“Princess, is it your time to rest? Or do you want your story to continue?”
Rosamund is glad to be asked.
This is what she wants: a chance to write her own story outside of the narrative that’s planned for her. She is not ready to rest--she already rested for a hundred fucking years--and true love is no longer an option. It must be something else; there has to be something else for her to choose. She will take her scrap of a page and discover what it is.
“I don’t think it’s my time to rest.”
“Then I think—”
She feels the briars before she sees them, wrapping around her heart the way she guaranteed a lover never would. With each pulse of her heart, the briars pierce it.
But her heart must be stronger than everything than every piece of Thumbelina, because she splits in half.
“I take it back!” Rosamund yells. “I take it back!”
“Oh, my dear Rosamund.”
The voice comes from a briar that’s coiled itself into her ear. It’s unrecognizable as any individual fairy, but it drips with both the saccharine sweetness and depraved wickedness Rosamund has realized they all possess.
“You cannot take a choice back, my girl. This is why you should have trusted the ending that was written for you.” The voice tuts, a disapproving parental figure that never gave Rosamund anything but rules. “Your gifts did not come without a curse. You have sacrificed the one condition that would break it. You have rejected rest. What did you think was left for you, Sleeping Beauty?”
Rosamund tries to use her own voice, but a briar invades her mouth and replaces her smile. Its teeth are sharper than her own.
“Oh, I know what’s that like.”
The voice in Rosmaund’s heads changes, a conspiratorial older sister like she tried to be Red. The briars morph into thick strands of golden hair.
“It’s a shame we never got to talk.” Rapunzel’s voice comes from everywhere her hair touches. “We have a lot in common. Locked away, someone else claiming to know what’s best for us, unable to make our own choices…”
The briars spin, like hair being twirled around a finger.
“But when we did write our own story, we gained power. I know it hurts, Rosamund. I know it may not seem like it, but my hair hurts too. It chokes me, and restrains me, but more importantly than any of that, it keeps me safe—”
She’s cut off, because Gerard is eating Rapunzel on the battlefield. Her voice returns, hoarse from screaming. It sounds the way her hair feels in Rosamund’s throat.
“He will consume all of you, Rosamund. He has already done so to Elody in their marriage, though she does not recognize that. You must him put him to sleep.”
Rosamund cannot see a prince on the battlefield, only a monster.
Suddenly, the hair transforms into chains.
“Hello, my love.”
The deep, cruel voice of the Baron of Bricks feels like the weight of the chains on Rosamund’s skin. It comes from the ones trapping her heart into beating.
“I know, of course, that I am not your true love,” he says. “I know you will not get that. But, I do believe we have more in common than either of us first thought. You have rejected death, and I respect that, but I must warn you that it will not last as long as Death is around. She just took a Beast. She can certainly take a Princess.”
Rosamund cannot see a girl on the battlefield, only The Big Bad Wolf.
“If you need to put her in a stew, I have a recipe. Otherwise, you have all the tools you require. You must put her to sleep.”
The chains drop, but Rosamund is quickly snatched up by sharp claws. The Baba Yaga runs them down her face, her neck, and finally stops at the same wrists she considered feasting on. Her voice comes from the wounds she created.
“Thank you, Princess, for your gift. I am taking good care of your true love. He is only feeling the pain you would have caused each other after happily ever after.”
She cackles, and it infects the wounds.
“You made a wise choice in putting him to sleep.”
The claws release Rosamund, and the briars consume her again. Slowly, a pattern appears on them that represents a kind of evil she still had not accepted existed.
“I am sorry my son could not keep you safe, Rosamund. You do not need to worry about punishing him for that; I assure you I will take care of it.”
The Stepmother’s voice sounds like Rosamund’s own thoughts.
“Sleeping Beauty, I know what it’s like to have a role assigned to you. But, I also know what it’s like to edit the story. We can change this together. You can make your own choices, just as you wished. Put them all to sleep, Rosamund, and we will write the stories this world deserves.”
There is no happy ending for Rosamund. Only what must be done in this room.
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