Title/Prompt: Kings' Blood
Rating/Warnings: G
Word count: 4745
Summary: When Phillip is taken captive by an ancient wizard, Aurora finds herself his only chance of rescue.
Notes: Written in December 2016 as part of Yuletide 2016. This has been hosted on AO3 and I'm just now getting around to posting it here.
The wagon has left no bent grass or wheel ruts behind it, yet she knows she will find it again. She can feel the magic still humming in the air, and she follows it resolutely, one foot after the other, just as she followed Maleficent's call to the spinning wheel. It is the same pull and tug in her bones, the same weight of dread.
The only difference is that she knows Phillip is at the end of things this time, not a glowing spindle. She closes herself against the dark charms she can feel in the air like smoke, and she follows the invisible thread that she and her husband have bound to each other, like spiders passing tethers of silk. She keeps one hand tightly clenched around Samson's reins and the other hand on the hilt of her borrowed blade and she tells herself again and again, I will not sleep. She tells herself again and again, I will win him safely.
The attack had been swift and silent. She had been dealt a blow when their carriage had overturned, and the pounding in her head had been unable to dull the horror of what she'd woken to — the soldiers bound to protect her and Phillip all dead in the grass, their horses having fled back to the kingdom in terror. Only Samson had stayed, and it was he who had drawn her attention to the wagon in the valley below, already miles ahead and leaving in its wake the unmistakable tang of magic.
She moves carefully now, her leather boots soft and silent on the forest floor. The trees here are old and impossibly tall: thick branches block the sunlight; roots as wide as castle pillars are buckled above the soil, creating a warren of tunnels marked with animal prints ten times the span of Aurora's hand. There are dragon scales in the shadows, dull and brittle with time.
She keeps a tight grip on the hilt of her blade, gaining on the wagon, which gleams oddly in the silver light of the wizard's fire. The dark bars shimmer like the surface of a river, yet she knows they are as strong as the Sword of Truth, and nothing will pass through them easily.
Phillip is a loose bulk on the floor of the wagon, and she tries not to think about Enchanted Sleep and how it feels like endlessly falling — knowing that below you there is no safe landing, but rambling brambles and their iron thorns, dragons snapping their teeth and breathing fire and smoke.
She crouches at the edge of the glade and watches quietly. The wizard is warming his hands against the silver flames of his campfire, his white hair gleaming in the dark. She can hear him mumbling, and the fire pops and crackles under the low rolling of his voice.
She glances to the wagon again. She can see the dark tousle of Phillip's hair and the slack silhouette of his shoulder, his cape twisted and tangled beneath him. How she wishes his rescue were as simple as picking the lock on the wagon and kissing him awake. She wonders if she were able to get past the fortress spells upon the wagon, would he wake when she kissed him?
She wishes she could ask her aunts now about Enchanted Sleep spells, and True Love's kiss. Would it only work if it were she under the spell? Or is there some bond between herself and Phillip now; something bound and woven from all they've been through, which will allow her to wake him with one simple kiss? She huddles into herself, watching the wizard standing by his fire, and she laments lost opportunities to gain information on such things. If only she had asked, if only she knew…
The sword in her hand had offered valuable strength as she'd followed the wizard's trail into the woods, but now it feels heavy and cold and useless in her hands. She does not know how to hold it or swing with it – she does not know how to fight. She does not know how to defend.
She gazes at her husband's sleeping form, longing to see him stir, to see him come awake and help her.
Samson's breath is warm against her shoulder and she knows he's as afraid as she is. She strokes his velvety nose and looks back to the wagon, the bars gleaming and dancing in the cold firelight.
There is nothing she can do to break the spell on the lock. For all the magic that has touched her, all she has gained is beauty, song, and Enchanted Sleep.
How she wishes the Three Good Fairies had given her more practical gifts.
"You can come out, Princess."
She starts, and looks back at the wizard, but he hasn't moved. His stares into his fire, which casts little light and gives no smoke.
She waits with bated breath, expecting him to speak again, but he doesn't and she begins to doubt he had ever spoken at all. The trees loom over the clearing, blocking out the night sky with their wide branches and dark leaves. The longer she watches the wizard, the more it seems that his silver fire is the only light left in the world, and that everything else has become vast and empty.
She looks away again. She knows waiting is doing no good, and gaining her nothing. She looks down at the sword again, and tightens her trembling fingers around it. It offered the trained soldier no protection from the wizard's attack – she expects nothing more from it now, and yet she cannot bring herself to leave it.
She turns and presses a sweet kiss to Samson's nose. "Wait," she requests, and his ears twitch at her whispered breath.
She steps into the clearing, holding her blade at her side. The wizard slowly turns to look at her, his eyes black and deeply set in his pale face, and she knows he has been aware of her presence the whole time.
"You want your prince back," he says.
"Yes. My husband." Her voice is steady.
"He is too valuable for me to release, Princess."
"I can give you gold." The solution comes so suddenly she cannot think it through, and yet the possibility of such an easy fix renders her momentarily breathless with relief — if all it will take is gold and silver, King Hubert will empty the vaults without delay.
"He is worth more than gold. Would you not agree?"
There is a lump in her throat. She nods, and glances to the wagon again. Phillip has not stirred. "What do you want with him?"
"Kings' blood is a rare and valuable resource," the wizard says. His voice is cold as stone.
"Phillip is not a king."
"He will soon be."
Aurora bites her lip and looks over to her motionless husband. She knows King Hubert would sacrifice himself if he were here. His voice would ring through the clearing in desperation: Take my blood. Do not harm my boy.
But King Hubert is not here, and nor are the Good Fairies, armed with Swords of Truth or Shields of Virtue. Aurora is all alone.
"Is it bravery or foolishness which led you here?" the wizard asks.
She has the urge to bolt; the urge to turn and flee into the woods and back to the safe confines of the kingdom, where there are stars in the sky and warm kisses in the breeze. But her tether to Phillip — it is as taut and wound as a bowstring, and she cannot conceive of breaking it. She remains where she is, a slender figure in dead soldier's clothing, a heavy blade weighing her hands.
"A little of both," the wizard concludes for her. "A wasted journey, nonetheless."
"Please," she says, desperately afraid and unprepared. "I will do anything. I will give you anything you ask. Just please release him to me."
"Alas, princess, there is nothing more valuable to me than he. I will allow you safe leave from here, but nothing more."
She thinks of all Phillip has been through to keep her safe and happy — to have defeated Maleficent and the bellyfire of dragons, fortresses of thorns and cold dungeons. An empty clearing with a silver fire should present no such challenges. She lifts her chin again, determined. "Give him back to me."
The wizard laughs. "You are nothing but a pretty shell," he says. "Go home, princess, before the tide swallows you up."
"I have found you here, though you left no trail," she says. "Do not mistake me for an empty vessel, Wizard, for I am more than what I appear."
He tilts his head. "It is true you found me," he concedes. He considers her carefully for a moment, a thin smile pinching at his white cheeks. "You have magic in you, perhaps."
"I am mortal." She tightens her grip on her blade, cold sweat on her palms.
"There is something else. You are blessed with goodness." His eyes narrow. "You have been kissed by fairies."
"I was given the gifts of beauty and song," she says. "Neither of which will assist me here."
He laughs, and it rolls down Aurora's spine like cold water.
"It would do you good to leave me now, Princess," he says. "Take your white horse and your stolen sword and ride back to your castle to live out your short life, which I have gifted to you out of pity." He turns back to his fire, robes fluttering in a breeze Aurora cannot feel.
"I will not leave," she says angrily. "I will raise my sword if I have to. I will give you a kingdom's worth of gold if I have to. But I will not leave my husband behind."
"He will sleep until I wish him to sleep no more," the wizard says coldly. "You will die before he wakes. A thousand suns will rise and set and he will remain untouched in slumber, but you — you will age and you will die."
Aurora's throat is tight and her eyes brim with unshed tears. She is afraid and she is angry — how dare this wizard try to repeat Maleficent's evil story; how dare he insist that she and Phillip go through this again?
"Let me win him from you," she says, increasingly desperate. "Allow me one chance. Just one chance to wake him. If I am successful, you will agree to let us go."
"There is nothing more powerful remaining in this world than I," he answers swiftly. "Nothing will break my spell, no matter what gifts were bestowed upon you by pretty little forest fairies." His eyes are cold and reflect no light.
"Surely, Wizard, if you believe this so soundly, there is no harm in letting me try."
His bottomless eyes flick to the wagon and back to her again. She can see he is curious. She waits silently, her heart thundering in her chest. The forest is quiet as midnight; no creatures stir between these trees.
He paces around her, watching her carefully, his robes trailing over the bare earth. "Beauty and song," he says quietly. "I can see your beauty. I do not doubt that gift was bestowed upon you. Which vapid creature gave you such a useless gift?"
"The Good Fairy, Flora," Aurora whispers. Her heart aches with the thought of how far she is from that boundless love. Still — how would things be if Flora had gifted her with cleverness instead of beauty? Would Phillip still have fallen in love with her? Would her nature still be as sweet as her face?
"Ah, yes," the wizard says. He draws close to her, frowning down at her tousled golden hair and her wide blue eyes. "And the gift of song? Less easy for me to confirm." He turns back to his fire. "Sing for me."
She blinks. "I…"
He stares into his fire and says nothing else.
Aurora closes her eyes and wills her voice to come, but her breath is cold in her chest and she is trembling from head to toe. She cannot bring herself to sing Once Upon a Dream; she will not make it through without sobbing, and the wizard is eager to verify her talents. She decides to sing instead the notes she used to call through the glade, when birds would fly swiftly to her with sweet answering song.
She wonders if there are birds here, in this ancient and dark forest, who will answer her call. She draws a breath and lifts her chin, and her voice echoes through the trees like a lost ray of light, quickly swallowed up by the black. No notes answer her, and no creatures stir.
The wizard's smile shows no warmth, but she has the impression he is pleased. "Pleasant, but useless," he says. "Fairies are tedious creatures with no real cleverness about them. They armed you poorly, Princess."
She grasps her sword tightly and straightens her back. "I am grateful for their gifts," she says coldly. "Perhaps you would have more kindness if you had known such care and love."
"Love is a fable," the wizard says dismissively. "Pretty stories swallowed up by empty-headed fools."
Aurora's heart drops. "Oh, no," she says. "Love is real. True Love conquers all."
He chuckles darkly. "That is how you plan to undo my spell, perhaps? With True Love?"
She looks to Phillip, still crumpled on the floor of the wagon. She thinks of that sensation of falling and how endless the world seems in sleep, and she longs to pull him from it. "If I wake him, you must let us go," she says. "Phillip, and myself, and my horse." She looks over her shoulder at Samson, who flicks his tail encouragingly.
"You will not wake him."
"Allow me to prove myself," she says, offering a challenge she knows is already enticing him. "You call me an empty shell, yet you will not test yourself against me?"
Her heart is in her throat. She can see nothing else to lose — only what she can gain. And she is sure, deep in her heart, that Maleficent was more powerful than this black-eyed wizard; that her cleverness and vanity were tenfold and that overcoming her was a greater challenge than this.
This wizard is nothing, she thinks to herself.
He wants to accept her challenge. She can read that much in him. He is eager to prove himself a winner; eager to take Phillip from her after she has lost as much as she can lose.
"There is something else in you," he says. He paces back and forth in front of her, watching her with keen interest. "Something dark has touched you."
Aurora feels her fingertips throb with phantom spindle spires.
"You do not possess magic," he mutters. "You are mortal, as you said, and yet…"
"You are stalling, Wizard," she says, trying to sound brave.
"I have no need to stall," he snaps at her. "There is no need for me to play your silly games. I have already won my kings' blood."
She looks over to Phillip's sleeping form. "It is a weak game," she says, "keeping a man asleep out of fear he will best you."
The wizard snorts. "He is being preserved, nothing more. Kept pristine until I have need of him."
"What do you need him for?" she asks, fearing the answer. "What will you do with him? Why do you need his blood?"
"Elixir," the wizard says. He has grown impatient and he gestures for Aurora to leave. "Be gone," he says, "before I change my mind. Your blood is worthless but I will not be unhappy to spill it."
"I will not leave until you agree to give me one chance to wake him," she insists. "Allow me the chance to test the power of True Love against your own magic. To test my beliefs against yours. Give me a chance to win my husband, so that I may leave here knowing I did all I could."
She is so afraid. Afraid that Merryweather's spell upon her will not hold true. Afraid that all of the magic within her was burned up with the first kiss. Afraid that it will only work when it is she under an Enchanted Sleep, and not Phillip, and that the very nature of everything special within her is dependent on her own rescue; that she must be the passive one in order for wondrous things to happen.
"Very well," the wizard says softly. He stares at her with those dark eyes, and he tents his fingers together gently, considering. "One chance to wake him."
"Thank you," she whispers, sudden hope and gratitude warming her blood again.
"However," he cautions, "should you wish to play with me, Princess, know this — no matter the outcome, I will have my kings' blood. Should you win or lose, I will come for your firstborn son before the eve of his sixteenth birthday."
She retreats a step, horrified. "I am not with child."
"And yet one day you must be, for you are now the only surviving heir to two kingdoms." He gives her a thin, knowing smile, motioning to Phillip as though he were already dead. "When you lose him, you will need to remarry by necessity, Princess, and you will bear a son and I will come for him."
She blinks, tears cold on her face. "I cannot promise you something I do not have."
He laughs, and his silver fire crackles in answer. "I am prepared to accept the terms as they are."
Her throat is dry. She looks at Phillip. If she were to lose him, she would not ever consider marrying anyone else… Must she? Perhaps if she explained to her father, and to King Hubert; if she explained what the price had been… She feels sick at the thought.
"Well?" the wizard asks. "Do you accept?"
If she manages to wake Phillip, will he forgive her once he finds out what it cost? Will he understand she couldn't bear the thought of not trying everything possible to see him safely returned to her? Can she put a child in the same position she was once in — commit someone to a life shadowed by a curse? She supposes there is no point wondering, for in the end she can see no choice in the matter. She simply cannot leave here without trying.
"If I wake him, you allow us to leave here safely with our horse," she says, "and you will allow us to live out our lives peacefully." Her voice shakes, but she needs to show him she understands. "But win or lose, should I ever bear a son, you will come for him within sixteen years of his birth…"
The wizard holds forth his hand, wisps of white smoke clinging to his fingers. After a moment's hesitation, Aurora takes it gently, and the smoke snakes around her wrist and snaps loudly before it disappears.
"Words are binding," he says.
She nods, and he motions toward the wagon. The bars shimmer and melt away, and she walks towards it as though in slumber. When she is near enough, she reaches out and closes her fingers around Phillip's cape.
From this slumber you shall wake when True Love's kiss the spell shall break.
She hauls herself onto the wagon, breathing hard. For a horrifying moment she considers that the wizard has only lured her there to cage her as well — but when she looks back at him, he remains at his fire, watching her curiously.
For True Love conquers all.
She rolls Phillip gently onto his back and strokes his cheek, her tears falling to his face. She thinks longingly of their mornings in bed together, when she wakes before him and watches him dream. She runs a fingertip gently across his lips and wonders how many times he has whispered his adoration in her ear — Sweet dreams, Aurora, my love.
"Please," she whispers, to Phillip, to the Three Good Fairies, to any goodness at all within helpful distance of her desperate heart. "Please."
She kisses him gently, lowering her lips to his and willing all sweetness and honour to overcome what the wizard has done to him. She closes her eyes and remembers that heaviness in her limbs and her chest, remembers that his kiss upon her mouth was like coming up for air out of a river which ran too swiftly and too deeply to ever be safe.
She had not been aware of his presence at her bedside until she had opened her eyes, but she has been aware of him ever since.
She parts from him slowly, desperately waiting for him to open his eyes. There is a long heartbeat of silence, and then the wizard laughs.
"You have lost!" he exclaims. His fire roars behind him, glowing against the enormous trees looming over the clearing. "He is mine! My blood, my elixir —"
His gloating ceases abruptly as Phillip stirs.
"Aurora…" His voice is soft, his dark eyes still a little dazed.
She can only give a relieved sob in response, clutching him tightly, tears cold on her face.
The wizard lets out an anguished, angry howl. "No!" he shrieks. "You lied to me!" The trees bend towards him, branches creaking and groaning as they curve towards the ground. "You lied!"
"No," she says desperately, huddling over Phillip. His fingers tighten on her arm. "I told you, True Love —"
"Is an empty promise," he snarls. "You have an enchantment upon you. You know of the Eternal Slumber and it has touched you!" His eyes flash dangerously. "You have the mark of dark magic."
She tries to drag Phillip backwards, but he is heavy and tangled in his cloak, still dazed from the wizard's spell.
For a moment, she sees the threatening shimmer of cold bars forming around the wagon, but they blink away again, white smoke lingering in the air. Bound by his own oath, the wizard throws his rage to the sky, luminous clouds forming and rumbling overheard like an almighty storm.
"Hurry," she urges her husband, tugging at him frantically. They tumble off the wagon together, falling hard to the ground. Phillip grasps his sword in one hand and Aurora's hand in the other.
The earth is trembling beneath their feet; mighty trees are groaning and creaking around them. Samson meets them in the middle of the clearing, prancing nervously, the whites of his eyes showing. Phillip lifts Aurora onto Samson's back, and it is then she can see that her singing — her song to call her forest friends to her — has succeeding in summoning something after all.
A giant dragon with dull black scales and venomous green eyes lurks in the shadows of the enormous trees and gives a hiss, drawn towards the sweet sound Aurora had sent through the dark. Its talons mark enormous furrows in the dirt as it anchors itself.
Phillip leaps onto Samson's back behind her, and urges him forward. "Run!" he says. "Go!"
Aurora can hear the deathly whistle of dragon breath being drawn in, and the last thing she sees before Samson gains the safety of the treeline is the wizard, silhouetted against his silver fire, a tiny figure poised to take what he can from the beast Aurora lured to him with song.
She closes her eyes, feeling Samson's powerful hoofbeats thudding in her chest, the roar of green bellyfire filling the night, ancient trees exploding in the heat and raining ashes to the bare earth below. Phillip's arms are tight around her and he is pressed against her back as he leans forward, urging his faithful horse to go faster. Embers wink and die in the shadows. It takes them a long time to outrun their reach.
When they finally stop, the forest is still thick around them, though the moon is showing silver in the sky again, and Aurora can see stars through the dark leaves above. The air feels warm and sweet again, and there is a stream running nearby, the clean sound of water splashing over rocks.
Phillip brings Samson to a stop and slides to the ground, staggering a little on his feet.
"Are you hurt?" Aurora asks anxiously, following him so hastily he has to catch her so she doesn't tumble to the ground.
"No," he assures her, and he cups her face in his hands and kisses her. "You never told me that's what it was like," he whispers. "Like falling in the dark."
"I rarely think of it," she says honestly. "There is no need for me to remember what it was like — my dreams since have only been beautiful."
He smiles and kisses her again, wrapping his arms tightly around her to hold her to him. She feels his fingers pluck at the soldier's jacket she wears. She knows he is curious, but he does not prod her with questions.
The past day seems to catch up with her — the dead guards lying in the grass beside the broken royal carriage; the long trek to find the wizard; the ominous shadows in the ancient forest… She shudders and buries her face against Phillip's chest.
"I had no time to lay them at rest," she says, a sob threatening to overwhelm her voice altogether. "The carriage had overturned and all of the horses had fled, our men all slain. I could only leave them there..."
"It's not your fault," Phillip reassures her gently. "There is nothing further you could have done for them. And had you not come after me, I would have been lost as well."
"There's more," she sobs, wiping her eyes. "Phillip, I had to promise him a life in exchange for yours. He vowed to come for our firstborn son and take his kings' blood back again."
Phillip looks worried by her distress. He touches a gentle hand to the front of her tunic. "Are you with child?"
"No," she says. "No. Not yet."
Phillip cradles her face in his hands and rests his brow against hers with a smile. "Well then, it seems a simple solution to me."
Aurora looks up at him with hope. "It does?"
"Of course." He presses a kiss against her temple. "We must only have daughters."
She makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Of course."
"We may need some kind assistance from your aunts. I am not sure we could succeed ourselves without a little magic."
Aurora catches her breath, her anxiety slowly abating. "You would be prepared to give up your chance of a son?"
He gives her a wide, warm smile. "My love, if nothing else, tonight has shown that princesses are just as brave, courageous and clever as princes are. I think our kingdom would be in excellent hands if we were to pass it to a daughter, don't you?"
She laughs and draws him down for a kiss. She has known, since their first meeting, that he is her one and only — her true love. And she feels more bound to him now than ever before.
"I love you," she says, overcome with the need to tell him so.
"I love you too." He kisses her again. "Shall we go home, and resume our happily ever after?"
"What if we cannot control it, and we do have a son?" Aurora asks worriedly, unable to resume their journey with such heavy possibilities unresolved. "What if the wizard comes after us?"
"Let him try," Phillip says boldly. "There is nothing he can do which we cannot then undo."
Aurora rests her head against his shoulder. "True Love conquers all."
He kisses the top of her head with a smile and tightens his arms around her. "True Love," he agrees. "The chosen weapon of one Princess Aurora, my saviour, my heart. Who would dare try overcome you when you wield it so fiercely?"
She blushes at his open admiration, but she is weary. "I hope there is no one else," she says. "I should like to see what happily ever after looks like."
"Then let us head back to the kingdom," Phillip says. "The sun is rising, and I cannot think of a better start to things than to ride towards it with you."