The king stood alone, in the dark empty room of a cottage in the woods. The Fairy Godmother had requested his immediate presence. He didn't want to excuse the ball with his wife, young daughter, and subjects to be there. But he did. He always did for her. He feared what would happen if he didn't. His eyes trailed out to the night sky, stars twinkling. The ball would likely be ending soon. Young children were present. It had been much a celebration for their daughter. Fiona had been allowed to stay up late, being the small guest of honour. Though, Harold knew she would be due her late bedtime soon. Lillian hadn't been happy about him leaving, Fiona loved parties and it would be difficult to get her to leave in a graceful manner. His wife would have to do it alone if he didn't return quickly. But Harold couldn't know how long the meeting would take, he never typically knew what to expect of them, however this time, he feared he knew exactly why it had been called. For the ball was a particularly important event for him and the Fairy Godmother, and them alone.

Finally, the door swung open and she entered. The long, hooded cape not quite touching the ground, and yet no feet were present.

He smiled uneasily at her, "Fairy Godmother, ah, it's good to see you again."

She threw the cape aside, scowling at him, "Cut the pleasantries, Harold," she placed her hands on her hips, "Their meeting did not go as promised."

The king shrugged anxiously, "They're children, Fairy Godmother, young children at that. We can't expect them to fall in love in an instant. Fiona is six. That's not possible," he stumbled over his words.

She looked at him, a distasteful glare spread over her face, "Yes," she begrudgingly agreed with his statements, "But I would have at least expected a little better than that. Let's recall what happened, shall we?" she asked him coolly.

"Uh... that's not completely necessary."

"Oh but I insist. My son bowed at her, took her hand, like a gentleman, a perfect prince, kissed her hand. Your daughter, scrunched her nose and wiped her hand on her dress. Does she not know protocol, Harold? Whoever has been training her?" she spoke accusingly.

"She's six, Fairy Godmother," the king repeated his point from before, "Fiona is doing as well as any child should."

"My son was perfectly poised and proper at age six, your daughter is the heir to the throne…"

"Well, heir until we have a second, a boy," Harold interjected.

"Yes, until you can produce a boy," she spoke condescendingly at him, "Until then, she is your heir."

"I-I know," he spoke defeatedly.

Her features softened, "My son asked your daughter to dance and she refused. However, she danced with a different boy, the son of a duke of nowhere," the softness didn't last long.

"I'm sorry about that. I'm sure she will change her mind once she is older. Your boy, Charming, is-is wonderful. A perfect suitor. I'm sure she will choose him."

"Excuse me?" the godmother's eyes grew wide, his words seeming to ignite something terrible inside of her.

"Uh..." Harold hesitated, "Pardon?"

"Suitor?" she spoke the word as if it repulsed her, "My boy is not just a suitor for your daughter, he is her future husband. Harold, we have a deal," she reminded him carefully.

"Y-yes, we do. And he will be, she will choose him," he tried to reassure her.

"Choice? Harold, choice is not the guarantee you promised me."

The rock grew in the pit of his stomach, "That was a long time ago, Fairy Godmother, many years before she was even born," he recalled his selfishness, "I wasn't a father, I couldn't possibly know how this would be... in... reality."

"Oh?" it was an invitation for him to continue talking... a dangerous one. He was sure she was giving him an opportunity to go back on what he said, but he couldn't. He had promised his wife, and more importantly promised himself that he would stand his ground no matter the consequences.

"Lillian doesn't want us to pick a husband for her, Lillian wants her to choose," Harold hurried his explanation. It wasn't the first time he'd hidden behind his wife in situations regarding Fiona and he doubted it would be the last.

"That's interesting," the fairy nodded, "Not very traditional."

"No- I know, I protested, I did," he could feel his courage slipping away. He took a breath, renewing the promise with himself, "But Lillian insists, and... and I agree. Fiona shouldn't be forced. Your son, Charming, should not be forced either. We want our children to be happy, I'm sure," he nodded, exaggeratedly, at her.

She did not share his enthusiasm for the idea. She stared at him, mouth sewn in a firm line, almost as if she was staring through him. He waited in silence, clasping his trembling hands together. "Mm," she finally made a noise in reaction. Her gaze suddenly met his. "I suppose you want my son to win her hand... fight for her love."

Harold breathed his relief, "Yes! Precisely! That would be wonderful for them, wouldn't you say?"

"But he would be fighting amongst others for her hand," the godmother clarified, "Fiona is beautiful, Harold, you know many will want her."

"If Charming is as perfect then as he is now, I have confidence he will win," Harold smiled at her awkwardly. Trying his best to remain upbeat.

"He will win," she smiled knowingly, "The others will fail."

"Yes, of course!" the king nodded, "They just have… hm seemingly equal chance. That's all."

"Of course, equal chance to fight for her," she paused, almost to consider the situation, "To fight for her love, her beauty even."

"Yes, Fairy Godmother," the king let the relief wash over him, he allowed a glance to the window once again. It seemed he would be back in time to see the end of the ball. He could also return with confidence that he did the right thing. The Fairy Godmother had so much control over him, he wasn't sure he could take any more, especially with that control affecting his precious daughter, "I'm so grateful for your understanding here. Lillian will be pleased."

"Lillian doesn't know the details of our deal," her voice was flat.

"No... no you're quite right. But I don't have to resist her decisions about our Fiona, and she will be pleased about that."

"I'm glad we could come to an understanding too, Harold," there was a strange twinkle in her eye. Though she brushed it off flippantly, "Anyway, I have to go. It's late, the sun has set, I must take my son home, he's up late. And Fiona... She'll want to be tucked into bed," she nodded at him, a curt smile sitting on her lips.

"Yes, I wish you and Charming a good night."

"And I wish your family a memorable evening, Harold."

. . .

Fiona being cursed and locked away seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to for an arranged marriage. So I figure it wasn't the first plan. This is my theory on why the curse even happened in the first place.

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