He pricked his finger on the needle without reservation and waited. The fairy flitted past his head, before looking over him oddly. “You aren’t a princess to be cursed.”
“Do I have to be a princess?” he asked wearily.
“It’s sort of tradition.”
He narrowed his eyes. There was difficulty to be had in focusing on the little creature, darting around in front of him with a glowing and pale green light. If there was a physical form there, he couldn’t see it. But he wasn’t sure if that was the same for everyone or if it was just him. He blinked, every moment his eyelids struggling.
“A princess is cursed to sleep for a hundred years.”
“I know,” he replied. “But I haven’t been able to sleep, real restful sleep, for a month. I’ll take a curse, if it will work.”
For a moment, the fairy hovered in one spot. “You want to sleep for a hundred years?”
“I want to sleep. Eight hours… one hundred years… whatever.”
The fairy bobbed up and down. “Oh.”
He turned his attention from the fairy to the needle again. “Can I try again?”
So he reached out to prick another finger.