The Wicked Witch's Prince

by Aron Lewes

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Eighteen

  Author's Notes

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Eighteen

  Author's Notes

  THE WICKED WITCH'S

  PRINCE

  Aron Lewes

  Copyright © 2018 Aron Lewes

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author.

  “Oi! Sweetheart! What's your name?” The filthy prisoner crawled across a sticky, urine-stained floor to get a better look at the dark-haired beauty in the neighboring cell. “Do you have a name, love?” He pressed his mucky cheeks against the cold, iron bars of his cell and stuck out his tongue.

  A smoky voice answered, “Donnabella.”

  “Donnabella? That's an odd name. Why'd your mum give you a name like Donnabella?” When the beauty didn't answer, the prisoner sat back and said, “I'm Adam, by the way.”

  “Adam?” Donnabella purred the name. “Well, Adam... I would say it's lovely to meet you, but I have an aversion to lies.”

  Donnabella stayed in the dungeon for over an hour, merely to satisfy her curiosity. She could have freed herself at any time, but she wanted to experience captivity, if only for a moment. Ever since Adam woke up, the experience was considerably more painful.

  “That's not very nice, izzit?” Adam sulked. “Well, you're still lovely... even if you are a bit of a bitch.”

  Donnabella pulled back the hem of her dress, revealing crusty, yellow toenails. Her lips sank into a frown as she studied them. The Green Witch Oleanda had cursed her with ugly toenails, and there was nothing Donnabella could do about it. Despite many attempts, she couldn't remove the curse. Donnabella was self-conscious about them, so she usually kept them painted. Unfortunately, she forgot to paint them before Cinderella's wedding, and with no access to nail varnish, she had to suffer with them.

  “My god, love, you've got some ugly feet!” Adam bellowed. “How's a lovely girl like you end up with some awful feet like that?”

  Donnabella covered her toes and scowled in Adam's direction.

  “That's alright, though. I still think you're a stunner,” Adam continued. “Your hair's a bit of a mess, but I can see the beauty beneath it.”

  Donnabella had no interest in engaging him in conversation, so she turned away and pinched her nose. The dungeon's constant stench would inspire her to break out sooner than later.

  “I'm getting out soon, you know,” Adam continued, scratching his ratty beard. “When I do, you and I should meet up. I could show you a good time, love. I'd like to hold you in me arms and whisper sweet nothingnesses into your wee, little ears. I bet you've got some nice, thick thighs under that dress of yours.”

  Donnabella's nose wrinkled as she studied the vulgar man in the neighboring cell. His squawking—as well as the dungeon's odor—were testing her patience. “I just need to get out of here...” she whispered to herself.

  “Wot? Didja say sumfin?” Adam asked. “You'll have to speak up, love. I'm almost deaf in one ear, you know.”

  Donnabella coldly replied, “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Aww. Well, that's not nice at all! I could be your friend, sweetheart. You gotta give me a chance!” When his gaze dropped to Donnabella's bosom, his tongue shot out again, moistening his cracked, dry lips. “Maybe you'd like me better if you saw my bum? I've been told I have a nice bum.”

  “I have no interest in your... bum.” Donnabella could barely bring herself to utter the word.

  “Are you sure? I'm told it's round and supple.” Adam hopped to his feet and fumbled with his breeches. “Would you like to see it?”

  “No,” Donnabella croaked. “And if you lower your breeches, I will end you.”

  Ignoring her threat, Adam pushed down his trousers and pressed his bottom against the bars. “Look, love!” he called to her. “Do you see what I mean? It's a perfect bum, really. I've had loads of people tell me it's the best--”

  Before he could finish, Donnabella lifted him off his feet with a flick of her finger. His breeches crawled back up his legs, covering his rear end. When he was fully clothed, she wagged her hand, making him spin in midair.

  “What's going on?” Adam squeaked as he helplessly twirled. His flailing limbs and panicked squeals brought a wicked grin to the witch's lips. “Are you doing this? What are you--”

  With a snap of her fingers, she slammed Adam's body against the cell's stone walls, knocking him unconscious. A few of her fellow prisoners cheered when he was silenced.

  “And with that, I'm officially done with dungeons,” declared Donnabella, who bent the iron bars with a wave of her arm. The contorting bars creaked as she casually stepped through them.

  As Donnabella headed toward the dungeon's spiral staircase, two foolish guards tried to stop her. She sent one flying upward. His body smashed the ceiling so hard, he left a dent in the stone. The second guard sailed into an empty cell. When he was inside, she slammed the door behind him.

  There was one more guard near the spiral staircase, but he gave her no trouble. He kept his head down, held his breath, and prayed she would pass without noticing him.

  He had no such luck.

  “Aww... are you going to let me walk out?” Donnabella paused to pat the young guard's cheek. “That's very sweet of you. Sweet... and wise. It's been awhile since I've met anyone with as much sense as you. If I didn't have Fenix, I might have made you my lover.”

  The young guard blushed, but he didn't say a word.

  “Do you have my slippers?” Donnabella asked the question as politely as she could. “When I was sent down to the dungeon, the guards removed my shoes. Do you know where they are?”

  “Uh... uh uh uh uh uh...” The blanching young man failed to stutter a sensible reply.

  “Oh well. I guess it doesn't matter. The bottoms of my feet are already dirty.” She gave the boy's cheek another soft pat. “And you needn't soil your drawers, young man. You have nothing to fear. I only hurt people who try to hurt me. Well... most of the time. There are a few exceptions, of course.”

  Donnabella lifted the hem of her dress and lightly pattered up the spiral staircase. When she reached the top, she dragged a hand through her stringy black hair, narrowed her eyes, and headed toward Prince Sharman's bedroom.

  “Stupid prince,” she hissed. “I dealt with his dragon... and he repays me how? By putting me in a dungeon? Ha! He'll suffer for that.”

  It was nearly midnight, and the Winter Palace's hallways were emptier than usual. On the way to Sharman's bedchamber, Donnabella passed a lone maid. She didn't want the young woman to be suspicious, so she flashed a false smile at the chamber pot carrying cleaner.

  Donnabella paused in front of the prince's door. She needed a moment to plan the perfect punishment. Only something truly dreadful would be appropriate for such a pompous prince. When she was ready, her magic unlocked the door, and she slipped inside with a sinister chuckle.

  There were seven windows in Sharman's room, but the sliver of mo
on provided poor lighting. Donnabella could barely see the slumbering prince, so she snapped her fingers and made a floating sconce appear. The fiery sconce followed her across the room as she tiptoed to Sharman's bed. As she leaned over him, she whispered, “Hmm... such a waste of a handsome face.”

  Her gaze wandered to Sharman's nightstand, where Cinderella's glass slipper was lovingly on display. The prince had carefully arranged a half-dozen roses around the treasured slipper. “Hilarious...” Donnabella whispered to herself. “His attachment to those shoes is absolutely hilarious. What a fool.”

  As Donnabella glared at Cinderella's glass shoe, the slipper started to vibrate across Prince Sharman's nightstand. When the slipper accidentally burst, the sound of shattering glass was loud enough to wake the slumbering prince, who sat up in bed with a startled gasp.

  “Whaaa--?” The prince's vision was blurry, so he took a moment to rub the grogginess from his eyes. As soon as he saw Donnabella, he gasped again. “You? What are you doing in my room, vile woman?”

  “Visiting.” Donnabella crossed her arms and displayed her most devious grin.

  “Did I not send you to the dungeon?” he shrieked.

  “You did.” Donnabella's grin broadened as she studied the prince's panicked face. “I got out. Obviously.”

  “How?” When his eyes spotted shattered fragments of Cinderella's shiny slipper, he gasped yet again. “Did you destroy my slipper?”

  “Indeed. It was an accident, though,” Donnabella answered with a yawn. “I'm terribly sorry. Truly.”

  “But I adored that slipper! How dare you!” Sharman whined. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the looking glass, he momentarily ceased his tirade to fix his hair. As soon as perfection was attained, he started again, “How dare you! You can't just break yourself out of prison, sneak into my room, and destroy my priceless possessions! Despite my hatred of witches, I was going to be lenient with you... but now that you've shown your true colors, I might put you in my dungeon for life!”

  “You're certainly welcome to try, Your Highness,” Donnabella calmly replied. “I'll just break myself out again, of course... if you could even detain me, that is.”

  “Guards!” Sharman squawked as he scrambled from bed. “Guards! Where are my guards? Where are they--”

  “Quiet!” Donnabella demanded, snapping her fingers. The next time Sharman tried to speak, his voice was much tinier and several octaves higher.

  “Guards!” Sharman squeaked. Upon hearing his altered voice, he clapped a hand over his mouth and whimpered, “Oh my god, I sound like a child! What did you do to me?”

  “Worry not, Your Highness. It won't last forever. I just needed to quiet you down.” When she saw him reaching for the doorknob, she clicked her tongue and wiggled her fingers. “Nuh uh uh. You're not going anywhere.”

  Sharman flew across the room and landed in his bed. “Witch!” he squeaked. “If you don't want to lose your head, take your nefarious magic elsewhere!”

  Donnabella chuckled at his threat. “Oh, Sharman... you have no idea what I'm planning, do you?”

  “Are you going to hurt me?” his tiny voice whimpered.

  “No. I'm not. My punishment will cause no pain,” Donnabella assured him. “Well... no physical pain, that is. Your ego might suffer a bit, but it won't hurt.”

  Before he could ask any questions, the witch's fingers wiggled again.

  As his body shrank, Sharman cried, “Wait... is the room getting bigger or am I getting smaller? Wait... stop! What are you doing to meeeee? You dreadful woman, I... ribbit.”

  When all he could do was croak, Donnabella snickered into the palm of her hand. “This form suits you, Your Highness!” the witch exclaimed. “It does! It really does!”

  When Donnabella tried to grab him, he leapt through her fingers and landed on his belly.

  “Now, now...” Donnabella lectured him with a click of her tongue. “Be a good boy and let me pick you up, alright? You don't want anyone to see you like this... do you?”

  Sharman stopped moving and accepted his fate. As Donnabella's fingers curled around his slimy body, she said, “Maybe I'll make a little crown for you. Would you like that?”

  Sharman responded with an anguished croak.

  “I'll take that as a yes,” Donnabella said. “Now... let's go for a walk, shall we? It's far too early for bed, Your Highness.”

  A mad grin pulled back the witch's lips as she slipped the frog prince into the pocket of her dress.

  It was after midnight, but Cinderella couldn't sleep, nor could her tired eyes focus on the words in her book. She hoped a bit of reading would calm her racing thoughts, but after the day's events, it was impossible to rest. Her stepmother and stepsister reentered her life. Her wedding was interrupted. The Winter Palace was attacked by a dragon. It was too much excitement for one day, and her pulse still raced at the thought of it.

  Despite her many yawns, Cinda wasn't tired enough to attempt sleep. However, her insomnia was fortuitous. Had she been sleeping, she might not have heard the paws lightly scraping her door.

  With a furrowed brow, she closed her book and crossed the room. Peering into the hallway, she saw a beautiful brown wolf—and two young maids foolishly cooing over him.

  “Oh, Martella... look at the doggy!” the chubbier maid squealed as she dropped to her knees in front of the wolf. “How did you get into the castle, doggy?”

  “He is very handsome!” the red-haired maid exclaimed as she stroked the wolf's sleek coat. “What breed is he, Laura? Do you have any idea?”

  Laura shook her head and simpered. “I don't know, but he's adorable! Look at his pretty blue eyes!”

  “And his curly white tail!” Martella added.

  “He's so soft, too!” When Laura proceeded to scratch the wolf's head, he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he closed his eyes and leaned toward her massaging fingers.

  “Perhaps Cinderella knows what breed he is?” Martella suggested as she turned toward the prince's fiance. “Have you ever seen a dog like this before?”

  Cinda pursed her lips, suppressing a snicker. The daft maids challenged her ability to hold back giggles. “That... isn't a dog,” she calmly informed them. “That's actually a wolf.”

  “A wolf?” Laura shrieked, hopping to her feet.

  “Why is there a wolf in the castle?” Martella gasped.

  Laura was already dashing down the hallway. Over her shoulder, she cried, “I don't know, but you should run!”

  “B-b-b-but... what if Cinderella gets eaten by the wolf?” Martella asked as she chased after her friend. “His Highness won't be very happy with us if his fiance is snacked on!”

  “Do you really think I care?” Laura squawked. “Keep runnin'!”

  Cinderella's eyes rolled as she listened to the maids' receding voices. When they were gone, she opened her door and invited the familiar wolf into her bedchamber. “Hello, Fenix,” she greeted him. “I was wondering when I'd see you again. You and I need to talk.”

  “Indeed we do,” Fenix agreed as he shifted out of wolf form. When he was in his own skin again, he made sure he had all of his clothes. Losing his breeches during a shapeshift was rare, but it happened on occasion. He didn't want to appear half-naked in Cinderella's bedroom. “I haven't spoken to you since the ball.”

  “Right.” Cinda couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. “That's when I confessed my feelings and you ran away from me.”

  “I didn't want to run!” Fenix exclaimed. “Can we take a walk in the garden? Talking in your bedroom seems... improper.” His gaze timidly flicked to Cinderella's bed.

  “If you really think it's necessary, I suppose we can.” Cinda's tone was rife with disappointment. “Let's go.”

  Fenix's hands disappeared into his pockets as he followed her out. In a low voice, he started, “So... I, uh...”

  She interrupted before he could finish, “Why a wolf?” she asked. “Why shift into a wolf? If you were trying to sneak around the castle unn
oticed, wouldn't a fly or mouse be more sensible?”

  “It would,” Fenix agreed. “Even Bruno's form would attract less attention.”

  Cinda raised an eyebrow. “Bruno?”

  “Bruno is the guard I can shift into,” Fenix reminded her. “You saw him once.”

  “Ah... right.” Cinda's nose puckered as she remembered one of her least favorite versions of him. “It's strange to think you can turn into another man.”

  “Believe me, it's strange to me too.” When they reached the garden, Fenix sprinted ahead and opened the door for her. “And that's why I don't do it often.”

  “It's dark out here,” Cinda noted as she studied the spangled night sky. “It's a bit chilly as well.”

  Fenix immediately shrugged off his coat and tossed it on Cinda's shoulders. “Sorry. Perhaps it was silly to invite you out after midnight?”

  “No... it's nice.” Cinda had to restrain a smile as she slipped her arms through the sleeves of Fenix's coat. It was warm, soft, and it smelled a bit like him. “I like the sound of crickets.”

  “I... uh...” Fenix hesitated. His eyes scanned the rows of flowers as they strolled. In the semi-darkness, their colors were muted. “I'm really sorry about what happened at the ball.”

  Cinderella drifted a few paces ahead of him. She didn't want him to see the disappointment on her face. “Why did you run away from me?”

  “I didn't! I mean... I didn't want to!” Fenix whimpered. “It was Donnabella. She didn't want me dancing with you, so she sent me away!”

  “Really?”

  Cinda's response was tinged with doubt. Fenix was desperate to sweep away any uncertainty. “Yes! And her timing was terrible. You said something extremely important, and I never had a chance to reply!”

  Cinderella paused in front of the statue of Prince Sharman. Her fiance's ability to celebrate himself never ceased to amaze her. “I said... I had feelings for you,” she quietly reminded the man at her side.

  “I know! And I have feelings for you too!” Fenix declared. “I do! Very strong feelings, in fact.” As soon as Cinda's arms were uncrossed, he reached for her hand. “I like you a lot, Cinderella.”