I Dream of Disney (One-shots)

33 - Once Upon a Dream [Male!Reader x Aurora] Part I

Part I - Winter

[Request fulfilled for paultiteuf360. This is a specialised request where the reader is a child reader and is male. It's supposed to be a cute, fluffy series. Hope you enjoy it, paultiteuf360. ]

The winter had always been a time of hardship for (Y/n). The season always proved to be trifling and its misfortune was reflected back in the embittered faces of the farmers and shopkeepers, whose profits had dwindled and departed as swiftly as the autumnal leaves were stripped of the trees, leaving their pockets as barren as the skeletal forms of the forest. Icy zephyrs made the temperature frigid and disagreeable, frost becoming sprinkled over the fields of dust as if a thief had pinched the warmth of the soil and left only the fruits of wintertide. 

It wasn't that (Y/n) didn't admire its beauty - he would oftentimes gaze at the frosty splendour blanketed across the land - quite the contrary. Being a poor orphaned boy, the beauty of Nature was the only consolidation for a life on the streets. Winter was a solace for the boy's poor heart - the snow made everything lighter, softening the harsh reality of summer, with its boarish heat, or autumn's dusty embrace. Springtime, likewise, was just a reminder that all things would wither and fade. But not winter. Winter was honest and curt, something that the boy respected. 

There were shelters in the kingdom that catered to small children, the elderly and even the sickly, but (Y/n) had decided to go at it alone for years now. For years, he had scavenged in the wild lands until he was so emaciated that his ribs stuck sharply out of his skin and his fingers and toes had turned blue-black from frostbite. He had rashes from incidents with poisonous plants and biting piskies. He had then made friends with a Scottish man and his family, the Cairds. His youngest was a boy and a girl, around the same age as (Y/n), whose names were Achaius and Cadha, who were fair-haired twins. The two of the boys were thicker than thieves and, for a broad while, they were: a two-man rise in crime that shocked the kingdom with the disappearance of candelabras, expensive watches, spices, silks and cottons, and even a glass monocle from a visiting Duke of Frasier. The boys traded with the passing merchants, but soon thirsted for grander ventures. The only answer was the palace itself.

The security had been lessened greatly since the death of King Stephan, Maleficent lived mostly in the Moores so there was hardly any need for her protection. Her charge, a girl, was the only one of royal blood to live in the castle. (Y/n) didn't even know the girl's name - it could have been something like Audrey or Aileen - but what he did know was that there was a platinum crown with the girl's name on it. Achaius had decided to be the pickpocket and (Y/n) was left to be the lookout. He had stood at the girl's door, leaning casually on the wall while pretending to polish a silver candelabra (one he was planning on shoving down his pants and making a good getaway with), when he heard the passing trumpet of an old maid as she scrambled down the hallway. (Y/n) had stiffened, hissing at himself through clenched teeth, and prayed madly to whatever was listening to him that he would get out of this alive.

And that's just what he got. An angel.

A girl that looked every bit of beautiful that the world had to offer. The softness of winter snow was present in her pale skin, while an ice-blue twinkle sparkled in her eyes like frosty landscapes of a dream. There was summer's golden sunshine in every tousled curl-and-wave of her hair, which shamed gold as her locks were more precious, more radiant, than anything promised. Her cheeks were pink, flushed from the cold winter air, and her lips looked swollen, but sculpted to a cherubic Cupid's bow. She was petite, no bigger than a ballerina. (Y/n) had thought that Achaius' twin sister, Cadha, had been pretty with her dirty blond hair, tanned skin and chestnut eyes. This girl, the one he knew instinctively to be the princess, was beyond what words could call her - he'd start with beautiful, (Y/n) thought, and then he'd call her sparkling - because there wasn't just a beauty to the girl - the angel - there was a sort of pulsating radiance.