What She Left Behind

I used to believe that the line between good and evil was solid. I had it straight and clear in my mind: I was good, and she was evil.
Right now, I am not so sure.
That the sorceress is evil is still beyond doubt in my eyes, and indeed in the eyes of the kingdom. Is there another way to describe someone who would curse something so beautiful, so pure? And yet, I have bestowed my own curse upon my daughter. For surely to grow up away from one's mother is a curse. And to tear a babe from her mother's arms... well, perhaps I have cursed more than one person this night.
It is my suspicion at this time, and I believe I am correct, that my wife will not forgive me. I do not blame her. I am not sure I will ever forgive myself.
In sixteen years, if it is worth it, I may be offered understanding by my own mind. But not forgiveness. Never forgiveness.
Looking out into the courtyard below, I see three dark shapes cross the cobbles. My heart wrenches in my chest to know that it is not three, but four that cross those stones.
A tightness crosses my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. The world begins to spin and waver. As king, I should not show weakness. But there is no one here to see. Everyone left when they did.
I drag air into my lungs, forcing my constricting throat to allow passage. The small group of shadows disappear through the castle's gate, and they are lost from sight. The scream of agony from the room adjacent to my own chambers is enough to tell me that my wife was watching as well.
What have I done? The rage of the evil sorceress, and I use the term evil in its most justified sense here, was enough to take the adulthood of my darling daughter. Now my own fear has taken what should have been a comfortable and happy childhood as well.
A peasant life for a princess! Perhaps it is not too late. With a good mount I could reach those shadowed figures. My wife would forgive me and we could share what time my little girl has as a family.
A golden image of my baby girl growing up with my wife and I shines in my vision, just beyond my reach. I could have that. I could have it all. And so what if the sorceress's curse cuts it short? We would give my daughter the best life for all the time she had! And really, with all of the spinning wheels burned, why couldn't we beat the curse and be together forever?
This could be the solution. I would not be evil, would not have bestowed a curse upon anyone, if I brought my baby girl back.
I made to rise to my feet, and found my knees horribly stiff and achy. Outside, the faint light of dawn crept over the kingdom. I have been sitting still much longer than I thought, and that means...
My knees hit the floor as the awful truth collides with me. My little girl is long gone, and I do not know where. I can not get her back, or reverse the curses I have bestowed upon my wife and daughter.
Does that make me evil? I am not sure.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the years tick by. At first, they are surreal. Time has no meaning. Each action is controlled remotely, by some force outwith my conscious mind. I think of little other than my baby girl, and remember nothing of the mundane day to day happenings.
At some point, my surroundings begin to register again. The captain of the guard wakes me each morning with a report on the hunt for the sorceress and the exact age in days of my lost girl. I wonder how long he has been doing this for. Every day, I dine with my wife. She never looks at me. Has she looked at me at all since I sent Aurora away? I cannot recall.
The royal court is conducted by my advisor and my wife's lady in waiting while we watch on. Occasionally, my wife speaks. When she does, it is in a monotonous voice. I do not imagine my own voice sounds any more alive.
Each night, the bed I once shared lies empty. I sit at the window and wait for my daughter to come home. She never does. My wife lays in another room. They tell me she weeps until sleep takes her.

One day, the captain of the guard enters my room with news- the Sorceress's wrath is growing, reflecting in the weather and the daylight around her fortress. This is good news, he tells me. This means my daughter remains hidden and alive. For the first time since my baby girl left, I feel a small ray of hope that I have, perhaps, done the right thing.
Nothing else changes. My wife does not talk to me. Everyone acts like I am not there. Or rather, like I am unable to respond.
The royal outfitter arrives, bringing wads of black materials. The colour of mourning. I wonder who has passed.
"No one, your majesty," I am told. "Your wife has worn nothing but black since that awful day." I had never noticed this, but now I cannot notice anything else in her presence.
Each day, I feel a little more like myself, though never quite whole. My mind berates me for it. I do not blame it. What right have I to feel any semblance of normality when my daughter is gone and my wife is grieving? This recovering feels like another step across the line into evil.
I force myself to stay awake through the night, looking through my spyglass for any sign of my daughter. There will be no more falling asleep sat on the window ledge.
The days blur into one, and I find myself growing constantly more exhausted. Each time I give in to sleep, I take another step over the line of evil. What right have I to rest when I have bestowed such hardship upon my wife and daughter?

The morning of my daughter's fifteenth birthday arrives. It finds me sitting after another long night of looking through my spyglass. But the feelings this morning are different. I am awake, truly awake. Just one year from now, my girl will return to me. I call on a party planner. Everyone looks surprised to hear my voice.
We spend a year planning the ultimate party for my little girl's return. Grand festivities, a ball, an affair to last a week. Occasionally, my wife gets involved, though it seems to exhaust her. Still she does not glance my way. I wonder if she ever will again.
My daughter arrives back in the castle on her sixteenth birthday. I know she is here- I watched the fairies lead her across the cobbles. She waits in a high tower for the sun to set. That is the moment she will be reunited with her mother and the curse that the sorceress bestowed upon her will be broken, along with the curse bestowed by me. I am no fool. I know that will not undo the evil I have done. But it may bring a semblance of peace to my wife, and really, is not that enough?
I am nervous for what the evening will bring. I do not know my daughter. How will she act? What do I say?
I spend the day worrying, my heart racing and palms sweating. Will she see the evil I have done? Will she despise me? Surely she cannot hate me more than I hate myself.
As the sun begins to fall below the horizon, my nerves peak. Any moment now I will meet her.
As the sun disappears, the most peculiar sensation sweeps over me. It is as though the weight of everything I have carried for the last sixteen years is both lifted, and at the same time too heavy to bear. My eyelids become so heavy I stand no chance of fighting them, and a yawn busts through me. I have just enough time to look around and see that others seem to be just as exhausted before my eyes close.

I could swear all I did was blink, but when my eyes open, it is midday. The room around me is decaying, as if it has been lying untended for an extended period of time. Everyone around me is yawning, rubbing their eyes, stretching, looking around in obvious confusion. But my eyes fall on the one person I do not recognise. Tall and slender, with beautiful golden curls that match her mother's perfectly. My daughter stands before me, arm in arm with a boy wearing the most peculiar clothing.
I look to the fairies standing by her side. They nod, confirming what I already know.
My daughter has come home.