The Twisted Chain || A Disney Fanfic [discontinued]

2. the curse

Applause, drawn-out and thunderous, linked with tear-streaked faces and radiant smiles. Friends of friends, distant relatives, royal families of kingdoms that Aurora had never even traveled to.

"You may now kiss the bride."

A kiss, both sugary-sweet and coarse at the same time. Aurora took comfort in the little clicking sound that was made when their lips parted, the sound that doors make when unlocked.

It wasn't until Aurora had reached the end of the massive chapel that she realized that she had just become a wife.

"How do you feel?" Philip asked, to which her lips tugged back into a grin.

"The same as I did before."

And then, there was upbeat music, a stony ballroom draped in gold and littered with overly dressed women. Satin gowns embellished with intricate beading, five-inch heels that required a massive amount of skill not to trip in, faces painted in bright pigments. Ballroom dancing was a skill that Aurora hadn't yet perfected, however, there was no getting out of it. Everyone expected the bride to dance. Because that was all that Aurora was- the bride. Just the bride. Always the princess, never Aurora.

When she was next to Philip, however, things slowed. The world's colors separated instead of fusing into one repulsive gray hue. Voices hushed, the floor disappeared from beneath her feet. She was flying.

"You seem nervous."

Aurora shook her head. "Just a little overwhelmed, is all. Don't worry about me."

"Don't worry? My darling, I'm your husband. It's my job to worry, isn't it?"

Husband. The word was jam-packed with so much terror and wonder that Aurora didn't know what to make of it. "Yes, I suppose that it is."

"Then tell me, Aurora, what's troubling you? Is it Maleficent? Are you concerned about-"

"No. No, not her. She's dead, Philip. That, I'm certain of."

"Then what is it that you're overwhelmed by? The amount of people? The unfamiliar faces? The-"

"The future." The word felt icy between Aurora's teeth.

Silence. Aurora lowered her head, making sure that her tiara stayed in place. How ironic it was, really, that she cared more about balancing her crown than she cared about her husband's reaction. The future. That could have been interpreted in so many different ways.

That was the last normal moment of Aurora's life.

A ferocious gust of wind crushed the mood beneath its feet. Lips clamped shut as nobles exchanged uneasy glances. All the windows in the ballroom had been shut tight- King Stefen had made sure of that. The wind didn't seem to care, however, knocking glasses off of tables and extinguishing any and all light sources. Mothers pulled wailing babies into their arms, wives flung themselves at their husbands.

Aurora found herself struggling to keep her balance- and to keep her tiara in place. The tri-pointed crown was forced off of her head and clanged against the marble floor. "Damn it!" she mumbled, following her first instinct and darting after the headpiece. Someone cried out for her, to which the princess barely reacted. It was the misplacement of her foot, rather, that stopped her in her tracks, and she lost her balance, slamming chest-first onto the marble floor. The impact forced pins through her nerve cells.

An eruption of emerald flames barely missed the tip of Aurora's nose, adrenaline screaming in her veins. A firm set of hands grabbed her by the waist and forced her to her feet- Philip's hands- and she was rushed to the edge of the ballroom before the smoke could travel up her nostrils. With a 'bang' loud enough to leave tears in the princess' eardrums, the flames vanished, and in their place stood a familiar figure, chin pointed upwards in distaste.