At the door, she paused to take one last look at Aurora. It hadn’t been so bad after all to have her around the glen. But it was a one-time thing. It could never happen again. Ever.
STEFAN LOOKED TERRIBLE. He’d been up all night, pacing in the room he rarely left anymore. The sun peeked out, marking the dawn of another day. If he hadn’t been so distracted, perhaps this time of day would have reminded him of the daughter who had been named after it.
“You mock me,” he murmured just as a servant entered the room behind him.
“Sire?” the servant questioned.
But Stefan did not turn, did not answer. He simply gazed ahead, not blinking.
The servant decided to go on with the news he’d been trusted with. “Majesty, your presence is requested by the queen.”
“Leave me,” Stefan said simply, acknowledging the servant’s presence at last.
“Sire,” the servant pleaded. “She is not well. The nurses are fearful that—”
“Leave me!” Stefan shouted. “Can you not see that I’m having a conversation?”
The servant stared at him, mystified. There was nobody else in the room. Clearly the king had come unhinged. The servant left, closing the door behind him, deciding to come back when the king was better rested. He only hoped it would not be too late. The queen had hours left at best. No one knew what disease plagued her, but most suspected she was dying of a broken heart.
Stefan had not even noticed that his wife was dying, just as he didn’t notice that the servant had taken leave of him now. He started to walk straight ahead, still not blinking. “Intended to represent my triumph, my strength. And yet, day after day, year after year, you exist only to mock me. To remind me…It is not without purpose. Is it?”
He stared at the objects tormenting him: gigantic raven-black wings hanging in a glass case. Maleficent’s wings. Shafts of morning light shone around them eerily.
Stefan moved up to the case, peering in. Then, resting his head on the glass, he whispered, “Is it?”
Suddenly, the wings flapped. Stefan jumped back, startled and alarmed. The wings were motionless once more. He took in a deep breath, unsuccessfully trying to calm his nerves.
“I spare her life and this is my reward? A curse upon my child? Upon my kingdom? Upon me?”
The wings flapped again, more powerfully this time.
Stefan continued his monologue. “When the curse fails, Maleficent will come for me. This I feel. This I know. As sure as the sun rises.” He pointed an angry finger at the wings. “And on that day, I shall not be as benevolent. I will slay her as I should have done then. And I shall burn her carcass to ash!”
He paused, trying to catch his breath. He thought of the victory, of sweet vengeance. “And then…you will be once again a trophy. Nothing more.”
The wings flapped angrily now, but Stefan just stared at them. Then, slowly, his face broke into a wide smile.
Maleficent’s well-intended plans to keep Aurora away from the Moors quickly went awry. No sooner had she concluded that Aurora would never visit the Moors again than the beautiful princess found her way back to the Wall. And before Maleficent knew what she was doing, every night she was putting Aurora to sleep and bringing her into the faerie world.
In no time, Aurora had made herself at home amid the woods. And still worse, before Maleficent knew it, she was actually enjoying having the princess around.
There was something invigorating in the way the princess moved about the Moors in the star-filled nights. Whether she was hopping over a stream or wading through tall cattails, she was always reaching out, connecting herself to the world around her. And it wasn’t just the flora she loved. She loved all the woodland creatures, too, from the beautiful dew faeries to the silly-looking hedgehog faeries, with their oversized ears and spiky backs.
And they all loved her. Even the jealous water faeries, who were known to pull anyone they thought prettier into the water, admired Aurora’s beauty. They would let her play along the water’s edge, eager to show the princess the treasures of the streams. When they pulled out a shiny rock, Aurora would laugh in delight and praise them, causing the water faeries to blush with pride.
When they had no more stones to show Aurora, the water faeries would take to the top of the water, skating over its surface, leaving barely a ripple. Aurora would sit, entranced, as they put on a show for her, their long wings flowing out behind them. And when the show was over, they would dive under the water, leaving Aurora clapping on the shore.
The water faeries were not the only ones to vie for Aurora’s attention. The grouchy wallerbogs loved to engage her in mud fights, which she inevitably lost. And even covered in mud, she kept smiling, thrilled to be part of this magical world. When she stumbled upon the more fearsome faeries, like the ram trolls, with their hunched shoulders, dark bark-like skin, and sharp branches that grew out of their arms and back, she didn’t run but simply let them pass, aware that they too had a part in the way the Moors worked.
As the nights passed and Maleficent watched the princess, it became harder and harder to think of her as Stefan’s daughter. She was nothing like him. While he had never respected nature, only ever seeing what the Moors could give to him, Aurora loved everything about the faerie world. She seemed instinctively to know how to be a part of it, and Maleficent found herself growing fond of the girl. Together they would wander, Aurora eagerly listening as Maleficent pointed out various plants and trees. And Maleficent found herself happy to listen as Aurora babbled on about whatever silly antics her aunts had been up to on that particular day. With each night, the pair grew more and more comfortable with each other. And while Maleficent had a hard time admitting it to herself, when she put a sleeping Aurora to bed as dawn broke, she was sad to leave her.
In Aurora, Maleficent had found a kindred spirit. Someone whom she could teach and someone from whom she could learn. Aurora’s heart was wide open, eager to love, while Maleficent’s was still closed up tight. Yet seeing how free and happy Aurora was, Maleficent couldn’t help wondering if perhaps she had been doing herself a disservice all that time by being so cold. Even in the short time that Aurora had been a part of the Moors, Maleficent had felt a thawing toward her from the creatures who had ignored her before the girl’s arrival. Through Aurora, they began to see a softer side of Maleficent. And Maleficent couldn’t help enjoying being part of the bigger community once again.
But despite how much Maleficent liked having Aurora around, there was a heavy weight on her shoulders. She knew the visits would have to end. They have to end, she reminded herself on many occasions, because of my curse.
“Why can’t I ever come here during the day?” Aurora asked Maleficent one night as the pair wandered through Snow Faeries Meadow. All around them, the iridescent faeries, their wings imprinted with unique snowflake shapes, flitted over the pond in the center of the meadow or played around a big old tree that dominated the shore. From where Aurora and Maleficent stood, the snow faeries looked like hundreds of bright lights that illuminated the tree and made it glow.
Maleficent looked down at the girl, unsure of what to say. She couldn’t tell her the truth: that if her “aunts” discovered where she was and with whom she was spending her time, they would be very, very upset. Nor could she tell her the reason they would be so upset: that Maleficent was not what she seemed. So instead, she simply said, “It is the only time the Wall is open to you.”
Before the girl could ask any more questions, Maleficent strode on, forcing Aurora to run to keep up. But through the rest of that night and into the next few days, Aurora’s question tugged at Maleficent. She wanted to see Aurora playing in the Moors during the day. If she was being honest, she wanted to see Aurora all the time and, preferably, for many years. But for that to happen, she would have to do something about the curse.…
One night, weeks after Aurora’s fir
st trip to the Moors and only a few weeks before her sixteenth birthday, Maleficent lay Aurora down in her bed. And as she had done every night for many nights, she pulled the covers up gently and whispered, “Good night, beastie.” But on this particular evening, as the moon began to sink into the horizon and the sun began to rise, she softly added, “I retract my curse. Let it be no more.”
As the words left her mouth, the room filled with magic. The air crackled and shimmered and a gentle wind rustled. But the magic didn’t touch Aurora. Narrowing her eyes, Maleficent stepped closer and repeated the words, this time more forcefully. “I retract my curse. Let it be no more.”
Once again, magic filled the air and the room shimmered. But once again, the magic flowed around Aurora, leaving her untouched.
Feeling dread begin to build in the pit of her stomach, Maleficent spoke the words again, with still more passion. And then she repeated them. Again, and again, and again she spoke, mustering all her strength and willing all her magic to break the curse. The room began to shake as the massive amount of magic collected in the small space, but Maleficent went on, oblivious. All she could see was Aurora, sleeping the way she would forever if the curse could not be broken. Letting out one last cry, she threw her staff in the air and sent a huge burst of magic raining down over the room.
But it still didn’t touch Aurora.
Lowering her staff, Maleficent slowly left the room, her heart aching. She had done everything she could. Yet the curse, the one she had so foolishly called a gift, could not be undone. Which meant, one way or another, in a few short weeks, Aurora would prick her finger on a spinning wheel and never wake up.
FILLED WITH REGRET, MALEFICENT SPENT THE NEXT DAY SITTING LISTLESSLY BY THE WALL. The thought of seeing Aurora’s innocent face that evening was heart-wrenching. She felt this new, intense need to protect the girl from the ugliness of the world, but ironically, she was part of it. For she was the one who had cursed her, and she was the one who had made it impossible for her to live a full life, on the Moors or with her family. And, Maleficent thought with a sad laugh, Aurora had been the one to remind her just how important family and friends were. Aurora’s birthday was swiftly approaching, and Maleficent felt more hopeless, more powerless with every day that passed.
By the time Aurora arrived that night, Maleficent was overtaken by feelings she had thought she had left behind. But never one to show her pain or fear, she simply remained quiet, the torment on her face the only indication of what was going on inside her head.
Unaware of what her faerie godmother was going through, Aurora prattled on about the cake she had made that day. She had had to go far to find the berries, but it had been worth it, she said, as the aunts were very fond of sweets. Distracted by a faerie fluttering between trees, its green body mimicking the leaves, Aurora interrupted herself, asking, “Do all of the Fair People have wings?”
“Most do,” Maleficent replied shortly, not in the mood for conversation. It was hard enough just listening to Aurora’s singsong voice without breaking down, admitting that she had cursed her, and then begging for forgiveness.
But Aurora didn’t take the hint. “Then why don’t you?”
“It’s not anything I wish to talk about,” Maleficent said softly.
“I’m just curious because all the other faeries have wings and—”
It was too much for Maleficent. “Enough!” she snapped.
Aurora instantly became quiet and they walked on in silence. Glancing at the princess, Maleficent saw that her face had grown pale and her eyes were watery. Seeing the pain she had caused, Maleficent softened. “I had wings once,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, the pain sharp just from remembering them. “But they were stolen from me. And that’s all I’ll say about it.”
But she had given Aurora only a tidbit of information and the princess wanted more. “What color were they?” she asked, growing excited. “How big were they?”
Looking off into the distance, as though she could see them on the horizon, Maleficent smiled sadly. “So big they dragged behind me when I walked. And they were strong.” As she spoke of her long-lost wings, she felt an itch on her back where the scars remained. “They could carry me above the clouds and straight into headwinds. They never faltered. Not even once. I could trust them.”
As her words faded, Maleficent dared not look at Aurora. She had never said those words aloud. Never admitted to anyone just how much the wings had meant to her and how much it had hurt when Stefan took them away. They had reminded her of her mother, but they had also become the features that she linked to her own identity—her soaring, organic identity.
Suddenly, she felt long fingers intertwine with hers. Looking down, she saw that Aurora had put her delicate hand in hers and was squeezing tight. Meeting her gaze, Maleficent saw the pain she felt reflected in Aurora’s eyes. It overwhelmed her. Slowly, she pulled her hand free. She had already lost so much she loved. And now it was only a matter of time before Aurora, too, was taken away.
Maleficent’s wings were carrying him, higher and higher into a sky the color of soot. He struggled against them, kicking wildly. Soon he saw their target. The Thorn Wall gleamed in the moonlight below him, the boulder-sized thorns pointed up. The wings were taking him right above it. Even if he survived the fall, he would never survive the impalement he was sure to experience. Just as he felt the wings let go, Stefan woke up, gasping, in his chamber.
Another nightmare. Would those wings never cease haunting him, even in sleep? Quickly, he got dressed and headed to the battlements. He needed to be active, to see the progress his men were making.
But as Stefan approached the scene, he was sorely disappointed. Nothing was being done. There were no workers in sight besides the overseer of the ironworkers, who was snoring loudly in the corner. Stefan grabbed a bucket of water and threw it at the sleeping man. The overseer bolted up, shocked and disheveled.
“Where are your men?” Stefan asked.
“In their beds, Majesty,” the overseer responded, shivering.
“Get them back to work without delay.”
The man hesitated, unsure how to refuse the king. “They’re exhausted, sire. But I’ll have them back to work at first light.”
“I need them back to work now,” Stefan insisted.
The overseer wasn’t sure what the king meant. Work now? “It’s the wee hours,” he started.
“Aye, aye,” the king agreed. “It is the wee hours. So wake them up.”
“Sire?”
His patience exhausted, Stefan slammed the man against the wall. “So wake them up and get them back to work now! We’re running out of time. Go now!”
For the next few days, Maleficent walked around in a conflicted daze. She barely spoke, didn’t eat, and didn’t even bother tricking the pixies or turning Diaval into various animals. Even being in her grove or running her hands over the velvety cattails gave her little comfort. More and more often she found herself making her way to the shores of the Dark Pond. On the edge of the Moors farthest from the Wall, the pond was home to the darker creatures of the faerie world. It was there the ram trolls resided alongside hog trolls with their furry hog-wart mounts. The pond itself was dark, too. No wallerbogs cleaned its waters, and the stone faeries dared not go close. It was a lonely place. A place for the dark-hearted. It is where I deserve to be, Maleficent told herself every time she arrived. For only someone with a heart as dark as mine could do something so evil to a girl with a heart as light as Aurora’s.
Aware of his mistress’s dark thoughts, Diaval often accompanied her to the Dark Pond, where he would sit silently with her until she was ready to leave. But one afternoon, several days after Aurora had taken Maleficent’s hand in hers, Diaval was not there when Maleficent left the grove. Discovering her gone, he quickly flew to the Dark Pond and, upon arriving, landed on her shoulder. He began to rub his fea
thered head against her as though comforting her. But Maleficent was not in the mood. “Stop!” she ordered.
He began to rub harder. With an angry wave of her hand, she transformed him into a man. When he was up on two feet, he looked at Maleficent, his expression worried. “Mistress,” he said, “you’re miserable.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she replied.
“No, you’re miserable,” Diaval repeated.
“I’m going to make you miserable if you don’t stop saying that.”
Diaval shook his head. There was no getting through to her with words. But maybe…? He slowly reached out a hand and touched her shoulder, hoping to comfort the upset faerie. It didn’t work. She turned her icy glare on him and shook his hand off. As Maleficent turned and began to walk away, she silently fumed. What right did Diaval have to try to comfort her? Who did he think he was? He was why she was in this mess in the first place. If he hadn’t been so bent on making sure Aurora was all right in that little cottage with those obnoxious faeries, she never would have seen the child. Never would have watched her grow up. Never would have grown fond of her. Never would have had to tell her something that was going to break the girl’s heart. But that was what she had to do. Maleficent knew that now. It was what had been eating away at her since she’d last seen Aurora. She had to tell her the truth about the world. And it wasn’t going to be easy. Letting out a groan, she stalked to the Wall to wait for night, when the stars and the truth would all come out.
A light snow had fallen during the day so that now, as Maleficent and Aurora walked across the Moors and made their way to one of their favorite spots, the Snow Faerie Meadow, their footsteps were muffled by the soft powder. In the cold they could see their breath coming out in little clouds. The landscape was beautiful, the hills covered in white and the stars twinkling in the sky above.
If only I didn’t have to ruin the beauty with darkness, Maleficent thought. Straightening her shoulders, she shook off the thought. It was now or never.
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