Once upon a time…or so it seems:
I. Zan awoke to a phone call, even though, since one of her roles was Fairy Godmother, she really had the right to have her wand levitate quietly off the nightstand and tap her.
“We need you. Get dressed and report to the big castle by the river ASAP.”
There are many subtle ways to determine hierarchies. For example, in this call, one participant was a powerful Senior Witch, with many responsibilities and numerous resources, and one was a Substitute Witch who apparently didn’t rate being given an address. Or directions.
For the record, this is the sort of reason why such people don’t usually retire to Florida, but instead tend to retire into little cottages made out of diabetic death and attempt to eat orphans.
We’re just saying.
II.
Zan was a portrait in menacing witchy black. The classic pattern of witchiness is still essentially embodied by The Wizard Of Oz, even in Universes which have neither movies nor, more tragically, Anne Margaret.
She gave a laugh which physically froze the blood of one of the guards, who fell over in full armor to a terrible clatter.
“So!” she said. “You didn’t think to invite ME to the Christening! Prepare for a curse that will follow this child until it is taller than I am.”
A very tall, rather shy young man tugged on her intimidating robes.
“This isn’t a christening,” he said, politely. “It’s a Bar Mitzvah.”
The Witch paused and looked around a moment.
“And all the wine is Kosher?” she said. One of the assemblage nodded. Zan was out the door before anyone’s blink could get from the top of the eye to the bottom.
III.
Next, Zan was mistaken for the spunky young heroine who had dressed as a boy. She spent almost a week being trained by the White Wizard and companions to destroy the Dark Lord before she was able to escape and not get tracked down by the Ranger.
Sure, she bore no resemblance to any of those things, but the damn Elf had said, “Surely the true Prophecy is best expressed by the opposite of the Prophecy!”
This is why Zan left Good in the first place; that, and the tax benefits.
She escaped. Disheveled and hungry, she made it to…
IV.
…a candy house in the woods which was clearly less of a practical living choice and more of a trap for young heroes.
It was unoccupied, and she spent a quite two or three weeks there pondering her next move, since–it turns out–she hadn’t even been giving the right date for the Christening.
Then the orphans showed up.
Zan DID escape with her life. But only because the oven pilot light had gone out. You can do a lot of thinking while stuffed in an oven by bratty kids and waiting to roast.
V.
Finally, Zan showed up at the Christening. The other two Witches–naturally, the first choices got to be Good–had already given the baby princess musical ability, wisdom, and fashion sense.
IV.
Thunder rolled; lightning flashed in a cloudless sky. The fury, pain, anger, and sheer dark magickal malevolence in Zan’s face held back any who might have tried to stop her.
“I curse YOU with magical power!” she shouted at the gurgling child. “…but not a LOT. Not enough to do anything you really want to do. Just enough to be a substitute Witch.”
V.
She left her great pointed Hat on top of the child, covering it almost completely.
Then, while everyone was stunned, she wandered through the palace, stealing art pieces and stuffing them into her voluminous cloak.
VI.
It turns out the Princess grew up to LOVE being a substitute witch.
VIII.
But it also turns out that fine art stolen DIRECTLY from the palace has a tremendous amount of cachet in certain quarters. Zan never had to worry about money again. Or fairytales.
AND EVERYONE MIGHT OR MIGHT NOT HAVE LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER. WHO KNOWS?
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