In the courtyard of an abandoned castle stood a pavilion, surrounded by an impenetrable circle of brambles and thorns. Inside the pavilion, at the very center of it, a princess laid asleep, motionless and still, atop a soft bed embroidered in lace and silk. The thorns grew as a dense cloud around her, as thick as a wall, shutting off the world outside. There, she remained, sleeping, untouched by the world outside.
One day, a person dressed in armor from head to toe, riding a magnificent horse, came storming into the courtyard. Sword raised, the warrior slashed away at the thorns, creating an opening from which the warrior could squeeze through, going to the side of the sleeping princess.
Kneeling at the princess's side, the warrior took off her helmet, shaking her long black hair loose. Her hair brushed gently over the sleeping princess as she leaned forward, and very gently and reverently, placed a kiss upon the princess's lips.
A shockwave radiated out from them, and on the bed, the princess took a large gasping breath, eyes flying wide open and finding her companion immediately. "Mulan," she breathed out, "you're here."
"Aurora," Mulan whispered, voice choked with relief and joy. Raising a shaking hand to her princess's face, she stroked it gently. "It worked. It really worked."
"Of course it worked," Aurora countered, her own hands cradling Mulan's face. "I never doubted our love for each other."
Words failed them both, and the lovers reunited in another kiss.
They remained in their embrace for endless moments, before Mulan pulled back. "We have to leave this place immediately, Aurora. The Evil Queen is going to cast a terrible curse that will destroy everything we've ever known. Everyone else has already fled. We have to run as far as possible."
Together on the horse, they rode away, as quickly as they could.
But they could not outrun the rolling clouds of the Dark Curse, and inevitably, it consumed them.
Rosalind woke up with a gasp, disoriented at the abrupt transition between formless dreams and the waking world. Climbing out of bed, she carried out her usual morning routine - washing up, getting dressed, preparing breakfast. On her way out, she stopped by the fireplace.
Prominent on the mantelpiece was a clay figurine of a woman riding a horse, her hair long and unbounded, one hand holding the reins of the horse, the other hand holding a raised sword. Rosalind picked up the figurine, wiping away any dust on it with a cloth, before carefully putting it in the same place.
Taking her keys, she stepped out of her house. It was a short walk to her florist shop, and along the way, she called out greetings to neighbors and friends, enquiring about their week and trading idle gossip.
She stopped at the corner of the intersection, waiting for the light to turn green. Across the street, a strikingly beautiful woman jogged in place, black hair tied up in a high pony-tail and dressed in form-fitting exercise clothes. Their eyes met across the intersection, and Ying waved in acknowledgement. Rosalind blushed, turning her head away after waving weakly back.
Rosalind knew that woman was called Ying, that she was a friend of Ruby Lucas, that she operated a gym not far from here. She knew that Ying went for a run every morning, and part of her route took her across the intersection where they both now waited. She knew that Ying was lesbian and single. And yet, even though they were casual acquaintances through Ruby, Rosalind had never mustered up the courage to speak more than a few words to Ying, too afraid that her crush on Ying would be too obvious.
The green man lit up, and they crossed the intersection, Ying's jogging pace rapidly covering the distance between them. They called out "good morning" as they passed each other, but no other conversation was had.
Sighing, Rosalind reached her shop, unlocking the door and breathing in the fragrance of the flowers within. Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow she would be less tongue-tied. Tomorrow she would say more than a greeting back, she would talk to Ying, invite her out for lunch somewhere.
She would do it tomorrow.
Tomorrow came, and Rosalind woke up with a gasp, disoriented at the abrupt transition between formless dreams and the waking world. Climbing out of bed, she carried out her usual morning routine. On her way out, she stopped by the fireplace. Rosalind picked up the figurine of the woman riding a horse, wiping away any dust on it with a cloth before carefully putting it in the same place, and left her house.
She called out greetings to neighbors and friends as she walked to her shop, enquiring about their week and trading idle gossip. At the intersection, she saw Ying across the street. They traded waves and greetings as they passed each other, and Rosalind thought to herself, tomorrow.
And if by some circumstance it occurred to her to think about how familiar each day was, how every encounter with Ying triggered a sense of déjà vu, it was soon forgotten as her first customers arrived.
Tomorrow the same scene would repeat itself again, as it had for many days, and months, and years.
Life in Storybrooke was nothing but a carousel.
Until a little boy ran away from home, in search of his birth mother, who then brought him back to Storybrooke.
And for the first time in twenty eight long years, the hands of the town clock started moving.
As always, Rosalind woke up with a gasp, disoriented at the abrupt transition between formless dreams and the waking world. Climbing out of bed, she carried out her usual morning routine. On her way out, she stopped by the fireplace.
She picked up the figurine of the woman riding a horse, wiping away any dust on it with a cloth before cradling it protectively in her hands. There was something about the figurine that called to her, something familiar and warm, the emotion that one would feel while gazing at the photo of a loved one, or when holding an object that one associated with cherished memories.
Strangely enough, it reminded her of Ying.
Shaking herself out of this nameless nostalgia, Rosalind carefully put the figurine back in its spot on the mantelpiece, and left her house.
Distracted by her thoughts this morning, she didn't watch where she was going. So as she walked to the corner of the intersection, she bumped straight into someone and they both went sprawling onto the pavement, bags and that person's box of donuts thrown everywhere.
"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!" Rosalind said immediately, horrified at her inattentiveness. "I'll buy you a new box of donuts, I promise."
"It's alright, I didn't watch where I was going either," the person replied, and Rosalind realized it was Ying, who wasn't in her usual exercise clothes but in casual attire.
Ying, who was on the same side of the intersection as Rosalind.
Ying stood up, brushing the pavement dust off her clothes, and extended her hand to Rosalind to help her up, who took it numbly, still stunned by this change in routine. "I... I didn't expect to see you here, at this side of the intersection." Rosalind asked, shyly.
Ying blushed, gesturing to the donuts which now dotted the pavement. "I didn't do my morning run today. Instead, I went to the bakery to get these." She looked up at Rosalind then, and there was fear and hope lurking in her eyes. "I've been wanting to talk more to you for a long time, to get to know you better, but I always thought I'll do it tomorrow. Today I finally decided to just do it. So I went and bought some donuts, and I was going to go to your shop with them and ask you out for lunch."
Oh. Ohhh. Rosalind couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. "I've been wanting to talk to you for the longest time too."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
They smiled shyly at one another.
They went back to the bakery to buy each other breakfast, and had their lunch breaks together at a café down the street. In the evening, Ying came over to Rosalind's shop, and they locked it up together before walking to a nearby restaurant where they ate dinner, with candle-light and ambient music, lingering touches and flirtatious gazes. They parted at Rosalind's house with a kiss, and made plans to meet for breakfast tomorrow.
Tomorrow, they would meet, bright and early at Granny's Diner to have breakfast together.
This was how their story began.
In Storybrooke, anyway.
You see, there was another beginning, once upon a time.
It was the sound of galloping hoofs and the frantic yell of "Watch out!" that alerted Aurora, who was distracted picking flowers in the grass, that she had strayed into the road. She threw herself out of the way, falling into a heap at the side of the road and scattering her basket of flowers as the rider and horse galloped past her.
The horse slowed and stopped, and the rider dismounted swiftly, hurrying to Aurora's side. "Your Highness!" she exclaimed. "Are you alright?"
Aurora recognized her immediately. It was Mulan, one of the ambassadors from a faraway kingdom. Aurora had noticed her on the very first day that the delegation had arrived, sitting tall and straight on her horse, warm and intelligent eyes piercing her, and Aurora's heart had flipped.
Her heart flipped again, as Mulan ran frantic hands over her body, checking for injuries.
"I am so sorry, your Highness," Mulan said, eyes wide with concern. "I should have watched where I was going."
Aurora hurried to ease her guilt. "Oh no, please don't blame yourself. The fault was mine, I should not have been on the road."
At Mulan's silence, Aurora looked down and realized she had taken hold of Mulan's hands in a bid to reassure her, and that Mulan is now staring at their joined hands. Blushing, Aurora released her hands and tried to stand up, but almost fell again when she put weight on her left foot and pain shot up her entire leg. Mulan lunged forward to catch her before she fell back on the ground, and they were caught in an awkward embrace.
"I might have hurt my foot," Aurora said breathlessly, unsure if her shortness of breath was due to the pain or because of Mulan's proximity.
Mulan helped her up the horse, carefully maneuvering around her injured foot, and then swung up behind her. With her arms around Aurora, Mulan took hold of the reins and got the horse moving again, this time at a more sedate pace, and they made their way back to the castle together.
This was the true beginning of their love story.
Note: This fic was originally posted on AO3 as part of Fandom Giftbox 2016. Title is taken from the song with the same name in the Sleeping Beauty movie.
