If I were a princess, perhaps then my beauty would have been sung of by bards, for they find that more coins come from songs of beautiful princesses than plain ones, and those traveling singers would never want to fall out of favor. I would be said to at the very least outshine the sun, for that kind of poetry sounds good in song. Perhaps other wonderful qualities would also have risen out of their songs too; kindness and generosity, fairness and a sharp tongue to those who are not. And just maybe, if I were a princess I could be all of that, and more. It is easy to be generous when you have so much, and even the smallest bit of kindness is noticed when you are watched by so many. There is a story going around, I do not know if you have heard it, but the bards are saying that the eldest prince's favorite pet is not one of his fine bred hunting dogs, but a stray he saw starving in the streets. He was too compassionate to let the poor animal starve. Ah, what a good king he will make!

I have been to the capital. I have seen the parentless children starving in the street.

But if I were a princess, perhaps such things would not happen. I would have a teacher to help me learn what was fair, and I would learn to hate injustice. Right now I have seen too much of the world in the few places that I have traveled to be so foolhardy as that. I try to do good to the people I see, but that is far from stopping the evil.

And maybe, if I were a princess than I really would be beautiful. I would have a flock of ladies-in-waiting who would know the best way to make my plain face pretty, and black hair might become more fashionable then blond. It might also look nicer if it was in anything but a braid, but I need to keep it out of my face while I work, and I cannot bear to cut it off, even if it is not curly and stylish. Almost as much as the tell-tale purple eyes, I feel it helps me look the part of my position.

My position that is not a princess.

Perhaps you thought that if I wasn't, then I would at least become a princess and seeing how this is a tale of the fairies, you would be just in guessing that. Just, but wrong. I must banish thoughts of such things as beauty, for while I may admire it in others; I have no time to peruse it myself. No, I am not a princess, not even close. Do purple eyes mean something different in your world?

(Admittedly, mine are not quite such a vibrant violet as I know you are thinking, although some girls' are. I am told that mine are more gray, the color of a storm above the sea. Hopefully, their expression is not also often stormy.)

Ironic that the color only royalty can wear is bestowed on the eyes of any birth, though purple eyes are just as rare as any nobility, and very likely more so.

Do you still not know me? I see that your stories are different than ours. I must speak simply. I am a sorceress.

What are the stories that have fallen on your ears? Does the air fill with the heaviness of ancient magic? Do you want to run from the evil witch?

Ah, now I have said it. That is a word you well know. Now we are getting closer. Witch. You think now that you have found my role in the stories. But I am no witch, and I play more than one role, as I know you do also. Be patient, young or old as you are, you must wait for the story to unfold itself. I promise that it will do so soon, and you will not be disappointed. But you must wait for a while more.

My story does not start here. We must go back before I can go forward. You may join me if you wish, though I cannot promise happiness, for you, or for me. But softly now, we are reaching the words that you know well now; so well that you may overlook their magic. Slowly now. Close your eyes and let my voice carry the words.

But how? As you clutch this aged scroll in your hands, I am not in the torch lit cavern, or grand palace library with you. Or perhaps you are in some other place. Choose your favorite, and choose well, for this story cannot be told just anywhere. Perhaps it is not an aged scroll, but a finely bound book. I cannot describe it for it must be all your own.

But you know it now. I can tell. I can feel it. Now close your eyes.

Fie! Foolish reader, and listener of my tale, I know that you need your eyes to read this script. Did you think those were the eyes that I meant? You have as much to learn about magic as I first did, unless it is more. But do not despair, for I will teach you the best that I can.

Hold tightly the finely made parchment, or whatever else that you may have chosen. This text cannot take you much farther on its own. Let the magic grow wings. Let the words wash over you. Once we enter the true story be careful to patiently spot me, for I may not be who you first expect. We are very close now.

Pay careful attention to the peculiar shimmer of magic. This is as much your story as mine now.

Hold my hand; I'm frightened too. I know even less to the end of this tale than you. Are you ready now?

Once upon a time…