Fiona giggled at her father's story telling. She was sat upon his lap, looking at the book he held in front of her. Fiona's favourite time of day was after dinner, in the brief period of time they had before sunset. On a typical day it meant her parents were free from their duties and she was out of her lessons. They often spent the time in a particular sitting room, the fire lit in front of them. There were shelves of books, a few of which belonged to her. She would practice sitting on the rug in front of them, reading aloud. However, some days were lucky and they would read to her.

"The handsome prince fought the monster, winning and gaining the princess's hand…"

"How handsome is the prince, daddy?" Fiona giggled again, leaning back against him, looking up to his face.

"Oh very handsome, I'm sure." He smiled at her. "Much more handsome than me."

"But you're a king."

He laughed at her. "You're right, kings don't need to be handsome, eh?"

"No. They need to be wise. Like you!"

"Well, in any case, the prince isn't nearly as handsome as the princess is beautiful." His eyes lifted a little, to look towards his wife. She was sitting in her chair next to them, distracted by the letters she was engrossed in. She briefly looked up to meet his gaze and give him a small smile.

Fiona ignored the display of affection, instead looking back to the book; much more important matters on her mind. "But I want my prince to be so so handsome."

"He will be, I shall accept nothing less, my dear." He chuckled. "But compared to how beautiful you are…" He paused, smiling at her. "Well, there's no contest." He tugged playfully at one of her braids, almost making her tiara slip.

"Daddy, stop," she laughed, making sure her crown stayed in place. She turned the page.

"Harold…"

The pair looked up to the queen, letter in hand.

"We have another nephew," she spoke simply, though she had a strange look set upon her face. Fiona looked between her parents.

"I didn't know one of your sisters was expecting," her father commented. She could feel him shifting slightly. The child tried to hide a smirk, her father wasn't fond of her many aunts. Whenever they visited he would try and busy himself. Her mother would always roll her eyes and comment about it to her.

"No, it's your brother." The queen smiled, raising her brow.

Fiona looked instinctively to her father's face. She didn't know what her uncle did, but she knew her dad wasn't happy with him. This was something Harold wasn't quiet about at all.

"Well," he scoffed a little, "it would've been nice to be told they were expecting."

"They're telling us now," Lillian countered his hostility. "Maybe this is a peace offering. You both have children now."

"Uther? Thinking of anyone but himself? Lillian, I can hardly believe that."

Fiona hopped off of her father's lap and wandered to her mother. She looked at the beautiful script the letter was written in, squinting at the writing. "Arthur," she read to herself. Fiona had many cousins on her mother's side. She occasionally saw them, they just all lived so far away. Her aunts and uncles would always make jokes about the journey and her kingdom's name. She would politely laugh at them, like her mother did. She was told that they were too distant to tell her secret to, as the only times she could see them was when they visited her. But her uncle wasn't so far away, no matter how much her father predicted he would leave. Her eyes lit up, perhaps this cousin would finally be someone she could tell.

"When are we going to see the baby?" Fiona interrupted her parents' conversation that she had lost track of.

They both looked at her blankly.

"I suppose we should give our congratulations in person," her mother reasoned with the idea.

"Of course not." Harold waved them off. "Why would we want to do that?"

"I want to meet my cousin!" Fiona chirped at him, leaning against her mother over the arm of her chair.

Her father hummed at her, he looked down to the open book that still sat in his lap. She kept her attention on her mother. If there was anyone who could convince him, it was her. Fiona waited patiently, as Lillian read more of the letter. Finally, the queen lowered what she was reading and took a breath,

"If we're to see the baby, we need to go to them," she spoke hesitantly. Both of Fiona's parents looked at her. She frowned.

"But I want to see the baby," she moaned at them. She knew exactly what it meant.

"Darling, we wouldn't have enough daylight to get there and back… it would be an overnight stay," her mother pointed it out.

"Why can't we invite them here?" Harold was defensive. Fiona looked to her mother questioningly, deciding that maybe her father's side was the better of the two after all.

Throwing a glance at Fiona, Lillian lowered her voice a little. "She's been taken sick, she can't travel."

Fiona once again looked between her parents, wide eyed. Part of her didn't understand. Her uncle could bring the baby by himself. Though, the princess had never left the kingdom, perhaps this was finally her chance. She had met all of her cousins on her mother's side. If her newest cousin couldn't come to visit-

"That means we have to go there," Fiona interrupted the silence, allowing her lips to curve into a smile.

"No." Her father wiped the smile off of her face. "Of course it doesn't mean that."

"Then… how will I meet my cousin?" She crossed her brow.

"We'll have to wait for them to visit us," came her father's quick reply.

"But-but what if they don't?" Fiona's happiness was dampened. She looked between them again. Lillian had always told her about the importance of family. Surely she wasn't only referring to her own sisters. That would be unfair, the child deemed.

"Then you won't meet him," Harold's voice was sharp. He sighed resoundingly, eyes falling to the pages that were still open. "Now, let's finish the story, Fiona," he sounded worn down.

Though Fiona wasn't quite ready for the debate to end. She looked back at her mother, frowning, waiting for her to speak to him, to tell him he was being unreasonable.

"Fiona," she addressed the child instead, "you know you can't be anywhere but your room-"

"I can hide!" she interrupted her mother. "I promise I can!"

Lillian glanced over to Harold. Fiona's frustration only heightened in the silence between them. They didn't want to answer her. They never wanted to answer her. But she just didn't understand.

"What's the point in having a cousin if I can't even meet him?" Her emotions bubbled over, whining at them. Her rose-coloured visions of the future melting away.

She followed her father's gaze out the window, the sky starting to turn shades of pink. It was their excuse for everything. Whenever something happened before sundown, they'd always just send her to bed. Something within the child snapped-

"No!" she spoke before they could, drawing the curtains herself so they couldn't see. "I'm not going to bed!" Tears pricked her eyes, she roughly wiped them away.

"Fiona, dear, let's not do this again," Lillian tried to reason with her.

"It's not fair!" She stomped a foot, ignoring her mother entirely. "I'm not allowed to do anything!" her voice was rising. "I hide every night here! I can hide every night there! I want to go!"

Harold snapped the book closed, making her jump. "Fiona, you cannot leave the kingdom because you cannot be away overnight!" He raised his voice at her. "Now... Now... You're behaving like an ogre, stop!"

The scolded child looked down, the wind of her argument taken out of her. She didn't want to act like an ogre. She wanted to act as little like an ogre as possible. But she couldn't help it. It made her angry and she couldn't control it, just like she couldn't control the transformations twice a day.

"Don't ask about this again," her father had the final word, face stern.

Fiona sat where she stood. She didn't want to go to bed early, she already went to bed early enough. She sniffed, a tear rolling down her cheek as she watched her father place the book on the table beside him, indicating the pleasant time they had was over. She folded her arms, she ruined it. Well, not she, the ogre inside of her ruined it. As much as she hated to admit it and would fight her parents on the fact, she did understand what they meant when they said it came out of her early sometimes. But it confused her… She stood, her parents glancing at her, though she only wandered over to the window, sitting against the glass, closing the curtains behind her. For when she was shut away for the night in her room, she would never be angry, or shout, like they told her ogres did. Often, if she had been angry before bed, she was only sad after the transformation took place. Then again, she didn't really have anyone to be mad at once the sun went down and everyone left her alone. She looked at the coloured sky, frowning, she hated the sunset.

"The baby's name is Arthur," she heard her mother begin to speak softly once again to her father.

"Well, at least he's given his child a good name."

"Yes, it means strong and courageous, I believe."

"A fine name for a boy, a shame his father couldn't be more so."

Finally, after a moment of quiet contemplation - scowling at the sunset - the child peeked her head out from the curtains, her interest tentatively captured, "What does my name mean?" she asked. She looked to her parents curiously, eyes still shining a little from the tears.

Lillian smiled at her, "The name Fiona means fair and pure, darling. It's why we chose it for you. The name you give your child can be the wish you grant upon them," she explained gently, the sensitivity from before melting away.

Fiona paused in thought for a moment. She didn't even understand what purity was and things certainly didn't seem fair to her. If things were fair then perhaps she'd be happier and definitely not cursed. It appeared to the child that her parents had named her incorrectly. She certainly knew what she would have preferred instead. "What's a name that means being happy?" she asked innocently, oblivious to the brief looks of pain her parents gave her.

"We can certainly go and find out." Lillian was quick to stand, glancing at the gap in the curtains, as she always did. "Would you like to research that in your room before you go to sleep?"

"Yes." Fiona wiped her eyes again, leaving her distress by the window. "I want it to be a girl name. I want to have a daughter."

. . .

The name Felicia derives from the Latin adjective felix, meaning "happy", though in the neuter plural form felicia it literally means "happy things" and often occurred in the phrase tempora felicia, "happy times".

-Wikipedia :)