For all the Stefan believers
It was ambition that warped the young boy we all know as Stefan. A tragedy only matched by those in history so long ago. Ambition fells all, eventually.
A light snow had settled on the ground. The air around me stilled, as if frozen with the water and leaves. Maleficent still lay there, quietly, blissfully unaware of the treachery that had befallen her. The treachery I had committed. My head sunk between my shoulders as I fought back persistent tears.
"What have I done…?"
A thump resonated from the carriage. A soft flutter and a rustle made only by the dismembered wings I now had in my possession. It was grotesque, vile, evil what I had done to the woman I once loved. Still love, I corrected myself. Yes, regardless of the reason I had come here, regardless of the promise of the crown and of power, I had still felt the tightness in my stomach and the flush of my cheeks when I saw her.
I recalled the first time I had met the stunning fairy. The first night we shared, the night we spent together just staring out at the glittering moors. The rift between man and magic had blended, it seemed, just for us. Our histories hadn't mattered. We had each other. I knew nothing of unconditional love, I knew of nothing other than hardship. Maleficent had shown me what love truly was. For the first time in my life, I had truly loved someone else. I knew then, when I fought my fear and constructed the courage to kiss her that I would never love another as I had loved her. It was true.
Looking at her now, asleep, and unaware of her mutilated self, I felt the poisonous agony of unrelenting guilt. I would never be able to forgive myself for what I had done, and for why I had done it. My thoughts parried and thrust at each other with heavy, spiked maces, each pummeling the other with a vigorous bloodlust. Was the love I once had with this beautiful, magnificent creature worth destroying, utterly, for the promised rule of a kingdom at war with hers? Was I truly such a monster to deny her an explanation, however meaningless it would be, as to why I did such a horrendous thing? Would she ever, ever, find it in her heart to forgive me?
No.
Nothing had ever been so unforgivable; a spell unable to be broken by anything in the world, not even the conjurer themselves.
I had stolen her life, her wings. I had stolen her heart, her love. I had severed the very thing that made her who she was. And for that, I was to be rewarded? Guilt had never been so excruciating.
Leave, Stefan. You don't deserve to look at her. My inner self scowled at me while toying with a golden crown, idly plucking at its bejewelled plates. Leave, and claim what you have lived and worked so hard for.
I swallowed my bitter guilt, and rose from my hiding place. I ripped my eyes away from the lethargic, blissful beauty that was Maleficent. I trudged to my carriage, the horse pawing at the snowy ground. In the back, I saw the mighty wings flutter beneath their prison of burlap and iron. They thumped weakly around before settling with a laboured shudder. I wiped the wetness from my cheeks with a sharp inhale of crisp, icy air. I steeled myself.
As I rode away, I heard a quiet whimper. A crescendo followed it; a blood-curdling shriek of terror and confusion, followed by a frightfully melancholic wail of agony.
Her screams would scar me far worse than the iron would scar her.
I did not turn around.
The entire way to the castle, I cried silently, alone once again in the world of magic and men.
As I trudged through the dank hallways of the castle, King Henry's servants flitted around annoyingly, chirping and harping about the king's medicine and care. They moved aside me with a wary eye, parting, hugging the grand stone corridors as I walked past with my ill-gotten prize. The wings in my arms weren't terribly heavy, though the weight I felt was unlike anything man had ever known.
With a steely expression contorting my face into a scowl of determination, I boldly strode through the king's chambers and to his bedside. His guards were quick to stop me, but I was too fast for them. I thrust the bundle of feathers upon Henry's bed, at his feet. He awoke with a start, staring confusedly at me, then at the burlap-covered wings. A smile crossed his weary face as he exclaimed how proud of me he was and how I should be greatly rewarded for my courage and bravery and determination.
You're king now. Happy?
Not even my snide sub-conscious could ruin this moment of thrill. Pride welled up inside me, quelling all of my previous qualms. "Thank you, your majesty."
That would be the last time I called the old man superior.
The crown was mine now, and for the moment, I was deliciously ecstatic.