Once, long ago, there was a flower -it was rumored by the locals to have mystical powers. A flower that blossomed from a drop of sunlight, they say, that would glow with the warmth of a thousand suns. Most said it was a myth, but among the true believers was the Queen's Apothecary. So it was no surprise that when the queen fell ill during pregnancy, he stated that this mystic flower may be their only hope.
The King scoffed -Magic was fiction, nothing more. But as the months dragged on, the queen grew more and more ill. As desperation set in, he approved a mission to search for the flower.
What the Apothecary didn't know -couldn't know -was that there was another woman, one who was dying from age. She was a possessive witch, one that would use the powers of the flower to keep herself young, day after day. She tried her best to hide the flower, but in spite of her efforts the squad the king had deployed found the flower and forcibly took it in the name of the crown.
In working his craft the only way he knew, the apothecary destroyed the flower in concocting the remedy for the queen. She was saved, but at the cost of the mystic flower. A few months later, a beautiful baby girl was born. The king and queen couldn't be more proud. People celebrated in the street for the birth of a new princess, First born child of King Peter and Queen Jaqueline. In a mere few days, they would have the official naming ceremony and the traditional lighting of the lanterns in celebration of a royal birth.
The night before the celebration, however, the witch -scorned by her loss -stole into the castle in the middle of the night, her intention to kill the child. They would take what was her prized possession, so she would to them.
The thing was, when she got to the Princess's room, she came across some notes from the apothecary: mere speculation on the effect of the flower on the child. But they got her to stop, to consider. What if—
Walking over to the child's sleeping form, she sang her song, and the child's hair began to glow. As she was considering what to do, she heard a clamor; she'd been noticed. Quickly she grabbed the child and made her escape; That was the last anyone ever saw of the witch or the unnamed princess.
Every year, the King and Queen flew celebratory lanterns with the people of their kingdom in mourning. Unbeknownst to them, they were watched not all so far away by a wide eyed girl with a big heart and one simple dream: to see those lights in person.
"Rooooooooooooose! Mummy's waiting!"
"Yes Mother, coming!"