Disclaimer. Sleeping Beauty does not belong to me, yadda yadda yadda.

I suppose it all started when I was born. My father, the king, was a power-hungry tyrant and my mother was a meek woman, afraid to stand up for herself. So when I was born, King Phillip saw me as another pawn to unite our kingdom with another to make our own nation richer. What is true about all those fairy tales is that there was a feast in my honor when I was born. However, it was really a barely disguised auction. It was similar to selling a horse. Or a pig. Perspective buyers would waddle up to my crib and peer down, trying to decide whether or not I would grow up to be a beautiful woman.

Of course, I didn't remember it. I hope I had spit at them as a baby. Or maybe when they picked me up, I coughed up milk all over their clothes. That would have been fun. But I suppose you are wondering how I know about these things when I said I don't remember it. Heaven knows my father didn't tell me. Nor my mother. Who then? I had a nanny/wet nurse that was also my (self-appointed) godmother. Ok, I'll admit it was my fairy godmother. She was very kind to me, and gave me what little childhood I had. She told me.

So at the feast, after the foreign kings had gawked down at me, they were seated at the banquet table. Naturally, now that they have seen what my father had to offer, they let my father know what they had to offer. To make a very long story short, they started telling my father what their kingdom is like. They either offered their sons as my betrothed, or themselves - which was absolutely sickening since at the time of my birth, they were already pruny fat old men. They describe how well their kingdom is doing. How their economic system was improving. How their trade was. What their trade was. The list goes on.

My father rejected kingdom after kingdom until he came to King Bartholomew. (I always thought that the name Bartholomew was amusing. Mew mew.) He had a trade agreement with India and/or China. He had a vast kingdom, and was very rich. He had a son. Amanda (my nanny) said that he was as cold and cruel as my father, if not more so. So then, my hand was promised to King Bartholomew's son.

To the relief of my father, I grew up as a beautiful woman. I had few friends because they either feared my father, or they disliked me and was jealous of my "beauty" and intelligence. Most of them were all prejudiced. The "nice" ones thought I was snobby since my father was so horrible. The nasty ones didn't like me because they thought I would be a threat to their "nasty-ness" position. Honestly. The bunch of brats.

Seeing that I didn't have much of a social life, I was taught in all aspects (not that it really mattered whether or not I had a good social life). History, arithmetic, science, religion, geography, myths, etiquette, and dancing… The list goes on. These things were drilled into my head day after day as my father was determined to make me the perfect bride. At first, I didn't know why I was being taught these things. Women with knowledge were often looked down upon, seeing how they weren't good enough to learn. Either that, or we weren't smart enough. I overheard a group of men talking about women with an education. Apparently, women were too delicate for the hard work. They were afraid that all the knowledge would overwhelm us and cause us to have nervous breakdowns. I remember at that time, (I was eleven) I raised an incredulous eyebrow at the man's words as he continued to belittle the entire female population. I didn't know whether to laugh or be furious. Of course, my fury won out in the end as I thought of my peasant women friends that had had a bad time of trying to make it on their own just because they were women. Then I stormed off to my horse to ride to vent off my anger. I was so mad that I couldn't think straight. I missed all of my classes that day to brood.

When I returned that evening, my father was there to meet me. I remembered that day well since that was the day I learned of my doom.

"Where were you?" my father had asked coldly, staring down at me.

I gulped, and gathering my courage, I replied vaguely, "Out." I attempted to brush past my father. I didn't have a chance. He turned and grabbed my chin harshly and brought my face close to his.

"You will not display such insolence to me." He hissed with anger. He tightened his grip on my chin and I whimpered unconsciously at the pain. Yes, this was my father. He released my chin violently, and I backed away instantly, rubbing the sore area, eyes wary. "Clean yourself up." He spat.

With a dramatic whirl, he strode away majestically, looking every bit the cruel king he is. I leaned against the cold gray stonewall, trying to calm my breathing and steady my pounding heartbeat. After a minute or so, I shakily made my way up the stairs.

When I reached my room, I saw Amanda dusting my bookshelf. She straightened and turned around when she heard me come in. One look at my pale face and she quickly made her way towards me.

"What's the matter, Child?" she asked in concern.

I blinked rapidly and shook my head, reluctant to tell her although I didn't know why. Amanda raised an eyebrow but had luckily decided not to push it. "I need to get cleaned up," I finally got out. She nodded. She helped me bathe and dressed me in my dinner gown, helping me get ready.

As I walked down the stairs to the dining hall, my stomach clenched nervously because of the premonition I had distantly felt in my mind. My mother and father were seated at the head of the table with their "close" advisors sitting near them. My father barely glanced up as I sat myself in my usual seat, which was diagonally across from him - coincidentally the farthest away I can sit without seeming rude.

A few minutes after I started eating, my father tapped his glass to get everyone's attention. "I would like to announce the upcoming of a ball." He waited impatiently for the curious yet excited murmurs to die down. They didn't. He shot a glare at everyone. Silence. I silently wondered if he would let me learn that from him.

"As you know, your princess, Aurora, has grown up to be a fine young lady," I chanced a look up at him warily only to find that he wasn't looking at me at all. I looked around the table to make sure that he was talking about me. Right. Other people were glancing at me.

Okay, I still don't understand.

"As most of you know, my daughter was betrothed to Prince Edward, son of King Bartholomew since she was but a babe-" Oh. Right. Wait, WHAT! Thoughts similar to those continued to whirl inside my head in a dizzying speed. There were also a lot of oaths included in said thoughts that I used that I overheard the stable boys using.

"To let them get acquainted with each other," he had a suggestive tone as he spared me a glance, "I have decided to throw a ball. Please dress in your best, and…" the rest was a blur as I felt the little food I had in my stomach churn. Actually, it was grinding my stomach. I had gallantly fought down my bile as I choked on the shrimp I was chewing on before my father made the speech.

I remembered I picked up my goblet as if to take a drink and… gasp Pity… The shrimp must have slipped from my tongue. What a shame. I resisted the urge to hurl the rest of my stomach in the goblet. My father was still talking, but all I heard was the blood rushing to my ears. I absently rearranged and minced my food to look like I ate. I think my eyes were bulging and glassy-eyed at that time. I believed to have completed the picture, I could have foamed at the mouth.

I still remembered the thoughts that I had. Why didn't he tell me? So that means I never had a choice? Why didn't Mother tell me? Will I never have a choice? Will my betrothed be cruel? And by the name of Lucifer, why didn't Amanda tell me? I slammed down my napkin and stood up abruptly. Every head turned to look at me.

"M-may I be excused?" I pleaded faintly. Father gave a tight-lipped nod.

After I gotten into my room, I had gotten into the biggest temper tantrum I have ever had the misfortune of having, complete with crying, wailing, yelling, screaming, throwing, stomping, and more.

But it truly felt like the end of the world. I felt lonely and helpless. I wanted to run away. Hell, I wanted to die. I guess it was from that point on that I started using profanities. Wait, what's that you said? You want to go back to the words, "I felt lonely and helpless?" Well. All right, then. One of my closest friends in the world at that time was Amanda, my self-appointed godmother. Unfortunately, she was the very same one who I felt betrayed by. She knew about my betrothal. She knew. And she didn't tell me. To hell with the king's orders to not inform the ignorant princess. She was my friend. And being a friend comes first before anything. If I knew some big secret about her- damn, that brings me to my next point. The secret isn't even hers. It was about me. I deserved to know. Didn't being my friend mean anything?

The knowledge about my nanny's betrayal had hit me almost as hard as the betrothal. Of course, I was still furious beyond belief. The morning after I found out, I went for another ride on my horse. For some reason, a spontaneous instance of pity had overcome my father, and he let me miss my classes that day. As I was riding Winton, my "faithful steed", I started thinking. Dangerous, I know. But I had to, honestly.

I still can't believe this.

Better start believing, Princess.

What should I do? Wait… what CAN I do?

You could accept it.

…

Okay, that sounded less asinine when I was thinking it.

Wait… I can think inside my thoughts? Erm. Right. Okay… Got any more ideas?

Maybe the prince would be the man of your dreams? You know, devastatingly handsome, sweet, charming…

Oh! You mean like how Father is the most merciful and kindest king history has ever seen?

Ch. No need for such cheek and sarcasm. But there is a chance.

Indeed- a very slim one.

You COULD try to run away.

I COULD try to kill myself.

I'll pretend you didn't make that comment.

Suit yourself.

It couldn't be THAT hard… I mean, you hear of stories in bards' ballads on how defiant princesses would run away to a small sweet forest, build a small sweet cottage, and raise small sweet goats.

Yeah, and she will live happily ever after with her small sweet seventy-two cats until she dies and that's when said small sweet cats will devour their mistress' rotting corpse.

Thank you, Princess, for that utterly distasteful and morbid picture you painted lovingly for me.

You are so very welcome.

Wait, hold on... what was it I said? Defiant... YES! This JUST might work! Be defiant!

You go to your classes since it IS important, but don't step into your "perfect princess" shoes! Pretend you don't understand. In your etiquette and dance lessons, pretend to be clumsy. In your other classes, pretend to be daft. During your classes, pretend to be not paying attention. Go out riding everyday, get your dresses torn and dirty. Learn swordfight. Learn the bow and arrow. Make a mess out of your stitching everyday and prick yourself!

But what if Father punishes me?

Hmm… you've got a point there.

And what should I do for the ball?

I know! Forget all that I've said earlier… You SHOULD step into your "perfect princess" shoes...

...in front of your FATHER.

I'm guessing that the key words are "in front of your father"?

Precisely. Learn your lessons. Perfect your dances and etiquette. Convince your father that you are the perfect bride. But... in front of your prince, make him hate you so he convinces both your father and his father as well to call off the wedding.

But what if he doesn't hold that much power over them? Then what shall I do?

... I don't know... but just stick to this plan now until I think of something else.

I suppose so.

I found that many people shut out their inner voice since they assume it makes them insane. But as I found out in my young age, nobody is sane. So what difference does it make if you talk and answer the little voice inside of you? That's why I accept that voice.

So after that morning, I worked harder than ever. My tutors were pleasantly surprised and gave my father positive reports. Of course, they didn't have a clue on what went on in the late evenings. It started one afternoon when I was riding when I saw two knights having a mock swordfight. Their deadly dance captured me. I watched with round eyes as they went back and forth, each step a response to their opponent and graceful. Their swords gleamed wickedly as sparks flew off their swords whenever they cast a particularly heavy blow.

When they finally stopped for a break, they finally noticed me. They stood up immediately in respect.

"Good evening, Princess," they greeted.

I waved at them to sit back down with a thoughtful look. The gears in my head were turning as I had another conversation with myself.

That was brilliant.

Yes, and that gives me another idea.

ANOTHER?

Don't sound so skeptical, Princess, I DO have brilliant plans after all...

Like that one time you made me stick pins on Governess Wilson's seat cushion?

Hey, I didn't make you. If I remember correctly, you were positively gleeful as you watched her reaction.

I was not.

Believe me, Princess, you were. But can we please get back to the topic on hand?

Whatever you wish, O Great One.

Glad to know you know who's the better half. But I was thinking you could learn swordfight with those two over there.

…

Say something...

First of all, I'm still very affronted at the fact that you implied that I am the worse half when I'm more than "a half". I'm like three quarters, so majority rules. Second of all, what makes you think they will teach me?

I may be the smaller quarter, but you know I'm still the better one. But perhaps you could order them to?

In your dreams. You're not even real. But ordering them to do something would not make a very good first impression. They will be doing me a favor, so ordering them to do so seems… wrong.

I'll show you how real I am by feeding you disgusting images to your mind. However, if ordering them doesn't work, then befriend them first and beg them to teach you.

I'll believe it when I see it. And what would learning how to play with a shiny stick help me with anything?

First image coming right at you after I finish this thought. But first of all, it would look amazing. Second of all... if you DO decide to run away after all, you would know how to defend yourself.

Hmm... Tru- AGHHHH! SON OF A- STOP IT! EWWW! GROSS! I YIELD! YOU ARE THE BETTER QUARTER!

Yes, indeed I am. So... yes, then? You agree?

I agree.

"I don't suppose you teach sword fighting, do you?" I asked suddenly to the knights.

Looking startled, the knights looked at each other. "I suppose we do..." one of the knights answered slowly. His shaggy dirty blond hair flopped messily all over his head while his dark green eyes gleamed curiously at me.

The second younger knight grinned impishly at me, "Are you thinking of learning, Princess?"

I grinned right back, "Of course," Both of them stared at me. Then, simultaneously, they started laughing.

Feeling miffed, I crossed my arms and pouted. I don't think it helped much since they laughed harder. When the laughter finally died down, I frowned at them. "I assure you, I'm serious!"

The second knight spoke, raising an amused eyebrow, "Princess, to learn the art of the sword, you need to have plenty of time to practice and learn. You need to learn mental as well as physical discipline, and you may not be quite up to it."

Hmph. I guess that's a fancy way of saying that I can't wave around a shiny stick because I'm a girl.

"First of all, I do have plenty of time to practice and learn. I have every evening off, and I'll use that time to learn from you two gentlemen. I'm quite sure I've already got down the mental discipline because I'd like to see you try to endure Governess Wilson's three-hour lecture about what is appropriate and what is not without strangling her. As for physical discipline- Well… I can learn." I finished off with a confident grin.

Exchanging helpless glances with each other, the two knights continued to search for more excuses.

"But Princess," the first knight decided to play his last card, "learning how to use a sword isn't fitting for a princess... Or a woman on that note, and if your father finds out, he'll surely kill us with his own bare hands!" he ended his sentence with a slightly hysteric note. Luckily for my sympathetic side, I could tell he was only playful, and wasn't really frightened of the threat of my father. It was actually quite cunning for him to play on my sympathy, but after playing the "helpless little princess" act for many, many years, I could spot that trick from a mile away.

"First, stop calling me Princess. I do have a name. Call my Rory. And as for my father, we'll make sure that he doesn't find out," I was fairly sure that they were close to agreeing since they haven't actually refused outright, and were trying to convince me to forget the idea instead. "I'll wear a tunic and breeches under my riding dress every evening when I come out to "ride". We can go to some remote area in the woods to practice. No one should be able to see." I ended with a sure smile that was a bit hopeful as well.

They both blinked at me, exasperated. I grinned inwardly, knowing I had them. Finally, the first knight sighed, "Are you sure, Pr- Rory?"

"Positive!" I exclaimed brightly, hopping off Winton.

"If I may ask, why would a fair princess like yourself want to learn how to fight with a sword?" The second knight asked, curious.

"Is it so strange for a lass like myself for not wanting to be completely helpless?" I shot back with a smirk. The two men chuckled appreciatively although I thought I heard one of them mutter something along the lines of doubting I would ever be "completely helpless" in the first place.

"So... when can we start?" I asked excitedly, plopping "gracefully" down next to them. The two knights exchanged a glance and shrugged.

"Would tomorrow evening be fine?"

I grinned happily at them and bobbed my head.

Tilting my head thoughtfully, I hopped to my feet once again. "And may I inquire as to the names of my future tutors?" I questioned playfully.

Playing along, the first knight leapt up to his feet and bowed lowly, "Sir Ken, at your service,"

The second knight got up to his feet and shoving Ken out of the way, he bowed lowly also, "Sir Asher, at your service,"

I grinned.

AN. Revised on 05/02/05.