Prince’s getting cursed is how stories always go.

Princess’s falling in love is how stories always end.

But what happens when the princess is the one to deal the curse?

What if the prince doesn’t want true loves kiss?

What if the story changes direction?

What if the characters go off script?

What happens then?

I hold my head high as I walk, because for once, I have purpose in my actions.

My tricks and games are long gone.

I am no longer a silly girl.

“Prince!” I shout across the room, my voice carrying throughout the crowd.

They begin to slowly part for me, giving me a path to the throne where he sits.

I smirk at the stupid, wonderful shock on his face when he sees me.

He thought I was dead.

He thought I was DEAD.

Well, think again little princeling.

I am very much alive.

He finally seems to gain some of his composure back when I reach the foot of his glorified throne.

“Should I bow first? Or should I get straight to the point.” I ask, now that the hall has fallen silent.

I want everyone to hear what I have to say.

When he doesn’t answer, I laugh.

“Well, little princeling, I shall bow to you then.” And I stoop into a low, mocking curtsy. Still he won’t respond.

“You were so happy to be rid of me, weren’t you? It didn’t last long, but I’m sure the reprieve was nice while it lasted, wasn’t it, princeling?”

“I am king now.” He mutters in a low growl, finally speaking.

“What was that?” I ask, hand to my ear.

“I AM KING!” he shouts, and his echoing voice bounces around the large hall, causing the walls to seem as though they are and the verge of collapse.

“Oh. Well then, YOUR MAJESTY, I am so sorry I had to intrude on your most glorious party, but I have a curse to place upon your head, if you don’t mind.”

Suddenly, he stands up, walking do the steps of the dais with a certain anger in his step.

I am sure he means to scare me.

I am sure he thinks I will not be able to stand my ground for long.

Well then he is mistaken.

As always.

Finally he stops, right in front of me, and our faces are so close, I’m not sure I can breathe.

I can’t help but remember all the love I thought we had shared.

All the kind words.

All the kisses in the dark.

All the unwilling blushes he always said came from when I made him feel nervous.

All the lies that came with a knife in my gut.

“Give me your worst.” He whispers in my ear, a gentle tone that makes even those words sound like a kind complement.

They might as well be.

“I will.” I say, my voice just as his was, and then I lean in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

I hope he feels something.

Guilt.

Shame.

Anger.

Then I step away and turn to the crowd.

“Because your king acts as though he has no heart at all, so he shall loose it, but by bit, until he is a shell, empty of any feeling but hate, until he turns to his grave.”

Then I turn back to him.

“Only when he can convince me he still loves me will he get back what was taken.”

Then I place my hand on his heart, turning it to ash, and even though he should feel no different than he did before, horror fills his face.

I love it.

“May your country prosper, my KING.” I yell over the loud shouts of terror coming from his subjects.

I turn to walk away when he grabs my shoulder.

“You don’t know what you’ve done, Leah.”

His voice is shaky and filled with an awful hate.

“You’re no different than you were when you tried to kill me. So, earn my trust again. Earn my LOVE. Try at least. I doubt you will.”

Then I pull from his grasp, and leave him behind.