The wind is her partner and the forest is her ballroom. She is the queen, twirling around gracefully, her steps as light as air. Flickering fireflies are the only source of illumination in the dark woods. Croaking toads and rhythmic insects are the only source of music.
The forest is her ballroom.
She spins around, feeling the wind blow around her. It causes her hair to ripple like the waves. It beckons her closer and closer, chilling her bare feet. They are bruised and muddy, but her ballroom is for outcasts only, and she doesn't mind a little mud. Neither does her partner, the wind.
The thudding of her heart is a drum, pounding alongside the harmony of frogs and crickets. Excitement swells within her. Here she can be free. Here she is the queen of her nature realm. And the forest is her ballroom.
She dances, humming a lullaby she recalls from her childhood.
"I know you.
I walked with you
once upon a dream.
I know you
the gleam in your eyes
is so familiar a gleam.
yet I know its true
that visions are seldom
all they seem.
but if I know you
I know what you'll do
you'll love me at once
the way you did
once upon a dream."
It is one of the only things she can remember from her childhood before the age of five. Well, except for the dancing. She's done that forever.
With a dizzy smile, she stops spinning and changes her spinning into a dance she invented. She calls it the Fairy Waltz.
The forest is her ballroom. The wind is her partner.
Until she isn't alone.
Two warm hands float over hers. They are much larger, rougher, and cleaner. While her own are quite small, they are crusted with dirt from dancing in the woods. She shrieks and looks behind her into a pair of twinkling gray eyes. The young man has hair the color of sand and freckled skin. He grins at her. Blushing, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and averts her eyes from him, choosing to gaze at her muddy feet instead.
"Hello," the young man says. "My name is Phillip."
She looks up at him with a smile, albeit a shy one.
"What's your name?" he asks.
She stands straight, like how she thinks a queen would. "My name is Aurora. Welcome to my forest realm."
Phillip glances around. "This is your realm?"
"Whom else's might it be?" Aurora demands.
"It was only a question, my lady."
She blushes. "I am no lady." she indicates her grimy feet.
"You have the voice of an angel and the spirit of a nymph. That seems a lady to me."
Aurora hides her smile. She picks up the edges of her dusty, green skirts and swishes them around her legs. They are spotted with flour stains from helping—or supervising, more accurately—her aunts while they baked a cake for Aurora's sixteenth birthday.
Phillip watches as she begins to prance around like the world's most elegant gazelle, or doe. Her bare feet kick at the water and it splashes lightly against Phillip's leather boots. He watches Aurora and contemplates for a moment before deciding to join her. Slipping off his boots and socks, he follows the pretty forest maiden into the river, wincing as he stubs his toe on a rather large rock. The maiden wades deeper still, sporting a grin and hiking her skirts up to her knees. It is a gorgeous sight to see her hair—soft like sunlight—against the outline of the sinking sun.
"Tell me," Phillip begs. "Where do you live?"
Aurora shrugs. "Around. The forest is my ballroom and I am it's queen."
"But where do you live? I mean, actually live?"
Aurora turns away and hops over big rocks. She knows that the actual answer would disappoint this boy. He is, in fact, dressed like a rich man. And he is definitely handsome enough to be a prince. As she ponders all this, she is unaware that she has begun to hum the tune of Once Upon A Dream. Phillip's eyes widen. "I know that song!" he exclaims. "They used to sing it. At the castle, I mean. Well, they did before...before..."
He has piqued Aurora's curiosity. It is rare that she ever hears news of the castle, of Ralvendor Kingdom. "Go on," she prompts.
"Before the princess went missing," Phillip finishes. "I am supposed to marry her. My father, King Hubert, was making an alliance with the King of Ralvendor. But then...she vanished long ago."
"What was her name?"
Phillip kicks a rock. "Nobody knows."
Aurora draws in a sharp breath. "Nobody? Why that's absolutely absurd! Somebody must know her name. Her parents, or her nursemaid—"
"Aurora," Phillip says sharply. "Her parents are dead. Her servants are dead. Have you heard nothing?"
She looks down at her hands, growing silent. "My aunts and I don't get out much."
"Your aunts?" Phillip's voice turns gentle. "Where are your parents?"
"My parents are dead. They've always been dead and I've lived with my aunts all my life. Well, no. That can't be true because..." she frowns. "No, that can't be right because I remember that song. My aunts never sang to me. Why, they can't carry a tune to save their lives!" she laughs bitterly. "I remember a face. A woman's face. Maybe it was my mother? I don't know. But I heard them. These words:
I know you.
I walked with you
once upon a dream.
I know you
the gleam in your eyes
is so familiar a gleam.
yet I know its true
that visions are seldom
all they seem."
Phillip takes Aurora's hands and twirls her around in the water, joining into the lullaby with the final phrases.
"But if I know you
I know what you'll do
you'll love me at once
the way you did
once upon a dream."
Aurora has never felt so happy in her life. She beams, sparkling like a sapphire. Phillips spins her around in the air.
"Who cares about any old princess? Betrothed or not, she's gone and I've found a forest maiden instead. May I see you again, Aurora?"
"If you can find me," she teases.
"Splendid. I must go now, my lady. But mark my words, I will return." Phillip kisses the top of Aurora's hand delicately and makes his way back to his shoes. Aurora can hear him humming the lullaby. This makes her smile broaden. No doubt she will have that moment where there voices mingled repeating itself over again in her head as she lays awake in her bed, as she knows she will. And she will wait for Phillip to return to her. It is nice to have company besides the birds and squirrels and her bossy, pompous aunts.
With a heavy sigh, she takes the path that leads back to the cottage. You can hear the three squabbling of women shouting at each other as a plume of smoke floats from the chimney. Aurora doesn't like the way it looks: a black cloud against the fading light of a November sky.
"What are they bickering about now?" Aurora grumbles.
Most of the time, she feels as though she were a nanny for her three aunts who were supposed to be watching out for her. Not the other way around. She thinks of Phillip's face when he had asked her about her parents. Some of us have nothing to look forward to when we get home, Phillip, she thinks. Some of us would rather be queens of the forest and dance with the wind.
Even though Aurora is physically standing in front of her cottage door, mentally she is far, far away. The queen of her forest realm.
And as surely as anything, the wind is her partner and the forest is her ballroom.
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