Chapter Text
ONCE UPON A TIME, BACK WHEN silence was common and the land was undisturbed, the sun was lonely. It took up each day, lit the whole world, but was never even given a glance. It was the reason for life, and yet all its creation would do was shield themselves from it, blinded by its power and potent glow.
The sun understood why it was left alone and didn't let that deter it from rising back up again each day. People needed it. The light. And the sun couldn't be cruel enough not to give them it.
However, when the sun sunk back down and prepared to illuminate the other side of the world, there was a prolonged moment where it had some company. Although separated by time and space, the moon would emerge on the opposite side of the horizon. The sun did not know if the moon noticed it, but every night the sun tried to communicate, transcending its light to the moon.
The moon shined gloriously and reflected the light back onto the land. Because of its dimmer intensity, people often stared at the moon in awe. Like it was a beacon of hope in the shadows of the night. The moon did not ask for it. In fact, it could not handle the attention every night. Even with its tendency to be hidden during the day.
So, slowly, it would disappear from the sky. Almost every night it was a different shape, curling inward towards itself until it had vanished. Like the sun, it would always come back, and with it came other lost messages from the sun: stars.
The stars were gifts. They were little, bright balls of energetic gas that came from the sun's very core, from what humans call their heart. The sun didn't want the moon to be lonely like it was, and so it created stars for companionship. The moon was appreciative, but it, too, became crestfallen, not knowing what mysterious source to thank.
It is said that the combination of their galactic sadness shook the cosmos. From this, a single star fell like a tear does from a glistening eye, but not harshly. Its impact did not unsettle the earth and blemish the surface. The star floated down through the atmosphere, past lingering clouds, and graced a cliffside flower with its power.
The flower had been dying, hidden under a ridge that blocked it from sun and rain. It was brown, wilting, and on the brink of being taken away with a wisp of wind. Then, in the form of a condensed water drop, the star enveloped the flower.
The plant's stem straightened with an envious posture, leaves grew like luscious hair, and the petals, once a fuchsia hue, had turned into a golden amber color. It became a sun that resided on earth.
However, the flower's magical radiance did not go unnoticed. A crone, wandering the forest with a hunched back and a defusing lantern swaying in her hand, saw its glow in the dead of night.
She managed to crawl down the crescent cliffside and reach the patch of land where the flower occupied. She shuffled through the wet dew of grass until she reached the majestic plant. Even the roar of the gushing river and the chill to the air couldn't alter her glee from her discovery.
Greedy hands clasped the flower by its stem, feeling the thickness of it that came from obvious strength. Her touch ventured upwards until she was caressing the petals that felt like silk against her fingers. She could sense the magic. She wanted it.
So with the years of knowledge and experience gathered, the old crone began to sing a passage of enchantment.
"Flower, gleam and glow. Let your powers shine. Make the clock reverse. Bring back what was once mine. What once was mine."
Through the incantation, the woman's groggy, withering voice transitions into smooth murmurs. Her wrinkly skin tightens back into a young, ample condition. Her grayed hair, frizzy and frayed, regains its glistening, black shine. The crone's age no longer shows, and her deteriorating heart now thumps vigorously in her chest like hooves against cobblestone.
Unlike the moon and the sun, the very powers of the universe that granted this magic, the woman was selfish. She wanted this power, this solution for immortality, all to herself. So she kept it hidden.
She was successful for hundreds of years. Through the rise and falls of kingdoms, the expansion of the world, the magical flower that blossomed from the heavens was just a myth no one bothered to falsify. Until, there was someone that desperately needed a miracle.
The queen of a beloved kingdom had fallen ill. It worried everyone, especially since in her protruding stomach were twins on the brink of being born. At the rate she was going, she wouldn't survive the birth.
Led by the most honorable knight of the land, Niklaus Mikaelson, the King's army set out in search of a cure. They scoured every hut tucked away in the remotest of villages, the depths of every forest, every forbidding cave that reeked of danger. Hope seemed to be lost.
Until, when departing from the flower after a countless number of times, the deceiving crone accidentally knocked over the artificial bush she kept over the plant. The yells exchanged by men and the thunderous collisions of horses trotting against the ground spooked her into a rush. In her absence, the flower glowed more mystically than it ever did before, a spotlight from the moon aiding in its luminescence.
A passing solider easily took notice and called the others over. Then, after the initial shock wore off, Niklaus Mikaelson ordered them to uproot it, and they rushed back to the kingdom where the King and Queen waited.
The flower was concentrated into an editable cup of tea that the queen sipped slowly. She was barely able to keep the cup to her lips, her weak hand trembling until suddenly it steadied. Color returned to her pale skin. Her lungs cleared and she gasped in the liberating air. The sickness that nauseated her and was the reason behind the fading dark circles underneath her eyes had ebbed. She felt healthy again, and from the lively kick she received from her stomach, she knew she wasn't the only one.
Soon, two baby girls were born, princesses and heirs to the kingdom. One had light blue eyes that resembled a clear sky and had already started to sprout blonde hair. The other had dark brown eyes, showcasing warmth, and had brown hair that seemed to glow amber in the sunlight. They were Princess Lizzie and Princess Josie, and they were loved by all.
To celebrate their joyous birth, King Alaric and Queen Caroline launched a flying lantern into the sky. Below the balcony of the castle, townsfolk did the same, relishing in the news that proved there would be light ahead of dark days.
The crone, Dahlia, had heard the same news, the one that claimed the Queen had been healed by a magical flower, and intended to wield the power again.
Late at night, when the entire kingdom was asleep, Dahila climbed over the railing of the balcony and snuck in undetected. Her bony fingers pushed open the glass doors without so much a creak. And soon she was hovering over both cribs, not knowing which child held the magical qualities.
Lizzie's blonde hair gained her attention first, but it was practically almost white, and when she twirled a strand around her finger, she sensed no supernatural energy. Then, she examined Josie, who was covered in a pale yellow nightgown. Josie's hair was a very dark brown in the darkness, another quality that made Dahila doubt either of these children had inherited any magic, but she tried again with her, anyway.
Only a few words into her familiar chant, Josie's hair gleamed like bronze, and the intruder gasped in surprise. She quickly took out a pair of scissors and snipped a piece off. But the essence of magic instantly evaporated in the clipped piece of hair, turning a lighter, duller shade of brown. Dahlia's face twisted into a grimace.
Initiating her backup plan, Dahila snatches Josie from her crib. Next to them, Lizzie stirs, awakening. Once her big eyes settle on the unsettling figure above her, she wails. Her crying alerts the guards, but Dahila is already scurrying away from the palace with her sister in her arms when they reach the room.