AN: This fanfiction is based on both the Studio Ghibli movie and the book by Diana Wynn Jones. I do not own either. If you have not read the book, I very much suggest you do so, as this work of fiction will seem very confusing to you. If you have not seen the anime, then how in earth did you end up here?

Prologue

The story begins again.

Sophie Hatter had long ago excepted the fact that as the oldest of three sisters, she was doomed to fail.
Since the moment her youngest sister Martha had entered the world, letting out a bellow of outrage that should have forewarned her delighted parents of the temper tantrums to come, Sophie begrudgingly resigned herself to her fate.
Of course, she could never say she was not loved. Her father and step mother loved and cared for her as fiercely as they did their other daughters. But in small ways, they too had accepted Sophie's misfortune as the eldest, and did not try particularly hard to change it.

One memorable example was the day of the harvest festival when Sophie was eight years old. As a treat, Mr Hatter had travelled to Kingsbury to buy four beautiful dresses for his four beautiful girls.
Mrs Hatters' dress was a stunning faded yellow, adorned with tiny jewels across the bodice and trimmed with lace so delicate it caught reflected the sunlight as she moved. Martha, now a chubby cheeked four year old, was given a dress of brilliant red. The skirt and sleeves so layered with ruffles and ribbons the small child was almost swallowed by it, not that she minded. Everyone who saw the little girl that day declared her to be the most beautiful child in all of Ingary.

Lettie, the second oldest daughter, was given a dress of sapphire blue. To match her eyes, her father had told her with pride. The soft material had been enchanted to change colours, lightening to a sea-foam green when touched by candlelight and deepening to an almost impenetrable midnight blue when she walked under star light. The magic used to enchant the dress delighted the girl more than the dress itself.

Sophie's dress was grey.

It had been styled for just her, cut to the very latest fashions, the fabric so soft it fell over her body like silk, but it was still grey. It did not have ruffles or ribbons. There was only the smallest bit of lace sewn into the high collar.
That day, Sophie had been unable to hide her disappointment, the small pang of jealously she had felt as she watched her sisters twirl in front of her in their beautiful dresses. She was quick to mask her emotions when her father glanced her way.
Mr Hatter was immensely proud of the choices he had made when buying the dresses, the delight on his face as he watched his family so heart-warming that Sophie had pushed aside her disappointment and jealously, and embraced him as enthusiastically as her sisters and step-mother had.

His lovely wife should always shine, he had said. She deserved to walk around adorned in the sunlight she had brought into his life when she agreed to marry him.

His little baby, his little Martha, well she was a beautiful summer rose. So vibrant and full of life, she deserved to be seen and admired by all in the country.

Lettie was his dreamer. Her eyes so full of curiosity and wonder he knew that she could capture the stars one day if she wanted to. All she had to do was reach out and grab one.

And Sophie, his sweet, dependable Sophie. Always so practical. Always so ready to step in and help others. With his large hands on her shoulders, Mr Hatter had looked upon his eldest child with doting affection, and perhaps a small amount of regret.
He had told her that day that she was wonderful. She was magnificent. She was strong, and lovely, and confident. He had given her a grey dress because it was durable. It was easily cleaned, and blended in easily with the rest of the world. It did not draw the eye, nor did it deserve to be ignored. Grey was a good colour. A sturdy colour. A colour suitable for a girl such as Sophie.

Even at eight years old, Sophie had understood what her father was telling her. She was beautiful to him. She was perfect to him. She could be anything she wanted to be, but he felt that maybe she shouldn't try. Perhaps in his own way, Mr Hatter was trying to protect Sophie from the life of disappointments he knew she would have to endure.

She was not a sunlight yellow, or a vibrant red, or an enchanted blue. She was a perfectly plain, acceptable grey.

As the years passed, Sophie grew to accept her shade, and convince herself it was quite acceptable to be grey.
So no one was more surprised than her when, with the arrival of a reputable yet egotistical witch, Sophie's grey life was suddenly spirited into a world of colour. She was abruptly thrown into a world that burnt red with magical fire, touched her skin with hues of crystalline blue, dazzled her with shades of gold that darkened to pink then to a stunning black, and the very stars fell from skies stained a brilliant and magical purple.

In those flashes of colour, Sophie had used up a lifetime. Quite literally. She had been swept off her feet as an elderly woman far passed her prime, and when the moment came where she willingly gave up her heart, her life, to hold onto the rapid flashes of colour she had grown to love, she had been a girl of only eighteen.
As it was, her plain life took such a drastic turn, that it was not until long after her feet landed on solid ground, her decent carefully cushioned by the enigmatic wizard she had fallen in love with, that Sophie thought to question why.

The eldest of three was always met with misfortune. It was such a well known and accepted affliction that it was mentioned with the same casual indifference that one might use when discussing the weather. If one were to hear a whisper of gossip about an oldest sibling who had tried, and failed, to accomplish something, it was met with the correct amount of pity and sympathy. But also with the off handed thought that it was bound to happen eventually.

The oldest of three curse was so unanimously accepted, that even people who had known Sophie her entire life would be both astounded and sceptical that she had found happiness. Of course they were delighted for her, told her how proud they were of her, but behind closed doors they whispered about the oddness of it all. Had the Wizard cast a spell on her to protect her from the bad fortune that was rightly hers to claim? Was it something that could be cast away with magic?
Perhaps, the whisperers said, Sophie was not in fact the oldest sibling? Maybe her recently remarried mother was expecting a babe? Even if that were true, others thought, that still wouldn't make sense. For Sophie was still the oldest sibling until the baby was born, and the curse should still be on her.
As one year moved into another, and the news of Sophie Hatters marriage to Howl Pendragon swept through the country, the whisperers decided that the only thing that made any sense was the fact young Sophie was married to a wizard.

Magic could really do wondrous things, they all decided.

Sophie whole-heartedly agreed. If it was thanks to her husbands magic that her world was no longer painted in shades of grey, then she would thank the very heavens for magic. But sometimes, during the long nights where she would lay in her husbands arms, listening to the rhythmic sounds of his breathing, that Sophie allowed herself to wonder, the faintest traces of unease brushing her heart. A deeply embedded fear that had been born the same moment her little sister had. On those nights she would cuddle closer to Howl's side. Smiling as he instinctively drew her closer to him in his sleep. Under the glow of soft moonlight, Sophie would brush a strand of dark hair from her husbands face, or wrap her arms around his stomach and nuzzle herself as close to him as she dared.

Was there really any escape from the curse that came from being the oldest of three?