*I do not own Jane and the Dragon or its characters
I have no idea where this idea came from, just started writing and this happened. Hope you enjoy!
While the fool was on one of his leisurely walks through the royal garden, he spotted something extraordinary. More beautiful than a cherry blossom bloom, more delicious then a freshly baked apple pie, more heart stopping then the fattiest of steaks. By fair, this flower was of a more heartwarming variety which caught his eye.
He stopped to examine her radiance, a kind that was unique all its own. Seeing her sleeping figure curled nicely under the shade of an apple tree, he though her to be like sleeping beauty, which could be awakened with a kiss. Oh a kiss would be something he would love ever so much, the sweetness, the innocence of true loves first kiss, but it sounded to much like a ballad. Now the fool had read one to many ballads, making him a sort of romantic.
He knew nothing of swords or of daggers, yet if one were to pierce him right now he would not feel it for his heart was taken already. He thought to himself that he should live in reality at least for his own sake while she was around since she had that profound affect on him, which made him more foolish then what he already appeared to be.
Yet, at that moment, at that sweetest of moments which could only be described as a belonging on a historical painting in a museum somewhere, the fool kneeled down to listen to her steady breath before he gave in to a kiss. A kiss which he stole, a kiss without permission that did not belong to him, a kissing thief was what he was.
Knowing the graveness the situation would be if she woke, he was quick to stand and ever so ready to run but he tripped, someone had grabbed him by the ankle. Jane sat up saying nothing, and oh how his heart was already condemning him. He was in trouble, so surely he thought this yet it was no so.
Letting actions speak for themselves, she took his face into her hands and kissed his eyes for he was crying, and she kissed his hands since they played so beautifully a song of praise just for her daily. Then last, of all things she kissed his lips which on every occasion spoke of sweet words and of kindness which was so absent in many of those who lived in such a time.
It was hard for him to understand why he would be rewarded for his dastardly deed, after all a thief is a thief no matter what was stolen. But as she put it, he was in her debt, a debt he would spend his whole life repaying. He did not mind this, instead he leapt for joy.
Though it is wrong to steal, is it really so wrong to steal something one wants to be stolen?
No matter the answer, it was a foolishly happy ever after.