As the elected princess and representative of the Dwarven mining coalition, Snow White met the Neimoidians representatives of the Trade Federation in the Great Oak Grove. Xpantian moss had been newly hung. The dwarves clothing had been washed and pressed. Their beards glistened with beeswax.
While she in her role as the Princess of a Representational Monarchical system, she had clothed herself in her most formal wear. Silk spun by the finest spider weavers that trembled with dew drops. In addition, her lips were painted as red as blood. Her hair was dyed as black as coal. Her skin was painted as white as snow.
The representatives of the Trade Federation tilted awkwardly on the small wooden chairs that she'd sung the forest animals into weaving that morning. The leader of the delegation, Nute Gunray, seemed to be distracted by the potential for non resilience in her garb. That was why she had worn it.
Nute Gunray said, "I am sure that we can come to an amenable arrangement with the Dwarven coalition that will bear discernible rewards."
She was familiar with what he offered. A sweet apple of a deal to deliver their goods in exchange for exclusive rights.
Snow White knew all about poisoned apples. Snow White waved her hand for a flock of birds to offer her guests root vegetable hors d'oeuvre. Her skin as white as snow remained a mask that did not change expression.
They did not yet know about the psionic enhancing powers of the wishing well. Snow White held that knowledge in reserve and smiled with her lips as red as blood.
Pocahontas listened to the Jedi Ambassador, Jon Smuinquargesimusth, as he met with her father.
Jon spoke of the Jedi and of the Republic. He spoke of the Jedi way. He spoke of the light side of the force. He spoke of the high midi-chlorian count on her world, which had attracted the interest of the Republic.
He spoke of the dangers that lay in the way of the Sith, who manipulated the dark side of the force.
Pocahontas served Jon and his companions maize cakes soaked in honey. Her father promised to think upon what he had said.
Pocahontas went to sit for a time in the branches of Grandmother Oak. "Do you understand what this Jedi has to say of the force and its dark and light sides?"
"No." Grandmother Oak's branches rustled. "I only know of the colors of the wind."
Pocahontas never was able to get a satisfactory answer. Even after she journeyed back with the members of the expedition to speak with the Republic. All she ever saw were colors.
It was an honor to be the head Lore Keeper for the Jedi Council. On honor for which she'd put aside love, family, and children. It was an honor. Belle repeated this fact to herself often.
Belle lowered the pitch of her voice. A little trick she'd read about as practiced by Anunder Sunrider, a Jedi Master given to arts and letters as well as the Force, to ensure that she didn't start screaming like a madwoman and certainly not the tone of voice fit for a Jedi Master. "And how is that a good idea?"
Yoda folded his little green hands together and said, "The Chosen One will bring balance to the Force he will."
Belle pinched the bridge of her nose. She was not going to say it again. She was not. She made herself speak very slowly. "The Jedi are in power. The Jedi use the light side of the force. The Sith are not in power. They use the dark side of the force. If there is balance in the force, the Jedi will become less powerful." By sheer force of will she did not emphasize less with air quotes, but it was a near thing. "How is that in our own best interests to want balance in the force?"
The members of the Jedi council stared at each other. They stared at Belle.
The conversation started over again.
It was shortly after that that Belle resigned from her position. She moved to a small collegium on Franconia.
If the council could not be forced to see reason, then she could do what needed to be done. Preserve the knowledge of the Jedi against the coming balance.
She slept in the cinders. Her step mother made her a slave on account of her father's debt to her. What this debt was, Cinderella could not have said.
Her step sisters made her run on their errands. She went without food. She went without sleep. She labored long into the night in her father's home. In the place where her mother once ruled. If she did not run fast enough, she was whipped across her feet. When she did not lift quickly enough, she was whipped across her back.
She ran and she lifted and she grew strong in her hate.
Her Godmother came to the kitchen door and spoke of how sleeping in the fire had made her strong. She offered to teach her to use her hate to grow stronger yet.
It was not a decision that was many steps in the making. She embraced her Godmother. She embraced her teacher. She embraced the darkness, black as the cinders in which she slept.
She whispered the code of her Godmother.
"Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me."
She grew very strong.
Rapunzel knew nothing of midi-chlorians. She lived in a station in an asteroid field.
She knew nothing of the Force. Her mother kept her far away from such things. Her mother said, "Look at all the things I do for you," as she brushed her hair of gold.
She knew nothing of the dark side. Her mother never spoke of such things.
She knew nothing of the light side. The paintings that she drew on the station walls were full of light.
What she did know was that space was full of stars. Each year on her birthday, when the light probes floated across the void seeking something unknown, her dream was to fly among them.
The Emperor kept a clone army. The remnants of clone wars. They wore helms that hid their faces. Mulan nodded respectfully to them on her way to the market. They were the representatives of the most wise Emperor, who had done away with the strife of the Republic and brought order to the land. As such, they were due her respect.
The market rippled with word of the Rebels, who sought to rip the Empire from this age of peace and throw them back into those uncivilized times.
A phrase seemed to echo in Mulan's memory. "To preserve civility, one must present uncivil behavior."
So it was that she meant no shame to her family name. Nor did she wish to bring shame to her father, who had fought bravely for the Emperor in the Clone Wars. It was simply that she wished to do her own part.
So it was in secret that she applied to the Imperial Academy. So it was in secret that she clicked open on the light wave transmission. Her heart in her mouth, she closed her eyes and made Mushu read it to her. "You got in."
She squeaked and opened an eye.
She was to be an officer in the wise Emperor's army.
She left her family a note that they might know she was well. She could face their censure later. Surely after she had learned to face down rebels, she could face her Mother and tell her that she wanted no children.
Later, after she had faced the rebels.
Esmeralda danced at the cantina at Mos Eisley. It was a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Her kind of people.
She danced because she liked to dance.
She kept a blaster at her hip because she always shot first.
She'd have Clopin, her first mate, scope potential customers out while she watched them from the stage. If they seemed ligit, well, she wasn't about to take the Kessel run in less than twelve parsec. But the "Gypsy Queen" always made her deliveries. On time and on schedule.
And she always got paid.
That was how she was there the day a Sith, a Jedi, and an Empire academy probe all walked into the bar and got completely wasted on Alderian brandy together.
When Tiana was offered the opportunity to head up craft services at a new Empire Installation, it was too good to be true.
That's why she didn't take it.
Too good to be true was too good to be true.
Everyone knew the Empire rushed those places into full operation before they were ready. They took short cuts. She'd heard stories from some of the contractors that pulled construction gigs. Improperly sealed panels. Power ducts that with the right impact would blow the whole place up.
Tiana worked hard and hard work was near as she could tell the same in the old Republic or the new Empire, but she sure as anything wasn't going to end up sub-atomic particles because some governor had a deadline.
It just wasn't worth it.
Red Squadron was hers. Gold Squadron might get all the glory, but Ariel kept the heat off them with every trick she'd learned growing up beneath the seas of Naboo.
Beings that grew up dirtside paid too much attention to gravity and not enough to the possibilities of space. She took out another imperial. Those clone boys never learned to look up or down. Space wasn't on a single plane.
Aurora woke from her long sleep to find the Republic had fallen, an Empire had risen and fallen on the width of an Emperor's shoulders, and a New Republic had taken it's place.
She yawned and closed her eyes. They could wake her if something truly changed.
Chapter 2: Comment Fic Works it's way into the story
There were many rumors that swirled around Senator Princess Snow White. The Republic ran on rumors. A force more powerful than the Force at times. Certainly rumors were all around.
Whispers spoke of how the droids of the Neimoidians had rusted the moment they set down upon her soil. That they were now roosts for birds. They said that the Princess slept in a crystal coffin at night to keep herself young. There were whispers that she'd led the Jedi knight assigned to keep her safe astray. That they had gone far beyond kisses.
Snow White smiled when those sorts of words reached her ears. Charming had not needed to be led astray. If astray it could be called.
So far from the well's influence, that crystal coffin had been a trap by her enemies. Beings as yet hiding in the shadows. It had been intended to hold her until the end of days. She was still at some pains to discover the source of it. So, she'd come to the Senate to sit in her seat, smile prettily, and listen to alliances within alliances. All was not well within the Republic.
Poisoned apples, no. The orchard was rotten at the roots.
The Snow Queen of Hoth did not have a splinter in her mind's eyes. Nor did she have a shard of ice in her heart. She'd done that herself to her sister, or so that prince had led her to believe. He'd have killed her too.
There is no death, there is the Force.
Winter cannot die.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is nothing more serene than something that is undivided from itself.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
Not single flake falls, but she knows its name. She no longer remembers her own.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
Never more peace than in the absolute cold when snow suspends in the air.
There is a statue in the Snow Queen's garden. There are many statues, but his is the one she keeps. The details would else have long since worn away. Her sister reaching up her hand to stop a blow. Her eyes open wide, as she'll melt in a moment and turn to say the Snow Queen's name.
The Snow Queen does not grieve.
Grief and anger belong to the dark side of the force and she's let these things go. Long ago, when Hoth was a garden world and ambassadors came from far away worlds and tried to steal what was hers.
She's waiting in her garden when the battered ship lands and Snow White emerges. The Snow Queen watches her from a flurry. She watches her from a million snowflake eyes. She sees Snow White hold her empty belly and weep tears that freeze on her cheeks for lost love and lost children and loss.
The Snow Queen remembers sorrow and somewhere in a garden, a statue moves a tiny fraction. As if about to turn and smile.
The name that she took was Sith Cinders. She ever wanted to remember the soot of the fire and the embers that could ever be fanned into flames.
Her Godmother smiled in approval when she swore not to kill her step-mother. When she swore not kill her step-sisters. Her Godmother smiled and said, "Very good child. Very good."
Sith Cinders went back to her old home. She begged for her old place among the cinders with downcast eyes so they could not see.
She waited. She studied. She gazed out the window at the Prince's palace and praised it to her step-mother. She pretended at sighs with her step-sisters for the Princes handsomeness. Cinders had never seen him, but it could have been true. She dripped words. Desire was a flower. It should be carefully tended. Her Godmother was a wonderful gardener.
Her work was no longer hard. The creatures that hungered as she did, they labored for her in return for crusts. In return for an open latch on the granary. Such an easy thing while gazing out her step-mother's wide windows. A twitch of her finger along the looping lines of Force that flowed all around her.
When the Prince held his mid-winter masque, she went. Of course, she went. Her Godmother did not have to make the dress. She made it herself. Sith Cinders wore a dress woven of cobwebs and melted glass slippers. Her mother had purchased that glass long ago. She was strong, but Sith Cinders could also have a delicate touch.
She went to the ball. She walked in the door. The doorman said, "Where is your invitation."
She handed him a leaf. "Here this is my invitation."
"Thank you, Miss." He waved her inside and turned to the next guest.
Sith Cinders did not waste time. She walked up to the Prince and she looked into his heart. She looked and she said, "I am all that you desire."
He said, "You are all that I desire," and swept her onto the dance floor. To every young woman that they swept by, she whispered, "The Prince is everything you desire." To every young man, she whispered, "You wish you were free of him." Sometimes she mixed it up. Just for variety.
Even as strong as her hate, it was not easy to maintain. Best to slip away by midnight. She left a shoe behind. Slightly altered. No woman had a foot that small. That dainty. That childlike. Purple lightening crackled beneath her feet as she walked barefoot home. Warmed by the heat of the dark side of the Force.
She wadded up her dress so much cobwebs. She slept in the fireplace and reveled in the cinders of her name.
By morning, her step-sisters were buzzing over the ball. Over the Prince. Her step-mother gazed out her window and never even noticed the missing pane. Sith Cinders had, after all, told her not to.
When the Prince's men came with the slipper, her step-sisters wailed, "It will never fit."
Sith Cinders held out the butcher's knife that she'd spent the morning sharpening. "If you really wanted him, you could have him." She watched as they worked to fit their feet into those tiny red stained slippers and smiled.
By the end of the week, the palace was in flames. Sith Ciders watched it from the window of her old home. Her Godmother said, "Very good, child. Was it all you hoped for?"
Sith Cinders laughed for joy as her answer and watched it all turn to cinders.
The Collegium on Franconia was not without its little difficulties. There was a monster in the forest and a blowhard for a Mayor. Belle, who by force of habit surrounded her sleeping quarters with data records, sometimes wondered why she bothered getting up in the morning.
Especially when the Mayor asked her out on a date. By ask, he said, "We're going out to the shooting range to watch me shoot things today."
Belle could have told him that she wasn't the one for him, but she'd never particularly liked bending the free will of others. Especially ones as strong willed as he. She'd read of cases where that sort of thing backfired. She couldn't quite remember where she'd left the tale. It had something to do with the Miller of Adrabas and a pump station raining fish for three weeks.
She decided to see what could be done about the monster.
After a really lovely walk, a visit to a truly amazing rose garden (someone really loved their blooms), she arrived at a refueling station in the woods.
What she found there was a Wookie, who had suffered a fairly serious piloting accident. Half of him was now machinery and the other half was welted with scars. His fur was matted and unkept. He howled.
He had the most beautiful library that she had ever seen.
She held out her hand. "Hello, my name is Master Belle, but you can call me Belle. Did you realize that you have an original copy of the Ars Forcianicus sitting next to a Sithalius Compendaria? Your library needs some serious reorganizing. I can come over most evenings. When would be convenient?"
The Wookie howled. Fortunately, she understood him perfectly.
"Not on Wednesday Poker night with the droids. Very well." Belle rolled up her sleeves and got to some serious reading. After all, she couldn't organize what she hadn't read first.
The Snuggly Duckling was not a hive of scum and villainy.
See now that, that there is an example of an outrageous lie. It was completely and utterly a hive of scum and villainy. Such hives swarmed from one end of the galaxy to the other. Great places really to get a drink and gamble and take a break between daring adventures. Swash buckling adventures. The kind of adventures that required a name like Flynn.
However, since Rapunzel's name was Rapunzel her approach was a little different. Rapunzel knew nothing of scum or villainy. She couldn't fire first because she didn't have a gun. She didn't know how to make a light saber. She didn't even know what that was.
She had a dream. She had a song about her dream. She had seventy feet of midi-chlorian imbued hair. The Force was strong in that hair.
But that's not why everyone started singing. Nah, that would be a convenient explanation. Everyone driven mad. Like on the news. No, they just liked to sing at the Snuggly Duckling.
So there she was, Rapunzel letting down her hair and enjoying life. Sure there was that pesky little problem of almost getting caught by the Troopers and then getting lost in the mines of Saxony, but her hair lit the way. That hair was incredibly useful.
Rapunzel and Flynn even found their way to the moon that released the light probes searching for the lost princess. It was as beautiful as she'd always imagined. Floating in a space suit as they drifted on by.
Too bad Flynn was using her. Or not.
Too bad Mother had been lying to her all these years. That one was unfortunately true.
Mother stabbed first, not so much a Mother. As Rapunzel's Force rich hair was cut, Mother crumpled like so much dust and out the airlock she went. Seventy feet of hair went brunette.
The funny thing was, it turned out the midi-chlorians had been in Rapunzel all along. Or at least enough of them to heal Flynn. Although, Eugene was a much nicer name. Truer at least.
Now, being as she was locked in a station on an asteroid for most of her life, Rapunzel didn't know anything about Jedi or Republics or Empires or Kings in Republics. Not until she went out into the world. But she learned.
It didn't sound like Jedi did much singing.
It was much more fun being the lost princess. Sometimes, she sang in the market. If the song was happy and sometimes if it was sad, she cried. No one asked her why her tears glowed when she sang. That was just the way Rapunzel was. And really, who didn't have their little quirks.
There was a bolt in the body suit that rubbed and scratched against the curve of her tail. She couldn't decide if that was better or worse than the other bolt that dug into her fin. One she could sometimes wince away from. The other was a constant pain. They both hurt. She didn't sing anything about it. She could breathe air, but her voice wasn't built for the thinness of gasses. Here out of the water, people talked rather than sang their thoughts. Short words cut one from another. She could hardly understand the point.
She lurched down the hallway on the suit's short stubby legs and concentrated on one foot in front of the other. She'd had to give Ursula the rights to all of the recordings of her voice, but it was worth it to be here for all the suit's pain.
Janson Greenwringer, one of the dirtsuckers from Gold Squadron, ran by her. As he moved past her with his legs with their single knee joint and flexing feet, he yelled back at her, "Walking like a drunk again, Ariel."
She did not make the gesture back that would have indicated that Jansons' mother had had intimate relations with a Sando Aqua Monster, but only because she was the head of Red squadron and Eric, from her squadron, was walking next to her. She might have even have done it then, but Eric had been making an effort to study her people's gestures and language and would have known what the gesture meant. For whatever reason, she didn't want to appear petty in his eyes.
Eric called out, "Hey, Janson," just as Janson was going around the corner. Janson looked back and misjudged the opening into the room beyond. As he bounced, Eric continued, "Watch out for the wall."
Ariel allowed herself a smile at that. Also, a small flutter of fingers against Eric's. He'd be her wingman today, she decided.
They went into the briefing. She listened. She listened to dirt suckers talk about flying down canyons to shoot small animals that could only run on surfaces. Eric leaned closer and whispered, "Like the abyssal labyrinths back home for you, Ma'am."
She hummed a wordless answer, her meaning in her depressive tone. As if a canyon could match those infinitely reaching tubes full of dangers and joys. She missed it sometime, but then again no.
For after the briefing, she went to her reward for that body suit. Her reward for bolts and joints and dirt. She hadn't pushed her head above the sea to look at the land. No. Her eyes had been on the birds. Her eyes had been on the stars. She tumbled for that awkward moment out of her body suit, briefly almost helpless on land and into her modified X-wing. It fit. It had controls that she could operate with movements of her tail as well as her hands. She traded for that too.
Singing, she took flight.
The Old Sugar Mill didn't but half attract the wrong kind of crowd. Down as it was by the space port. Tiana'd always been so in love with the bones of the building, she hadn't really thought through the kind of folks that would come to a place with good solid walls and proximity to about a dozen ways to leave the planet.
It was not a hive of scum and villainy. No matter what some folks liked to say. If Naveen's friends and her friends weren't always the reputable sort, well they always paid when it was time to go. In Tiana's estimation, paying the bills went parsecs towards establishing a being's character.
If sometimes Captain Esmeralda liked to dance about on the zinc top of the bar and gyrate about, she was always careful not to shoot up the place when she had to put someone down that crossed her. Not like some folk, who tried to leave without paying their tab. But Louie didn't just play in the band. He made sure everyone paid up.
Tiana wasn't beholding to Jabba the Hutt. She paid her protection money same as anyone else, but she was not beholding.
It was her place. She cooked. She put her whole body and soul into it when she cooked. She didn't need firefly suggestions on what to put in. Not even Mama Odie could do better out in her swamp with her silly rhymes about the Force. Tiana could always just reach right out and find what she needed in her Mis. Everyone agreed that her food was like a taste of the world next door. Everyone always left full and happy. Except the ones that had to run for it.
That day, she was out front talking to Captain Esmeralda when it happened. She'd been working on a special batch of Jambalaya and the fillet had something just a little bit extra in it. She wanted to see how people were taking the blend. Everyone was enjoying it alright. Heads down practically licking the bowls and ordering more. Captain Esmeralda, who'd had the crawfish on account of liking to rip things apart with her hands, said, "That doesn‘t look exactly normal."
"Not regularly." Tiana wasn't sure quite what to make of it.
Then it all came together at once.
From one side, an Empire Academy Cadet, probably from the Imperial Cruiser in dry dock, came up to her with her empty bowl in hand. "If you are the chef, then you honor your profession. You should be cooking in the kitchens of the Emperor himself."
Tiana was about to answer that that was very kind, but she was fine where she was, when a figure in a black cloak came up and threw back her hood with a galactic core full of drama. Her blond hair was unwashed and her face was streaked all over with ashes. Her eyes were wild and the poor thing didn't look like she'd eaten more than a sip in a week. She held out her steaming bowl. "Who has done this? Why is there love in my soup? It's teaming with the light side?"
She met Captain Esmeralda’s eyes. Woman knocked back a shot of Alderian brandy, which was probably the only sensible thing to do just then.
There were purple crackles sparking out of the Lady Sith’s fingers. Tiana swallowed. The woman was a shadow woman. Tiana was just as glad that Naveen was off charming them more supplies and not there just now. One shadow man was enough to have dealt with. All she could think to say was, "Didn't you like your Jambalaya?"
"It is delicious." The woman gritted out. She also waved her hand and Louie, who had been about to put down his sax and come over for a little moral support went flying into the wall.
The Academy Cadet bowed. "Lady Sith. It is an honor to meet you."
Her honor ignored her.
"Personally, I liked the mushrooms," said someone off to Tiana's elbow. There was a little blond girl. She looked liked just a child. Except her eyes. Most children had deep eyes those days, but those eyes had come out the other side of some serious crazy, but Tiana supposed she'd have had to. The girl raised her hand and there was lightsaber in it. She said, "That food was bryllyg and mimsy and made me think of gyring and gymbling in the borogroves." She brought her lightsaber down on the Lady Sith, who had her own lightsaber and they went at it.
Which was about when everyone cleared out, except Tiana, because it was her place, Captain Esmeralda, who sat on the edge of the bar pouring shots, Louie, who was out cold, the Academy cadet, who seemed to be studying the whole thing, and the Sith Lady and Jedi Mistress, who ran all over fighting the place up.
Tiana gave the Cadet, Fa Mulan, another bowl on the house. When she offered, Captain Esmeralda said, "No, I'm fine. I like my food without the crazy."
It was Cadet Mulan's moan at her next spoonful that put an end to it.
Both the Lady Sith and the Jedi Mistress turned to look at her. Cadet Mulan cleared her throat. "Your pardon for interrupting your epic fight, but this food is amazing."
The Lady Sith sneered and the Jedi Mistress laughed and yelled, "Frabjous." She turned off her lightsaber and miracle of miracles, so did the Lady Sith.
Captain Esmeralda shrugged and poured everyone a healthy glass, while Tiana got more Jambalaya.
And no matter what anyone said later, when they all left the Sugar Mill, they were all wearing their clothes. Singing some sort of drinking song about a Walrus and a Carpenter and clutching at each other. But they were wearing their clothes and full of good food. Wasn't even that much of a mess.
But then, everyone always left happy from the Sugar Mill.
Sith Cinders relationship with Jedi Master Alice provided more pleasant distractions than rage. Hats and tea and pins in the mushrooms until everyone falls over laughing. But things took a turn for the dark after Cadet Mulan's return to her duties and the resumption of Alice's battles with Governor Red Queen. Finally culminating in Alice's rhyming last stand at the Inn of the White Knight, well... That's system best avoided in later days.
Sith Cinders. Incandescent as a star. Subject to neither Emperor nor Senate. Burning brightly until there's naught but ash.
Oh, Sith Cinders. There ought to be an epic poem in iambic pentameter.
Aurora dreamed it on the shelves of the Dream King (and she was certainly his longest standing girlfriend to date), but it turned to fish, as dreams will do. She smiled to see Sith Cinder fish and Alice fish swimming at angles in the darker bright corners of the library of dreams, before she went outside to talk with the singing roses.
Oh how Belle wishes she could visit that library, but although she's a Jedi Master, she never could quite sink deeply enough into a trance state to manage it, which is really quite vexing. Oh, well. Possibly for the best.
Captain Fa Mulan only fought Commander Ariel once in battle. Mulan closed her eyes and prayed to her ancestors to guide her. Ariel twisted like a dragon in the air and somehow struck her own blow.
They took each other down.
Mulan expected no rescue. There could be no rescue for a failure such as hers.
Ariel expected no rescue. Not with the imperials swarming chummed waters.
Wouldn't you know it, they had to rescue each other.
In the forest where they landed, there was a wide lake. The only wide body of water for miles. The only edible food were the fish from the lake if soaked in moss that grew on the sides of the wide red trees.
Mushu thought it tasted like shoe leather. Mulan thought it tasted fine. Ariel thought it reminded her of home.
When the Gypsy Queen spotted the campfire a little close to the captain's supply cache, there was no more empire. No more Emperor.
They'd been only been on the planet for long enough for Mulan to be named guardian to Ariel's daughter, Melody, born in the still waters of that wide lake.
On being introduced to the closest being she'd have as a grandchild, Mulan's grandmother smiled and nodded, "A water dragon."
Mushu said, "It wasn't me."
Ariel made an extremely rude gesture, which thankfully only Mulan could understand. Sadly, she choked on the plum wine, which somewhat gave it away.
Mulan's grandmother said, "I knew I liked you," and gave Ariel an extra pork bun.
Aurora's dreaming the seeds of worlds. Wild biers of briar roses rich with the perfume of force. She's a gardener of dreams. She goes between princesses to prune them and shape what is to come. If the others were to force her to stay awake, she'd smile sleepily and wait for an opportunity of dreaming.