Should I be working on Smog of Sei-An? Yes. Is that going to stop me from starting another project wholecloth? Absolutely not. Enjoy!

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a kingdom that was surrounded by a great wood. Within the wood there was said to be a number of portals and doors, and through them the Fae would slip into the human world.

The Fair Folk and humans lived side by side in relative peace; travelers would leave a coin or food or fresh flowers at the start of their journey through the wood as payment for safe travels, and sometimes the Fae would appear in the village as wanderers, and sold and traded their own treasures at the market. The two peoples lived in such a way for generations, the peace maintained so long as the village was healthy and the royal family welcoming to any who entered their doors. After all, one could never know when a stranger was Fair; and it was rude to turn a stranger out either way.

There was only one other rule that most followed, and were taught as children; you had to be very careful when making a wish. Though the two kingdoms respected each others' rules, they still had their own, and if a human were to make a wish to the Goblin King-

An angry ruffling of feathers and flapping wings cut her off, and Snow White dropped the book from her lap to the ground. She looked to the miscreant in annoyance, and was met with large eyes staring back at her from the windowsill.

"It's not very polite to interrupt, you know," she gently chided, and the owl cooed in response. She sighed and lifted the book back up, placing the bookmark between the pages as she closed it. Snow set the book down beside her bed and walked to the window, where the owl stood patiently. She reached forward to brush the back of her finger against its beak, and it trilled while nuzzling into her touch. Snow smiled; though she liked reading, it was a very pretty owl, and she found she couldn't stay mad at it.

"Thank you for joined me," she said gently, her finger moving to the side of the bird's face. The owl leaned to the side, almost like a cat, its eyes closing in contentment. "Today's the day," she said, quieter, and the owl opened its eyes. She nodded. "I'm going to see if I can join in." Another coo, quieter.

She knew it was an ordinary owl, but it was a responsive owl, and she liked being able to at least pretend she was having a conversation.

There was a triumphant sound of horns; both Snow White and the owl turned to face the door as they played.

"It is my birthday," she said softly, more to the owl than herself. She looked at the bird. "It can't hurt to try, can it?" Another coo, deep and curious, and she smiled. "Do you think I should do it?" The owl ruffled its feathers, and she smiled. Snow White nodded and straightened up.

"Alright, I'm going now," she said, "I'm going to the party." She gripped her skirt in her shaking hands. "I'm going down there. Now."

The bird looked at her, almost expectantly, and she nodded again. Snow White turned, hesitated, and walked through her bedroom door. It shut between her and the owl with a loud and heavy thud.

Brighton wasn't always a nervous man; once upon a time, he'd been quite confident and a proud confidant to the throne. That was before the queen took it.

He knew what today was; it was the princess's 18th birthday, the day she came of age. He'd heard the chatter around the castle; almost everyone had the same worry, one they dared not speak to the queen's face.

He stood beside Queen Clementia as she called her move; he tried to organize his thoughts. Beside him, the Baron watched the game in amusement. Even he had a crease in his brow, however, and Brighton knew the date was on his mind as well. Of course, he wasn't going to bring it up, not when the queen was in such a good mood.

It was only six o'clock, they still had time, right?

"Brighton." He was yanked out of his thoughts by the queen's voice, and he looked at her with wide eyes for a moment. "Would you please tell Snow White that she can stop hiding behind the pillar, since she's not very good at it?"

The room froze. Everyone stopped and looked at the pillar in question; after a moment of unbearable stillness, Snow White stepped out from behind it. The queen patted her knee, and the princess approached slowly, hands clasped, and knelt beside Clementia.

"Snow White," the queen said in a gentle voice that made Brighton's gut wrench in anxiety, "what are you doing out of your room?"

"I thought I could watch the party, your majesty," Snow answered, and her voice would have broken the king's heart. Brighton suspected she knew that, from the look of quiet, almost polite shame on her face. "Since it is my 18th birthday."

The queen looked ready to respond, but every guest drew in a collective breath. She sat up; so too did Snow White, who looked quite perplexed.

"What's all this about?" The queen asked, looking quite annoyed. "Is everyone afraid of birthdays?"

"It's not that, your majesty," Brighton said, stepping forward even as he imagined the shadows would swallow him whole. "There is… a tradition, on a royal child's 18th birthday, that we haven't attended to. I believe everyone would be less tense if it were taken of sooner rather than later."

"Well, what is it? Do we cut off a lock of hair? A finger?" Clementia smiled and Brighton wished he hadn't spoken. "Don't keep me guessing, Brighton, what do we do with our little," she looked to the princess as her voice turned sour, "snooping princess?"

"We must present her," he said, gathering his thoughts, "to the Fair Kingdom."