She stood alone at a large window overlooking a dark and moonlit forest, in a strange yet familiar room.
Her snow-like skin and coal black hair caught the diaphanous blue light giving it a faint glow, as the moon waned across the window sill behind smoke like clouds, and violet shadows crept and stirred across the frozen floorboards like serene spectral figures.
The walls were covered in creme and midnight blue fleur du lis paper, and dark portraits hung from rusted nails leaving faint ruddy stains like old blood. They were such severe faces... yet somehow all too familiar. She turned from them, and her eyes fell onto a beautiful grande piano forte. Its luminous insculpted oak-wood frame was painted with intricate floral patterns, while angelic golden cherubs and gold feather accents lined the frame. She felt drawn to it, the keys sang to her, begging to be touched and played by her slender fingers.
She stepped towards it as though in a trance, and as she sat, as if by magic or some distant memory, her fingers began to play a slow soft melody. She remember it from somewhere, this song; was it a lullaby...?
She hummed softly as she struck the keys, weaving the notes into the silent air around her until tears came to her eyes, yet she could not stop playing. She remembered now, remembered playing it much as a child; though never such as this.
It was her mother's lullaby.
As the song continued on, the shadows of memories crept closer; caressing at her bare skin, and the piano suddenly burst into crimson flame, destroying the perfect remains of a pure childhood.
The fire kept the shadows at bay; pushing them into the untouched corners, and the song took a sudden twist in tune; passionate and yearning for love, no longer a lullaby but a plea for acceptance and human comfort. As she played her haunting melody she heard voices call, soft and shrill, inside the chaismic confines of her inner mind: the voices of her father and mother, her conscience, and her deep seeded longings.
The wind lingered down her back like icy hands, seductive and alluring; beckoning her from the flames that burned so brightly, from the fiery piano forte.
As she watched the piano burn; pressing ivory in firelight, the music lit a blaze inside her, and her passions all ran wild. The flames licking her bare flesh like the warm tongue of a lover, her fingers yearning to press the ivory keys evermore, to never cease the pleasures which the heat and music stirred within her breast.
The vision shifted to a different room, and she found herself sitting at a vanity in a loose long white gown, pulling the final pins from her hair and allowing it to fall down her back and shoulders in long ebony curls.
Rising from her chair she turned to face a man behind her, the fabric of her dress falling to her feet.
She smiled blushingly as she approached him, feeling a great happiness in her heart as he lifted her into his arms and kissed her deeply.
He kissed her several times as he carried her and laid her down upon a large canopied bed, lavishing her with them along her jaw and neckline, while undoing the silk ribbon sashes of her undergarments.
She had soon taken the place of the piano forte; becoming the instrument to be played and lit afire, by most skillful hands; laying bare and exposed as his fingers ran gentle caresses across her skin, playing breathy, sinful notes of extacy and desire from her ready lips; causing her to shiver in the delicious pleasure of his touch.
She gazed daringly up into his loving, desirous, eyes with love and desire of her own, never remembering having felt so complete in bliss before. He placed a gentle kiss upon her pale throat murmuring 'I love you' as he grazed her skin, and pressed his lips to hear ear; whispering softly:
"I will always find you..."
Before he, the room, and the piano all vanished into inky blackness; a sinister woman's laughter filling the sudden dark silence with a looming sense of foreboding.
Mary Margaret awoke from her fevered dream, with heavy breath and skin dewed in perspiration.
Her eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting of her bedroom, and she looked about the place absentmindedly while the remnants of that nights dreams slowly vanished into her subconscious.
She had dreamt of him again, that much she could discern, and nothing more. But, that was all that she needed.
The faded memory of those eyes' gaze upon her, the feeling of being loved, was all that she required to remember in order to be satisfied.
Though he was gone from her living existence, he still lived on in her dreams... and perhaps if she were to wish and dream enough, her dream Prince would keep his promise made in reverie, and find his way back to her.
"I mustn't be silly."
She tsked, and lamented her wishful thinking, but still smiled at the prospect of love she had felt.
"...Dream prince..." she blushed and laughed softly to herself, hugging the covers close.
"No, things like that only happen in Fairy Tales. It must be Henry's stories getting in my head."
Sighing wistfully, she rose from her bed to greet the morning and ready herself for class. They were taking a trip to the hospital today to put up decorations and she couldn't be late.