Sleeping Beauty Is Just Not That Into You

by Aron Lewes

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Author's Notes

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Author's Notes

  SLEEPING BEAUTY

  (IS JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU)

  Aron Lewes

  Copyright © 2018 Aron Lewes

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author.

  Rank's lips were stretched by such a tremendous yawn, he made his jaw pop. After his sixth night in the Winter Palace's dungeon, he was feeling more relaxed than ever.

  “You know...” Rank spoke to the tiny witch who was sitting on his shoulder, “I've been in four different dungeons, and this is easily the best of the lot.”

  “But it's still a dungeon!” Gloriosa whined. “Don't you want to get out?” An entire week had passed since Rank rubbed the urn. Until he made his wish, the one-inch witch was stuck with him.

  “Nah. Not really.” He scratched his head, which unsettled the spider that had, unbeknownst to him, taken up residence in Rank's messy hair. The agitated eight-legged pest relocated to the wall.

  “Not even a little bit?”

  Rank pursed his lips, shook his head and shrugged. “Nah. Of the four prisons I've been in, this is the best by far. It's not too dark and it's not too cold, and I've got an entire cell to myself. Well... I share it with you, but besides that, it's all mine. The meals are pretty good. Compared to the prison ship and Wonderland, this is fantastic. I've got zero responsibilities. It's lovely.”

  Gloriosa growled into Rank's ear. She was increasingly discontent with her cellmate's contentedness. “If you stay here, your brain will rot!”

  Rank had a comeback for everything. “My brain already rotted in Wonderland, love.”

  “But...” Gloriosa was determined to change his mind. As long as Rank was stuck in prison, she was stuck in prison—not that the urn was any better. In fact, the urn was arguably worse. Nevertheless, it was frustrating to see a young man willingly waste his life behind bars. She wanted a better life for Rank. “I don't understand why you don't wish your way out of here! I owe you a wish, Rank. You haven't forgotten that, right? It would be so easy!”

  “Of course I haven't forgotten. You remind me every day,” Rank said, yawning again. “And that's a waste of a wish, innit?”

  “Oh, you are so very frustrating!” Gloriosa complained.

  “And I dunno why you care so much.” As he spoke, Rank pitched a pebble across his cell. The tiny rock rattled through the bars. “If I'm happy, let me be happy.”

  “But how could anyone be happy here?” whined the miniature witch. “It's like you've given up on life, Rank! You've given up on yourself!”

  “I'll get out when I want to.” Rank stretched as he yawned yet again. “Until then, let me be lazy. Prisons are the best places for nappin.' I just want to nap for awhile.”

  A moment later, a guard arrived with food. Rank's eyes swelled at the smoked sausage, cooked carrots, and boiled potatoes.

  “See? That's why I don't want to leave. The food's too good,” Rank explained as he reached for his fork. “And I get three meals a day. Donnabella only gave me two meals a day, and I had to work for it.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Gloriosa slid down Rank's arm and pattered up to the plate. As soon as she was seated next to the porcelain dish, he cut off a piece of sausage and potato for his tiny companion.

  “Even the plates are nice,” Rank remarked as he sawed the sausage. “The forks are lovely as well. There's even a pretty little design on it.” He showed her the fleur-de-lis on the utensil's handle.

  When she had her first bite of the succulent sausage, Gloriosa had to stop a smile from spreading across her face.

  “Do you like it?” Rank asked.

  “It is rather... juicy,” the witch admitted. “Still, freedom must be preferable to this!”

  “Nah. Freedom's hard.” Rank shoved a hunk of sausage into his mouth and noisily chewed. Gloriosa repeatedly begged him to eat with his mouth shut, but he never learned. “I'm tired of working.”

  “Well, when your work involves the capture of innocent young ladies, I can understand why you might not be too eager to return to it,” Gloriosa said as she sampled her potato. “Perhaps you should search for a new line of work?”

  Rank didn't respond. His tongue was too busy with the food in his mouth, so he just shrugged.

  “You don't need Donnabella anymore. You're already a competent mage!” Gloriosa praised him. “Ditch the witch, I say!”

  The resident rat had emerged from a crack in the wall, enticed by the scent of food. Rank pitched a piece of sausage to the rodent, who devoured the meat with an exuberant squeak.

  Rank wasn't replying, so Gloriosa continued. “Anyway... isn't there anything about the outside world that you miss? Anything at all? Terra, perhaps?”

  Rank smirked at the little witch. Two days ago, he confessed to having a crush on Cinderella's stepsister, and he had regretted it ever since. “You're bringing that up again?”

  “Well...” Gloriosa's hands were coated in sausage juices, so she wiped them on the leg of Rank's breeches. She had done it before, and he didn't seem to mind. “If you never get out, you'll never have a shot with her. Terra could end up falling for someone else. She could--”

  “She'd never fall for me,” Rank interjected. “She hates me.”

  “I'm sure that isn't true!” Gloriosa exclaimed. “Sure, you kidnapped her... and that might be a significant hurdle to hop over, but... where there's a will, there's a way! You could win her over if you worked at it. You aren't completely without charm.”

  Rank looked surprised. “I'm not?”

  “No, dear. I find you to be quite pleasant... sometimes.” When Gloriosa finished her food, she flew back to Rank's shoulder. A ball of light encased her tiny body each time she took flight. “So... tell me about the nicknames, Rank. How did you come to acquire them?”

  When Rank scratched his cheek, he rubbed away the last fleck of makeup on his face. As long as he was stuck in prison, he couldn't paint his face or wear wacky hats. Rank missed his signature look. “Which one did you want to know about?” Rank asked.

  “All of them!” the witch exclaimed. “How about Dirty Davey?”

  “Ah. That was my childhood nickname.” Rank leaned against the wall as he told the story. “Back then, I didn't like to bathe. My mum couldn't get me into a tub to save her life, and since David's my real name, they started calling me Dirty Davey.”

  “Interesting.” Gloriosa smoothed a wrinkle on Rank's shirt. “You bathe now, I hope?”

  “I can't bathe in the dungeon, love. But when I'm out of here... yes. Bathing is a boring part of my everyday routine.” In a low voice, he added, “Well... nearly every day.”

  “Trickster seems obvious. What about Pyro?”

  “When I first started learnin' my elem
ental magic, fire was the first one I used.” A grin hovered on Rank's lips as he discussed his past. “Well... I couldn't control it so well, and I ended up burning some things.”

  “Things is vague,” Gloriosa complained. “What sorts of things did you burn?”

  “You know, like... tables and chairs. A bookshelf. An entire ship.” Before she could ask, he quickly added, “Don't worry, no one died.”

  “That's good to know.” Gloriosa's feet fidgeted as she dangled from his shoulder. “What about The Tickler?”

  “Ah. That's a good one!” Rank chuckled. “The tickling curse was the first spell I ever learned. I used it on a lot of people. I couldn't get enough of it, if I'm being honest. And people hated me for it.”

  “That certainly sounds... fascinating,” Gloriosa lied. “What about Shuffler? Why was that a nickname?”

  “That was during my gambling phase. It was a long time ago, before I got caught up in magic.”

  “It can't be that long ago. You're still a very young man,” Gloriosa pointed out. She never asked his age, but his face suggested he was somewhere in his twenties. “Now... I'm afraid I've forgotten your last nickname. What was it?”

  “You're saving the best for last, eh?” Rank grinned down at her. “Mad Hatter is the one you forgot. It's the name I got in Wonderland.”

  “You keep mentioning Wonderland. Tell me about it.”

  As he recounted the tale of his most hated prison, Rank closed his eyes. “I was stuck in Wonderland for an entire year. I upset the witch of that realm, and she cursed me to live in a tiny cottage with only a rabbit for company. I went mad in Wonderland. That's where I acquired my affinity for unusual hats. Hence... I was called The Mad Hatter.”

  Gloriosa gently patted Rank's shoulder. “I'm sorry you had to go through that,” she consoled him.

  “It was worse than you know,” Rank said. “Wonderland's full of oddities. Birds fly backwards. The sky's like a checkerboard. The clouds look like they were cut out of paper, and the Cheshire Cat would heckle me daily. That place makes you insane. When I lost my mind, I started having tea parties every day. I used to dress The March Hare in gentlemen's clothing and imagine he was telling me riddles.”

  “The March Hare?”

  “My rabbit companion. I don't know if he was a hare or a rabbit, to be honest. I can't tell the difference.” Rank's grin faded as he finished his story. “Anyway, it was Donnabella who rescued me, so I'm in her debt.”

  “Hmph!” Gloriosa tutted and crossed her arms. “If you really wanted to, you could cut ties with that dreadful woman! Besides, what happened to Rank only helps Rank? If that was true, you wouldn't believe in debts. You--”

  When the prison guard reappeared, Gloriosa's squawking stopped. She didn't want to be spotted, so she slid into Rank's front pocket.

  “Oi!” the oily guard greeted him. “On yer feet, Rank! You're needed!”

  Rank had been sitting for hours, so he staggered when he stood. As soon as he was on his feet, the guard jostled him through the door. When he was out of his cell, Rank wasn't moving quickly enough, so the rude guard shoved him down the hallway.

  From his pocket, Gloriosa whispered, “Ask him where we're going.”

  Rank parroted the question in a sleepy voice. “Where are we going?”

  “The princess' bedchamber,” the guard answered with a snort. “It's your lucky day, mate. You get to kiss 'er.”

  “Princess Rose has already kissed a lot of commoners,” the guard explained as he led a grinning Rank down the dungeon's acrid hallways. There was a constant stench in the air. The dungeon reeked of unwashed bodies and bodily fluids. “Now she's kissing prisoners, apparently. It sounds like the prince is desperate to break her curse.”

  When they reached the stairs, Rank felt a knuckle in his back. The guard was nudging him up the steps. “I really get to kiss the princess?” Rank asked.

  “Aye.”

  “I get to put these lips,” Rank turned around and motioned toward his mouth, “on her lips?”

  “Aye,” the guard answered again. “But it's nothing to get excited about. Everyone's done it. I kissed her two days ago.” Rank wasn't ascending the staircase quickly enough, so the guard nudged him again. “Anyway, we're starting with the younger, handsomer prisoners and working our way down.”

  “Awww.” When they reached the top of the stairs, Rank turned around and smiled at the guard. “You think I'm handsome? That's lovely. That's real sweet.”

  “Shut up, keep walking!” the guard barked at him. “And don't stop walking 'til we reach the princess' door.”

  To reach the princess' bedchamber, Rank and the guard passed through the palace's motley garden, where Terra was pouring a cup of tea. As soon as she saw Rank, she averted her eyes and whispered, “Oh no...”

  Terra tried to hide behind her teacup, but she was too late. Rank already spotted her.

  “Terra!” he shouted. “Terraaaaaa! Terra, look! It's Rank! I've missed you!”

  Keeping her eyes on the amber liquid in her cup, Terra tried to shield her face. She didn't want anyone to think she was overly friendly with Prince Sharman's prisoners.

  “Terrrrra!” As Rank called to her again, he ignored the disapproving grunt of his escort. “Terra! I mean it! I've missed you! I see you in my dreams!”

  “Go away,” Terra whispered to herself. “Please, God, make him go away. This is so embarrassing.”

  All of a sudden, Rank broke away from the guard and dashed across the lawn. “Terra!” Rank did a cartwheel as he shouted her name. When he was upside down, he could hear Gloriosa screaming in his pocket. “I know a thing or two about teatime, Terra! We should have tea sometime!”

  “Get back here!” the guard screamed. He tried to give chase, but Rank was faster than he was. The mad prisoner howled with laughter as he dashed into the hedges. He wove through a miniature maze, where he temporarily lost his pursuer.

  When Rank popped out of the maze, Terra was still hiding her face. Rank sat across from her, grinned, and pilfered one of her scones. “Hello,” Rank slathered jam on his scone as he greeted her. “How have you been, Terra? Have you missed me?”

  “No.”

  “That's cold.” Rank shoved scone into his mouth and pouted as he chewed. “You haven't even missed me a little bit?”

  “Not really.” Despite her cold reception of him, Terra tried to share her clotted cream. “You reek, by the way.”

  “I'm rank,” he corrected her. “I'm a rank Rank.”

  When the guard popped out of the hedge maze, he looked more irate than ever. He called for backup, and two more guards raced toward Terra's teatime table.

  “Uh oh. It looks like I've got to go!” Rank announced as he shoved the rest of the scone through his lips. He tried to say goodbye, but his mumbled farewell was muffled by bread and jam. Terra's head shook with disbelief as she watched him dash away.

  Rank evaded his chasers and leapt over a rosebush. He paused to pluck a tulip, stuck the stem in his mouth, and ran.

  The guards spread out and tried to catch him in a pincer attack. One almost grabbed him, but Rank prettily pirouetted away. He twirled a few more times before returning to Terra's table, where he laid the tulip on her lap.

  As he dipped into a bow, Rank exaggerated a posh accent. “For you, my lady. I hope the flower is to your liking?” Reverting to his regular accent, he added, “I'm going to court you proper from now on.”

  “And how do you intend to do that when you're in prison?” Terra asked. As she sipped her tea, she kept her eyes on the advancing guards. They were getting close. For some inexplicable reason, she wanted to warn him.

  “I dunno. I'll figure something out!” Rank started running again. “If I had my wand, I'd make you loads of flowers!”

  “You don't have to do that!” Terra shouted. When the guards almost caught him again, she winced.

  “You look lovely, by the way!” Rank called to her. “I mean it. You've never looked prettier.
”

  Terra could feel herself blushing. Her cheeks were on fire as she poured herself a second cup of tea.

  A fourth guard suddenly appeared, putting an end to Rank's race around the garden. They boxed him in, and Rank couldn't find a way out. The largest guard grabbed him, lifted him off his feet, and carried him away. The mage's legs flailed as they manhandled him into the palace.

  “Do that again, and you'll get a knock on the head!” one of the guards warned him as they muscled him down the hallway.

  “You'll get more than a knock on the head,” another guard chimed in. “I'll put you in the tub.”

  Rank dared to ask, “What's the tub?”

  “I chain prisoners to an old tub and cover them in honey,” the guard explained. “First, the insects come to feed on you. Wasps can't resist the honey, and rodents like it too. In fact, some of the hungrier rats might take a nibble out of your hand. In a day or so, you end up sitting in your own feces, and more insects come to feed on you.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Rank said. “How can I sign up?”

  The boastful torturer swatted Rank's head. “Don't be an arse, or I swear to God, I will do it! And you won't be laughing then!”

  When they reached the princess' bedchamber, the four guards spread out and surrounded him. They were standing so close, Rank could hear them breathing. “You don't trust me anymore, do you? That's a shame.” He pointed at the door in front of him. “Is this the kissing room?”

  “Aye. It is.” One of the guards threw open the door and shoved Rank inside. “If you don't behave yourself, I'll disembowel you.”

  “Disembowelment seems like a heavy punishment for a bit of misbehaving,” Rank mused as he stepped inside. “Oh well.”

  Princess Rose was in her bed, looking as serene as ever. Her auburn hair was braided and draped across her shoulder. Prince Sharman, who was watching Rank through narrowed eyes, was sitting near his sister's bed. Cinderella was at her fiance's side, and her lips wore a prominent frown.

  “You look sad,” Rank observed as the guards pushed him to Rose's bed. “I'm talking to Cinda, by the way. There's sadness in her eyes.”