Chapter Text
The grand hall of the castle shimmered in celebration, every corner was adorned with vibrant tapestries, golden banners, and cascading flowers that filled the air with a sweet scent. Sunlight poured in through the towering stained-glass windows, bathing the room in hues of pink and gold.
The kingdom of Ashland had gathered, its nobles, common folk, and neighboring royals alike, to witness the christening of Prince Wyborne Lovat, the newest heir to the throne.
On the dais at the head of the hall stood the ornate crib, carved with intricate details of vines and birds, where the baby prince lay peacefully swaddled in a royal blue blanket. His dark curls peeked from beneath the soft blankets, and his little chest rose and fell with each content breath. King Hector and Queen Marley stood proudly beside the crib, the former’s hand resting protectively on the queen’s shoulder. Their two older sons, Michael and DeShawn, hovered nearby, both grinning down at their baby brother with wide-eyed wonder.
DeShawn’s eight-year-old hands gently brushing against Wybie’s chubby arm as he stood on his toes to reach the crib. “He’s so small.”
Michael, ten years old and already so protective of his baby brother, smiled. “Not for long. He’s going to grow up and we’ll teach him everything. He’ll be just like us.”
King Hector’s smile widened as he ruffled Michael’s hair. “Let’s hope he learns from your best qualities, not the time you snuck into the kitchens and ate all the pies.”
Across from them, standing with equal pride, were King Charles and Queen Melanor— Or, Charlie and Mel as the two insisted their long-time friends call them — from the neighboring kingdom of Claremont. Queen Mel cradled her own infant, Princess Coraline, born just days after Wybie. King Charlie grinned as he gazed upon the two children.
Already, the two sets of parents were itching the set them up on playdates when they were old enough.
“Perhaps one day our two kingdoms will be united in more than friendship,” Charlied had mused in a letter he wrote to Hector and Marley informing them of Coraline’s birth, “if they’re anything like their parents, they’ll be inseparable.”
Queen Marley’s gaze flickered between her son and the baby princess. “It would be a joy to see them grow up together.” She leaned down to kiss Wybie’s forehead. “But for now, let’s focus on this moment.”
Suddenly, the grand doors to the hall swung open, and a hush fell over the room. The three good fairies and the close companions of the King and Queen, Julieta, Pepa, and Bruno, flew into gracefully, their presence commanding the awe of everyone gathered. Though diminutive in stature compared to the towering nobles, the power and warmth they carried were undeniable.
As they descended, blue, yellow and green light surrounded them as they grew to more human sizes. Bruno noticeably huffed at being shorter than his sisters. They approached the crib, a small rainbow already appearing over Pepa’s head in response to her joy. She tickled the baby’s cheek with a finger and beamed when he giggled.
They had been doing this ever since Michael was born, bestowing three gifts upon each prince. For Michael, he was given protectiveness, mindfulness, and chivalry. For DeShawn, strength, laughter, and loyalty.
Julieta, the eldest, with her ever-gentle smile and glowing touch, leaned over the infant and softly whispered, “My gift to you, dear Wyborne, is grace.” She touched his tiny forehead, and a gentle blue light enveloped him. “May you always carry yourself with poise, and may your heart guide your actions with kindness.”
Pepa followed, her vibrant energy filling the room, a small, pleased cloud puffing above her head. She raised her hands toward the prince and declared, “My gift to you is empathy.” A soft breeze fluttered through the hall as a warm yellow light settled on Wybie. “May you always understand the hearts of those around you and feel their joys and sorrows as if they were your own.”
The crowd murmured in admiration as Wybie stirred slightly, as if the blessings themselves brought him comfort.
But before Bruno, the last of the three, could step forward, the room darkened. The temperature dropped as a chilling wind swept through the grand hall, snuffing out several of the candles. A shiver of dread passed through the gathered crowd as they turned toward the source of the cold.
Standing at the entrance, tall and gaunt, was the Beldam.
Her twisted form was draped in dark, tattered silks that rippled unnaturally, and her piercing, inhuman eyes glowed with anger. Her fingers, long and sharp like talons, clicked against each other as she moved slowly down the aisle toward the crib.
“Well,” she hissed, her voice echoing ominously, “it seems I was… forgotten. How unfortunate for me to not receive an invitation to such a grand affair. You invite nobility… Peasants… Merchants…” She narrowed her eyes at the three fairies, Pepa looking close to striking her down. “… The pests.”
Queen Marley took an instinctive step back, clutching King Hector’s arm. “You were not—”
“Not what?” the Beldam interrupted sharply. “Not wanted? Not welcome?” She sneered as her eyes fell on the baby prince. “Such an offense cannot go unanswered.”
The Beldam strode up to the crib, her skeletal hand hovering over Wybie. Michael moved to intervene, but her eyes flashed, stopping him in his tracks as if an invisible force pinned him in place.
“I shall bestow my own gift upon the young prince,” she spat, her voice dripping with malice. “Listen well, all of you!… Before the sun sets on his eighteenth birthday, Prince Wyborne Lovat shall prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die.”
Gasps of horror erupted from the crowd, and Queen Marley let out a sob, reaching for her baby. The Beldam cackled wickedly as she stepped back, her form beginning to dissipate into the shadows.
“My curse is sealed. Enjoy your time with him while you can, your majesties.” With that, she vanished, leaving a suffocating silence in her wake.
Queen Marley collapsed into King Hector’s arms, weeping uncontrollably. “No… no, not my baby…”
Julieta, Pepa, and Bruno exchanged looks of despair and urgency. The kingdom was in shock, but there was still hope. Bruno stepped forward, his face pale but determined.
“There may still be time,” he murmured. “I haven’t given my blessing yet.”
He approached the crib and, with a deep breath, waved his hand over the slumbering prince. “I can’t undo the curse, but I can soften it. So… Instead of death, he’ll fall into a deep sleep when the curse takes hold. And he will sleep until the day his first love’s kiss breaks the spell.”
A soft, shimmering green light descended on Wybie, and Bruno stepped back.
Guests were sent home earlier than planned. Marley and Hector sent Michael and DeShawn to their rooms. Though worried, they obeyed. In the drawing room, the three good fairies stood before the King and Queen who held Wybie in her arms.
Though relieved by Bruno’s blessing, King Hector was still grim. “Even with the curse weakened, it is too great a risk. The kingdom cannot afford to lose him. Take him away. Hide him from the kingdom, from the Beldam. Keep him safe until the day of his eighteenth birthday.”
Pepa’s eyes were wide. “But… our magic—”
“Is no longer needed,” the king interrupted. “Wybie’s safety is all that matters. We shall burn every spinning wheel in the kingdom, and the Beldam will never find him.”
Reluctantly, Julieta, Pepa, and Bruno nodded, knowing they had no other choice.
They waited until evening.
The atmosphere in the young Prince’s room was heavy as the fairies moved to pack any necessities— clothing, a blanket, toys handmade by people from the village, a few storybooks.
As Bruno was packing one more blanket— because a baby can never have too many— he spotted a small ornate box on top of a bookshelf. It was black with silver fillegre and had a small key on the side. He turned it once and it played a gentle tune. He heard Wybie coo softly in Julieta’s arms and knew it was coming with them.
With three bags packed and dressed in dark cloaks, they departed the castle under the cover of darkness, taking the baby prince far away into the forest, where they would live as humble peasants, giving up their magic to raise him in safety.
The kingdom of Ashland, unaware of the departure of the fairies with the baby, watched in the village square as every spinning wheel in the land was burned, the flames licking toward the sky. The people prayed for their young prince— a curse as dark as the Beldam’s would not be so easily evaded.