Something Wicked This Way Comes
Ravenna lost count long ago of how many kingdoms she'd taken over, but she supposed if she really wanted to know she need only count the Grimoires she collected along the way. In fact, Ravenna made it a habit that, upon securing a new land, she visit the reigning sorceress, kill her, absorb her power, and then loot her hovel of any magical items of value, including, but not limited to, her Grimoire. Every witch had something new to offer in her Grimoire, as the book carried an entire lineage of magical history and spells. So, when stumped as to how she would help King Stefan regain his kingdom, she did as any enterprising female would, and consulted her library of magic.
Physical transfiguration spells were common; every Grimoire held some variation of the basic human to cat, human to toad, human to mouse, etc spells (surprisingly, there were no spells dictating reversals). However, she could not find one incantation or elixir that created changes in paradigm. She needn't change the actual timeline of events, thankfully, as she had no idea how; she merely needed to change how people remembered them.
She knew the raven held the key; the magic that allowed a creature to change its form freely could easily be manipulated to create a transfiguration potion, but applying the changes to the mind rather than the body would require some creativity.
She twirled the black feather between her fingers.
I guess the first step is to find the damn thing, she thought.
Ravenna opened a cupboard in her cellar potions room, the same room she resurrected Stefan in, and pulled out a wide, shallow bronze dish. Setting it on the table, she poured an inch of water and waited for it to settle. Standing over it, she closed her eyes and mumbled some words in an ancient language, something soft and whistling, like a breath over a glass bottle. When she opened her eyes, the water lost some of its sheen, appearing more matte and cloudy. She dropped the black feather into the pool and counted the ripples; one, two, three… twenty-six, the number of kilometers. When the ripples ended, she observed where the leaf drifted. It now rested on the edge of the bowl closest to her, indicating direction.
Twenty-six kilometers to the south, she thought, smiling. Closer than I'd hoped.
She closed her eyes again and resumed muttering the same whistling tone as before. She needed to know what form the shape shifter currently wore to find him more easily. Just as she felt the power begin to flow, the sound of heavy boots shook her concentration.
"Ravenna?" called a familiar voice.
Stefan. She quickly plucked the feather from the dish, sticking it in her robe pocket before dashing to the exit. She opened the door just a crack, slipped through, and then firmly shut it behind her.
"Ah, there you are," Stefan said, stopping his march down the stone stairs. "What's in that room?"
"Ah, just the vegetable cellar." Stefan could barely remember the night of his reawakening, citing it as being foggy, like a hangover. Ravenna preferred it that way. If he knew about her blasphemous hobby, she knew he would never trust her. She decided it was best to keep him in the dark as long as possible.
"You're checking the vegetable cellar?" he asked, incredulous. She didn't look like a woman made for housework. Perhaps some needlepoint, an instrument even, but Stefan considered her far too pretty (and powerful) for domestic work. "Don't you have people for that?"
"Yes, well, can't trust them. If you want something done right…" she began, giving a slight laugh, hoping to end the conversation.
"Perhaps you need new people then?" He suggested.
"Actually, I was just thinking that. Do you mind fetching my coachman? I think I'll go out tomorrow to find new help."
"Tomorrow?" he asked, startled. "So soon?"
"No time like the present." She started up the stairs, nearly passing Stefan before noticing his awkwardness. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot. You came down to see me?"
"Em, yes," he started, feeling slightly uncomfortable with her closeness. They stood on the same step, him with his back against the wall to keep them from touching, and even then it was difficult. "The tailor asked which color I wanted…?"
He held up a few swaths of richly colored fabric; a smoky blue-gray, a deep pine green, a shimmering royal purple, and a blood red wool. She observed them all before looking back at him through her eyelashes.
"Well, which one do you want?"
"I– well I – I don't really mind either way, but I thought I would consult the, ah, expert's opinion."
"Expert? Are you complementing my dress?" Ravenna asked, smiling coyly. Stefan faltered.
"I em – well, I just thought that maybe–"
"Go with the gray," she interrupted softly, turning to continue up the stairs, "it will bring out your lovely blue eyes. Avoid green. It reminds me too much of the former inhabitant of this body."
"Actually, about that," Stefan cleared his throat, "I wanted to ask you… will I always be in this body? Is it… permanent, or can I eventually reclaim my old body?"
Ravenna stopped in her ascent, and turned to him. He spoke again, faster, becoming anxious under the heat of her gaze.
"Not that I am ungrateful to you for returning me to this world, it's just that, this body is still so foreign to me. There are still so many things that are different. I mean, this," he reached behind his head and pulled a long, blonde lock to show her, "And this new height, I keep knocking things over!"
He was about to mention something else when he heard the small voice in the back of his head whisper: Don't tell her about me. She can't know about me. He cleared his throat.
"But really, Ravenna, I miss my old self. I miss being me."
Ravenna looked at him with sad, pitying eyes.
"I'm sorry Stefan, but your true body is far too broken to bring back to life, I cannot return you to it. This will be your body from now on. But, no matter the form you take, you will always be the same Stefan inside, where it counts."
She put her hand on his cheek, moving her silken palm across his scruff. She moved it back, passing over the soft flesh behind his ear, and gently twirled a tuft of blond hair.
"I can arrange for a barber, if you wish," she suggested in a hushed whisper. Stefan felt his skin prickle. It took everything for him to not close his eyes and sigh, like a dog, at her touch.
"That would be nice," he murmured.
"Lovely," she said, and let him go. "Fetch my coachman please, I set off tomorrow."
"To procure new help?" he asked, slightly dazed. She paused, momentarily forgetting her cover story.
"Yes, that," she replied before reaching the summit of the stairs and heading off to pack for the journey.
The Moorfolk did not take Maleficent's news of Stefan's return well. They remembered well the long, sleepless nights when Stefan's armies attempted to break the thorn walls with flaming catapults. They remembered those lost defending the lands from Stefan and Henry's armies. What's more, they witnessed firsthand the unimaginable pain their leader, the great Maleficent, endured at his hand. Her cries of anguish at finding her wings severed at the hand of her lover reverberated throughout the earth. Sixteen years of suffering was enough.
Furthermore, the Moorland creatures did not wish to return to a state of isolation. Though they understood why Maleficent built the walls, and held genuine gratitude for her foresight, they did not enjoy living in confinement.
After breaking the news at another emergency meeting, and receiving exactly the hysteria she expected, Maleficent attempted to reassure her constituents. However, she had no idea how to, as she had no plan of action yet. Instead, she gave a powerful speech where she promised she would "think of something" to protect their lands and banish King Stefan for good, but after several hours of planning in her tree home, she still had nothing.
She sat on a low-lying branch with a long, sturdy stick in her hand drawing plans in the dirt. She already told the tree warriors to be on alert for human activity near the border, instructing them to admit no visitors, save Aurora. She considered reconstructing the wall of thorns, but feared it would make the human's suspicious, and she didn't want to draw attention. A part of her wanted to believe Diaval was wrong, that he hadn't seen what he'd seen and it was all a giant misunderstanding. But she knew better. Aside from the fact that Diaval would never lie or give information on a hunch, he was incredibly proud and detested being wrong. No, Stefan had definitely returned.
Perhaps just grow thorns in a few places, she thought, by the northern edge, where the Moors end and the Dark Forest begins. She drew a zigzag on her dirt map to visualize the thought before brushing it away again.
No, it's too soon, she decided. It will make everyone anxious, including myself. Besides, the date of Stefan's return remained completely unknown; it could be tomorrow or next year; she had no idea. Maleficent decided that if and when Stefan returned, she would put the walls up for protection, and they would stay up until they could vanquish him, once and for all.
She drew a new circle on the ground to represent the Moors, and then drew smaller circles around the line, like beads on a necklace, to represent the tree warriors. She drew another line to represent the cobblestone road to the village, then she drew a large rectangle to represent Aurora's castle.
Upon completing the drawing, she began to think of Aurora and her preparations. Was she doing any preparations? Maleficent thought Aurora might find it difficult to do anything; half the humans had a sour relationship with magic, believing it devil worship, while the other half didn't believe in it at all. In addition, the Court already disliked Aurora's rule; thus having her go to them and announce King Stefan's return via magical resurrection would only have them doubt her even more. Worst-case scenario, they could remove her from office for an inability to preform her duties.
She thought it might be best for Aurora to handle this quietly. With Diaval, the one creature to have seen the new Stefan and his witch Queen, Ravenna, Aurora had adequate protection for the time being. He could alert her if they ever did arrive at the castle, and could then have them quietly pushed over a bridge.
What if we took care of this before they ever arrived? Take the offensive for once, she thought. It would be easier. It would probably be safer too, to strike first. They knew where Stefan and Ravenna resided; they could sneak up on them in the dead of night, they'd never see it coming…
Maleficent shook her head. To make the first move, to attack rather than defend went completely against the Moorland Manifesto of peace. To change that now seemed wrong. Plus, as far as she could tell, Stefan's main target was her. Thus, Maleficent would feel selfish if she broke centuries of defense-based peace keeping just to protect herself from her crazy ex. No, they definitely would not make the first move.
She looked at her crude drawing once more, contemplating a second line of defense, perhaps some sort of a ditch, when she heard a soft voice and a light buzzing of wings.
"Ah, Maleficent?" It asked. The fairy looked up to see Knotgrass, one of Aurora's former "caretakers". She looked nervous, wringing her hands together and making better eye contact with the ground that the woman in front of her. Rather than grace the pixie with an answer, Maleficent simply raised one dangerously sharp eyebrow.
"I know we didn't do the best job raising Aurora, and I regret that, I do. But, it would be impossible after all that time to not care about her wellbeing. I do worry about her, living up in that castle surrounded by strangers, and now with this news, I find my fears doubled."
Maleficent watched her, her gaze unwavering as the pixie's eyebrows knotted together and she chewed her tiny bottom lip. Knotgrass's eyes returned to the ground once more as the power of Maleficent's green-eyed stare became too much.
"I guess what I am trying to say is, if you need any help, I'm here. I can't do much, my magic is limited you know, but I can be a courier, or a watchman. The other pixies feel the same way, too."
Maleficent gave her a solemn nod. "Thank you, I will remember that."
Knotgrass met her gaze once more, gave her a quick nod, and then flew away.