“Miss, isn’t it hard?”

Ursula blinks. Someone is talking to her.

It’s a child.

(Such blankness. The child is a chessboard.)

She uplifts her mouth, illusion of a smile.

“Is what hard?”

“To be a fairy!” The child replies, as if it is obvious.

(A soft inhale.)

She glances around, before turning back the child.

“What makes you think I’m a fairy?”

"Mama says that fairies are beautiful people with wings, and that they always are nice, and help people. You look like a fairy Papa once described. Are you that fairy?"

(An imprint of snow on her face.)

Perhaps her smile became real. Perhaps it didn’t.

The child notices her change and frowns.

“What’s so funny?” She demands.

Ursula bends down so she’s on eye level with the girl.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

(It’s like sharing rain.)

The girl widens her eyes and bites her lip, bobbing her head rapidly.

(A whisper.)

(A gasp.)

(Stars where shining that day)

“…You...You really are a fairy!”

She nods.

“Remember, it’s a secret. You won’t tell anyone, right?”

The girl nods, solemn as a dog.

(Air that will never be there.)

The girl’s eyes focus on something behind Ursula and waves.

“Mama! Mama, come over here and meet my new friend!” The girl yells while waving rapidly.

(Calm before the storm. Pearl before the waves.)

Arye.

(The moon’s reflected light is no match for the sun.)

(The whirlpool spit her out.)

And painfully, she’s reminded that she’s not the one.

---

A salamander awaits her return.

‘ey. You got a scroll. Some royal thing. Of course I didn’t read it…

A small, polite greeting before Karura scurries off somewhere.

And she’s alone.

(Welcome home.)

Her mind can’t get out of a time loop. Blur and flashes.

Arye. The little girl was his daughter. How many years had passed…?

The girl said she was beautiful.

She wants to cry.

But she can’t find a reason.

(The clouds grew old. The sea grew old. And so did she.)

The tears won’t come.

(A reason not to look into the light.)

Her eye catches a fancy package on her desk.

(She is not affected because she can’t be.)

She delicately opens the seal, registering the Council symbol.

Ursula of Pyre Stairway,

The royal family of Briar Manor has recently had a birth. Asseora of Yule was intended to be the fourth invite…(She wondered if the stars would be bright tonight)…thus you must take her place.

The one-month anniversary will be…(She was in quite the mood to paint a sky. She was always bad at painting the mundane.)...4 o’clock, the 24th. See that you are fit and ready.

Letrye of June’s Hallow.

Council of Thirteen

The letter is discarded.

She has a horizon to paint.

---

The queen stares at her apprehensively. Ursula knows that look.

(This is not the fairy I asked for. I’ve heard about this fairy…must be careful…)

Nontheless, she must bless the child with a gift.

“What do you ask for this child?”

The queen seems afraid to utter a word, as if what she will say will curse her little girl. Her mouth opens but no word comes out.

Ursula simply waits.

The king takes the initiative.

“H-happiness! We want happiness for our dau—!”

“NO!”

The queen’s cry cuts through his voice, almost desperate, almost hysterical. She is shaking her head rapidly.

“No, no…Imagine the repercussions of the wish! No…We want…”

Her wide eyes land on Ursula’s face, unseeing as she searches for the answer.

“I want…I want…Yes!”

(A light turns on. Another turns off.)

“I want my daughter to be truly happy when she dies. That’s all I ask.”

(The inbetweens is not important.)

“Your wish is granted.”

(A breath is released.)

Ursula stands up and begins to weave the strands of fate, attaching them one by one to the little girl.

“Your daughter will meet her first love and then die happily on her twenty-first birthday.”

The last string is attached.

And she lets go.

---

AN: Haha...it's a re-telling of Sleeping Beauty...sorta. I just hope I finish it. Tell me what you think so far, please!