Disclaimer: I don't own Aladdin. Or the concept of fairy tales.

Later, she will look back and wonder why she did it.

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There are things she loves about summer nights – the stars, the velvety darkness, the warm breeze. The way the sun slides out of sight, taking with it all the steamy, blinding, weary sweat of day. At night, the marble stone of the balcony rail is smooth and cool to her fingers. At night, she does not hear the faint murmur of sound from the busy city streets. At night, it is only the palace behind her and the sky before her, its stars spread like a glittering map.

Her soft jeweled slippers make no noise when she steps outside her bedroom, through a pair of double doors thrown wide open to welcome to peaceful silence. Turquoise silk hovers over the floor, wafting gently in the breeze. She leans her elbows against the flat rail and turns her face up to the sky. Tonight, the moon is bright and pale.

When he comes, it's a grand entrance, one that startles her enough to make her take two quick steps back. He sweeps out of the darkness like something from her dreams. His robes are creamy white and he rides on – she has to look twice before she believes it – carpet, one that boasts of red and purple hues beautiful enough to rival the sunset.

He holds his hand out to her. She raises his gaze to meet his. There is something about this – an open hand, offering her a chance to fly – that scares her. Scares her and makes her heart swell with the possible unknown.

She has never stepped outside her own world – staying only within the safe reach of her palace to look at the stars. Now; now maybe is her chance to reach them. Now is a chance she might not have again. All her life she has protected herself against unhappiness and danger and risk. There are so many things to be discovered, but there are so many things she is afraid to uncover.

The moon hovers over his left shoulder. She thinks – I don't want to stay on the ground forever – and when her hand meets his, she finds that his is warm. His grasp is firm. He pulls her up, up up up up and up, and she feels the wind stir her hair as her foot touches the carpet.

And the carpet – it flies.

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Later, she will smile a little, because she knows why she did it. Happy endings aren't a promise. They're a chance. A chance you take and one you fight for, because without unhappy endings, there would be no happy endings.

It takes heart to step up and discover what you don't know you'll find. It's the step that will launch you into the sky.

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(Don't you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand)