Fic: "Overreaction" (Fairy Tales, Aurora, R)
Title: Overreaction
Fandom: Fairy Tales (heh)
Character: Aurora
Rating: R
Words: 350
Overreaction
Okay, so a hundred years.
A hundred.
A bit of an overreaction, if you ask me.
I mean, I know. The rule was there for a reason, after that horrid old woman made her prediction in public. My parents were embarrassed, what with it being was right after the fairies gave me beauty and intelligence and amazing musical talent, etc; after all, why would I need to do any such thing?
Bitch, to freak them out, though if they weren't so …traditional, it wouldn't have been so easy, either, so it's not like they were innocent in this whole affair.
But for the love of God. I was sixteen. Do you remember being sixteen? I do; it was just last week.
It wasn't as though I wasn't being discreet. I was way up in the tower room with only a blind woman who was completely unaware, not out riding the gallows in the square. How much more private could I have been?
That bit about being pierced with the spindle? I confess, that part's essentially true. Trouble is, it wasn't my finger being poked. If you catch my drift.
But I got caught. I still don't know who tattled. It wasn't the blind chick. I better not catch whoever it was, though, if he's still around. He won't like the consequences. It was definitely a he; a woman would think through the retribution and just not go there.
So as I was saying, I got caught and sent to my room. For a hundred damn years. I guess I fell asleep; it's fucking boring in a castle bedroom alone.
And on waking? I got a kiss. A chaste, gentle, uninspired kiss.
God.
I don't suppose you have a spindle. Screw discretion; it's been a century, and I'm more than a little bit ready.
And don't think I haven't worked out I'm too old to be sent back to my room, because that hundred years sure as hell has to count for something useful, so if you rat me out, the consequence will be forthcoming immediately. I'm handy with a scissors.
Fandom: Fairy Tales (heh)
Character: Aurora
Rating: R
Words: 350
Overreaction
Okay, so a hundred years.
A hundred.
A bit of an overreaction, if you ask me.
I mean, I know. The rule was there for a reason, after that horrid old woman made her prediction in public. My parents were embarrassed, what with it being was right after the fairies gave me beauty and intelligence and amazing musical talent, etc; after all, why would I need to do any such thing?
Bitch, to freak them out, though if they weren't so …traditional, it wouldn't have been so easy, either, so it's not like they were innocent in this whole affair.
But for the love of God. I was sixteen. Do you remember being sixteen? I do; it was just last week.
It wasn't as though I wasn't being discreet. I was way up in the tower room with only a blind woman who was completely unaware, not out riding the gallows in the square. How much more private could I have been?
That bit about being pierced with the spindle? I confess, that part's essentially true. Trouble is, it wasn't my finger being poked. If you catch my drift.
But I got caught. I still don't know who tattled. It wasn't the blind chick. I better not catch whoever it was, though, if he's still around. He won't like the consequences. It was definitely a he; a woman would think through the retribution and just not go there.
So as I was saying, I got caught and sent to my room. For a hundred damn years. I guess I fell asleep; it's fucking boring in a castle bedroom alone.
And on waking? I got a kiss. A chaste, gentle, uninspired kiss.
God.
I don't suppose you have a spindle. Screw discretion; it's been a century, and I'm more than a little bit ready.
And don't think I haven't worked out I'm too old to be sent back to my room, because that hundred years sure as hell has to count for something useful, so if you rat me out, the consequence will be forthcoming immediately. I'm handy with a scissors.