Sun rays flittered like jeweled, golden butterflies through the crisp, springtime breeze, laughter and song mingling with the gentle hush of wind. They danced beneath the shadow of the palace, party guests fleeting across the emerald, flowered green.
This grand spectacle was centered about the delicate, ever smiling Princess and her chivalrous Prince, the pair set like a Fae Queen and her King gazing over their joyous subjects. They were presented with whatever their hearts desired, and, for the time being, they were the two happiest people of the world.
Mathila looked on in lonely envy from a distant hillside, where the music was but a murmur carried on the wind and the dancers were just swirling insects scattered below. So fair was Princess Amelie, so fortunate, treated as a Divine Goddess where every of her wishes was a command. At her side she possessed the most handsome man in the Land, their two hands intertwined and, on occasion, exchanging the most loving, amorous of glances. So perfect they seemed, yet the Princess was but an ugly wretch at heart, and her Prince was just a slithering, slimey viper.
She would find her vengence on the Prince, that Prince she had once called her own, and show his Princess-of-a-lover who stole him what it was like to be forgotten and abandoned, to loathe your life at each rising of the sun.
Through her twisted plan, they would somehow change places. The witch laughed menancingly at the perfect sky and the glowing sun, as if challenging it and the world below. She turned from the scene of happiness and celebration below, not without taking one last glance at the Princess and her Prince.
Take in this celebration, Your Highness, for it would be your last. Mathilda grinned, nearly skipping down the hillside to return to her hutch, the music and laughter fading behind her.