Ella gazed up at her family and friends standing around her bed and smiled
in a feeble but contented way. She was finally welcome. It was relieving.
She was so glad she was happy, but she new this was the end of that time
for she wasn't happy anymore. Ever since he had gone there had been a hole
in her heart. She had lived for him. And now she would die of him, or lack
of him, more like. She did not regret anything she had done. Sure they had
fought, all couples fight, but neither of them had been able to stand it
for long. They would meet in the corridor on the way to apologize to each
other and laugh about it, and kiss, and everything would be happily ever
after. And it still was. Her lips parted very slightly as she whispered, "I
love you." She said it to him, to their children and grandchildren, friends
and loyal subjects, who all stood by her now in her time of need.
"Thank you. I love you."
Everything starts and ends with 'I love you'. She closed her eyes for the last time, leaving her contentment apparent on her face.
Snow sighed. It had always been poison. Was it her fault she liked food? Ah, but this time it was the wine. Red as blood, like her lips. Now she lay in the snow, white, like her skin. She blended right into it, except for her red dress. It had always been snow and poison. Blood on her skin. Dark black red and shining sparkling white. And that wine had been meant for her prince. Her king. The most powerful man with the most beautiful wife. She rolled over in the cold white snow and a trickle of red blood ran from her mouth as she let out her last breath. Relief in the darkness.
Belle gasped as the cold steel sheathed itself in her heart. The prince howled, letting out the beast inside him, and rushed at the one who had taken her. It was a joust; they were watching their son in the tournament. Then the traitors had attacked. She knew they shouldn't have come to the tournament. Many still had no faith in the beast king and some believed he had taken someone else's skin and wore it like a suit, as a disguise. They thought it would fall off if they killed him, that they would have a beast trophy. A beast king trophy. She felt like laughing, it was so ironic. The only beast left in him was strength and temper. No one would ever kill him. And those the traitors thought they were rescuing would only turn on them. He rushed towards her now, torn between anger and fear. He knelt beside her and lifted her in his arms, trying to stop the bleeding of her wound by pressing on it with his large hand.
"Are you-? No, of course you're not okay." He paused. "I got revenge. Not enough, but some. I'll go get a healer, I-"
"No." She grabbed his hand before he could leave. "Just, stay with me. Please."
He blanched. He knew what this meant. She didn't want a healer. She couldn't see any hope. She would die. But he said none of this; he just held her close, stroked her hair, comforted her and kissed her as she slipped away. He knew she'd never leave him. Not really.
Aurora lay wrapped around her love. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath her head. She had been happy all her life, despite everything that had happened. It had all been an adventure, and she had learned so much. She had learned what pain and fear were like, things only men were supposed to know but she was glad she knew them in the end. She even knew something no mortal should live to know. She knew what death felt like. She knew that there were second chances. Reincarnation. She had felt death under the witch's curse. She had become a young crow, learning how to fly, when true love had kissed her. The young crow had fallen to the ground as its spirit had departed. And she still kept these memories with her. She was no longer afraid of dying. She knew she wouldn't wake to see the morning. And she had no regrets, so she could rest peacefully. It all worked out well. She brushed her once golden, now grey, hair out of her eyes and pulled herself closer to her true love. "Goodbye," She whispered, and relaxed at last.
Anastasia frowned. She had so much work to do and it was only the middle of the day, the middle of luncheon with some very important guests. Why was she so dratted tired! Her love, that hero that all princesses must have, sat across from her. She smiled at him; he smiled back. She studied his features as she had done so many times before. His lips were a very light pink, his nose long and straight, his hair and eyes both a very similar colour of cinnamon brown. And how he smiled-! She started as he began to blur out of focus. Her eyes began to slip closed. Surely she wasn't that tired! She was getting too old for this. She pressed her fingers to her temples and tried to pay attention to what that powerful, important, rich, ugly, selfish idiot was saying now. But she just couldn't; her eyes kept closing. Her love saw this and insisted to the powerful idiot that they would talk later, at dinner. She leaned gratefully on his shoulder as he took her up to her room. She smiled as he lay her down for the deepest slumber known to all.
"Thank you. I love you."
Everything starts and ends with 'I love you'. She closed her eyes for the last time, leaving her contentment apparent on her face.
Snow sighed. It had always been poison. Was it her fault she liked food? Ah, but this time it was the wine. Red as blood, like her lips. Now she lay in the snow, white, like her skin. She blended right into it, except for her red dress. It had always been snow and poison. Blood on her skin. Dark black red and shining sparkling white. And that wine had been meant for her prince. Her king. The most powerful man with the most beautiful wife. She rolled over in the cold white snow and a trickle of red blood ran from her mouth as she let out her last breath. Relief in the darkness.
Belle gasped as the cold steel sheathed itself in her heart. The prince howled, letting out the beast inside him, and rushed at the one who had taken her. It was a joust; they were watching their son in the tournament. Then the traitors had attacked. She knew they shouldn't have come to the tournament. Many still had no faith in the beast king and some believed he had taken someone else's skin and wore it like a suit, as a disguise. They thought it would fall off if they killed him, that they would have a beast trophy. A beast king trophy. She felt like laughing, it was so ironic. The only beast left in him was strength and temper. No one would ever kill him. And those the traitors thought they were rescuing would only turn on them. He rushed towards her now, torn between anger and fear. He knelt beside her and lifted her in his arms, trying to stop the bleeding of her wound by pressing on it with his large hand.
"Are you-? No, of course you're not okay." He paused. "I got revenge. Not enough, but some. I'll go get a healer, I-"
"No." She grabbed his hand before he could leave. "Just, stay with me. Please."
He blanched. He knew what this meant. She didn't want a healer. She couldn't see any hope. She would die. But he said none of this; he just held her close, stroked her hair, comforted her and kissed her as she slipped away. He knew she'd never leave him. Not really.
Aurora lay wrapped around her love. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath her head. She had been happy all her life, despite everything that had happened. It had all been an adventure, and she had learned so much. She had learned what pain and fear were like, things only men were supposed to know but she was glad she knew them in the end. She even knew something no mortal should live to know. She knew what death felt like. She knew that there were second chances. Reincarnation. She had felt death under the witch's curse. She had become a young crow, learning how to fly, when true love had kissed her. The young crow had fallen to the ground as its spirit had departed. And she still kept these memories with her. She was no longer afraid of dying. She knew she wouldn't wake to see the morning. And she had no regrets, so she could rest peacefully. It all worked out well. She brushed her once golden, now grey, hair out of her eyes and pulled herself closer to her true love. "Goodbye," She whispered, and relaxed at last.
Anastasia frowned. She had so much work to do and it was only the middle of the day, the middle of luncheon with some very important guests. Why was she so dratted tired! Her love, that hero that all princesses must have, sat across from her. She smiled at him; he smiled back. She studied his features as she had done so many times before. His lips were a very light pink, his nose long and straight, his hair and eyes both a very similar colour of cinnamon brown. And how he smiled-! She started as he began to blur out of focus. Her eyes began to slip closed. Surely she wasn't that tired! She was getting too old for this. She pressed her fingers to her temples and tried to pay attention to what that powerful, important, rich, ugly, selfish idiot was saying now. But she just couldn't; her eyes kept closing. Her love saw this and insisted to the powerful idiot that they would talk later, at dinner. She leaned gratefully on his shoulder as he took her up to her room. She smiled as he lay her down for the deepest slumber known to all.