This is the thing about fairy tales: You have to live through them, before you get to the happily ever after. That ever after has to be earned, and not everyone makes it that far. There are stories where you must wear out your iron shoes to right a wrong, where children are baked into pies, where jealousy cuts off hands and cuts out hearts.
We forget, because the stories end with those ritual words - happily ever after - all the darkness, all the pain all the effort that comes before. People say they want a fairy tale life, but what they really want is the part that happens off the page, after the oven has been escape, after the clock strikes midnight. They want the part that doesn`t come with glass slippers still stained with a stepsister`s blood, or a lover blinded by an angry mother`s thorns.
If you live through a fairy tale, you don`t make it through unscatched or unchanged. Hands of silver may be beautiful, but they don`t replace the hands of flesh and bone that were severed. The hazel tree may speak with your mother`s voice, but her bones are still buried beneath its roots. The dead are not always returned, and the dead do not always bloom from graves.
Not every princess climbs out of her coffin.
Happily ever after is the dropping of the curtain, a signal for applause. It is not a guarantee, and it always has a price.