Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1

_This will be a multi-chapter fic based on the life of Princess Aurora (from the Once Upon a Time series.) Starting with her parents story, and continuing on to her own adventures. It seemed to me that OUAT went with the fairy tale version of Sleeping Beauty, where Briar Rose was the original sleeping beauty and her daughter Aurora was placed under the same spell later on in her lifetime. So, using that spark of inspiration, I decided to write out the story of how I think Aurora came to be in the position that shes in. This will be a Philora fic (Phillip and Aurora have been my OTP since I was seven, some ships you just can't sink.) Although I'll be using some of the names provided by Disney (can't mess with the classics) most of this story is based on OUAT. So without further ado, my disclaimer. I don't own nor profit from the use of any of these characters._

**_Please note that the story is now being Beta'd by dares-to-dream, and all chapters have been edited._**

* * *

"I'm telling you Stefan, this is a terrible idea!"

Prince Stefan couldn't help but roll his eyes at his friend's warnings. Their company had been traveling for far too long to turn back now. Behind them the soldiers murmured to each other, joking amongst themselves while their horses shifted in irritation at being kept waiting. A few leaned forward in their saddles, taking the opportunity to rest while the princes discussed the current mission.

The sun beat at their backs tempered by the fresh mountain air, below them the forest stretched out. It possessed an enclosed presence, too many trees pressing in together. Stefan never did relish close spaces like that. He preferred room to move about freely, and air that didn't feel so choked. The forest always made him feel anxious. His knee bounced erratically in nervous anticipation of an unknown amount of time spent among the towering trees.

"Nonsense Hubert, it'll be a grand adventure, just like in the stories." He replied, clapping a friendly hand on the other mans shoulder.

"Yes, except those were _just_ stories, and we are no longer children. Traveling for days just to explore a mysteriously abandoned castle? It seems a bit juvenile, even for us." Hubert responded. He spared a quick glance at the crumbling stone walls looming in the distance. "And besides, there must be a reason it was abandoned in the first place."

"Which is exactly what I'm going to find out!" Stefan grinned before turning his attention to the castle ruins. "There must be a reason it's out here. The legends surrounding this place aren't very old. No one can tell me when this castle was built or who it belonged to, yet it looks as if it has been here since before the Troll Wars. There's no history behind it, only silly superstitions. It's as if the castle just appeared out of thin air, and no one bothered to find out why!"

Prince Hubert had to give an exasperated sigh at the other man's theatrics. Truth be told, this castle had been driving his friend mad for weeks, urging him forward at every step until only the ruins and its mysteries filled Stefan's mind. And like always, Hubert was left to follow behind, hoping to keep his distracted friend out of trouble. A tiring task to be sure.

"I don't see why you even bother," Hubert began, fiddling with the pommel of his sword. "I've heard the tales too you know, and travelers are never permitted near the castle. The closer they get, the farther the ruins retreat. What makes you think that we'll have better luck?"

Stefan could only grimace. His friend had a point, there was no indication that whatever magic was surrounding the castle was going to allow him access. And yet there was something about this place that kept him captivated, as if someone were reaching out to him. Frequently his mind would cloud over, a voice which he could almost hear beckoned him. In these moments his muscles would tense, filled with the need to run, go after that presence. Lately he'd woken up halfway out of the castle, and on rare nights he'd even be in the stables, reaching for his horse's tack and not even dressed himself.

In his dreams he saw the ruins, heard the soundless voice calling out to him over and over again. He had no proof that he would be allowed inside, yet he could not explain this consuming desire to his friend.

"I don't know Hubert, I guess I just wanted one last adventure before I'm forced to settle into my role as king." He gave a sly smile to his companion. " And one last hurrah before your married life begins." Hubert blushed in response to this comment. He barely knew his bride-to-be. Met her at royal functions and the like but they hadn't had the opportunity to become truly acquainted. He hoped that with marriage they would become closer, maybe even fall in love. High hopes for an arranged marriage but he was rather enthusiastic about the whole situation, a blank slate and no reason they shouldn't be friends at least.

"I had no qualms with marrying and continuing the line. You're the one who treats it as if a snake were waiting to lunge at you." The two men shared a laugh before returning to their waiting company.

"Well what can I say? The domestic life just isn't for me." Stefan shrugged sheepishly, receiving an eye roll in response.

"So you think, and yet I still don't believe that. But alas we waste the day. Let us attempt to breach your cursed castle. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can return home." Hubert replied jovially, climbing into his horse's saddle. Stefan followed behind, thoughts firmly fixated on the castle and what might be dwelling inside.

There was a saying in the lands, which stated that a mans destiny was wound around his heart, and would lead him to where he needed to go. Stefan liked to believe that he, and only he, was in charge of his own destiny. Yet, as he trailed along behind his friend he couldn't shake the feeling that an unseen force had gripped his heart, and Stefan was no longer sure he was in charge of his actions anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hold a moment," Hubert began, drawing his horse up short. His brow furled in confusion."This is impossible!"

"What's so impossible?" Stefan turned to inspect his companion. Taking note of the way the company's horses were shuffling about nervously. Hubert looked around at the scenery, nervously muttering to himself. To Stefan, it seemed like they were encompassed by simple trees, just like all the other towering woods they'd passed on this path, but Hubert had obviously noticed something different about their surroundings and it very clearly made him uncomfortable. It was a few moments before he responded.

"We _are_ getting closer to the castle!"

"Oh are we now? Do you possess the magical ability to sense when we begin to draw near to haunted ruins?" Hubert scoffed at his friend's sarcasm.

"No, but I do possess the incredible ability to notice when the tracks on the road suddenly cut off." He pointed a few feet back. There were remnants of activity, wagon tracks and horse hooves stamped into the dried mud, the various skeletons of long abandoned camps. But the road where Stefan and his companion now stood was bereft of any markings at all. As if no one else had been able to cross some invisible line, save them.

"Well now that _is_ odd." Stefan dropped to the ground, searching for evidence of a magical barrier of any kind. His eyes glinted with a feverish excitement.

Hubert noticed his friend's new-found enthusiasm, and warily inspected his surroundings as well. The trees grew thick and tall, blocking out all but a few rays of sunlight that danced abut as the leaves swayed. When they had first entered the forest, he hadn't minded the close feeling, it was cool and calm. But now that they'd crossed the magical barrier, he could feel a difference in the air. The trees pressed in, almost in a sinister way, stifling him. It made Hubert decidedly uncomfortable. 'Why us?' he thought.

"Stefan, we should make camp before it gets dark."

"What?! Are you mad?! We're finally making progress! We are traveling where no others were allowed to travel. We should continue on and see where this road leads."

"We know where it leads. To your abandoned castle. Just tell me the truth, why are you so eager to get there?" Hubert watched the other man duck his head to study the ground. "Why are we doing this Stefan?"

"I just… I feel like there's something there for me, something I'm supposed to find." He looked off in the direction of the castle. "Someone who's waiting for me."

"Some_one_?" Hubert inquired.

"Someone, what?"

"You said someone just now!"

"What are you taking about?!" Hubert threw his hands up in exasperation.

"You know what, I give up. Let's set camp before the sun sets and we'll start up again in the morning." Stefan sighed and returned with his friend, glancing back occasionally with a contemplative look.

* * *

"Sir… Sir?"

Hubert started awake at the sound of the soldiers voice, wielding his pillow like a weapon. The attending guard tried to maintain his composure whilst the prince shook the last webs of sleep from his mind.

"What is it?"

"Sir, Prince Stefan is missing."

"What?!" Hubert scrambled from his bedding, reaching for his tunic as he stood. "When did you notice that he was gone?"

"A few moments ago. We saw that his horse was missing and went to check on the prince just to make sure. His bed is abandoned, and his armor is gone as well." Hubert sighed in frustrating, smoothing over the worry lines on his forehead with the pad of his thumb. "Should we send out a search party sir?"

"No need." He replied, looping a belt around his waist. "We already know where he is. On his way to the castle if he isn't there already."

"What should we do then?"

"Follow him, and pray to the Gods that he's alive when we get there." The guard nodded in response, making his exit through the tent flap. Hubert spent a few more moments finishing preparations. A string of muttered curses, aimed at his friend, escaping his mouth.

"Stefan, you fool. I hope you haven't signed your own death sentence with this bull-headed move."


	3. Chapter 3

Stefan had been forced to abandon his horse a few yards back, and continue on foot when a thick growth of thorns began to impede on his ability to journey forward.

Drawing his sword, he hacked through the brambles, muttering curses under his breath. These damned weeds were causing more trouble than they really ought.

At first he'd merely attempted to avoid the brambles, opting to stray off the path towards the tree line, but the pathway had managed to curve towards his course, no matter how far he moved away.

It didn't take long for him to decide that the magic surrounding this cursed place required he go traipsing through the thorns. It was only a mild annoyance at first, he'd been able to slice a few key branches and avoid the rest for the most part. However the further in he went, the more the brambles interlocked, snagging at his clothes and hair first; then slicing through his skin.

Streaks of red covered his arms and face, drops of blood slid from the deeper cuts. There were noticeable tears in his clothing. Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, he took the opportunity to inspect himself and cringed.

'I certainly hope I'm not expected to be presentable when I finally get there.' He thought, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Turning to inspect his surroundings, he was met by the sight of a restored forest of thorns. All evidence of his progress had vanished.

"Oh for the love of the Gods!" He shouted in frustration, slamming his sword against a branch. He left it imbedded for a moment, watching as the weed slowly repaired itself.

Stefan berated himself for not checking his retreat until now, but truth be told it was Hubert who was always watching for what might come up from behind. Stefan was more likely to plow forward and throw caution to the wind. Which is exactly how he ended up in this mess; he thought, with impenetrable thorns ahead and the same to be found behind.

Despair caught up with him for a moment. What was he even doing here? What was the point of all this? He bowed his head and decided to turn back, for the first time in his life, he was going to abandon his mission.

Retrieving his sword, he prepared to turn and start hacking his way back, when a slight breeze swept across his face. It brought him to a stop, there was a presence with this breeze, nothing he could see or hear; a soundless voice, but he could feel it.

A sudden drive to move forward filled his limbs, the desire was overwhelming. The ache in his muscles and the sting of his cuts passed to the back of his mind, all thought focused on getting to that castle.

He had to get there, it was imperative.

With renewed strength, Stefan swung at the thorns, hacking and slashing. Propelling himself forward, he moved faster, obtaining harsher lacerations from the brambles.

He was nearly running by this point, hardly waiting for one branch to fall before thrusting at the next. The exhaustion had nearly caught up to him, but he couldn't stop.

He _had_ to get to the castle.

Everything depended on his success.

Stefan had almost attempted to slice at the gate, before realizing he had _finally_ reached the entrance to the castle grounds. Relief swept through him, and as the adrenaline eased way, the pain made itself known.

With his last bit of resolve, he managed to unlatch the gate, slumping to the ground in exhaustion. He was sore, covered in blood and sweat, and had been running for an unknown amount of time. Glancing at the position of the sun, he was startled to realize that it was late afternoon, only a few hours till sundown. He had been navigating his way through the thorns since before dawn.

Leaning his head back against the stone, he took the opportunity to rest his body while taking in his surroundings.

Crumbling stone and overgrown vegetation was all he could discern from this initial inspection. Yet, as unassuming as the outside appeared, there was sadness here, as well as a sinister force. One which, he sensed, intended to drive him off if it could.

Stefan was once again left with hesitation.

What was he even doing here?

* * *

"Sire, its Prince Stefan's Horse!"

Hubert gestured for his company to stop, before following the guard to the abandoned steed. It seemed that no harm had come to it, grazing around the horse was rather content truth be told.

"Any sign of the Prince?" Hubert asked, dismounting for a closer look of his own. Stefan's footprints continued along the path, hardly deviating from the trail. 'Why on earth would he leave his horse just to continue on foot?' Drawing his sword Hubert looked around warily.

"Stay alert, there's obviously more going on here than is immediately evident." The rest of his company nodded their understanding moving forward cautiously.

"Your Highness, there's something strange on the road ahead." Hubert hurried over to observe what had concerned his men. Before them grew a mass of grotesque thorns, deep metallic purple, bubbling as if it was alive. Writhing and grinding, the living thorns crept along the path, receding from the group.

"Do you think Prince Stefan is in there Sir?" Hubert scoffed.

"Unlikely, His Highness possesses the remarkable ability to anger all manner of enemies, both magical and mortal. I have no doubt that our weed patch here is attempting an assault from behind."

"Should we retaliate?"

"By all means." He gestured to a few of the men, who eagerly drew their swords. Approaching the gnarled mass, one of the soldiers thrust forward, piercing the bark. Immediately a spray of putrid liquid emerged, accompanied by a hiss of outrage. The soldier attempted to avoid the thorn's attack, but was not quick enough to avoid all of the spray, bits of his arm were hit. Screaming in agony, he clutched the limb to his chest, eyes widening as the liquid ate through the leather gauntlet. By the time his comrades were able to drag him back to the rest of the company, the acidic liquid had eaten through his skin, raw muscle, revealing a sliver of bone. The soldier had slipped into unconsciousness.

"Get me the healer, quick!" Hubert shouted watching as the nearest man scrambled away. He quickly returned with an older gentleman. The healer took in the soldiers injuries, brow drawn up in confusion. Grabbing a flask of water from his belt, he upended a small amount of the liquid onto the injured soldiers arm. Immediately he began to writhe and twitch, flailing out to the point of restraint. Hubert leaned against his arm, holding it down for the healer to get a better look while the soldier moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head.

"What do you think?" Hubert asked watching the healer slide a finger against the edge of the injury. The other man grabbed another flask, dribbling small amounts of potion into the wound. The soldier slipped back into unconsciousness, and the healer produced some linen, beginning the process of wrapping the arm.

"Strange injury indeed. It is magical in nature of course. He'll heal, but I doubt he'll retain his arms' former abilities." Hubert nodded and moved away giving the healer more room to work with. Meeting up with the waiting group of soldiers, he conveyed the healer's verdict.

"Seems Prince Stefan has bitten off more than he can chew." The prince brought a hand up to run across his forehead.

"The thorns continue to retreat, Sire. Orders?" Hubert looked up to see that the living plant had made headway, while they had dealt with the crisis.

"I suppose we can follow from a distance, see where it intends to go. If we avoid jabbing things at it, we should remain relatively safe." The men nodded in compliance, rounding up their gear. The healer and two additional guards would stay behind with the injured man.

Hubert tethered his horse next to Stefan's. It seemed as though a rather slow walk was in order for all of them.

Damn Stefan, and damn his cursed castle.


	4. Chapter 4

Stefan allowed himself another moment of rest before raising his weary body into a standing position. He had to get moving, to become stuck here would mean taking up permanent residence in this cursed place.

He uneasily glanced around, taking in the gnarled trees and time-worn stone, suspicious stains of a rusted brown color littered the ground here and there. He tried not to dwell on how many deaths that amount of dried blood would entail.

Stefan noticed the main entrance only a few feet away. Realizing that there was little chance that the evil inhabitants did not already sense his presence, he opted to head for the obvious route. Might as well get all the blood shed out of the way.

He had expected a trap, or some sort of offensive maneuver to launch itself once he got close to the doors. There was nothing, just the same eerie stillness. The nothing was almost worse than an outright attack. Nudging the door open with his boot, he paused for a moment, listening for any sounds other than the creaking of long abandoned hinges. Still the quiet air reigned, and Stefan considered it safe enough to continue into the entrance hall.

Despite its obviously neglected state, the interior was rather impressive. Marble pillars rose to flank the main walkway, statues of hooded figures were carved into the stone, acting as sconces for splintering torches. Stefan grabbed one from the nearest sculpture, intending to use a fire to offset the light of the setting sun, but a figure at the base of the grand staircase had him stopping short.

He brandished his sword in a threatening maneuver, preparing to shout out a warning, but hesitated when he noticed the figure hadn't moved in retaliation. Stefan took a closer look and realized it was merely another statue.

"Great, now I'm drawing phantoms out of thin air," he sighed, lowering his sword, "I seem to find bits of polished rock to be life threatening."

"In this place, you must consider everything to be a threat." the statue replied, its voice ageless and lacking of any real emotion. In fact it sounded rather bored. Stefan's heart leapt to his throat and he berated himself once again as he brought his weapon back up, this was obviously a magical castle, it shouldn't be such a surprise that there were magic creatures inhabiting its halls.

"Who are you?!" he demanded. "...or rather _what_ are you?"

"I'm simply a guardian. I keep the unworthy away from the heart of this place." The statue never moved. It's mouth never formed words, and it's eyes remained inanimate, it's voice seemed to resonate within Stefan's mind.

"What is so important about 'the heart of this place' that it requires a keeper?"

"Your future." was the simple reply.

The prince blanched at this knowledge. His future couldn't possibly be contained within the walls of this Gods-forsaken castle. He wasn't even sure what he was doing here. Furthermore, he had a castle of his own; a land with titles, and loyal subjects. He did not need whatever the place had to offer.

And yet, here he was despite all warnings or obstacle. Simply because Stefan felt like it was meant to be.

"Very well than, if this is my 'future' or whatever, wouldn't I be considered worthy enough to pass?"

"No, I require a sacrifice to release the binds that prevent you from continuing forward. Only then will you be considered worthy."

"A sacrifice?" Stefan's stomach clenched at the thought. "Are you asking for a limb, or do you require something else." An amused sound hummed from the statue. Well at least the prince was making friends.

"No, you will be asked to give something worth much more." That certainly didn't sound promising.

"I'm afraid I have nothing to offer. Everything I own of value is back in my kingdom."

"I ask for no earthly gain."

"Then what is it I am supposed to relinquish?" he huffed in exasperation. If they continued in these puzzling circles, he was going to end up abandoning this mission. It took the statue a moment to answer, it seemed to be considering him.

"What would you be willing to give up? For a chance to have everything your heart never even considered it desired." The question caused him to pause.

"My heart desires nothing." But even as he finished speaking, he realized this wasn't true. It certainly wasn't logic that had led him on this fools quest. It wasn't logic that made him drive his friend and a company of his best men to unexplored and dangerous territory. It wasn't his wits that allowed him to abandon his companions to drive into the arms of whatever lurked here.

It was his heart that led him. Because underneath all the pain and curses, the danger and the black magic; there was something there. Something unlike anything Stefan had ever known, and the depths of his soul yearned for that _something_. Whatever it was he belonged to it now.

"Anything," He whispered, his heart pounding wildly and blood rushing through his veins. He was terrified of this thing that he already held so dear and yet, he didn't even know what it was. Stefan feared the unknown but he knew he couldn't continue without it either. " I would give anything." A thrum in his mind told him the figure was pleased with his response.

"Very well. I require that you give me a victory."

"A what?! That could be anything, are you asking for a memory of one of my past victories?" He could have easily chosen from many, his life had not been lacking in battles and skirmishes. A simple payment in exchange for passage through the castle.

"No, in the future there will come a battle, the most important of your life. You will forfeit that victory to me." Stefan paused at this curious demand.

"What would I lose?"

"Does it matter? It will take place years from now. You will be an old man in the twilight of your life." He still wasn't convinced; there would be other consequences yet to be discovered, he was sure of it. But the statue was an obstacle between him and whatever this castle contained. He was determined to see this through to the end.

"Very well, I sacrifice this victory to you in exchange for passage." The statue released a pleased sound in his mind and Stefan felt a shift, whether it came from within himself or from the magic surrounding him, he couldn't say. A few torches at the top of the staircase lit themselves, illuminating the way further into the castle.

"Go then," the statue allowed as its presence in his head began to fade, "A warning before you continue, however. Do not trust the things you deem insignificant, for they are the most cunning, and therefore the most dangerous."

Stefan glanced at the statue to voice his confusion, but it was already gone, vanishing into thin air. But more startling was the way his surroundings had changed. Before it had merely seemed like an abandoned castle; now he couldn't believe it hadn't already fallen around him. The staircase ahead suddenly looked worse for wear, huge chunks missing and crumbling rock threatened to take the rest, in fact most of the entrance hall seemed to have collapsed in the time it took for him to converse with the guardian.

"Well, it seems forward is the only option at this point." he grumbled to himself, making his way up to the next landing. There was no turning back now, unless he wanted to risk a part of the ceiling collapsing on him. 'Well at least I wouldn't have to fulfill the statues requirement.' His mind was still uneasy at the sacrifice he was asked to make, but there was no other choice. This place demanded pain, even if it didn't shed blood to get it.

* * *

Hubert cursed his friend again, removing his boots and resting against a tree. He and the other men had moved forward at a snail's pace, following wherever these demon infested weeds were leading them. It moved slowly enough to put his ailing grandmother to shame. It wasn't tiring work, all they had to do was continue walking, yet they were all of them exhausted. One of the men suggested the magic of the castle was making them tired.

"Well I wouldn't put it past this place." Hubert had replied. "Let's go ahead and set up camp, might as well sleep if we're not going to make much headway. No fires though, there's no telling what could be out in those woods." The men agreed and divided up watch shifts between them before setting up sleeping rolls. Most of the men abandoned an evening meal in favor of rest.

Hubert yawned and leaned his head back, fighting to stay awake. Why was he so tired anyway? He'd walked farther distances and still had energy to spare. Rubbing at his eyes, he looked around to see how the others we're faring. Everyone was asleep, including the guards chosen for the first watch shift. They were simply drooped against the nearest tree, heads rolled back and soft snores emitting from most.

Well that was certainly unnatural.

He wanted to jump up and alert his men, warn them all away from falling prey to whatever trap this was; but he had stumbled into the same trap as they.

He could feel the spell now that he recognized it as magical. The forced sleep was creeping inside his brain, overtaking all his senses no matter how hard he fought.

Before he succumbed, he cursed Stefan one last time. It seemed all of their lives were now resting firmly in the hopes that he was able to release whatever spell enchanted this place.

Gods help them all.


	5. Chapter 5

Once he had safely maneuvered his way up the crumbling staircase, Stefan paused to grab the nearest lit torch. All of the flames had an eerie tint to them, a sickly green color that caused the shadows on the wall to take on a purple hue. It was unnatural, but nothing about this trip had exactly been _normal_, so he continued on the current path.

He soon lost track of how far he had walked, before he came to a vast chamber, the largest he had encountered yet. It was dark, impenetrably so, and the chill of the air swept over his prone body, stinging his cuts and making his eyes water. Stefan brought the torch closer to himself, hoping to cut through the cold. The flame helped to ease some warmth into his limbs, and he continued on in hopes of escaping whatever magic held this room.

He didn't get far before he noticed the flame had taken on the shape of a face. After the statue and the thorns, he should hardly have been surprised to see inanimate objects reacting to their surroundings, but that didn't stop him from flinging the torch away in shock.

"By the Gods! When is this place going to run out of surprises?!" he cried out.

"Soon enough, if you don't stop shouting. You'll alert the sleeping beasts to your arrival, and then you won't have to worry about any more nasty surprises." the flame responded. It had a feminine voice and, upon closer inspection, he noticed the face was definitely that of a woman's. "Now, are you going to help me up? Or are you going to continue to stand there gaping like a fool?"

Stefan snapped his mouth shut, before moving over to lift the torch handle. The cold was getting worse and the flames really did help.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'm just not used to talking to my fires."

The flames barked out a laugh in response. Not the cheeriest sound in the world, but so far she had asked nothing of him, so that was progress.

"And what have we here? A princeling, by the looks of you. Here to break the curse no doubt." She nodded her head as if the matter had been decided.

"Wait...what curse are you talking about?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"The sleeping curse of course!" When he gave no response she huffed and rolled her eyes. "Better get settled then, it's quite the story."

"In here? But it's freezing!"

"Worry not boy, story telling has always made my flames grow brighter. You'll be fine." She fixed him with a pointed look, "Unless you're afraid of the shadows?"

A prickling sense of unease began at the back of his neck. This place had not been so kind to him, and he knew he shouldn't trust anything, but he really did want to hear the story.

"You're not going to jump out and burn me are you?" The flame stared at him for a moment, letting off a cackling laugh.

"Of course not boy, you have my word. I shan't harm you." He did not fully trust her, but he settled in to hear the story none-the-less. If Hubert were here he would have dragged Stefan away, berating him for being too fool-hardy and curious. But Hubert was not here and Stefan could not draw away from the flame.

"Now let's see, where to begin? How about once upon a time-"

"Oh please! I'm not a child."

"Would you be quiet, boy! Or I'll leave you here to face the cold of this castle all on your own." Stefan ducked his head chagrined. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw movement, but it turned out to be nothing more than his shadow flickering in the flames' light. He noticed that she did seem brighter.

"If there aren't any more interruptions, I'll continue. This used to be a castle."

"Obviously." Stefan muttered. She glared at him, a few sparks shooting in his direction.

"Yes, as you pointed out, it still has the form of a castle, but it has become a tomb."

"Whose tomb is it?!" He asked eagerly.

"If you continue to interrupt, I really am going to burn you, now be quiet!" she huffed. "I will get to that, just give me a moment."

"As I was saying, this used to be a castle, but one that was bustling and full of life. A little over a century ago, the lands here were prosperous and the people happy. A king and queen ruled here, and with the aide of their court magician, they ushered in an era of peace. They promised a portion of the kingdom to the magician, in thanks of all her work.

"But as the years passed, they forgot about their offer of gratitude. They began to turn away from the use of her magic, leaving her to fend for herself."

Stefan listened attentively, the fire glowed bigger and brighter, and the shadows drew longer and darker. He got the feeling he was being watched, but a cursory glance around the room revealed no one. He turned his attention back to the story.

"Soon enough the queen had a baby, a princess, one who they named heir of all the land; including that which was promised to the magician. In her anger she grew vengeful, and rather than going after the king and queen themselves, plotted against the princess.

"The princess grew into a young woman, one who mirrored the traits of her parents, and the magician could not bear to allow this spoiled child the right to the lands she rightfully owned. She took on the mantle of 'witch' and created a spell that would put an end to the princess.

"She led the girl astray, luring her to the point of a spinning wheel, where she pricked her finger and invited her doom. But the curse misfired, and rather than kill the princess, it merely put her into a long and terrible sleep. The witch contented herself with that fate, and watched as the kingdom, affected by the princesses forced sleep, began to crumble. The castle became cursed, the people fled. Those who could not run fast enough fell prey to the same fate as she. An everlasting sleep, but one which did not stop time, not for them, and soon enough every living creature faded away. To dust and nightmares."

The flames settled back a bit, she was now far too large for the frail piece of wood the contained her, but still it held. Stefan sat in silence, contemplating.

"So..the princess is still here? Trapped in this 'sleep' or whatever it is?" He received a nod of affirmation. "And no one has come to rescue her?!" he asked incredulously.

"Well, it takes a _special _kind of someone to break the curse, no one's been able to breach these walls since it's last inhabitant succumbed to the sleep."

"So this witch just allowed an entire nation to dwindle and die because she held a grudge against one helpless girl?"

"She was hardly helpless. There was more spirit in that girl than you've ever seen." The fire snorted.

"That was hardly fair of the witch." The flames bristled but she stayed silent. "I mean, the princess didn't do anything except be born to the king and queen. I doubt she deserved the fate she received." Stefan felt an odd sense of indignation on the girl's behalf, he didn't even know her and he still grew angry at this witch.

"I'm not surprised that you don't understand, _prince,_" The flames spat. "The two of you would have been kindred spirits. Spoiled and stupid."

He thought of his kingdom then. Of his mother the queen regent, who had worked so hard to maintain peace. Yet, no matter how hard she tried there was always someone who took offense. Stefan had fought for the good of his kingdom; he had worked beside the people. Watched them suffer and die, all for the sake of the wrath of some faceless warlord.

"I may have titles, and rule over a bit of land, but I'm hardly spoiled. Everything I do, I do for the love I carry for my people. I have led armies, and watched men fall; knowing that their deaths were on my head. The weight of leadership is not an easy mantle to carry. Could you do the same, little fire? Watch people die and mourn their passing? So much suffering that it begins to tear at your soul?"

"I couldn't say m'lord. I'm simply used to light passages and warm bones." She replied in an ironic tone. Stefan sat back and studied her.

"And for the record I'm hardly stupid."

"Stupid enough to enter this place."

"No, that was destiny if I understood the story right. I'm supposed to break this curse, but I'm still not as stupid as you think."

"Is that so?" the flames asked flickering as though irritated.

"Yes it is so, for instance I have figured out who you are. You're the witch from the story; the one responsible for this curse and for the fate of all the people who lived here."

There was silence for a moment, when she erupted into a loud, cackling laugh. Shooting sparks in the air as her face took on greater definition.

"Right you are, boy! Maybe you are more clever than I gave you credit for! What gave me away?" Stefan dropped the torch as a woman finally emerged from the flames. Her eyes gray and full of malice.

"You never mentioned what had happened to the witch, so I assumed she must still be lurking these halls. What better way to make certain your evil stays intact?" He snarled in reply. "And since you seemed to know the story so well; and you were the most lively thing I'd seen since I left my company, I simply put the pieces together."

"Yes well, you got me." Her grin stretched across her face warping her features to resemble a ghoul. "I am known as Maleficent."

"Where is the princess?!" He demanded.

"Oh around, although I will warn you she's not much for company in her current state. All of those nightmares must have surely driven her mad by now."

"I won't let your evil continue!"

"Evil?!" She shrieked. "My dear prince you flatter me! She got what she deserved, she paid for her parents' crimes, and revenge can be so... sweet." She practically purred her response, running her thin fingers through the wild blond curls that framed her face.

"Her parents' crimes? She was innocent! And your 'revenge' was the workings of a madwoman!" With his sword drawn, he began circling her, intending to cut this witch down.

"That land was mine! I did what was asked, I threw back the rebel forces, but the queen took some offense at some of my less than... savory magical abilities, and begged the king to send me away. No one denies me my right!" she howled, throwing her fists into the air. The torches around the hall began to light themselves in answer to Maleficent's fury.

"No ruler in their right mind would allow a dark magic user to linger at the edges of their kingdom. You're a scourge and I intend to cleanse this place of your presence! Then I will free the princess!" Stefan swiped at the witch with his sword but she disappeared from his swing.

"Oh but it's not _me_ you have to fight, boy. You must defeat yourself." Her voice came from behind him and he whirled around, weapon at the ready, only to stumble back a few steps. He faced a mirror image of himself, completely made of shadows, but with eyes the color of the green flames. His shadow grinned at him, drawing a sword from its own scabbard. The witch broke out into howling laughter.

"I promised I wouldn't hurt you, and I always keep my promises." Stefan scoffed, never taking his eyes off his shadowy counterpart. "Oh, don't be insulting! I've upheld by my oath, _I_ won't hurt you, but I can't say the same for him." She gestured to the advancing shade.

"What was the point in telling me the story; you could have just killed me?" He was stalling for time now. The longer she talked, the longer he had to assess the situation and come up with a plan.

"Oh please, killing you myself is hardly as entertaining as watching you flounder through an impossible situation. I became a sorceress because I don't like to get my hands dirty, but it had been so long since I've worked magic, I needed you distracted. As my flames grew stronger, your shadow grew bigger. Tell me boy, can you defeat yourself to reach a princess you've never met?"

The shadow lunged at him and Stefan brought up his sword to block. He immediately realized the creature had the same strength and wits as Stefan himself. Everything the prince knew the shadow would know as well. Maleficant cackled again, turning to raise a portal from the green fire.

"I would love to stay and watch your gruesome death, but it's been more than a century since I've seen the rest of the world. I think it's high time I established new roots." She grinned, wiggling her fingers in a mocking goodbye. "Farewell princeling, I wish you a terrible and painful demise!"

With a flash of light the witch was gone. He hardly had time to form an oath of revenge, before the shadow was swinging again, putting Stefan on the defense. His mind raced with frantic strategies, but everything he knew the shadow would know as well.

How was he supposed to defeat himself?


	6. Chapter 6

Stefan had never quite grasped the concept of 'finding an enemy within yourself,' although his sword fighting instructor had often drilled the saying into his mind, probably in an attempt to teach some caution.

Ironic that he finally realized the meaning whilst staring at his own shadowy reflection. One which grinned maliciously before attempting to take off his head.

Pity, and Stefan was _so_ hoping they'd get along.

He dodged and the shadow followed, nearly nicking his stomach in the process. Stefan went on the offensive in the hopes that it might make the difference.

It didn't.

He moved, the shadow followed; he struck and it blocked. Every bit of fancy swordplay he knew was utterly useless. Before long he was sporting a few new scratches to add to his growing collection. The sting of sweat continuously poured into his eyes and his limbs protested every movement. Not the most ideal of situations when his opponent didn't seem to lack in stamina.

Of course Stefan knew the best way to beat an enemy that could anticipate your every move was to be unpredictable. Easier said than done. His mind drew blank, everything he would have used in normal cases wasn't going to work and he couldn't just make something up off the top of his mind. That was Hubert's job.

It was also Hubert's job to make sure he didn't end up in situations like this. Stefan's mind dwelt on this thought; if he were here now... he'd probably make for an exit. He was always better at knowing when to cut his loses.

The Prince frantically examined all of the walls. The doors were sealed shut and he had his doubts that he'd make it before the shadow headed him off. No windows, not in an enclosed room like this. Perfect, well trying to think like Hubert wasn't going to help.

He tried some of the moves his tutors had been fond of; the shadow knew those too. He tried mimicking moves that would have been used by the heroes found in stories; like the ones his mother used to read to him when he was young. None of those were very helpful.

The shadow used prince's weakened state to sweep its arm under Stefan's, snapping his wrist back and sending his sword flying through the air.

Utterly beaten and defenseless, Stefan cradled the limb to his chest, his wrist felt broken or perhaps just dislocated. Not that it would matter for very much longer. The shadow grinned and stalked towards him, it had all the time in the world and it knew it.

Stefan was no coward, but at the end he felt himself begin to tremble. In attempt to draw some courage, he thought of those closest to him, the family he'd be leaving behind. His mother, who had raised him and dealt with all the heart ache that came with a headstrong child. Hubert, his best friend who stood by him even during his most questionable schemes and made sure they both came out safely.

He thought of old tutors, various advisors, soldiers he fought with. All people who tried to enrich him as a ruler.

Stefan would have been content to die with these men and women in his thoughts; but at the last moment a new face came to mind, one he would rather have stayed hidden in its dark corner.

His father had not been a good man. A poor ruler who robbed the land of any wealth, he was constantly starting wars with other countries over petty reasons. And he had been cruel, sometimes to his son, but mostly to his wife, who endured it with grace and dignity. Above all his father had been a coward, content to watch others battle for him and when he deemed it necessary he was willing to get his hands dirty, but only if he knew he could win and would have used any advantage.

When the man had died, Stefan swore to himself he would never become him, that he would rather die than stoop to his level. But in those last moments, Stefan was desperate and he remembered a moment in his youth. His father had grown angry at a foreign ambassador, something trivial and not at all worth punishment, the other man had turned away for a moment and his father had struck, stabbing the man in the back. No dignity, no honor, and had no qualms concerning allowing his son to watch such proceedings.

Stefan hated him then and always trained to be the best. That way he would never have to stoop to such measures.

The shadow was toying with him now, sweeping its blade back and forth, grinning at the helpless expression of Stefan's face. If it could gloat, it probably would have boasted right about now. Soundless laughter crossed the Shadows face and it turned away to pick up Stefan's sword, completely unconcerned with its adversary.

A bolt of anger shot through the prince's body, without thinking he drew the dagger hidden in his boot. He wasn't even sure a mortal blade could pierce a body of shadow, but with a dull "thunk", Stefan planted the blade firmly into the shadows back, right between where its ribs would it have had any.

A shriek of pain filled the hall and it took a few seconds for Stefan to realize the sound was coming from him. His back was on fire, the muscles and skin felt torn. He collapsed to his stomach trying to control his own breathing. From the corner of his eye he became aware of his shadow writhing and slowly ripping apart. The fires in its eyes burned bright for a second, casting an accusative glare at Stefan before dissolving entirely.

He held his body as still as he could, trying to will the pain away. But with every breath, new agony tore through him until he slipped into unconsciousness.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he eventually clawed his way back to a semi-conscious state. Intense pain still racked his body, but it was noticeably lessened by this point.

With shaky hands he removed his armor, and gently lifted his under shirt, hissing at the agony of it. He brushed gentle fingers over the area, the skin was puckered and warm to the touch but sealed. A jagged scar from a ghostly knife, it was rapidly healing itself but Stefan still had to endure the pain and he was positive the mark would be there for the remainder of his life.

Nausea filled him at the memory of the fight. The victory was hollow; he'd fought like a coward. No man with any sort of dignity would stab his enemy while it was turned away.

His father would have been so proud of him.

In that moment Stefan was glad for the pain, he deserved it. He tried to dwell on the fact that he had survived rather than the knowledge that he'd essentially just stabbed himself in the back. Truly he was his father's son at this point.

And that thought disturbed him most of all, that he might become just like that man.

Stubbornly he shook his head. He had been matched against an opponent he had no chance against, the fate of the princess and the castle, even his own kingdom, depended on this victory. He tried to reassure himself that he had done what was necessary.

He didn't even believe _himself_.

With a groan he heaved himself to his feet, his muscles protesting the movement. The battle had been difficult, and sporting a wound that in normal circumstances he would have died from, did nothing to help him as he made his way to one of the doors leading out of the room. He was all too eager to leave this place.

Back in the hall he could see the castle had changed again. The windows were too filthy to let any light in but many of the panes of glass were broken or missing, allowing shafts of sunlight to stream through. The bright warmth made him feel a little better.

The castle no longer held the taint of evil, its halls still thrummed with magic but Stefan could sense a definite lack of suppressing darkness. Maleficent must have truly retreated, taking her malice with her.

He wanted to collapse with relief, to just lean back against one of these crumbling walls and rest for a while, but something wasn't allowing him to.

A presence filled his mind, one that had led him here in the first place. It took over his senses and filled him with strength. Dazed, he started walking, unaware where he was even heading.

The soundless voice led him to a door, one that connected to a sweeping staircase. His legs almost shook at the prospect of having to climb, but he was _so_ close, just a little while longer and then he'd be there. His quest would be successful.

He wasn't sure what would be waiting for him up in the tower, but he had a pretty good guess. The princess would be there, the last inhabitant of an extinct kingdom. A girl whom he had never met yet maintained an unnatural hold over his mind.

The more he climbed, the more his muscles protested. Often stumbling and frantically righting himself before he tumbled back down. By the time he reached the top he felt dead on his feet. The pain in his back had flared up in full force and his wrist was throbbing uncomfortably. But he had made it.

Before him stood an iron door, rusted with years of inactivity. With a last great burst of strength, Stefan pushed against it, beads of sweat formed and he was unsure if he'd be able to manage this one last thing, not when the pain was threatening to pull him back into unconsciousness. He yelled out in frustration and shoved his body against the iron. He had _not_ come this far just to be bested by a door of all things.

Finally the hinges groaned in dissent and released, allowing the door to open slightly, just enough room to allow Stefan through. He had nothing left, no energy, no drive, nothing. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to walk more than a few feet, but still he tried and entered, taking a cursory glance around.

It wasn't a very big room, round in design, given that it was located in a tower. It had a few sad pieces of furniture; a dresser, a mirror, a few padded chairs. But what really drew Stefan's interest was the bed, a large four poster with the curtains drawn around it.

Almost without thought he drew nearer to the bed, a shaking hand reached out to grab the thick fabric, pushing it out of the way. He took his first glimpse of the princess.

In all honesty he'd expected a girl, one who was frail looking and close to death. He hadn't anticipated a woman, very much alive indeed, if the way her chest rose and fell were any indication. He barely took note of her blonde hair or fair skin; he was too busy trying to control the erratic beating of his heart.

It was impossible, but as he stood staring at this princess he had fought so hard to save, a woman of extreme beauty and mystery, one he had never known or even heard about, he couldn't imagine how he'd gone through life without her.

And in love he fell.

Stefan couldn't handle any more, the trauma of the day combined with the new found, and utterly unexpected feelings for this woman, finally caught up with him. He leaned against the bed, but his body wouldn't hold him. Stumbling to the chair at her bedside, he gratefully sank into its depths. Without hesitation, his eyes slipped closed. The smell of flowers and a voice, unfamiliar and lyrical, filled his mind lulling him to sleep.


End file.

Once Upon a Time, Adventure, Romance