Awake

by aziuka

Aurora touches the spindle, but instead of falling asleep, a whole new world opens up to her. Or is it entirely new...?

It is jet black, delicate, shiny, and irresistible. It is calling out to me, a name that I have known only since today, but one that feels familiar nevertheless.

„Aurora."

I touch the spindle. A tiny, almost innocent sting of pain, then darkness engulfs me.

My parents, their faces gentle and sad as they bow down to look in the cradle to see me for the last time. A drop of tear on my mother's eyelashes, on the verge of falling down. A crease on my father's brow, showing his age more than his thick black beard. I can barely remember their voices, the warm softness of my mother's arms, the shimmer of the gems on my father's crown, almost as bright as his eyes. They send me away, far from the court, far from my rightful place as their only child, far from the chance of growing up to be one with my intended legacy. They send me away for sixteen years, for what feels like a lifetime – because, for me, it is a lifetime – only to return when someone else can take care of me, someone smart and strong, someone who will protect me, who will rule my kingdom, a man who I'm betrothed to but who I have seen but once, as a child.

They know what is good for me.

Wait. No. Something is wrong. What is happening? I used to live here, in this place, I used to be with them, I used to be called by a different name, a name that I have long since forgotten, so long that I'm afraid to hear it again. Something dark moves at the edge of my vision, and I turn around but before I could catch sight of it, it dissolves like a wisp of fog, as if it has never even been there.

The thick, dimly lit walls of the woodland cottage. Aunt Flora, scolding me for some slight mischief that I have done, telling me that such a beautiful and sweet little girl must not disobey her caretakers; all the while struggling to keep a stern face. Aunt Merryweather, bickering with her whether or not I should be denied dessert after dinner, then giving up with an exasperated huff and asking me to be good next time. Aunt Fauna, slipping me an oatmeal cookie later, in secret. But there is one thing that's beyond quarrel, one thing that they always agree on: I must never ask. Never ask about who I am, who they are, where do I come from. Never ask about the castle that I have seen from the edge of the wilderness, about the curious wooden sticks that I have found in a chest in the attic, about the odd glimpses of fear and worry that my aunts exchange when they think that I'm not looking. Never ask why I'm alone when each little bird of the forest, even the smallest of them, seems to have a someone, a bond that I watch with wonder and a hint of envy; about my dreams that showed me someone else, a man whose face I don't remember but who I long to know even when I'm awake: a queer, restless feeling. All I have to do is smile and laugh and sing; be friendly, be gentle, be beautiful, and never, ever ask about what lies past our cozy little cottage, our cozy little life.

Something is wrong. I try to remember it, a word that's tethering on the edge of my consciousness, a word that's avoiding me like a frightened animal – or is it me who's avoiding it? A wall of mist towers over me, a swirling mass of unknown, and I hesitate to step into it, filled with dread of what I would find there, but something is calling out to me, a voice that may only be in my head, nearly drowned out by the frantic beating of my heart.

And I obey. I obey because that is what nice little girls do to satisfy their kind and caring old aunts' wishes. I obey because I am used to being kept in the dark, and it gives me comfort of some sort. Day after day, I grow to be content with what I have, even if from time to time I feel a tiny, unforeseen and unwanted pang of unease or maybe even despair in my heart, like the sting of a needle. But I must not think about that. I must not think. I don't need to struggle to be more than what I am. I never need to be anything but the subject of a curse, a prophecy of evil that one day will be my undoing, a death sentence that I don't even know of. And Aunt Flora, Aunt Fauna and Aunt Merryweather are aware of this. They are aware of it and they smile and pat me on the arm and tell me to comb my hair and go pick some flowers for the table.

They know what is good for me.

It's wrong. It's all wrong. I can feel it more clearly now, and I try to follow that small voice in my head that tells me to fly, to escape from here, whatever it may be, to reach a place where I can finally remember that long-lost word, a word that I am afraid to know but long to hear nevertheless. I start running in the thickening fog, tripping on unseen roots and rocks, stepping in trenches, stretching out my arms for support and finding only a wall of thorns that wound my palms, drawing blood as I struggle not to fall down. The woods are murky and unwelcoming, full of shadows that take on familiar forms, an owl, a hare, an elderly peasant woman with a gentle face and a puffy gown, a squirrel, a beautiful, pale lady in royal clothes, a woman in pink and a woman in blue, a pair of small birds, a tall man with a long black beard, all struggling to reach me, begging me to stay, and I shouldn't be afraid of them but I'm overwhelmed by terror that they catch me and keep me there forever —

And then he is here.

The one from my dream.

The huntsman.

Sunlight is pouring through the lush foliage of the forest as he takes my hand and invites me to dance on the small clearing. He smiles at me and sings a familiar melody as we move together, turning round and round, spinning around each other until I feel dizzy, like someone roaming around in a dreamscape. He puts his arm around my shoulder, and I lean against him, closing my eyes, as if barring out the world could stifle the loud thumping of my heart. He stays silent, maybe not wanting to break this peculiar enchantment, and in that moment I suddenly realize that I have been wanting to go away, I have been wanting to leave this place for a long time. And somehow, in a way that I'm yet to fully understand, he will be the one who takes me away, who will be at my side, showing me the world, answering all the questions that have been buzzing in my head. After all, his arms are strong, his face is handsome and his words are gentle. And I never ask about what lies beyond.

He knows what is good for me.

I'm starting to panic as he holds my hand as firm as a vise and won't let it go. He asks for my name but I can't remember it, no matter how hard I try. His fingers press into my palm, hurting like talons, and as I look at them again, they aren't fingers anymore: they are black, curved spikes, and in his place stands a tall, looming bush, one of many. I can see them now, towering over me, a veritable cathedral of intertwined, twisting branches of briar with thorns as long and sharp as swords, a plethora of instruments of torture and death that I have never seen but that feel more real than the entirety of my dreamlike life. I tear away, feeling their tug as they rip my cape, and I stumble onwards, once again gripped by vague fear, once again pulled by some unknown power that forces me to go forward even if there is no road anymore, only shady wilderness. Then I hear the name, that name, and I stop.

Someone is standing in the fog, not far from me. Not a shadow but a real being. A dark, regal figure in billowing black robes, with horns on her head and a raven on her shoulder. She doesn't reach for me, only looks me in the eye and says my true name, the one that I tried to hold onto and push away at the same time.

„Aurora."

She turns around and beckons me to follow her. She steps amidst the gnarly roots, lightly and gracefully, as if nothing obstructed her path, and indeed, the branches and thorns seem to give her way, maybe out of fear, maybe out of reverence. I hesitate for a moment, but she's already beginning to disappear from my sight, her figure growing dimmer, and I know that this is my only way to escape, my only chance to get out of the shadows. I make the first step in her tread, and a flick of pain slashes through me. I struggle to keep up, but the branches that seemed to accommodate her close upon me hostilely, I have to push them out of the way to proceed. And the thicket grows denser and darker with every step; there is no path to be seen anywhere, just the ubiquitous, forbidding tapestry of briar, but I can't turn back anymore because of the thorns, thorns everywhere, tearing my clothes, stifling my panting, stabbing me in the arms, legs, slashing my face, piercing my chest as I try to breathe in vain, suffocating me in the tight blackness. I'm going to die here. I'm going to die.

Then, finally, light.

I blink. Am I still alive?

The cold stonemasonry of the castle walls looms dimly in the greenish light. Maleficent is standing before me, proud and tall, her raven squatting on her shoulder. I gasp and recoil in shock, but she shows no sign of ill will towards me. Not in the moment, at least.

„I am sorry that I had to resort to such crude methods," she says in a casual tone, examining her long crimson fingernails. „I was thinking that a little nudge in the right direction would be necessary for you to take that proverbial first step."

I look at her numbly, searching for my voice. When I finally find it, it is thin, weak and crackling – far from that sweet melody that used to enchant the creatures of the forest.

„What… what was that? What have you done to me? What did I see?"

„You know very well what you saw," she says, her lips curving into a smirk. „You saw the truth. You saw what nobody has ever told you. Things that were deemed too dangerous for you to know."

„This… this was all your doing!" I shout at her, not in anguish or despair, but, as I realise with a tinge of surprise, in anger. A wild, deranged, unfamiliar feeling; not something that I am used to acknowledge, even less express. But Maleficent stays entirely calm, clearly amused by my pathetic rush of emotions.

„Oh, was it, really? It is no use to deny that the curse itself was my doing. But was it I who pushed you away out of fear, sentencing you to live in exile and ignorance? Was it I who was feeding you honeyed words of deceit, lying to you throughout your entire life? Was it I who conditioned you to be the quiet, obedient, meek little girl who never asks anything? Was it I who, after all this, ripped your heart out and forced you to go on a path that you would never have chosen for yourself?

„They did it for me!" I cry out, desperately wanting to cut her short, as I feel the tears coming into my eyes. „They did it all for my sake! They were only thinking about my safety… for my well-being…"

„But of course. Everyone wishes the sweet little princess well. Everyone knows better than the sweet little princess." She flashes me a smile, a cruel, knowing expression. „They know what is good for you, don't they?"

Her mocking tone tears into me like a knife, and in a flash of consciousness I realize that I am not angry with her. I am angry with everyone else in my life. With my parents – denying me of my true legacy, of a childhood spent with them. With my aunts – their lies, their deception, their belittling cooing. With Phillip – his shallow adoration, his patronizing smile, his impersonal embrace of attraction, mistaken for love. The sweetness hiding lies and darkness, the goodwill and caring hiding distrust and condescence – the sunlit forest hiding my gilded cage.

And most of all, I'm angry with myself for my blindness. I should have seen through the charade. I should have seen through them all.

My dreams have lied to me.

I feel weary and sick, and look for something to sit on but the room is devoid of any furniture. I take a deep breath, strengthening myself for the inevitable.

„And now that you have shown me all of this… What do you want with me now? Torture me a little more until you are finally bored with it, and end my life?"

„I have no such intent," Maleficent says calmly. „I was enraged by the insolence of your parents. I wanted revenge, and a fairy's thirst for revenge is not quenched easily. But I have never wanted you dead. At least not in the flesh."

She reaches up with a long, elegant hand and pets the raven on the head.

„I am here to offer you a choice."

„What choice?"

„It is quite simple, really. You now have not one but two paths laid ahead of you. If you choose the life that your… so-called caretakers intended for you, you simply open the door, descend the staircase, and arrive in your room as if nothing has happened. The curse is already broken; you can be with your prince forever, dreaming your little dream. Provided, of course, that you can play pretend for the remainder of your life."

She pauses, clearly gauging my reactions. I cannot pretend that the picture painted before me is desirable anymore. I can't go back to being the child I used to be. And yet they want me to do exactly that – to force myself to be someone I'm not, for the rest of my life. I feel a desperate urge to flee, to run from it all, it doesn't even matter where anymore.

„But if you accept my offer, you come with me, free from the restraints of your old life."

I look at her, eyes wide with surprise and uncertainty.

„Come with you? Why? Where?"

„To my realm, of course. You will live in my castle, among my kind, and learn what I know. Everything that I know. For I wish to make you my apprentice, Aurora."

Her words strike me as impossible, absurd, and I stand still, unable to move. They sound too hopeful to be true. I feel dizzy from the perspective suddenly opened in front of me. She must know that I'm desperate. She must be lying.

„I… I don't believe you! I cannot believe you. You have always wished me ill. Why would you help me now?"

„Don't you think that if I truly wanted you dead, I could have done it many years ago, when you were but a babe? Don't you think I could do it right now? That witless good fairy might have thought that she had softened the first blow, but that does not mean that I have no other methods to resort to."

She falls silent, gathering her thoughts; and as I raise my gaze to her face, she looks distant, almost resigned, as if she experienced a sort of melancholy.

„We fairies are a dwindling kind. We cannot keep up with the changing world. Our roots stem from the old realm of magic and myth, a world that doesn't exist anymore. We live in the past, as mere reminders of an era long gone. But you humans… you are made of a different matter. You can change. Adapt. You have powers stronger than you can dream of, powers that you can't even comprehend, let alone use if left to your own devices. But I can teach you how to use it – how to be more powerful than the greatest mortal that has ever lived."

She raises her head and looks me straight in the eye. „They will teach you how to be a princess; I will teach you how to be a queen."

„Why? Why did you choose me? I am – I am only a peasant girl," I say, unable to mask the bitterness in my voice.

„You still think so? You now know your true story. You can see through the lies that had been fed to you since your birth. You are a daughter of rulers: kings and warriors, dames and queens. You have been gifted by our kind, gifts that very few mortals have ever possessed. You have the potential to be more than you have ever thought you could be. And I give you a chance. If you are weak, then it was all for naught. But if you turn out to be worthy of my teachings, you will find that the prize is very much worth the risk. The power that you might wield will be dangerous – but it will be yours and yours alone."

I listen to her captivating, stern voice, and her words sound more and more tempting with every passing moment. Is this really happening? Can it be that she grants me a chance to turn my life around?

And is this really a chance that I want to take?

„Maybe you are right. But still… I can't do this. I do not want to be like you. I do not want to cause pain and suffering... not even to those who wronged me."

She raises her eyebrows and lets out a chuckle.

„You have been good, nice and kind-hearted for the entirety of your life. Now you see what all that amounts to. How can you judge what it is like to be evil until you experience it?"

I hesitate. She takes notice of it, I'm sure.

„How can I know that you're not lying to me?"

„You can't know. As much as you know about me, I can very well be lying. My world is not one of guarantees and safety measures and easy comforts. It is one of possibilities."

She pauses for a moment, waiting for me to speak. Fear and longing fight within me. When I remain silent, unable to make that last step, she finally looks up again, her gaze hard and scrutinizing.

„I can't make this choice for you, Aurora. Whether or not you follow me or return to the path you have been pointed at is entirely up to you. As painful as it is for me to say so, both have considerable advantages. But you must choose now – for there will be no second chance."

Flashes of my mother, my father: beautiful strangers in a cold, faraway place. They have nothing to say to me. I don't know them any more. The pleasant smile of Philip, as he takes me to dance at a court ball, as he introduces me to dukes and ambassadors of foreign realms as his beautiful wife, as he sits across from me at the long dinner table, as he gently pets me on the arm and tells me not to worry about the of the troubles in the kingdom, as he makes love to me, night after night after night. He is relieved that the peasant maid turned out to be the one he was betrothed to, thus allowing him to fulfill his royal duty. My pretty face and sweet voice are enough for him, just as his face and voice were enough for me when we first met. He never asks about what lies beyond, only laughs and tries to mask the boredom clearly written on his visage. The shushing of Flora, Fauna and Merryweather, as they concoct a drink to ease the pain in my stomach, as they gently tell me to remain silent and be good. The dull haze of the days, months and years as they go by, as they break me into their mold. Everyone is happy. I am happy. All is well.

Images of men, women and children screaming, suffering unimaginable pain and fear before they die. Kingdoms lying in ruins, a vast landscape of death and destruction, with buildings ablaze, from the tallest castles to the humblest cottages. Realms of ash and smoke and endless wastelands, torn down by years of war. People that I once used to know, fleeing from me in terror, struggling in vain to avoid my wrath. People without hope, their heads hung low with grief, just like my parents when they sent me away. People with a false smile on their faces and secret dread in their heart, desperately clutching to the last strands of hope, just like my aunts used to when they thought I didn't see them. Families ruined by my curses, lovers torn apart by my machinations. Maleficent, her face content and proud, as she looks upon me and sees her mirror image. An eternity spent high atop the pinnacle of my power, cold, aloof, alone. A lifetime of revenge and hate, spreading death and chaos, destroying those who have wronged me. I have satisfied my anger. All is well.

I close my eyes, and a shudder courses through my body. The struggle that have been nearly tearing me in two, suddenly ceases, and I'm finally free from the nightmare I wasn't aware I was dreaming. I'm afraid, and my hands shake, but I do not recoil, because for the first time, I feel strong.

The evil fairy is still standing before me, motionless, waiting. I take a deep breath, and I look into her eyes, determined.

„I can't throw away the real gifts that my aunts have given me. Kindness and goodness... I can't give them up, even if they hurt me."

I pause for a moment, maybe to overtake the slight trembling of my voice, and swallow, even though my mouth is dry.

„I can't choose you."

I brace myself for the struck of lightning. But nothing of the sort happens. Maleficent doesn't say a word, although I see the disdain in the condescending curve of her mouth. She points at the door, which opens with a creak.

„But I can't choose the path laid before me either."

The evil fairy turns to face me, eyes widening a little, and I push on, my voice now surer and firmer.

„I've had enough of caretakers and tutors and aunts and husbands who know better. I've had enough of lying and pretending. Yes, I'm the same peasant maid that left the cottage behind – to become Princess Aurora, the heir to the throne of my father. And now - now I will accept my legacy, not because it's my appointed duty but because I wish to do so. And one day I will reign in my kingdom. And if they won't allow me, then I will escape and if they catch me I will escape again, and leave this place, and walk by myself. I will return to the forest. I will be wandering the world. It will be hard, and maybe I will suffer, or fail entirely. Maybe I will curse myself for the road I have chosen. Maybe I… maybe I will even die before time." I pause and breathe in deeply. "But even that outcome feels sweeter than the paths you and my family present me with."

She looks at me with an air of contempt, smirking a little.

„Ah. I see. The sweet little girl has finally learned how to revolt, and now she thinks she knows everything. Now she is the overly confident young wench who, in her imagination, can do anything she wants if she has a will strong enough. What a noble state of mind with which to start her new life. But do as you wish. It is going to be a great pleasure for me to see you waste away, slowly giving up hope and giving in to despair. To see how you will regret the day you rejected my gift. And even if you succeed at retaining your sanity, let alone your kingdom – my power will be more than enough to crush you and your pathetic little dreams."

„If that is what must be, then I'm more than happy to accept my fate."

I stand still, looking her in the eye. Maleficent says nothing more, only shoots me a long, searching look, and slowly, something akin to respect, maybe even a little curiosity, starts to appear in her eyes. I strengthen myself, and walk slowly towards the door. She turns her head a little, stroking her chin pensively, and does nothing to stop me.

I step outside and start to descend the stairs. The darkness and the cold envelope me once more, but I'm not afraid of them anymore. I'm strong. I'm determined. I'm Aurora.

I am awake.