They called her a white rose.

She was the most beautiful princess the kingdom had ever seen. She had hazel eyes that shined like stars, wavy dark hair, and a heart of gold. And it was said that her smile was like a magic spell, enchanting to all those who had the privilege of seeing it.

The princess herself was a miracle. The queen had been declared infertile from a young age, and was overjoyed when she learned that the gods had blessed her and the king with a child. She did everything she could to keep herself healthy during the pregnancy, eating fresh fruits and vegetables that the servants grew in the gardens and taking short walks when she could. When that got to be too much, she sat in her bed and sang to the child. She read to it from her favorite storybooks. She let the king sit by her and rub her stomach, cooing softly, when she was feeling well enough to sit up.

And when things took an even harder turn, she fought against all odds to keep the baby alive. No one was sure if either of them would make it through the labor. These were the days when the king paced rapidly down the castle corridors, muttering under his breath, while servants ran back and forth to the queen's room with bowls of hot water and medicines.

The situation became hopeless. The queen was due in three days' time, and still, she grew sicker. The castle doctor assured the king that the baby was in good health, and that once it was born, the queen would be well again-- but even he looked grim. The queen constantly slept, and only woke up to take her medicine and a few bites of a meal. The king remained by her bedside always, dark circles under his eyes as he stroked his wife's hand and whispered comforting words to her and his unborn child.

The fateful day finally came. The doctor readied the hot water and the towels, and the servants cleared out from the room. But just before the queen's body was ready to push, there was a knock on the castle doors.

It was a servant who answered it. A strange, mysterious man was standing on the castle doorstep; his back was hunched, his face was shadowed by the hood of his long robes, and he had the largest, blackest eyes the servant had ever seen. He was also carrying a staff, silvery-white magic at its tip.

The servant knew immediately that the strange man had come to see the queen, and quickly led him up to the birthing room. The man burst inside and threw off his hood. He pointed the staff at the queen's stomach, silvery-white magic swirling all around them as he repeated a spell: "Before this life draws to a close / Save her child / A lovely white rose!"

There was a blinding light, and the baby came all at once, the queen screaming while the king held her close and sobbed, the doctor at the foot of the bed bringing their new child into the world. When the light faded, all was solemn. The queen was dead. The king had fainted. The doctor was frozen in shock. The man had disappeared. And the only noise was the crying coming from the tiny baby, the miracle child. The white rose.

At first, the king did not believe he could raise his daughter all on his own. The queen had been the one who had really prepared for the baby, decorating the nursery and reading up on motherhood. She even had talked to the servants and collected all the proper baby supplies, including frilly bassinettes and plenty of silk-lined birthing cloths. The king wasn't even sure how to use many of these items. Luckily for him, the child's nurse helped him, and together they cared for the little girl as she began to grow.

Neither of them noticed the signs. Neither of them thought much of it when the child's window opened on its own in the middle of the night. Or when they thought they saw her dollies move out of the corners of their eyes. Or when her hair somehow got braided, even when neither of them had braided it for her. They only saw her beauty, her innocence, her purity, her magical smile. Their little white rose.

Neither of them saw it coming. The day everything changed.