The Land of Stories: The Enchantress Returns

by Chris Colfer

  Rumpelstiltskin was amazed such a thing could happen. How could something so pleasant grow in such a miserable place? Of all the locations in the world, why did it decide to land here? He pondered the question for a great while, glad of something to distract him from his solitude and shame.

  He ultimately decided the flower must have needed a friend as much as he did and that its presence in his cell had been purposeful. He took great care of the flower, impressively keeping it alive the entire time he had been in the prison. He shared his water with the daisy; he told it stories; and when it fell ill, he would stand on his tiptoes by the window with his spoon and reflect sunlight toward it until it regained its strength.

  To the average person, having a flower as a companion may have seemed a little odd, but for Rumpelstiltskin, it was the best friend he had ever had.

  The flower never mocked him for the clothes he wore like others had in his past. The flower never judged him for wanting the most out of life. The flower never used him for political gain. The flower never condemned him for the mistakes he made years before. The flower was only capable of doing one thing: sharing its beauty.

  In a way, life in prison had been the best thing that ever happened to Rumpelstiltskin, giving him the most meaningful relationship he had ever had. However, his self-surrender hadn’t only been a way for him to clear his conscience; it was also a way for him to protect himself from alliances he had made in his past. And unfortunately, after he’d spent so long hiding from his past, his past eventually found him.

  It was just before sunset when a thunderous noise was heard outside the prison. It was an intense combination of snapping and crunching and popping that became louder and louder by the second.

  The prison began to shake; his bowl and spoon rattled on his table. Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

  Rumpelstiltskin jumped up and down at his window, trying to see what was causing the commotion. What he saw was the most terrifying sight he had seen in years. Like an enormous earthy stampede, a tsunami of angry thornbushes and vines traveled across the land, growing in the prison’s direction.

  “Oh no!” Rumpelstiltskin gasped. He clasped his hands around his mouth and looked around his cell. There was only one person capable of such magic, and after one hundred and twenty-seven years he knew she had finally come for him.

  The wooden soldiers rushed through the halls in a panic.

  “Thornbushes and vines are headed for the prison!” one shouted.

  “Prepare for an attack!” another yelled.

  Rumpelstiltskin looked down at the daisy; it was quivering. “There, there, little flower,” he said and gently stroked one of its leaves. “Everything is going to be all right. I’m going to hide you.”

  He quickly retrieved his bowl off the table and covered his friend with it.

  The prison was hit by the plants and the impact made the whole fortress sway. The thornbushes and vines crawled up the sides of the structure, wrapping around it like an army of serpents, until all the windows were covered and the prison went dim inside.

  After a few quiet moments, a series of soft rumbles pulsed through the prison like a giant heartbeat. Each rumble was stronger than the next and came from several floors below Rumpelstiltskin’s cell. Something was slowly making its way higher and higher through the prison.

  Rumpelstiltskin could hear all the wooden soldiers from above rushing down to fight off whatever was intruding below. The clanking of their weapons echoed as they tried fighting it off. They were definitely fighting off more than just plants.

  Finally, Rumpelstiltskin heard the battle reach the thirteenth floor. He was too scared to move. He smelled things burning and smoke started to flow into his cell from under his cell door. Each soldier’s scream was followed by a loud thud as their wooden bodies hit the floor one by one.

  Once all the soldiers were gone, a pair of soft footsteps came down the hall and stopped at Rumpelstiltskin’s cell door. He was trembling, afraid these were his last moments alive.

  A bright flash of violet light blasted the cell door into smithereens. Rumpelstiltskin braced himself and was pelted by its debris. Once the smoke from the blast cleared, he finally saw who had been causing all the chaos.

  Standing in the doorway of his cell was a tall and beautiful woman. She had long magenta hair that floated and rippled above her like slow-moving flames. Her eyes were violet with long feathered eyelashes like moths’ antennae. She wore a long purple gown with matching gloves and a high collar. A ghostly cape flowed around her and through the hall like a thick sheet of smoke.

  “Ezmia?” Rumpelstiltskin said in horror.

  The Enchantress’s bright red lips curved into a smirk. “Hello, Rumpy,” Ezmia said in her playful, airy voice. “How I’ve missed you.”

  Ezmia stepped into Rumpelstiltskin’s cell and examined the small chamber. Vines and thornbushes followed her, growing around the walls of the cell, covering the inside of the prison as she traveled through it.

  “I love what you’ve done with the place,” Ezmia said sarcastically, passing the stack of hay he used as a bed. “It doesn’t fit a man of your exquisite taste, though, does it? I can’t imagine why you’d abandon me to spend thirteen decades in here.”

  Rumpelstiltskin remained very still, knowing it wasn’t wise to make sudden movements around dangerous creatures.

  “Have you come to kill me?” he said with a quivering jaw.

  The Enchantress forced out a theatrical laugh that did little to comfort him. “Why would I want to kill my oldest friend?” she said with a menacing smile. “Besides, if I wanted you dead I would have killed you ages ago.” Her smile faded and her violet eyes glared down at him. “Why else do you think I’ve spared you from all the curses I’ve cast over the kingdom so far?”

  Rumpelstiltskin had always wondered if the exceptions were because of him.

  “If you aren’t going to kill me, then what brings you here?” he asked, trembling even more. He was convinced she must have a fate worse than death planned for him.

  “Look at you, Rumpy, you’re just as helpless as the day I found you,” Ezmia said pityingly. “When we met, you were just another miserable dwarf working in the mines. But I knew you and I were kindred spirits. We both wanted more than the world was offering us, and we both were ostracized because of it.”

  “I never meant to anger you,” Rumpelstiltskin said and lowered his head. “I had to turn myself in—I couldn’t live with what I had done.”

  “Or what you failed to do, that is,” Ezmia said. “But all is forgiven.”

  Rumpelstiltskin knew her too well to believe her. Ezmia had something up her sleeve—she always did.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked.

  Ezmia went to the window. The vines and thornbushes covering the outside parted so she could see the view of the bay.

  “Like it or not, we made a deal,” she said. “I’ve come back so you can finally fulfill your end of our bargain. I saved you from a melancholy life in the mines, I made you my apprentice and taught you magic, and all I ever asked in exchange was for your assistance.”

  “You never said I would have to kidnap a child,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “And a princess, no less!”

  “I made it incredibly easy for you,” Ezmia said sharply, her tone growing angry. “I bewitched the king into thinking he needed a wife who could spin hay into gold! I chose the village girl he ordered to do so! I planned the whole negotiation between the two of you! All you had to do was take the child that was owed to you!”

  “You wanted me to do your dirty work,” Rumpelstiltskin peeped. “You wanted my name to be tarnished if anything went wrong.”

  “Of course I did,” she said unapologetically. “I was still in the Happily Ever After Assembly at the time. I couldn’t get caught stealing an infant princess. As far as the fairies knew, I was still one of them.”

  “As far as I knew, you were still one of them, too!” Rumpelstiltskin said. “I
thought I was going to be the apprentice of a great fairy, not an Enchantress who was secretly plotting to take over the world.”

  Ezmia took delight in remembering the deception. “Yes, everyone was surprised,” she said. “Of course, that all changed when the rest of the fairies found out you were working for me and I wasn’t invited to the child’s christening. I lost my temper and cursed the whole kingdom to die. They would have, too, if the Fairy Godmother hadn’t converted my curse into a pathetic sleeping curse.”

  The Enchantress closed her eyes and massaged the side of her head. “And since then, Sleeping Beauty has been my own personal nightmare,” she said. “You should have seen her face when I attacked her in the forest, though. There she was, the martyr queen, trembling with fear.… It was priceless!”

  Ezmia smiled to herself and let out a chuckle.

  “You wanted me to kidnap her when she was a baby, then you cursed her for a hundred years, and now you’ve covered her kingdom in vines and thorns,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Why do you hate Queen Sleeping Beauty so much?”

  Ezmia glanced at him sideways as she contemplated her honest answer and the answer she would give him. Whatever she said, there was always much more she wasn’t saying.

  “That’s where everyone gets it wrong,” Ezmia said. “I’ll admit I take great satisfaction in seeing the Eastern Kingdom in a state of turmoil. My reputation was bruised when my fatal spell was reduced into an extensive nap, so there is an element of revenge I take great pleasure in. But the reason I’ve attacked the Eastern Kingdom again has nothing to do with Queen Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Then why are you causing all this chaos?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, nervously looking at the vines and thornbushes outside.

  “Everything has its purpose,” Ezmia said with a proud and sinister gleam in her eyes. “It’s been so long since my last public appearance, the world thought I was dead. I needed to show them that I was back and more powerful than ever. And when better than on a day they were celebrating the end of my last curse? It’s deliciously evil of me, isn’t it?”

  Ezmia closed her eyes and a wide smile grew on her face.

  “What part of our bargain do you want me to fulfill?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. “Surely you don’t want me to kidnap Queen Sleeping Beauty now?”

  “It was never Sleeping Beauty that I was after,” Ezmia said and angrily paced around the chamber. “ ‘Sleeping Beauty this… Sleeping Beauty that…’ She wouldn’t even have that ridiculous name if it weren’t for me!”

  This puzzled Rumpelstiltskin even more. “Then what were you after?” he asked.

  “I was after a child,” Ezmia confessed. “A child of royal blood, specifically; it’s one of the many things I need to complete a special project I’ve been working on.”

  “A special project?” he asked. “You mean taking over the world, I assume? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

  Ezmia looked him straight in the eyes. “Something like that,” she said. “And it’s a lot harder than it looks. Shortly before I met you I figured out a way to do it. It’s an enchantment of sorts—it’s a very complex formula that requires certain properties to be claimed and special assets to obtain. Once I manage to gather all of them together, not even the Fairy Godmother herself can stop me.”

  “It’s been more than a century since I last saw you,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Why have you decided to strike now after all this time?”

  Ezmia waved a hand and the stones in the floor rose to form a large chair.

  “You haven’t been around, Rumpy,” Ezmia said and took a seat. “While you’ve been locked away, I have had quite the century. It’s not as if I’ve been lying around this whole time. I’ve been betrayed, I’ve been poisoned, and I’ve come back from the verge of death stronger and more powerful than ever.”

  “Poisoned?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. “By whom?”

  “Evly.” Ezmia said the name as if it were a disease.

  “Evly?” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Who is that?”

  “She was supposed to be my solution,” Ezmia said. “However, she ended up being my greatest disappointment.”

  She waved her hand again and stones in the floor formed a stool for Rumpelstiltskin to sit on.

  “It’s a long story, so have a seat,” Ezmia ordered.

  Rumpelstiltskin didn’t argue.

  “After I cursed the Eastern Kingdom, I went into hiding,” Ezmia explained. “I may have been the most powerful fairy in the world, but I was no match for all the other fairies put together. I knew I couldn’t strike again until I was further along with my project—until I was past the point of no return. So I plotted in secret, keeping a watchful eye on all the kingdoms for the pieces I needed to continue my work.

  “I assembled a quaint little castle in the Northeast where no one could find me, and plotted out what my next move would be. But it required so many elements outside my reach, I knew I would have to be patient. I brought many troubled souls into the castle, hoping to produce a proper apprentice, but they all failed me—each being a bigger disappointment than the last.…

  “Many years later, in the Charming Kingdom, when the late King Chester was just a prince, the palace had an unexpected visitor one night. A young maiden banged on the palace doors, seeking shelter from a horrible rainstorm. Chester instantly fell in love with her and asked his parents for permission to propose.

  “Being the old-fashioned king and queen they were, Chester’s parents said he could only marry the maiden if he could prove she was of royal blood. So the prince devised a plan to test the maiden’s royal status; he made her a bed in the guest chambers with a stack of a dozen mattresses and placed a pea under the very bottom, convincing his parents that only a royal could feel the imperfection through the mattresses.

  “The next morning the maiden complained about a restless night, and Chester was certain he had found his future wife. He asked for the maiden’s hand in marriage but she refused his proposal. The maiden had a secret; she had tossed and turned with discomfort all night because she was pregnant, not because she was a princess.

  “The maiden had been a simple peasant runaway, embarrassed to be with child out of wedlock. She disappeared from the palace as quickly as she came, and Prince Chester never saw her again. Naturally, when I heard about this so-called pregnant princess on the run, I was intrigued—knowing I needed a royal child. I tracked her down in the forest, where she was living on her own in a cave.

  “To my delight, she was very much with child when I discovered her. I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse; in exchange for her child I would give her a life of riches and luxury beyond her wildest dreams—the usual. She agreed and the deal was made. Unfortunately, she backed out of our agreement shortly before giving birth to the child. She ran into a neighboring village and died giving birth to a little girl, whom the villagers named Evly.

  “I soon discovered that the maiden hadn’t been a royal and Evly couldn’t be the child I needed. I let the villagers raise her while I conceived another plan to get use out of Evly after all. I was going to train her to seduce and marry Prince White of the Northern Kingdom. Together they would produce an heir and I would finally have the child of royal blood that I desired.

  “Unfortunately, when I returned for Evly in her adolescence, she had fallen madly in love with one of the village boys, a pathetic aspiring poet by the name of Mira. I took Evly to my castle in the Northeast to begin training, but all she did was cry and whine every day and night about how much she missed Mira. So I brought the boy to her, imprisoning him inside a Magic Mirror.

  “I thought it had been a kind gesture on my part, but it only caused Evly to grow more spiteful. She conducted a plan of her own against me. She broke into my room of potions and concocted a poison so strong that when a few drops touched the ground outside her window, all the trees and plants for miles around were killed.

  “Evly laced a small dagger with the poison and stabbed me with it. The poiso
n almost killed me; I shriveled down to the state of a dying human—I lost all my power, all my beauty, and all hope that I would fulfill my plans for the future. I ran as far away as I could, fearing Evly would try to finish me off, but the stupid girl was so consumed with trying to free Mira she forgot all about me.

  “An old witch named Hagatha found me in the woods, barely alive. She recognized me and the effects of the poison. She brought me to her small hut in the Dwarf Forests and nursed me back to health. I became her apprentice but she treated me horribly, taking advantage of the person I once was. She sent me out on the most gruesome errands and forced me to sleep outside like an animal.

  “Ironically, the poison is also what saved me. The Happily Ever After Assembly had been looking for me since I cursed the Eastern Kingdom; they didn’t recognize me in my frail state and decided I was dead.

  “But one day, a few decades later, Hagatha and I were collecting plants from the Thornbush Pit that she planted around her hut. She was forcing me to do all the work and my hands were scraped and scratched from all the thorns. I remember feeling more angry than I had ever felt in my life. I was furious that I, the woman who had once been more powerful than anyone else, had become a witch’s slave.

  “And with this anger I felt something different. Suddenly, I felt alive again—like a candle had been relit inside of me. After many long years, my body had finally recovered from the effects of the poison and my powers had come back.

  “It’s true what they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger; I’m living proof. I was more powerful than ever before. My powers were different, too; my magic had always come from a happily-ever-after source, coming from a life among fairies—that’s why every curse I created could be broken with a kiss or token of affection—but not anymore. This time my magic had no limits.

  “I pushed Hagatha into the pit and cursed the vines and thornbushes to trap anything that came close to it,” Ezmia confessed.