When she returned to her castle in the mountain, the Wicked Fairy was still bubbling over with childlike glee, malevolent though that glee was. She had made the move which would secure her revenge; a thrill ran through her from head to toe. Finally, at last, she had begun to make up for all the years of miserable scorn from others, by being able to publicly scorn at them. She shivered with excitement; she still couldn't believe that she'd done it.

CAW! CAW!

She rose to greet the raven, but realised that it was not good tidings that he brought by the frantic way in which he flew around her head. When it had finally calmed down enough to tell her what had happened, her face went white with shock. It simply wasn't fair, after all these years, that her best chance of revenge should be ruined like this. Why did it always happen to her? For so long she'd waited; but now her work of magic would be ruined, spoilt by that speck of insignificant, pathetic goodness which constituted the youngest and wildest of the good fairies. Why had such a tear-away fairy ever been produced? It was unthinkable that just because Mimi had been late, her own plans should be so ruined. Why hadn't she thought about her? Why had she been so stupid as to overlook the distinct possibility that she wouldn't arrive in time? Oh, she should have counted the stupid fairies, she should have made sure they were all present. the only good thing was that Mimi was too inexperienced to be able to completely undo her spell. According to the raven, she had made the spell milder, so that instead of falling to her death, the princess would simply fall into a deep sleep. how would she wake up? The Wicked Fairy frowned, trying to remember the antidote to a sleeping spell. oh of course. As it always was - the kiss of true love. Suddenly she broke into a smile. Her plans weren't ruined. In fact, this might be a much better way of making things happen. for there to be a princess, eternally beautiful, the symbol of all things good. trapped in sleep forever. For there was no chance that the princess would be woken by true love; there was absolutely no such thing. The triumph, the pure joy of knowing that her own magic had been combined with the magic of a good fairy to produce everlasting proof of the power of evil. oh. she laughed out loud with the irony of it. It was perfect.