Work Text:
Once, there lived a princess.
She used to wake early, hurry to breakfast with her father, mother, and older brother, and then attend her lessons.
Now she still wakes early. Breakfast appears on its own, and there is nowhere to rush.
A tray—crafted by magic or arranged by unseen hands—always appears on the small table when she is not looking.
Apples for breakfast. Red, juicy, shining—they stir no appetite in her.
Once, she and her brother would sometimes slip away from lessons and sneak into the royal apple orchard. Sitting under a tree in a torn dress, clutching a freshly picked unripe apple with scratched hands, she did not think of the future.
Later, her mother scolded her, saying such behavior was unfit for royal children, but her father merely smiled, saying children are allowed rare mischiefs.
She steps onto the balcony. The sky is gray. It is always gray.
Her gaze falls on a living wall of roses—perfect, almost artificial—that never change, just like the eternally gray sky.
On the ground, the traces remain of yet another knight who tried to help her.
She did not even go out to him.
The days pass the same way. She eats, reads the books that appear, and stares at the flawless roses along the fence.
Soon after dinner, darkness falls. She prepares for sleep.
Once, she and her brother would tell each other invented stories and try to guess what they would see in their dreams.
Now she dreams nothing.
Once, there lived a princess.
Now she exists.
