Fairy magic imbued in the sword, Prince Phillip drove the metal weapon into the she-devil's chest and the dragon reared in agony, greenish-yellow blood gushing from its chest wound. The prince leapt aside as the dragon's head narrowly missed him, nearly squishing the prince like a roach. Maleficent was dead. Finally.
Phillip raced up the stairs of the tallest tower and was huffing halfway up. "What...the...hell?" he gasped, clutching his aching side. The prince leaned on his sword for support. "Can't you j-just magick me up there?" he asked the three fairies.
"Sorry, we used all our powers t-to kill the sorceress," the fairies apologized in turn, each gasping for breath too. They slumped against the cool cobblestone walls.
Finally, after many breaks and cursing the architects, the four reached the top where Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather fell on their faces, panting heavily. The younger prince, however, staggered to the bedside where the beautiful maiden from the forest lay. The woman who had captured his heart, who knew him from once upon a dream. He waited, wiping the sweat from his brow before leaning down to kiss her. When he leaned back, he waited for her gorgeous dark eyes to open, to gaze adoringly at him.
Nothing happened.
Frowning, Phillip kissed her again with similar results. He tried a third time. A fourth.
"I thought you said she would wake when I kissed her," Prince Phillip scowled at the three fairies behind him. "My kiss is supposed to break the spell." The three hopeful-looking fairies frowned as well.
"She should," Fauna muttered, troubled.
"Yeah," Merryweather agreed stoutly.
Flora, standing, made her way to the bed and felt Aurora's neck and gasped. "She is dead! Precious Aurora is dead! Our child!" The others gasped in disbelief, staring at the distraught crimson-dressed fairy.
"No!" howled Fauna. "This wasn't how this was supposed to end!"
"That witch!" fumed Merryweather, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'll kill her! I'd kill her again! I'd revive her just to kill that bitch!"
"Watch your damn language!" Flora retorted, glowering at their youngest member as she wiped her tears.
In the background, Prince Phillip watched the three magical beings bicker amongst themselves as they forgot him. Sighing, shedding a few tears at the regretful and wasteful lost of the most beautiful princess in the land, Phillip stood and wiped his sword before sheathing it. He quietly left the tallest tower and headed back to his faithful white horse, Samson. With a last glance back up at the window, he frowned and told his noble steed, "Well, there goes one naive, attractive damsel whose dress I could have slipped under."