The Sword and the Rose (3/?)
Summary: Aurora continues to remember all that she has lost, while she peruses the shelves of the library alone.
(AN: This chapter is pretty short…more good stuff and action to come. Sorry for the slow start.)
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The old tomes smelled like a heady mix of knowledge mingled with mildew and dry paper. Aurora paced slowly down the long aisles of shelves, her measured stride falling into a rhythmic practice that she knew by heart. These dark wool carpets were the same paths she had walked as a child, skipping, whirling, dancing in among the folios and mazes of knowledge, darting in between bookcases and squealing excitedly as her father had playfully tried to pursue.
'Catch me, catch me, papa!' the tiny princess shouted, dashing madly through the library, much to the chagrin to the pinchy-faced bookkeep who peered skeptically over the rims of her wire-framed spectacles. Aurora wriggled herself into a vacant space low on the bookshelf, her chubby toddler legs kicking and shuffling as she curled herself up into a ball, covering her face with her hands and giggling.
"Hmmm now where has my little 'Rory-bug gone?" King Stephan asked, sea-green eyes twinkling with merriment. He mimed an incredible search effort, exaggerating his distress to play along with the child's game.
"Alas! She is lost, and I will never find her again!" He moaned, flopping to his knees and burying his dark, bearded face in his hands. Great fake sobs heaved from his chest as he pretended to cry, subtly peeping through old, knobby fingers too peer at his little daughter.
She watched his every move; lip jutted out, eyes wide, and sniffling away at tiny tears. The princess whimpered at the very prospect of disappointing her doting father. Little Aurora crept from her hiding spot, sneaking forward on tip-toes to peer at the hunched body of her papa and King.
"Rawwwwr! Got ya!" Stephen howled, sweeping his tiny child up and catching her in his arms. The princess squealed joyously, her laughter peeling out across the halls, as she was encircled by a great bear-hug and her tiny forehead was showered with kisses.
The shrewish librarian hissed a 'SHUSH!' before adjusting her glasses and returning her thin, needle-sharp, nose to the confines of her dusty book. The king chuckled and flashed an apologetic smile, before crossing his finger to his lips and giving his daughter a knowing wink.
"Papa, you cheated." Aurora whined, her fair eyebrows knitting together in the righteous, petulant fury of a child. She shook her tiny finger at him. "Shame on you. A King should be more honorabibble." She tripped over the long word, mish-mashing its syllables and making it up on the spot. Stephan fought not to laugh at the tiny, scowling, and serious-faced 4 year-old currently settled on his hip.
"Ah, yes, my love. Kings should be very honorable. But sometimes, even a King must give up his honor and all the things he prides, for the safety of the ones he loves." His verdant, cool eyes crinkled at the corners with a hidden melancholy sadness as he gazed upon the face of his one pride and joy. His only daughter; fae blessed and witch cursed.
Beautiful, doomed, and so very, very young.
"Your wisdom will come with time Aurora…You are already so very much like your mother." He whispered, as he planted another kiss upon the crown of her head. "Someday, you too shall know that even a princess must sacrifice herself for the good of all."
"I miss mommy." Aurora whined, nestling into the hollow beneath the King's rough stubbly throat, and curling her tiny fingers into the dark blue robes embroidered with the sigil of a golden rose. The tiny familial shield rested just above Stephan's heart.
"I do too, dearest. I do too." He whispered.
His dark beard, black and tinged with the early beginnings of frosty grey, scratched scruffily along her cheek as he pulled her up to sit high upon his shoulders.
Aurora leaned against the rotted wood of a bookshelf, her breath coming in pants. She bit her lip hard, swearing she would not weep, but an errant tear disobeyed the commands of its regent and fell to the ground by her foot with a tiny 'plish'.