Cadfan was only out for a ride on his horse when the poor stranger halted him. She was an elderly-looking woman with gray strands framing her face and her smile slightly crooked from years of gnawing chicken's bones. But something about this peasant intrigued the young prince, though he knew not what it was. A kindly duty, perhaps. To be obliged by a prince was very honorable indeed, though it was not honor she was seeking. Something much more troubling. Graveling, actually.

This woman was no ordinary human being, despite what His Majesty preferred to believe. She was not the sort of person with whom you would like to cross paths. Indeed, this woman was a witch, one well-known throughout the entire country. She was a trickster, always traveling around from place to place before anyone could catch up to her.

Her specialty was royalty. She admired cursing young princes and princesses everywhere, wanting the very wealthy and rich to die off, slowly and painfully. There was nothing she couldn't, no one she couldn't curse, and definitely no way to destroy her. She was all powerful.

Her name was Medeia, and she was the most cunning, the most clever enchantress ever to set foot on the earth.

"May I be of any service, Madame?" Cadfan asked, all the while jumping down from his horse.

Medeia was, at the moment, attempting to pull her stubborn mule from a pool of thick mud. The mule was in desperation, trying to kick it out of the hardening clay. Medeia, the perfect actress, cried tears of lost hope, exclaiming her worst fears.

"I can't seem to help my mule out of this mess," she cried, tugging at the rope around her animal's neck.

Cadfan looked at the poor sight, wondering how he could help this poor woman. He saw the mule, and the mud becoming thicker and more dense in the hot sun. And he knew what he was to do.

"Let me help you," he said.

With that, he walked over to the mule, leaving his horse standing on the path. Mediea stood by and watched as the young prince grasped the noose and began pulling the mule out of the mud. It took a fair amount of time and effort to finally set the animal free, but when the service had been done, Cadfan smiled simply and treaded over to his horse once more.

He was sure to get an earful when he arrived back at the castle caked in mud and sweat, but the prince didn't care. In his eyes, he saw his act of service as a way to repay his kingdom for all the taxes the citizens had used to support his family for so long.

Mediea, however, glared at the kindness the prince seemed to possess so easily. She had known nothing but harshness from royalty who had used her so many years ago, and she wondered now if she was wrong.

With one last glance at Cadfan, Medeia shook her head and waited for the prince to ride off before she cast the curse that would alter his life for a very long time afterward.

As Cadfan rode his horse through the forest and back to the royal stables, he had no idea what had just happened to him, that the curse would soon take its effect. He only smiled about the wonderful day he had. Even though he was to be scolded by his dear mother and reprimanded by the king himself, nothing could upset him.

There was nothing that could dissatisfy the prince as he strode through the castle grounds. The garden was in bloom, the briar roses swaying gently in the wind. He saw Crawford, the gardener, off to the side of the gravel pathway trimming a few hedges that had skewed branches and dead leaves. Prince Cadfan smiled towards Crawford and stopped in front of the hedges.

"What a fine job you're doing," he exclaimed, staring at the green statue in awe. It was trimmed and sculpted to resemble the family crest. "I've never seen the garden so well-kept in past years as I've seen it this year."

Crawford, with a twinkle in his eye and a hearty laugh, turned to face the prince. "I am glad it pleases your majesty," he replied.

"Oh," Cadfan cried out. "I do wish people would stop calling me "your majesty" or "your lordship" all the time. Sometimes, I wish I could be the gardener instead."

"If you like," Crawford stated, "I could teach you a few tricks about gardening."

"Crawford! You know perfectly well what I mean!" Cadfan replied. "I wish I weren't a prince all the time. You, and so many others in this kingdom have done more for us than the royalty has ever done for its citizens."

"Your not the first prince I've heard that from," Crawford said, laughing as he trimmed another branch.

"What do you mean?" Cadfan asked. "Do you know something I don't?"

Crawford smiled and looked over at Prince Cadfan. "Your father is a lot like you."

Cadfan sighed and stared at the ground for a moment, wondering what to say to that. His father and the prince were not exactly on good terms. That is, to say, they were tied only by blood and nothing more. Cadfan knew his father would never see eye to eye with Cadfan on his political beliefs, which made training to be king rather difficult sometimes.

"My father is quite different now," Cadfan stated irritably. "The war's changed him and his beliefs in how the kingdom should be run."

"And what is it that you believe?" Crawford asked. He stepped down from the ladder and began rolling the wheelbarrow over to the neighboring hedge. Cadfan followed. "Are your beliefs so different from his?"

"I believe in equality for all," Cadfan explained, running his hands through his hair. "And no social classes."

"You do not believe in royalty?" Crawford asked.

"I'm just saying that I believe everyone should be entitled to some kind of say in who they want as their leader. So as not to have accidental corruption from the family who inherits the throne."

"What are your views on the government in our kingdom?" Crawford inquired, halting his work altogether.

"I do not think this kingdom is being run properly. There are wrong morals being worked into laws that my father cannot see. Or rather, chooses not to see," Cadfan said. "He continues to rule without proper government of this land and its people. Corruption is on every corner of the streets in the villages and countrysides. I feel I am responsible to stop it all before its citizens rebel and seek revenge on my family."

"Patience, my dear prince. No one looks up to a prince who hastily pushes himself into government," Crawford explained.

Despite Cadfan's strong opinions, he kept silent about all the things he wanted to say, knowing the conversation would drag on for hours if he had. Instead, he bowed Crawford a good day and asked him to select the finest roses for him mother.

When he walked through the front doors of the castle, his mother was already waiting for him.

"Where have you been?" she asked frantically, pulling him up the main staircase. "You are late for your afternoon studies."

"I do apologize, Mother. I had not realized the time when I set out to ride," Cadfan said, hoping this was an excuse enough for her to stop heckling him.

Indeed, it was not.

"Why are you caked in mud again?" he mother asked, signaling a servant to go and retrieve a new set of clothes.

"It was not my fault this time, Mother," he said. "There was an old woman who needed help getting her mule out the mud. It was stuck, and so I helped her."

"You could have sent a servant back," she said. "It's dangerous to help strangers, especially when you are part of a royal family."

"What is so wrong about it?" Cadfan asked.

"Never you mind," she said as the servant came again with fresh apparel. "Go and change, then hurry to your studies."

"Alright, Mother," he said. "But you cannot deny me the pleasure of serving this kingdom's people."

The queen shook her head, then scurried to the west wing of the castle, pearls clanging together as she left. Her breaths were short and rapid, partly from her quick pace, though mostly from the tight corset and thick fabric imprisoning her. But she knew she must tell the king about Cadfan's visit in the forest.

When she entered the drawing room, she knew not what the king was doing. The queen assumed he had another business of government to attend to, as he so often did. But, to her amazement, the king was simply reading the works of Erasmus.

Hubert looked up at his wife, wondering what on earth she wanted this time. No doubt, it had something to do with his son from the worried look she gave him.

Elisabeth sat down next to him, trying to catch her breath before she began the inquiry.

"What is it?" the king asked. "What has Cadfan done this time?"

She shook her head and whimpered. "He met a strange woman in the forest. When he was out riding," she said, still shaking her head in worry.

"Do you think it could have been her?" the king asked, hoping his wife would silent his fears.

"I am not sure," she replied. "Our son is the only one who rides out there. The peasants don't dare step on royalty land."

The king looked over at the queen, setting his book down on the chestnut table in front of them. "She was defeated," he said solemnly. "She couldn't have possibly come back."

"Maybe the enchantress found a way back to our kingdom," the queen replied. "She is afterall a..."

"I watched her die!" the king shouted interrupting his wife's statement. Then seeing her shocked reaction, he softly spoke again. "I witnessed her death. She's gone."

The queen shook her head, then pulled a fan from her waist. She had begun perspiring from her fast pace to the west wing and lack of cool air in the room itself. Not only that, but she was anxious at the temper that was rising in her husband. The queen did not mean to distress him, only bring awareness to the kingdom, though the conversation seemed to have taken a nasty turn.

"Perhaps we should send the guards to the forest and have them search the grounds for anything out of the ordinary. If we find the enchantress, we may be able to track her," she suggested, continuing to fan herself. "We can be positive she is gone, then."

"I do not think we can so easily catch her this time," the king replied hastily. "If she truly is back, we will need to keep our guard up."

The king was sweating profusely now, worried that his wife may be right about Mediea's return. He was certain that if things transpired they way they had before, the kingdom he had worked so hard to build would turn to ash and everything would be in chaos.

"We'll send the guards," his wife exclaimed after she noticed his blank stare.

He nodded and muttered under his breath as if he were a prisoner, waiting for the arrival of his execution. "We'll send for the guards," he repeated.

The queen stood from her seat and dropped the fan into the king's lap. "Here," she said. "You need this more than I do.

***

The old woman sunk behind a tree as the guards came trudging through the woods. Their presence was a surprise, one that Mediea found difficult to avoid. She knew where these men had come from, though she didn't know why.

The Prince Cadfan did not feel the effects of the curse, and he surely wouldn't until later that night. However, she did suspect whether she had gone too far this times as to trespass on royalty land. She knew the prince wouldn't understand that there was any wrongdoing, but the queen would not be so easily fooled.

And so she hid as the men searched the grounds. In vain, they treaded. The enchantress was invisible to them; she had blended in the surrounding scenery. But she was still there, though seemingly transparent in the forest.

"Go search near the brook," the skimpy-looking guard whispered to the fatter one.

"Why do I always have to search the brook?" he asked, groaning.

"Because you're the only one of us who can swim," the other guard replied, without hesitating. "Go now. The sooner we scavenge the forest, the sooner we can get back to the pub."

Mediea did not doubt that these two guards were already drunk as they staggered around. The enchantress knew that the royal guards were either drunk or incoherent. There was no in-between for the men who so "gallantly" protected their kingdom.

"One," muttered Mediea under her breath.

The fat guard, who was on his way over to the brook, suddenly spun around at the sound of her voice. His expression was one of fear and curiosity. For a moment, he stood frozen, trying to decipher if what he had heard was truly a woman's voice or just the wind rustling through the trees. In the next moment, he turned back around and continued on towards the brook.

Mediea smiled to herself as she prepared to take the stage. "Two," she said, much louder this time.

"Who is it?" the fat guard demanded, turning on his heels once more.

The skimpy guard faced the bigger one. "Have you gone mad?" he asked. "There's no one here!"

The other guard shook his head, as if trying to shake the fear aside, thought he had begun to tremble. He searched all around the forest, searching for any sign that a witch might be hiding from him. But, alas, no such witch appeared, leaving him to stammer.

"Must've been... Must have been the wind," the guard finally spit out.

"Go back and search the brook!"

He nodded and turned back around for the second time. and he nearly got to the edge of the brook before...

"Three."

Mediea appeared in front of the two guards, her true form revealed. She was no longer the old woman Cadfan had met earlier in the day. Instead, she was the slender, ebony-haired woman the king had met so many years back.

"Are you looking for me?" she asked, drawing a wicked smile across her face.

The two guards stopped dead in their tracks, each staring up at the villain. She was the most beautiful woman they had ever set eyes on before. And, for a moment, that beauty shrouded her evil works.

"Who are you?" the smaller guard asked.

Mediea laughed cunningly, then gave them both a deadly glared. "I am, what most people call, the enchantress. The witch," she replied. Then she hesitated for a moment before finishing her speech. "I am... the dragon."

***

Cadfan could hardly pay attention to his studies as he listened to his tutor ramble on about today's geography. They were considering the effects of gravity on the sea currents, but Cadfan's mind was far from thinking about sea's and their waves.

He looked out the window pane, daydreaming about some not-so-distant future when he would be king and ruled this land. With this kingdom in his hand, there would be no social classes, no bribery, no corruption. He would be a fair and wise king, unlike his dimwitted father who only half-cared about the kingdom he ran.

There was something in the way he contemplated that gave his tutor pity. Francis could see he ached for a change in the aristocratic world that drove the peasants of this kingdom to the ground. Nevertheless, he could not have his young peer waste time during his studies by dreaming of an unrealistic future.

"Prince Cadfan," Tutor Francis said, eying his pupil. "This is the third time you have left my question unanswered. Exactly what is the meaning of this?"

Cadfan looked up at his tutor, his face hardening as he came up with a reasonable answer. "I wish to rule this kingdom fairly."

"Maybe someday you will," his tutor replied. "But you must complete your studies first."

Cadfan thought back to his father before the war. He had been much kinder and jovial. the king was a whole new person these days. Cadfan wondered what had happened in the war that made him so different. Slowly, he drifted off in his thoughts again.

"Your majesty!" the tutor exclaimed. "Pay attention!"

But Cadfan did not reply, only continued to stare out at the greenery that encompassed the kingdom, not knowing how his life would be different in a matter of only few hours.

***

It was in the night when Prince Cadfan felt the effects of Mediea's curse. He twitched, shaking violently. The sheets from his four-poster bed fell. As he struggled to control himself, feathers pierced their way through his skin. His muscles become weak. The pain intensified until he screamed into the night.

On the far side of the castle, the queen could hear her son yelling, his sound intruding on their silence. The king, snoring heavily beside her, did not hear any discontent. Instead, he continued his rest.

The queen sat up in the next instant, knowing she must have dreamt the sound. However, when she heard the sound again, she knew it was not a dream. She awoke her husband, though he groaned in irritation.

"I must go see what is the matter," the queen muttered.

She walked out of the bedchamber and awoke her lady's maid. The king followed behind.

They traipsed the hallway as the sounds of displeasure continued to grow louder than before. The queen had no doubt in her mind that her son had been cursed. The king desperately hoped the enchantress had not returned.

When they stepped into Cadfan's room, what they saw before them disconcerted them immensely. There, at the foot of the bed, lay Cadfan with black feathers and a pointed beak. His sheets were torn, the books on his shelf lay scattered and forgotten, and the wallpaper on his walls had been sliced.

Prince Cadfan had transformed into a crow.

"Oh my," the queen whispered with tears running down her face.

"What has happened?" the king asked, looking down at the crow that was his son. Then, in a moment of fury, the king yelled into the night. "I want that witch slayed!"