𝓐𝖚𝖗𝖔𝖗𝖆 𝓡𝖔𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖊 𝓥𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖎𝖘 ♔

Coquette ⚜ Romantic ⚜ Delicate ⚜ Innocent ⚜ Dreamer ⚜ Compassionate

I AM HOLDING ONTO THIS CHARACTER UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

𝕺𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊, 𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖋𝖆𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊s

⚜ 𝖎𝖓 𝖆 𝖈𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖆 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊... ⚜

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    She was a young when she was crowned queen. Young, but with blood older than the hills, remnants in her veins of the gods of old. From a tender age had she been inculcated with the rites and the ways of the old so that she could be prepared for the new. She was a headstrong girl, the Lilac Queen, and followed her tempestuous heart, as did all feykind.
     For eons, the Lilac Queen reigned over her Sidhe, the creatures of the hills, the hares and rabbits of the moon goddess who built their burrows there. Her countenance bore the shapes and marks of a rabbit, but with a horn of purest opal, and hair as white as driven snow. She was a wise and celebrated Queen, yet always she kept one eye on the mortals. Always, peeking through the curtain. Always on the cusp of fascination. The Turones built their cities and with other tribes they built their country, and the Lilac Queen continued to watch. One day, they called the land Touraine, and there was born a mortal, the future sun king of the nation of France.
    The moons came and went, so many that the men who worshiped and followed its phases, the tribes and congregations, shriveled and faded into precious view. Men forgot what they knew of the old ways, of the fey, of all that had come before, and they set their sights only on the future. The fey scoffed. They warned. They hid.

   Violente, the fairy of the golden vine, did whisper, “The mortals sharpen their swords; who will venerate a land turned to a battlefield?”
   Candide, the fairy of the crystal fountain, did cry, “They divert the waters, the streams; we will lose our way.”
   Miette, the fairy of the woodland glades, did wail, “They cut the glade to build their things, and nurture nothing in its place!”
   Fleur, the fairy of the enchanted gardens, did whimper, “They hoard their cultivars, and in so doing fade their beauty.”
   Canari, the fairy of the songbirds, did lament, “They choke their skies with black tendrils, the fires of war send away the life most gentle.”

    The Lilac Queen had always bidden her subjects be at peace with the world of men. They spread luck and charmed mothers and their babes, they cajoled the fields to grow, they entreated the wind to blow gently. Though her sisters held fear in their hearts, they did not hate the mortals. She wondered then what her exiled sister, the second eldest, would say. Carabosse, who hated the humans. Carabosse, who licked at the apple of discord, who sewed the seeds of conflict. No one disapproved more of the humans than she.
    “Mortals will be your undoing,” so Carabosse had promised.
    Determined to seek answers, The Lilac Queen took it upon herself to entreat the mortals to mend their ways. She sought to remind them of the past, of their connection. Fae and Men were to co-exist. And so, under dark new moon, she absconded between the rippling curtain, she slipped from veil to vale, and came to the first man she saw. A young man, handsome, tall, and dispossessed of fear and malice both. This was the king of France, though to her, a humble mortal.
    The man was kind, gentle, and noble. Transfixed as he was by the queen’s beauty, he swore his kingdom to her if he could but soothe the sadness in her lilac eyes. The act of altruism surprised the wise queen, and her heart knew love’s embrace. She and the mortal king talked the night through. Soon, they held hands. When arose the sun, only then did the queen return to the veil, promising to return at the next new moon.
    The promises of fey are sacred, and are always kept. The scrutiny of her sisters could not dissuade her, knowing that unions between their kind and the mortals are so often doomed to end in tragedy, but when they saw how happy she was, their love for their sister overcame their fears, and they gave her their support. With this, the new moon meetings continued on. Love strengthened as love does. Soon, the Lilac Queen knew she was with child, the child of the mortal king. The king wanted a parade, he was eager to introduce his future queen to his people. But the Lilac Queen pulled away and told him their meetings must continue in secret so as not to disrupt either world. By the next full moon, she would give birth, and they would have a child with hair the color of the dawn, who would be of two worlds. To devote themselves to her, they searched for an agreement, and found one in each others arms. The child was born. For she was their perfection, they named her Aurora.
    At the child’s christening, fey and mortal alike bestowed her with gifts, things she would one day grow to love. Each of the queen’s sisters made her appearance and bestowed the princess their love and their blessings: courage, grace, generosity, beauty, a beautiful voice. One invitation was not sent out. One guest was not to attend. But attend she did, wicked Carabosse, the cold, the calculating, who appeared in black shadows and thorns with her horde and demanded satisfaction for so her honor had been insulted. Ever jealous of her older sister, the Lilac Queen, she sought to kill her, to restore herself to power over the veil and the Sidhe.
   Upon her niece she laid a curse, a twisted, awful thing that wrapped itself around her soul. On the day of her 18th birthday, the princess would prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and fall into a poisoned death-like slumber from which no one would be able to rouse her. The queen and the faeries begged her to relent, but it was too late. With all their magic, they could not undo the evil spell on the half-mortal child. Despite her sister's pleas, the Lilac Queen rose to meet the traitorous sister, who plotted to take the crown she felt was rightfully hers. A bloody battle was pitted between both sides, fae against fae, as two queens wrestled for the throne and the fate of the newborn princess. In the throngs of battle, the half-mortal child was left unprotected and the cunning Carabosse saw her opportunity.
   "You may be stronger, dear sister, but I now know your weakness."
    The faerie queen rushed to defend her child, leaving her vulnerable to Carabosse's fatal blow. The Lilac Queen would lay down her life for the little princess. And for the future of the mortals she so loved. With the last of her dying strength, the lilac queen called upon her magic to drive away the evil fairy and her sinister band of followers. As she slipped away, her hoarse laughter was all that remained, foretelling of her eventual return. The dying queen bade her sisters to guard the tiny princess at all cost. Fearing for the child's life, the sisters spirited her to the timeless verdant sanctuary of the feywilds where no curse could touch her so long as she stayed hidden within the boundaries of their protection. Both realms mourned the loss of their queen as well as the child, who was presumed to have perish along with her mother. The king would eventually marry a great lady of Brittany and time would wear history into fairy tale.

    Aurora never knew the secret of her birthright – that of a lost princess, or the curse that was laid upon her. Only in dreams did she hear a distant lullaby that felt warm and right, or glimpse visions of summer balls and glittering gowns, of secret meetings in the woods, and of a lapine queen white as the pale moon. She only knew of her lonely little kingdom in the enchanted forest, caged in by a menacing wall of brambles and thorns.
    Within the briar barrier the child was kept hidden in the gilded walls of an enchanted palace. For a time, she found happiness tending to the creatures of the fey who cherished the pure-hearted princess or playing in the rose gardens that flourished under her gifted touch. There were rooms to explore and towers of fairy tale books with brilliant pictures in the grand palace library. Dining rooms were regularly filled with sumptuous feasts, kitchens were seemingly well stocked, lavish dressed laid out on her bed and fireplaces lit by themselves all as if by invisible hands. No luxury or comfort was spared on the budding, young girl. Aurora was raised by her fey nursemaids, governesses and tutors who resided in the palace with her. They dressed her in ribbons and lace, spoiled her with fine gifts and amused her with stories. Aurora came to love them dearly, as they loved her. All the creatures of the forest and field and riverbank knew the child was special. Under their care and tutelage she was raised to be the perfect princess. They taught her astronomy, geography, music, art and foreign tongues. She'd master the art of dance and song, much to the delight of the woodland feyfolk who jealously guarded and protected their princess.
    When her days weren't filled with studies or daydreaming among the pastoral meadows, Aurora had her own royal duties to attend to. The princess was charged to maintain the palace temple, perform the ancient holy rites and learn the ways of old as priestess just as her mother had once done, and the female royal line before her. She would learn to commune with and appease the ancient spirits of the forest and become caretaker to the surrounding land. This entailed healing the injured animals, preserving the beauty of the wildwood, leaving honeyed milk and treats for the nearby fey and tending to the creatures who made their homes there.
     In this eternal summerland, untouched by time, the young princess blossomed from a pretty flower to a rare rose of great beauty. Her hair was soft and delicate as blown dandelion, the color of strawberry gold. Aurora's figure filled out to form wide, alluring hips and full breasts, though she remained ever dainty and petite with fur as soft as petals and a thick heart-shaped tail. Her voice was high and bell-like, never deepening from its girlish lilt with laughter that could disarm and melt the hearts of any who met her. Though she was a vivacious and curious creature, those crystalline turquoise eyes reflected a strange sadness and longing as she pored over the books that showed her a world she would never be a part of.
    As time passed slowly in her world, the melancholy and loneliness that tugged at her heartstrings grew stronger. One fateful day, as if ignited by her thirst for the answers to her origins, Aurora found that her world was forever changed. Snow fell and blanketed the woods into a sparkling, frozen world. The spirits of the forest the princess once tended to were oddly silent and the castle slowly crumbled under the thorns that began to overtake the land. The magic that safeguarded the princess began to fade. And yet, as her 18th birthday drew nearer, her own suppressed powers grew. However, it wasn't until she heeded a strange, chilling voice calling out to her did she find herself leaving her luxuriant prison behind to step into a modern world that had advanced without her. In Belle Epoque Paris, Aurora found refuge at the Palais Garnier, hidden among velvet curtains and tulle skirts while war brewed over the last of the magic that flowed through her veins. Lurking behind every shadow, there were those, both mortal, fae and supernatural, who sought to use Aurora's magic and bloodline to further their goals. And somewhere, always just out of reach, was the faint hoarse laughter of the one who would see her curse fulfilled at last.

    How will the legendary princess's return change this new industrial world? Now that she was no longer safe in her ageless sanctuary, how will her curse finally unfold?

Backstory by Prettyflowerdog