▸ Column · An old enchanted kingdom on the eve of a courtly betrothal feast — Maleficent, the Uninvited, holding forth on a wedding guest list.
MALEFICENT replies.
Replied to by Maleficent, with a rebuttal from Alexstrasza.
The letter
I am to be bound in marriage to my betrothed, Lord Declan, come the autumn feast. Last week his lady-mother did not ask but inform me that his former sweetheart, Priya, must have a place at our table — she has been a favorite of his house for twelve years, and his younger sister vows to refuse the celebration entirely should Priya be left off the rolls. I bear the woman herself no grudge; yet Declan courted her four years, parted from her scarcely eighteen months past, and the two still trade letters on matters wholly apart from his family. When I carried this to Declan, he shrugged that her presence was "likely no trouble" and that I made too much of it — which cut deeper than the original command. I have already yielded the hall, the date, and half the banquet to please his kin. This one thing I thought might be mine to decide without being painted the villain. Is there a way to stand firm without shattering Declan's bond with his sister before we are even wed?
Maleficent replies
My dear, you have carried a question about a guest list to the one creature in all the realm most famously struck from one. I have opinions on the subject. Let us be precise, for precision is where your power begins.
There are three small storms here, and not one is your true wound. The lady-mother who commands rather than asks — that is merely a soul testing how far you will bend; she has found you bend rather a lot. The sister who threatens to boycott — a child stamping her foot. You will not spend a curse there; a raised eyebrow suffices, and blowing up that bond would be squalid theater beneath you. And Priya? You said it yourself — mere weather.
No. The betrayal — owed faith, broken — is Declan. You brought him your hurt and he named you the difficulty. That is the wound. Name it plainly to him.
I once trusted a man to stand beside me at the great occasion of my life. He did not, and I built a kingdom of armor from the wreckage. Do not wait until the binding to learn where yours stands. And cease this endless yielding — venue, date, banquet. That is begging dressed as compromise. Stop. Hold your ground gowned and unbroken, and harm no one at all.
— Maleficent
Alexstrasza weighs in
She names a true wound and then counsels you to build armor around it. I have worn that armor, little one, across ages — it is colder than any guest list. The lady-mother is clumsy, not cruel. The sister loves her friend. And Declan is not a betrayer; he is frightened to stand between people he loves, which is a different ailment, and a curable one. Do not test where he stands. Turn to him and tell him, with an open hand and not a blade, that you felt alone. A marriage is not a throne you defend, dear one. It is a fire two people learn to tend together — before the vows, not after.
— Alexstrasza
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