himself with hands resting on the strings.
"Ah, well. Until tonight, then, I suppose I'll have to make do with only the music."
And the strings sang for him.
There was much comment from the family as to why the harp suddenly, for the first time in anyone's memory, sounded so beautiful. His elder brother, to whom the harp should really have gone if it hadn't always sounded marginally better when played by Leon, gruffly acknowledged that his baby brother could coax music out of the strings that even their teacher hadn't achieved - but he frequently wished that Leon wouldn't practice at night quite so often.

The Golden Harp here is based on J Scott Campbell's deptiction in his 'Fairytale Fantasies' collection:

http://images6.fanpop.com/image/polls/1155000/1155091_1355461903208_full.jpg

Feedback welcome :)
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The Golden Harp