Hello, reader!
I have two other stories to complete, and here I am...starting a series of short-stories. Oops. These have been on my mind for a while, but they are so much at the forefront of my thoughts recently that I feel compelled to purge them, so that I can return to other projects. Every chapter will be a reimagining of a classic Disney-fied fairy tale, some drawing purely from the movies, some incorporating their original source material. Each will have a unique spin that will take the tale in a wildly different direction. The first is my spin on the much beloved "Sleeping Beauty."
If you enjoy these, please leave me a comment! If not, oh well. I will continue to write them until they are out of my head and no longer taking up creative space.
Happy reading!
Jenn
We were once men. All of us. Some better and greater than others, which is nothing new in the world. I'm sure that, among our ranks, there are kings and paupers, astronomers and fools, clergymen and criminals.
One way or another, we were lumped into the lowly forms we now inhabit because we all commited the same sin: slighting her.
To say our mistress is vindictive is too charitable. The level of evil she encompasses is beyond what any mere mortal can comprehend. She is, of course, immortal. And, because her magic infects us all, we are immortal, as well.
It is not a blessing, by any means. We are forever her servants.
She is never satisfied, it seems, no matter how much chaos she afflicts upon our world. And yet, she always maintains that it is she whom is treated unjustly.
Her latest conflict arose after she found out about the celebration of a newly-born princess in a neighboring kingdom. The festivities were nothing she would have condescended to attend, but apparently it was the lack of an invitation that commanded her to make a terrifying entrance.
We found out, when she returned to her castle, on the Forbidden Mountain, that she had bestowed upon the little princess a macabre gift: death on the same day the innocent girl turns sixteen. The curse had years to come to fruition, and every day the small kingdom would suffer in anticipation of losing their precious princess. An especially-cruel punishment, for merely choosing to not include a feared sorceress in your jubilee. But she seeks out ways to maliciously use her magic. She seeks to be offended, so that she may dispense out her endlessly creative means for disciplining us inferior beings.
We celebrate her return. Some of us, those that were either weak-minded as men or who have forgotten their former selves, cheer with ardent admiration. Most of us, though, present ourselves to be loyal to avoid her unpredictable rage. Tonight, she is in a favorable mood, having tormented an entire kingdom with a single, devastating curse.
She has a pet. A large, male raven that is aptly named Diablo. She has granted it immortality, too, and it acts as an extension of her own sight. None of us are fond of the black bird, as it is the only creature within her kingdom that receives mercy of any kind. We hate it, but we tolerate it, as it can, somehow, relate information to her without the use of language.
Diablo comes through one of the highest windows in this central stone tower, circling to rest at its mistress' side, upon the stone throne she now occupies. Her subjects, including myself, dance with abandon around a pit of high-rising flames of unnatural shades of green. Some subjects, including myself, pay close attention to the silent exchange between her and her pet, aware that her mood could change at any moment.
It's good news for Maleficent, bad tidings for her enemies. She smiles and stands to address the room, banging her long staff against the stone floor. Adding to the unnatural environment, the sound it makes is harsh and shrill. We stop our celebrating and await her words.
"King Stefan and his subjects are burning every spinning wheel in their pathetic kingdom, the fools!" Her voice is deep and distinguished, lovely as much as terrible. She sounds sophisticated, but something in her gravely tone penetrates the soul and strikes fear to your very core. Her accompanying laugh echoes against the rafters.
We cheer, although we have no idea why a king should order the destruction of spinning wheels. She must have incorporated them into her curse, for some odd and unknown reason. If this King Stefan thinks that her powers are limited by his resources, he is woefully underestimating her.
Celebrations of our mistress' acts span at least a fortnight. We dance, cheer, bang our metallic weapons, and add fuel to the mystical fire at the center of it all. She is usually pleased with this amount of adoration, and, only when she retires to her private chambers, can we finally sleep. We sleep for days, taking shifts to guard the most vulnerable parts of our castle.
Time passes, but we hardly notice. Immortality crushes the importance of such a trivial thing as time. Occasionally, new goblins appear. No one asks who they used to be, where they hail from, or what they did to infuriate our mistress. No one asked me such questions. And now, I couldn't answer the first two.
I know I was a man. I know I was a good man. No, that's not true. I don't know that to be certain, but I hope I was. I do know the answer to the last question. I know why I was enlisted into Maleficent's goblin army.
It's not much of a story. I was hunting in the woods, and I successfully ran one of my arrows through a large buck. As I approached the fallen animal, a large black bird dove at my head. I stopped in my tracks and I readied my bow. I shot once at the raven and missed. A scream of pure rage split my head, and I was only able to get a glimpse of a woman before a flash of green light blinded my eyes. I began to shrink, to shrivel into what I am now.
And that's all I remember. One singular moment of a life that was stolen from me, all because I threatened her wretched pet.
The curse is valid for sixteen years from the princess' birth. Time is too elusive for us to measure, but we know that our mistress does not seem worried. It may only be a few years that passed, or perhaps ten. Maleficent calls us to her and gives her orders.
"Find the princess named Aurora!" Her eyes flash dangerously. "She will be a great beauty," she says derisively, obviously suffering from intense jealousy, "with golden hair, a fair countenance, and lips as red as roses. She will also be a gifted songstress, so listen for her enchanting voice. GO! FIND HER! Do not harm or abduct her…yet."
Her commission relayed, she twirls theatrically toward her stone seat and sits in silence.
Once we are all out of the castle, it is now up to us how best to carry out our mistress' will. I seize the opportunity to influence, knowing that I will not be one of the leaders for this mission. I am not that trusted.
"How do we find the child?" I start the conversation, one of many huddled outside the black caste.
"We, uh, we search the castle! Every room of King Stefan's castle!" One of the more aggressively-loyal goblins answers me. While he speaks, I move to another place in our horde.
"And what if we don't find any cradles in the castle? Where will we look, then?" I call out from the crowd, with a slightly lower tone.
"Um…." Our self-appointed leader contemplates my question. One of the goblins near me gives me a side-eye of suspicion, but he is no devotee to Maleficent, so I continue with my plan. "We look in the village! Every room of every home of King Stefan's kingdom!"
There's a moment where everyone throws their hands in the air to let out a rallying cry, and I use the distraction to maneuver further away from where I once stood.
"What do we do when we find the baby?" I ask in a high-pitched voice.
Our leader snarls and looks around for my voice. He ends up answering to the general crowd, to further solidify his position as our general for this great appointment.
"You heard our queen!" he practically barks. "We don't harm or take the baby! We report back to her majesty and wait for her to tell us more!"
I think I've done it. We split up into smaller groups and scour the countryside, the farms, the village, and, of course, King Stefan's castle. We mostly search at night, under cover of darkness, to avoid detection and interruption. If the king knew where we were, this would be a war. Goblins don't make good soldiers. We are thugs, only useful when we greatly outnumber our foe.
Within the castle walls, one night, I hear King Stefan meeting with his court about the upcoming celebration plans for the homecoming of the princess.
Interesting…he hid his own daughter outside of the castle.
I dart from dark corner to dark corner, using every form of cover to conceal my eavesdropping.
"King Hubert and his son, Phillip, will be present," Stefan informs his court. "Aurora will be brought back to the castle by her caretakers, and we will await sunset to make merry and welcome my daughter! I wish for every banner to be on display, as well as our entire cavalry dressed in their finest armor, polished and gleaming! This will be Aurora's first venture into her kingdom, and I want everything to be resplendent!"
"Of course, your majesty," one of the advisors bowed humbly to his liege. "And, with her sixteenth birthday only one moon cycle away, may we please know who these 'caretakers' are, so that they will be granted entry into the castle?"
"No," the king spoke with finality. "They have their own plan for getting past our defenses. I trust that they do not need your assistance. Until the princess is safe within the castle walls and the sun has set, secrecy is of utmost importance!"
Thirty days until the princess' sixteenth birthday. Secret guardians who have her stashed outside of not only the castle, but most likely out of the boundaries of Stefan's kingdom. Maleficent will not be pleased, if we return with no news of the princess. I will stay far from the reach of her staff.
Our search is over, and we all shrug at one another, defeated and ready to rest. We trudge home, still in darkness, still darting from shadow to shadow. When we reach Maleficent, I remain outside the center tower, lurking in a doorway to observe. The goblin who so fearlessly took command of our battalion looks pleased with himself. The simpleton. He says something to our mistress and her eyes shoot up in surprised outrage. She stands and begins to pace.
"It's INCREDIBLE!" she screams at him. At us. "SIXTEEN YEARS and not a TRACE of her! She couldn't have vanished into thin air!"
The uneven conversation between mistress and lackey continues, until he finally lets it be known what we have been searching for.
"Cradle?" she catches in his mumbling. Her tone is quieter, but colder, and he cannot tell that she is about to erupt.
"Yep, yep!" he laughs smugly, proudly. "Every cradle," he repeats, dooming himself while swinging his arms to physically represent his stupidity.
"CRADLE?!" she yells, and the cold in her voice is replaced with fire. She turns to address her beloved raven. "Did you hear that, my pet? All these years, they've been looking for a baby!" She laughs hysterically, and the goons near her laugh nervously, as well.
"FOOLS!" she suddenly explodes. Lightning is thrown from her staff, and it shocks the goblin leader that led their expedition.
"IDIOTS!" Another bolt of lightning. Goblins scatter like cockroaches in light.
"IMBECILES!" Her voice is louder than I've ever heard it. She is ferocious, and it's time to distance myself from her fury. Even a doorway is too close.
I leave the area, taking sanctuary in one of the many unused turrets. Staring out the window, I see Diablo soaring through the night sky, heading toward Stefan's kingdom and looking quite determined. Maleficent has sent her most trusted servant.
I can only hope that the princess' guardians are as capable as King Stefan assumes.
Three weeks pass, and Diablo is spotted flying toward the dark castle. We goblins assemble, knowing that Diablo returning to the mistress after a long absence foretells upcoming action. In the main hall, the goblins gather and wait; some grumble to themselves and others, but I stay silent…watching.
The bird perches on the orb at the top of Maleficent's staff. She leans in closely to study her pet, and then somehow reaches a consensus with the cawing animal. Diablo flies up and rests on the stone sill of one of the open windows. Her attention diverts to her followers.
"My pet found our missing princess in the forest. Because of your incompetence, we will not be able to capture her there, but we should still stop by. But first, I have other business to attend to. Tonight, we shall celebrate my triumph!" She finishes her short speech with a satisfied smile, and a roar of early congratulations resounds throughout the enormous hall.
More unanswered questions. If our mistress seeks to kill the princess, why is she leading her army to a place we know the girl will not be? And before I can contemplate her reasons, she selects only a dozen or so of her goblins to accompany her. I, hanging back, am not one of the selected. I am relieved, because I know that Maleficent will not fail…and I do not want to be a part of it.
Maleficent and the smaller group of goblins leave, following the flight of Diablo.
With her absence, and with nothing to look forward to, I neglect keeping track of the sun's trek through the sky. It is over. Maleficent has won. She is too powerful, and my measly attempts to thwart her plans were no more bothersome than a pebble on a road.
When she returns, I hear the jubilant cries of the goblins that escort her. I look out the turret window.
There's a man. A young man. I see him and try to remember what I might have looked like as a mortal, but no image comes to mind. He's tall, visibly strong, and has handsome features. I doubt I was that handsome.
The goblins have him tied up, along with a white horse that is dragged behind him. Every so often, the animal tries to hold its ground, but eventually it loses the battle and continues the journey. The horse looks well-bred and cared for. It couldn't belong to a peasant. Perhaps the man is a duke? My dark mistress is in the final position of the parade, her unhurried pace both regal and menacing. Diablo is flying through the air, swooping down to irritate and harass the young man. Maleficent is amused.
I leave my isolation and join the rest of my cursed brethren, curious to see why she would bring a human to our realm.
She will turn him into one of us.
The main tower is filled to the brim with all of the creatures that inhabit the castle. The human is brought to our lady's throne, and he is forced to kneel. He is gagged with a handkerchief, his arms bound behind him. He glares at the horrors around him with defiance and admirable bravery. Maleficent sweeps in and slowly takes the throne. Diablo rests atop her staff.
She introduces the man as Prince Phillip, then orders him to be taken to the dungeons. He is dragged away, and I see that Maleficent is supremely happy. That might be the most frightening expression I've ever seen on her sickly, chartreuse face. Evil should never be happy.
The green fire is lit and the goblins begin to dance and worship at her feet. I leave, wholly unnoticed because I am nothing. I am no one. I was a man, once. I was a hunter…
I find Prince Phillip, already in shackles, in a dank, dreary cell. He is our only prisoner, at the moment. I expected to find a new goblin.
Why didn't she change him?
The goblin guarding the door is easily persuaded to exchange his duty for the opportunity to join in the madness. I take the goblin's weapon, a simple mace, and I stand tall at the post to show that I will be taking my job seriously. He leaves, and I am left alone with the prince.
Prince Phillip is finally appearing defeated. He sits on a boulder, resting his shackled arms in his lap, looking down at his hands. He doesn't speak or cry or scream. He just stares down into nothingness. I wonder if time passes similarly for him, now that he has lost his freedom. Will he bother to count the days?
"Why are you here?" I ask him plainly.
He looks up with mild interest in my direction, as I meet his gaze through the barred window of this cell door.
"I am a prisoner," he mutters, then looks back down.
I'm not done. I need to know more.
"Why are you here and not…her?"
The prince glances up at me again, with a piercing look that is trying to ascertain of whom I could be speaking. Before he can answer, or I can clarify, I hear approaching footsteps. I resume a formal stance. It's a good thing, too, because it is my mistress who arrives. With the damn bird.
She uses her magic to open the cell door, and I freeze in place. I am nothing to her, so she doesn't even bother to dart her eyes in my direction, as she glides through the doorway.
"Oh, come now, Prince Phillip, why so melancholy? A wonderful future lies before you! You, the destined hero of a fairy tale come true!"
I cannot see either of them, from my frozen position, but I can hear the mocking in her voice. I can see a slight sheen glimmering off the greasy stone walls of the corridor I'm in. I believe it is from her magic. She shows him the princess.
"Why, 'tis the self-same peasant maid who won the heart of our noble prince but yesterday! She is, indeed, most wonderous fair. Gold of sunlight in her hair, lips that shame the red, red rose! In ageless sleep, she finds repose."
Sleep? Was the princess not fated to die? Does she live? How can Maleficent be pleased with her curse going unfulfilled?
"The years roll by, but a hundred years to a steadfast heart are but a day! And now the gates of the dungeon part, and our prince is free to go his way. Off he rides, on his noble steed, a valiant figure, straight and tall! To wake his love, with love's first kiss, and prove that 'true love' conquers all!"
Her laughter fills the cramped space, and the jingling of the chains can be heard. I understand a little better, now. Something altered the original curse. The prince is the only one that can wake her. That is why Maleficent is pleased. She is still very much in control.
Eventually, she leaves, Diablo perched on her shoulder, and she closes and locks the door behind her. I remain still. I can't do anything to help. I am a lowly goblin.
I heard her say that she would free the prince, but not for one hundred years. I know humans don't live to that age. The princess, it seems, will remain immortal for the duration of her cursed sleep.
Although my mistress retires to her quarters, the celebration continues, and I can hear the muffled noise through the thickest of stone. I will not be disturbed, again. No one prefers to watch the prince. No one, except for me. And I want to know more, but I don't know why. Maybe, in finding out more about him, I'll remember more about me? A futile hope, but I let it drive my next actions.
"You love Princess Aurora?" I question. I have a horrible, raspy voice. I know it grates on his ears.
"I do," he admits. "I met her yesterday, near the cottage she lived in. I didn't realize that she was Princess Aurora. I thought she was a peasant…we were betrothed…" He speaks like a man who is hopelessly lost, and he doesn't look past his bound hands.
I don't particularly care that he was betrothed or all of that other nonsense.
"Who were her caretakers?"
That makes him look up, confused. "Her caretakers? I don't know. Do you?"
"No," I shake my head, although the movement is mostly lost behind the small door window.
"Can you help me? I need to rescue Aurora!"
My stomach flips and I feel queasy. "No," I say, again. "I can't open the door. It is magically sealed."
"Can you leave the castle, then, and find someone to help me?" He sounds a bit more desperate, now.
"I can't leave the castle grounds. None of us can. We only leave when it is her will."
"Well, when will you be permitted to leave?"
"I don't know," I answer honestly.
He nods and hangs his head, once more. I want to ask him more questions, but something tells me they won't be received. I leave him alone, to wallow in his misery. He has lost an immeasurable amount on this day: his freedom, his love, and his future.
I am able to return to guard duty in about a week. I know that, because I can see etched lines on the wall of the dungeon. A sharp rock is settled nearby in a place of recognition, ready to make another scratch. Prince Phillip is fed, but he is looking worse every day. Perhaps he has lost his will.
I greet him and wonder if he'll remember me, but he is silent. He grunts and shifts to turn away from the door. I doubt any of the other goblins speak to him. I watch him for a moment, through the bars, noting how differently he holds himself. He is hunched over, his head resting on his arms that are crossed and balanced on his knees. I finish my shift without incident and return to my turret.
It takes another month for me to finally reach him.
"I was a man, once," I start off. The goblin I relieved is long-gone, and even Maleficent has set her sights on another evil endeavor. The Prince is more of a nuisance, now, as we continue to hold the poor man hostage. "I was a…hunter."
Prince Phillip looks up, suspicious of my words, but interested all the same.
"You, repulsive goblin, once lived as a man?"
His insult of my visage is nothing worse than what I ascribe to myself. I nod, to answer his question.
"When were you a man?" He is still dubious.
"Long, long ago. I think. I don't know much of time, anymore."
"You are an immortal?"
"Yes," I nod more emphatically. Maybe he's starting to understand. "We all were…cursed. Forced to serve…her."
"All of the goblins in your wretched little army? You were men?"
I nod, again. "We…forget. Time steals much of what we were. I remember so little-"
"What do you remember, then?"
I tell the prince my story. My only memory. It doesn't take long, and I cannot answer any of his questions to flesh out my few lines.
"Will anyone…come for you?" I ask, hesitantly.
His eyes flash with a steely resolve. "I am the prince of a great kingdom! My father, King Hubert, will march his righteous armies straight through the walls of this diseased citadel!"
"I hope you are right," I whisper.
Again, he looks at me strangely. I think he wants to believe me, but both my appearance and my affiliation hinder his regard.
"If you cannot help me, can you please make sure that my horse is well cared for? Samson has been my most valuable and trusted steed."
I flinch, realizing something. And now, unfortunately, Prince Phillip is about to realize the truth, as well.
"We…have no stables," I cautiously start to explain. I am hoping that I don't have to continue, but the look of confusion on the prisoner's face means I must. "We have no use for horses. Your sentence is one hundred years." Oh please, please, your highness, don't make me tell you everything.
"You will allow my horse to starve? To die?"
"I do not make those decisions," I try to distance myself from the horror of the truth.
"Can you please just let him go, then? Turn him free?"
"There's nothing to be done about it now," I shake my head. I'm so very sorry.
The prince swallows, and I can hear it through the door. "Samson is already dead?" he asks with a shaky voice.
I hesitate. Please let this be the end of it. "Yes," I admit. I know. Maleficent would have no use for a horse, except… oh, no…
The prince holds strong, not shedding a tear, even for a beloved animal. I wonder if I had a pet that I cared for this much. As much as Prince Phillip regarded his Samson. I wonder if I would be as protective over an animal as Maleficent is with her Diablo. Probably not.
"Did you give him a proper burial, at least? Will he rot somewhere within this dead land? Or did you and your horde feast on my steed's flesh?"
"We don't require food," I answer without thinking. "We are immortals." I stop myself from saying more, but I have a terrible feeling that it is too late.
"Fine, then," he shakes his head. "What did you do with my horse? Throw his carcass off the nearest cliff?"
I don't say anything.
"What did you do with Samson?! Why will you not tell me what I want to know? You withhold your words. Why?! You know more than you are saying. TELL ME!"
"Please," I beg of him. "Don't seek more misery by demanding the truth."
"TELL ME!"
I cower at the command. As I am known to do.
"Why would my dark mistress bring your animal here, when she could have ordered it killed in the woods?" The prince stops shouting at me, but he is thrown by my question. He doesn't answer, so I continue to enlighten him. "What use is a horse, if not for riding?" His stare is still blank, befuddled. "Who, in this dread castle, needs to be fed?"
And that's when the prince realizes the horrifying truth. He turns to the corner of his cell and heaves in disgust. I murmur an apology, which most likely goes unheard. I resume my watch, understanding that our conversation is over. I hope that it won't be our last.
Months pass, and no army breaks through our walls. Prince Philip not only forgives me for revealing the fate of his prized animal, but now he is even more dependent upon my conversation. I still see him once a week. He begins to answer my questions about his life and experiences without holding anything back. His mother died in childbirth. He is not only the heir, but also the only child of King Hubert. He was betrothed to Princess Aurora from her birth. He is more progressive than his father. When he met Aurora in the forest, they danced and fell in love within an instant. He was ready to walk away from his throne and responsibilities for her. When Maleficent revealed that his love interest was his betrothed, he saw that it was Fate that had brought them together.
I bristled a little bit, when he mentioned Fate. I do not believe in such things. Surely Fate would not allow a good man like me to be the goblin slave of an evil fairy. The only justice in my current form would mean that maybe I wasn't a good man, after all. But…I am not certain…but that doesn't feel right. I refuse to think I was damned to this existence because of my sins.
I tell him about the description of the princess that I have heard in repetition. Lips as red as the rose, golden hair like the sun, beauty beyond measure, and a voice that charms the nightingale. He assures me that everything I've heard is true. He adds to the description. Her eyes change color from the bluest sky to the lavender that grows in the fields. Her countenance is always pleasant. She is sweetness in human form, with a playfulness and innocence that compliments her unrivaled beauty.
She sounds lovely. His declaration of ardent love for her makes me wonder if loved someone, as a man. I don't remember, but there is so much I have forgotten. I picture my own Princess Aurora. I envision twirling her through a forest with the moonlight streaming through the trees.
He sheds light upon another part of the curse that has vexed me. He was there, in the great hall of King Stefan's castle, when Maleficent leveled the malediction at the baby princess. After Maleficent left, a good fairy lessened the potency of the evil prophecy, weakening it from death to a dreamless sleep. As Maleficent herself had admitted, true love's kiss would break the curse.
Years have passed, and I am worried for my friend, the prisoner. He still tallies the days that pass on a wall. There is less assurance, now, that his father and righteous armies are coming to rescue him. He is always happy to see me, and I am happy to speak with him. I wish that I could sit with him in his cell, but we continue to speak through the door. He shares little memories of his life. The first time he was thrown from his horse and was bedridden for months by healers. His first hunt, which was a failure in every sense of the word. His second hunt, which redeemed him to the entire guard that accompanied him. His favorite tree in the apple orchard on the castle grounds.
I listen and I imagine being human. My speech, since the beginning of our talks, has vastly improved. I now laugh and joke with Phillip. We recite different versions of what my life, as a man, was like. I fashion myself into a hero, while he teases that I was most likely no more than a bumbling hunter.
Our conversations have an interesting effect on me. I act less like the goblins around me. And, as the years and decades pass, I do not forget anything. I hold fast to my one, true memory of my human self. The other goblins deteriorate, ones that once held as much hatred toward our mistress as I do. Time makes us forget. But my identity is cushioned by a single mortal who helps me to remember what I am, what I might have been, and what I want to be.
I have no idea what Maleficent's current plans are. I am either with her prisoner or in my tower. She takes no notice of me, because I am puny. Easily forgotten.
Phillip has grey hair, long and scraggly. He is thin, dirty, and sickly. His eyes, once a healthy, stalwart brown, are dull. He is still forced to wear the shackles. I doubt he would be able to escape, if they were removed. I thought his will to escape was gone, long ago, but the look in his eyes is far from just defeated. He accepts the dungeon to be his home. He still uses a rock to etch the days in his prison, but only out of habit.
I see him decay, and I am powerless to help.
One day, I am promoted, in a sense, to be head jailor. I arrive and find that his cell door is open. His chains are still intact, but there is no magic holding him here. He lies on the floor, holding the rock in his hand and studying it.
"Have you made a mark today?" I gently ask.
"Made a mark?" he repeats. He doesn't look at me, but then he slowly rises and uses the rock to etch a small line amongst the thousands all over the walls.
And that's when I understand that his mind is decaying, too.
I am not a jailor. He is no prisoner. This is his deathbed, and I am his nursemaid. There is no more hope, and he is not long for this world. I bring him food daily, and soon he requires my help to eat. I talk with him, but he stares at me vacantly, neither understanding my words nor recognizing my face. I make the marks on the wall, to honor the one tradition he clung to in this lonely place.
The day comes when I arrive to find the empty husk of my friend. His eyes look haunted by unfamiliar ghosts of his past. The orbs are dry and clouded, and his mouth is agape. I am at a loss of what to do. I cannot carry him out of the castle to bury him, as he is at least three times my size.
I do what I can. I close his eyes, hoping that his spirit is at peace, and I say my goodbyes. I thank him for being my friend. I tell him I am grateful that he shared his humanity with me, and that I will honor his memory by trying my hardest to remember him. And then I take the sharpened stone and etch a small line on the stone wall.
When I return the next day, the body of the prince is gone, and the shackles are finally lying unused on the floor. Every trace of him is gone. Well, not everything.
I take the stone and make another mark.
And the next day.
And the next day.
I return daily to the unlocked cell. I wonder if I am considered the head jailor, with no one to guard. I am not sought out to do anything else, no other campaign for unwarranted vengeance.
So I continue to visit and make the marks. While visiting the room, I do my best to recall the conversations I had with Phillip.
Years pass, then decades. The marks on the wall outnumber the stones that make up the prison walls, ceiling, and floors, I am sure of it.
I am resting in the room, having already made the mark and having nothing else to accomplish, and my eyes are closed in concentration. I am thinking of the conversation where Phillip recounted a time in his youth. He was running through the halls of the castle, as the litters of puppies from his father's hunting hounds followed him. I imagined myself as one of the servants, jumping out of the way. I imagined myself as one of the hunters, trying to round up the mischievous bunch.
"Where is Prince Phillip?" a matronly voice whispers in my ear.
My eyes fly open and I am instantly on guard. But I see nothing. The door shuts and locks me in the cramped cell, then my mouth is magically clamped down. Two fairies appear, one robust and commanding in her red ensemble and the other thinner in her green attire and kinder-looking. Both have grey hair and wield wands pointed at me. My eyes widen, and then a third flies, the size of a hummingbird, from over my shoulder. When she is further from me, she enlarges and lands on the floor next to the other two. Her hair is the color of ebony, and she is shorter and quite portly. Her countenance is full of rage. Her blue gown and gold wand compliment her fairy sisters'.
"The creature cannot answer, if you close its maw, dear," the green one helpfully offers.
"I don't care, we cannot trust it," the blue one refutes.
"Well, in this matter, we must at least hear it out," the red one rolled her eyes and flicked her wand through the air.
My mouth is released from whatever spell made me mute, and I breathe heavily. I hate magic.
"Speak! Or we shall have no use for you, minion of evil!"
"Who are you?" I barely get out.
"We are the three good fairies, and, if you could be so kind, could you please tell us where Prince Phillip is being held?" As of now, the green one is the only one who presents herself as being "good."
"He is dead," I reply simply and honestly to her gentle inquiry. "He died a long time ago," I add quietly.
"See?" the fairy in blue speaks up. "I told you it couldn't be trusted! We will split up and search every room-"
"No, not yet," the one in red interrupts. She looks around the cell and then back at me. I get the impression that she is their leader. There is a shrewdness in her eyes. "You are the only one of your kind that we found alone. Why are you in here, if you are not a prisoner?"
"It was where your prince spent the remainder of his days, after his capture, all those years ago," I say and gesture to the marks on the wall.
The green fairy gasps and her eyes well up with tears. The blue one's eyes also moisten, but her jaw clenches and she points her wand closer to me. The red one shakes her head, seemingly the most prepared for the dreadful news.
"You are well spoken, for a goblin," the leader states, without meaning for me to take it as a compliment. "What happened, and how do you know such things?"
"I helped to guard him," I shrug. Why does any of this matter? Their prince is dead. All hope is lost. "We talked, sometimes. Until the end, that is, when he had no memory left of himself. That was decades ago. When he was first brought here, he was sure he would be rescued."
"We couldn't break past Maleficent's magical wards on the castle, until now," the red fairy explained.
"One hundred years," I nod. "Her curse, the day he was imprisoned. She promised to release him in one hundred years." I grab the stone from the floor, where I dropped it in my panic, and I close my fingers around it.
"Did Phillip make these marks, or did you?" the blue one, still suspicious, asks me.
"He made most of them, and, when he could no longer remember to do so, I continued it." I look to the floor. "When he…was gone, I suppose I couldn't help myself. I kept coming back to mark the wall and remember."
"Remember what?"
I sit where he sat, on the boulder. When he sat on it, his long legs anchored him to the spot. I am too short, so I have to lean against the face of it.
"Remember him," I shrug. "And what we talked about."
"What did you talk about?" the green fairy coaxes me.
"His life, from the death of his mother to his meeting and falling in love with Princess Aurora."
The three of them look to each other and nod. Then, one by one, they shrink themselves back down and I can barely see three balls of light, red, green, and blue, flying to one of the far corners of the ceiling. They left me locked in the cell, but I don't care. I am immortal. Unless they aren't as "good" as they claim, and they kill me before leaving empty-handed.
For a few minutes, I sit and wait. I can hear buzzing, and the lights are still in view. When they float back down to where I am, I sit up a little, not anxious but curious to see what happens next. All three magic themselves back to their original forms. The green and blue fairies stand alongside their leader, who addresses me.
"We had hoped to find Phillip here, held as a prize and granted some immunity from aging, within the walls of the castle. But," she sighs, "we also knew that our hope hinged on Maleficent showing him a shred of mercy."
I scoff. Maleficent. Mercy? Never. I shot an arrow at her pet. Phillip fell in love with a maiden that was destined to die. My reaction to the fairy's words earn a single raised eyebrow, but she doesn't stop her agenda to acknowledge my disrespect.
"And now," she continues, "Fate has brought us to you, at this, our hour of need. Our one window with which to put an end to Maleficent's curse and our spell of protection over King Stefan's kingdom."
I hate hearing more of fickle Fate, but the rest of what was said peaks my interest. "Spell of protection? Are you saying that Princess Aurora is still alive? Still sleeping and awaiting her prince?"
"Of course she is," the leader huffs. "I'm Flora." She turns and gestures to her companions. "These are my sisters, Fauna and Merryweather. We are Princess Aurora's fairy godmothers."
"Why are you telling me this? What am I to your cause? I serve your enemy," I point out.
"I daresay, you don't serve Maleficent willingly, or you would have acted differently with us," the kind one, perhaps the one named Fauna, contradicts me. "We can only use our magic for good. And we sense good within you."
"I used to be a man, once, a long time ago…" I have repeated those words both within my own mind and to others so often that they have lost much of their worth.
"Would you like to be a man, again?"
My goblin heart races. "Can you do that?"
Fauna hesitates. And Merryweather, the one whose appearance is younger than her sisters', takes advantage of the pause to steer the conversation.
"We can, but we will only change you if you help us," she reasserts on behalf of the lead fairy.
"How am I to help you?"
Flora takes over. "You knew Phillip well, it seems. Enough to become him?"
"Become him?"
"Take his place," Merryweather clarifies.
I am both horrified and intrigued. I will be stealing the life of another man. A dead man. A dead friend. What would Phillip's ghost think? Will he haunt me with every mortal breath I breathe? If there is anything beyond death, will he take vengeance against me then?
And, on the other hand… I was cheated out of my own life. I never hoped for a second chance as a mortal man. To live, as a prince. To hunt, to love, to fail, to win, to live and then die. It is worth being haunted…feeling guilt…
"What about the princess?" I ask, suddenly aware of a problem in this design. "I am not her true love."
"You know more of her and her Phillip than anyone else in this world," Flora quickly refutes. "If we didn't believe this would break the spell, we would search for another way. Escape this castle, fight your way to the princess, and see Aurora for yourself. Remember Phillip. Remember his adoration of her, and see if you find yourself feeling similarly. We will guide you every step of the way."
I stand, inspired by the call to action, and I hope that they see more within me than the ugly thing that I presently am.
All three smile and raise their wands. I drop the stone, Phillip's stone…my stone. I feel a warmth that begins at my heart and spreads slowly, like a sludge, through my weak body. I look down and see my hands glowing. I have four spindly fingers on each hand, all topped with my claw-like fingernails. My skin, once the color of rotten moss, lightens to the shade of a ripe peach. I feel my body being pulled into a different shape, but nothing hurts. When I check my hands, again, they are the hands of an adult man. Eventually, I stop glowing and the feeling of the magic within me fades completely. I feel my new face, the angular jaw, a strong chin. I'm taller, and I now look down on the three fairies, instead of eye-to-eye.
"Now, Prince Phillip," Flora addresses me. "Arm thyself with this enchanted Shield of Virtue," she magics a huge silver and gold shield into existence, and I see my old friend within its reflection. "And this mighty Sword of Truth!" A heavy broadsword appears in my right hand, and I have to quickly account for its weight. It feels oddly natural to hold such an extravagant weapon. "For these weapons of righteousness will triumph over evil. Now come, we must hurry!"
The door unlocks and opens into darkness. The fairies shrink back down in size and light the corridor in front of me. I follow, running to keep up.
Our escape is not undetected, as the witch's pet raven flies straight at us and caws in surprise. I desperately want to follow the nuisance and end its miserable life, but the alarm has sounded and I reluctantly follow the flying fairies in the opposing direction. At the end of the hall, I am besieged by a battalion of my former cohorts. I jump to the closest window, large enough to accommodate my taller stature, and I swing the sword at the gremlins wildly.
When I can no longer hold on, I jump to the nearest rampart and run along the ruined wall. Three lights are darting in the air above and around my head. One comes alongside my ear and I hear a faint voice.
"What do you need?"
"A horse!"
The green light plunges to a place far below, and I leap from the rampart to a steep slope. I'm hoping that I'll be able to keep these long legs running the pace of the hill, but I have poorly judged my new body's abilities. I lose my balance and slide down the majority of the rocky face. My shield provides a way to slow my descent, and, as soon as I can, I hop to my feet.
A horse neighs in the distance and I follow its call. I do not expect to find Phillip's steed, what was the name…
"Samson!" I greet him with utter shock. The white horse whinnies loudly, urging me to mount and flee the Forbidden Mountain.
The goblins mount their offenses, with boulders, arrows, and boiling acid. I am familiar with all of their tactics. I run to the resurrected horse and focus on jumping onto its bare back. I suppose I needed to request a saddle.
"I found this one's bones in the dirt," I hear Fauna whisper in my ear. "I spoke to him and told him of your need. He was quick to revive."
The little blue light darts into view, and a saddle, bridle, and full riding gear are now perfectly fitted to Samson. I mount easily, as if I was born to do so. I don't see Flora's red light anywhere, but I have noticed the dropped boulders harmlessly floating like bubbles to the ground and the arrows whistling through the air are nothing more than thin-stemmed flowers upon arrival.
They are a useful set, aren't they?
As soon as I am on his back, Samson instinctively gallops toward an arched exit. But as we near the arch, I see goblins on the walkway above about to turn over a cauldron of boiling acid. I hold my breath and hope for another of Flora's magical transformations. She doesn't disappoint, and the rainbow that she erects somehow soaks up all of the dangerous liquid, as all of us pass underneath unharmed.
One more obstacle: the drawbridge. I lean forward in the saddle, knowing what to do as instinctively as the beast that I ride. Samson charges forward, even as the goblins attempt to block our escape. With one outstanding jump over the bottomless gorge, Samson lands on the cliff, and that is our first taste of freedom from Maleficent's domain. We continue our journey, and I follow the fairies' lights through the forests, through meadows, and toward the enchanted kingdom.
All of us are aware of the thick, black, magical fog that passes over our heads and flies to encircle King Stefan's castle. I know it is Maleficent's magic. I wonder, facing her once again as a man, if my losing will mean my death or a return to my subjected state. I would prefer she kill me, if it comes to that, but I plan to die a good man. A brave man. Like Phillip.
Remembering my friend strengthens my heart, and I don't flinch, when I see the forest of thorns that now encircle the castle. Samson rears up, desperately avoiding another death. I use the shield to protect us, while I hack at the offending brambles with my broadsword. We move slowly, at first, but become better at creating a path through the chaos.
There's a clearing, and now I can see the gates to the castle. I'm so close…
The air changes, with whipping winds and darkened skies. This is it…
A swirl of dark magic clogs the sky, and angry lightning bolts rain down as they did for the spell that grew the thicket of thorns.
This time, my former mistress appears in all her terrible glory, and her green fire blazes the ground everywhere in front of us. It scares Samson enough to make him throw me off his back. I am not hurt, and I am relieved the horse ran away. If I cannot preserve the memory of my friend with my own life, I will be content with his trustworthy steed being freed from Maleficent's grip. I don't see the fairies anywhere, but I don't doubt they are with me.
"Now shall you deal with me, O Prince! And all the powers of HELL!"
She rises up through the flames, up into the swirling smoke above, transforming. When the smoke clears, she is a dragon that stands higher than all of the trees, with smoke that rises from her nostrils and great jaws that snap threateningly at me. She breathes in, and I see her enormous belly hold the breath for a moment before exhaling her same green fire at me. I hold up my shield and duck behind it to limit the flames' reach. The surge pushes me back to the thorns, and I seek refuge in the tangles of her trap.
I am ready to die like a man. No longer a slave to her will. I AM A MAN.
The flames halt, and I grip the sword. She leans her monstrous head through the small opening to find me.
I AM A HUNTER.
I strike a blow to the top of her muzzle, and I swear that I hear her womanly voice cry out in pain, underneath the growling snarl. We thrust and parry, her with her teeth and I with my sword. Neither of us gain nor lose ground, and she shows her impatience. Rearing up, she levels what is left of her thorny barricade with a dousing of fire.
My cover is gone, and I need to find higher ground to make my last stand. I run away from the dragon and toward a steep cliff.
"Up!" Flora calls out to me. "Up this way!"
I obey and follow, holding my shield and sword in one hand and scaling the rock with my other. On top, I now have the high ground. I swing at her snapping jaws, while she stealthily climbs up to join me. She towers over me, and I prepare for my end. One more blast of fiery breath, and I am knocked over. I can't hold onto my shield, and it flies out of my grasp and over the cliff.
I hear a laugh. A very familiar laugh. It's the dragon. It's her. Not the laugh of a beast, but of evil itself. While she begins to relish her impending victory, I hear something else.
"Now, Sword of Truth, fly swift and sure, that evil die and good endure!"
I glance over to see Flora chanting the spell, and all three fairies point their wands toward the blade. My sword glistens with imbued power. It hums in my hand.
I AM A HUNTER.
I have one shot, and I take it. With all of my anger, my resentment, and my hatred of that evil witch, I throw the weapon toward her dark heart. I think of my former self, hunting deer and punished for attacking her pet. I think of Phillip, brave and true, who selflessly helped a goblin reclaim some of his humanity. I think of Aurora, a baby sentenced to death for want of an invitation. The sword flies swiftly through the air and plunges straight through the dragon's hide.
Maleficent lets out a womanly howl of pain, and the dragon falls to the ground. I have to leap out of the path of the dying beast, and its weight crushes the precipice where I was once cornered. The creature causes an avalanche, as it rolls back to the lower ground.
When the dust settles, I only see her black cloak, with the sword sticking out of the ground and through it. The sword is now black, too, which puzzles me. I contemplate retrieving it, but the three fairies pull my attention back to the final part of my quest.
I look back to the castle, and, now that Maleficent is dead, her spells wane. The thorns and fire disappear. The sky clears to reveal that it is sometime within the twilight of the day.
Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather urge me on, leading me directly to the highest tower of the castle, where Aurora lies in her deep slumber. They stop on the steps, before I enter her chambers. When I see they do not intend to follow me in, I stop, as well. They assume their former sizes, thankfully.
"I…I…I cannot do this!" I stammer. "I am not Phillip!"
Flora narrows her eyes, frustrated with my hesitation. "You have just slain Maleficent! You will break both this curse and the spell that hold this kingdom!"
"I don't deserve to be a prince! I don't deserve to marry a princess! I am nothing! I am no one! I have been transformed into the image of a man who died long ago!"
Merryweather is livid, and Flora is incredulous. Both open their mouths, but they hush when their gentle sister speaks.
"You were a good man," she says softly. I shiver with excitement. "We saw that immediately. We were watching you, alone in that lonely, cold cell."
"I was a goblin," I shook my head. I am no longer anticipating hearing about my former human self. They only knew me as a goblin.
"Yes, a goblin who chose to refine his ways. Who treated our prince like a friend and not a prisoner. Who made the choice to reclaim his humanity, even if it cost him his immortality."
"You brought back his horse, Samson. Couldn't you have found Phillip's bones, as well? Couldn't you bring him back to life?"
"I am sorry," Fauna sadly shakes her head. "A man has a complicated soul. It is barely tethered to the body. A horse is different. It's a simpler creature, and it can be called back to serve, because that is a part of its nature."
"We saw into your heart," Merryweather presses forward, now calmer, agreeing with her sister wearing green. "We saw your past, your present, and your future. You were a good man, before you were a kind goblin."
"How do you know-"
"Each of us may bestow upon you a single gift," Flora interrupts, also seeking peace. "No more, no less. My gift to you is your future," she speaks and flicks her wand through the air, painting a prophetic canvas. It shows the outline of a maiden who rushes to embrace me. "A long happy life with the woman of your dreams. You need only to believe that you are deserving of goodness." The magic dissolves, just as the figure presses against me.
"My gift to you is your present," Fauna announces. "You needn't despair that you will either forget or be haunted by your friend. You will honor his one request of you." She turns toward the closest window and smiles, giving a little swish of her wand. A whinny resounds in the courtyard below.
Samson!
"You will remember everything you endured, every word spoken between you two, because those trials will bring you wisdom to become the fair and merciful king this land needs."
I am not sure I want to remember everything of my days as a goblin. But I am thankful that I can care for Samson myself.
"My gift is your past," Merryweather completes the cycle, but I don't understand what that can mean. "I cannot restore all of your memories, but I can give you more than you have now, so that you can move forward."
My heart clenches in my chest, and I am dumbfounded. Her wand is brought up to an area above my head, and she holds it still. I feel nothing, at first, then the magic falls upon my crown like snowflakes. I close my eyes, because I want a blank canvas.
I am a small boy, running in a field and chasing geese. A woman laughs. My mother. She is beautiful, and my heart warms with the knowledge of how much she loves me.
I am still young, but older than I was in the previous memory. I am with a man. My father. We carry bows and arrows to that same meadow. My first hunt. My father smiles at me with pride.
I am older, a young man. My parents have passed in the plague. I am the man of my house, although I am not yet married. There is a girl in my village whom I look forward to seeing.
I am going out for another hunt. This time, I am stockpiling food. I am going to propose to the girl I am in love with. She wants to marry me, but I need to show her father that I am ready to keep a wife. I will bring him the biggest buck I can find. I am out all day, silently stalking my prey. I am a hunter, like my father before me. I find the perfect mark. When I bring down this buck, her father will have enough venison to last through the winter. He will be so pleased, that he will surely give me his daughter's hand. I let loose an arrow, and it goes straight through the deer's neck. The animal falls to the ground, and I run to its side to end its suffering. I leave it there, to retrieve my sled and harness, so that I can drag the deer from the forest to my home. When I return, an ugly raven is perched on the neck of the buck, pecking at its lifeless eye. I try to shoo it away, but it flies straight at me and then dives at my head. I duck and ready my bow. I will use this bird's feathers in my arrows and its meat to attract more worthwhile prey. I let an arrow fly, and it narrowly misses the sly blackbird. I hear a cry of outrage from somewhere within the dense underbrush, then I only see a flash of green.
Nothing within the memories tells me my name, nor the names of anyone I cared for, and I cannot envision my former appearance. I am overwhelmed. I place a hand against my forehead. There are a few more moments floating within my mind, but I push them away for another time.
I slowly lower my arm and open my eyes. The fairies are all giving me looks of sympathy. They didn't lie. They knew more about me, as we spoke in that dungeon, than I'd supposed.
I try my best to quickly understand the gifts they have given me. I was a good man. I was a merciful goblin. And, now, I will be something much greater.
I smile gratefully at them and nod, and they return the favor, giving me added strength and courage to begin this new chapter of my existence. I turn from them and open the tower door, rushing in to deliver Phillip's betrothed and her kingdom. I walk with measured steps to the bed at the far end of the room. There is a sheer fabric canopy that hangs over every edge, but I can make out a sleeping form behind the gauze.
With one hand, I part a section of it and my heart leaps in my chest.
She is the most beautiful thing on this earth that I have ever seen, in this life and every other that I have lived. Her flaxen locks flow like silk along the pillow and over her dainty shoulders, spilling out from each side of her head. Her features are delicate, her skin paler than my own. Although she has slept for one hundred years, there is a healthy glow within her rosy cheeks. Her eyes are closed, of course, so I cannot verify Phillip's description of their color, but her lips are, indeed, like two red rose petals. Her hands encase a single red rose at her chest, slowly rising and falling within the blue gown she has been vested in. The magic used to alter her curse, as well as envelop the entire kingdom in ageless protection, hangs in the very air, light sparkles that twinkle and add to the mysterious ambiance.
I hold my breath. I remember Phillip's description of her kindness, her sweet nature. I remember him sharing the memory of their fateful dance in the woods, and I recall imagining myself in his place.
And, now, I am.
With grace to honor his sacrifice and her loss, I gently descend to plant a chaste kiss upon her pursed lips. Her lips are soft. Supple. I pause in our joining, desperately hoping that, although I am not her intended, she will wake and love me, instead. I already love her. I feel her lips purposefully press back into mine and I pull away cautiously.
I stare down at her, and she blinks languidly. Her eyes focus on me, and I can finally attest to their charms, as well. She smiles broadly and I smile back.
I will love her more ardently than anyone has ever loved another. I will do everything within my power to please and protect her, until the end of our days.
I make the vow silently, as I help her from the bed. We don't speak aloud, but we are drawn to staring at one another. I wonder if she sees any differences between her Phillip and myself. Most likely not. But, then, she hardly knew her true love. We have our lives ahead of us to fall in a deeper, stronger love than either of us have ever known.
We leave the tower, and I escort her back through the castle to the main hall. As we come closer, the sounds of waking people and their murmurs can be heard. We pass two guards that jolt to attention. The princess looks at me with both adoration and curiosity. I periodically glance down to her, with as much devotion and assurance as I can pour through my silent expression.
Only a single cascading staircase keeps us from the throne chamber of the king. We take each step with regal motion, and I see a familiar figure next to the man that must be King Stefan. A portly, grey-haired man who also wears a crown. His gaze is leveled straight at me, and he looks both disbelieving and relieved. King Hubert. Phillip's father. Just as my friend described him. Now my father.
I will have so much to explain. How the time has passed, how I defeated Maleficent, what took me so long to deliver them from the curse. There is much I don't know… the state of King Hubert's own kingdom, for one. But, in the pit of my mortal soul, I am certain that everything will work itself out happily.
I am a man. I was a hunter. I will be king.
