K here we go lol. Will put the name at the end.
Did you know you can hear everything around you when you're asleep?
Did you know that you can hear when people are in the room with you, and you can hear them talking? Can feel them moving things around, changing you into nightclothes, tucking the blankets around you? I didn't know it until this happened. And i can hear them aging, too. I can hear William's footsteps becoming slower and slower, heavier. He's turning from a boy into a man. My little brother, a man. It is funny to think of, non? But a man he is. I can hear it in his voice, now.
"Rora, it's my eighteenth birthday, and I…" Poor Will. He sounds like he's about to cry. "I miss you so much, sister. I'm…I'm two years older than you now." Tears are hitting my hands. He's crying now. "And I just…I know you won't awaken for years more, but…but I wish I could talk to you. I…I wish I could tell you…" a sob rings in my ear. "So many things, Rora."
He speaks some more, then leaves. I am alone again. I have only my dreams, as I lie in this bed and wait for a prince to awaken me.
I learn, over the years, that my brother loves other men instead of women. My father tells me that he doesn't know what to do about this. About my younger brother and his lover.
Months later, my father can barely get the words out as he tells me that my brother ran away, that he likely is never coming back. I can hear the age in my father's voice. His voice creaks and grows feebler, and when his hand touches mine I can feel the wrinkles, can feel the dry sandpaperiness of his aging skin. And my heart hurts, because I should have been here for all of them. I should have been here to tell my brother that his preference for men doesn't bother me, that I will always love him. I cannot be here to help my parents as they age, without an heir, to leave me in an aging castle with servants, alone for years more. 16 for years longer.
I wish I could cry. These are the words I think when my mother comes in weeping, tells me that my father fell and now lies dead. That she is now the sole, aging ruler of a country. I want to scream. Because I should be awake and queen. I should be on the throne, and my parents should have been able to retire years ago. I should, maybe, be married. Maybe even pregnant. Have children. But I am not. I am cursed to sleep. I don't know for how much longer. I have lost track of the years, and no one has said the date aloud.
Years later, the words I am thinking are I wish I could die. Because my mother is dead, and my rooms grow quieter and colder with each passing day. I no longer hear as many footsteps outside, and voices grow more and more muted. Yet still I sleep on, aware of each day as it passes. Slow or fast, I do not know, because I have no way to measure time. I do not know who is ruling. I know my brother never returned, because someone would have told me. He would have told me. So he is not ruling. But who is? My parents had no siblings, no cousins to pass the throne to. Am I ruling? Is someone "regent" until I awaken? Is that what is happening? I do not know.
The voices stopped so long ago. The castle has grown so quiet that I can hear the mice at nights now. They squeak and scramble about, and I have felt them running on my bed. I have felt little whiskers brushing against my face, and it makes me want to scream. What if they decide I am food? What if they bite me? I can't even lift a finger to fight them away.
I fear that the castle is empty. Surely if it weren't, someone would do something about these mice? There would be some noises? But there is nothing. Nothing but animal sounds, and i fear that the castle has been abandoned. How will a prince find me now?
"–what could be up here, of all places?" A voice! Finally!
There's a groaning sound as my door is forced open. The hinges must have rusted shut at some point. I don't know how long I have lain here. Please let the hundred years be over. I was begging whatever god was listening. Please let the years be over with, I cannot stand any more of this.
"My god." it's a man's voice. I feel a hand brush against my nose, my lips, my cheeks. It's a mannish hand, with calloused fingers and a strong feeling. It smells of leather, of horses and steel. "What…" his hand pauses at my mouth. "She's breathing." his voice is quiet, and he sounds so…so awed. Full of wonder. "But this place is in rags! Everything's dusty and destroyed. It doesn't look like anyone's lived here in…in a hundred years!" his footsteps move around my room. I can hear him picking things up, looking at them. Please kiss me. You must be a prince, the hundred years must be up. Please.
His footsteps approach me again. "Well…I'll be back. I promised father I'd come home, but this place? We didn't even…we never dreamed a place like this existed." he leaves. The door does not shut behind him.
I am alone again.
He comes back, as he promised. He talks to me, telling me he has explored the castle, and asking why won't I wake up? I want to scream at him. Kiss me and I'll wake up. I can tell you the whole story. Just kiss me. Some days, I feel as if he might. Because he comes back many times, talking to me. He tells me he has been asking around, asking servants about castles and fairytales about sleeping girls. He says that there are stories of a hidden castle and a sleeping princess
…but no one has any notion of how to wake her.
Days keep passing. He keeps visiting. I can feel the curse beginning to loosen, and I can move my fingers just a little bit. But they are hidden beneath the blankets. He cannot see. I cannot awaken. He keeps telling me he doesn't know how to wake me, and it makes me want to scream until my lungs give out. Scream that all he needs to do is kiss me and I'll tell him the whole story, what happened to me, my parents, everything. I know now that he is most certainly a prince, he has told me so. He has a younger brother, and he will inherit the throne on his eighteenth birthday, which is seven months away.
One day, he brings his brother. I know, because there is a set of little footsteps. His brother is seven, he told me that. Seven years old and cute as a button.
He and his brother come in, and there is a rush of feet towards the bed. A little body climbs up beside mine and little lips mash against mine, and my eyes open to see a tiny little face, grinning down at me.
"James, James!" he squeals as his brother rushes over. "I woke the pretty lady!"
I sit up, careful not to push the little prince away. So it did take a prince's kiss. Just not the one I thought it would be. I look up at James, who is staring at me through wide, wondrous eyes. I smile a little bit, sad and soft. "A kiss, to awaken the sleeping beauty." I whisper.
Based on Sleeping Beauty, if you couldn't tell
