It wasn't that big of a deal really. She wasn't hurt. He hadn't actually done anything. It was just that her veins were throbbing and her chest felt tight and despite whatever gifts she was meant to have Aurora could feel the sticky mess of tears on her face.
And it was stupid. She was eighteen. She was a queen. She was supposed to be more than this. She wasn't weak, she wasn't a little girl - she just couldn't quite stop crying.
It was her own fault even. Her advisers had told her that she was meant to be married by now. If she had listened them, if she had returned Phillip's sweet smiles with something other than friendship maybe, or accepted one of the proposals from the other neighboring kingdoms, if she was taken she knew this wouldn't have happened.
It was just that she hadn't really met someone who felt quite right, and really, she was busy enough running a kingdom that spending time seeking out a husband seemed a mistake of priorities. She certainly wasn't lonely – not with her Godmother and Diaval surrounding her more often that not and the antics of her aunts and Phillip's visits and her handmaiden Sarah's late night giggling and her advisors and the cook Molly who knew how to bake cakes without eggshells inside of them. Finding a husband didn't seem important in all of that.
Still, her advisors had warned her that there would be trouble without a husband. And really, could she blame him for thinking that she wanted him? She was the one who suggesting that rather than sit inside the stuffy castle they take their negotiations outside in the garden. And she was the one that let him take her hand as he directed their amble to a bench and didn't pull away when he kept it with him when they sat down.
So really, it should have been no surprise when he kissed her. She had sent him signals and it wasn't like she said that he shouldn't.
It was just that, she wasn't ready for his arms to come up around her and trap her in. She didn't anticipate his mannish stubble to scratch against her cheeks, or for the hand that held hers to pull her against his chest.
And he let her go. He did. When his hand behind her head loosened enough for her to pull away. He let her go when she sprang up from the bench, pressing a hand to her mouth and squeeze back in the sound that was threatening to escape. He didn't attack her. He just kissed her. That was it really.
And he had apologized, so really, she was entirely over-reacting.
"Aurora? Is that you in there?"
Aurora jumped, quickly patting at her cheeks and turning away from the window at Diaval's voice at the door.
"I'm here, Diaval. I'll be down in a minute," she called, running her hands through her hair and wishing for a mirror to check her eyes. Go away. Go away. Go away.
The door opened despite her silent pleas. Diaval swooped in first, all black eyes and craning neck even in this human shape, beginning to babble about a flock of swan maidens who just flew in with Maleficent striding in after him looking amused at his excitement for a brief second, before her eyes landed on Aurora's face. The young queen watched mortified as that hard-sought tinkle of amusement drained out the fae's face, replaced with slate of marble baptized in green flames.
"Diaval, be silent," the once-queen commanded, and the bird-man cut off, finally taking in the obvious upset on Aurora's face that a few seconds of rubbing hadn't erased.
"Aurora, what's wrong?" he asked, but his words were gobbled up as Maleficent crossed the space between the door and Aurora in three long strides; pale hands, never tanned, reaching up to cradle the younger woman's face, incredibly gentle in spite of talons. Aurora found herself encase in the space between her Godmother's powerful, steadying wings, able to see nothing but their solid might and the eyes that promised they would break the world if Aurora asked for it. They were eyes that Aurora didn't want to meet, but that the kind cradle of her skull in those deft hands demanded she do anyway.
"I'm fine," she said, seeing murder in the red of her godmother's stern lips. She wanted to flinch when the red tugged down at her words, "Really, Godmother, he didn't hurt me. I'm fine."
She really wasn't surprised when the fae ignored her words.
"Diaval, find the ambassador," the woman said, not moving her eyes or her body and inch from Aurora. She scarcely heard the raven's "With pleasure, mistress" or the shutting of the door after him, not with her Godmother's presence surrounding her in pure force of energy.
"Aurora," Maleficent said, and Aurora felt her body freeze, breath stopping between one inhale and the next. Because her Godmother never said her name - ever. She was Beastie, just as Aurora only called the fae her Godmother, the memories of betrayal and hurt still wrapped around their given names like scorching iron. The use of her name now hit like a hammer with a blacksmith's strike, sending sparks from her heart to race through her veins, making them race for a different reason than fear now. Love, that name seemed to say. You are my love. I love you. I see you. Love. Love. Love. She could almost feel it in the very air around them, buzzed and charged with those three syllables. Au-ro-ra. I-love-you. A promise and a threat trapped in the cocoon of the fae's wings, which held perfectly still yet promised unconquerable power in a moment.
"He kissed me," she found herself saying, unable to told back the truth in the face of the force of her Godmother's love. And it wasn't enough, because she found herself saying more, rapidly, as though the words were dying to pour out. "I didn't want him to. I didn't ask him to. I don't even know him. Why would he kiss someone he doesn't even know? It's like – it's like it didn't even matter to him. Kisses are supposed to matter. They matter the most! And he just – he just took one."
The tears had returned, pressure breaking behind her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and onto Maleficent's hands where she held her. The older woman didn't brush them away, didn't demand they cease by erasing their existence. Instead, her Godmother leaned in, pressing her lips against Aurora's forehead in a way that she hadn't since that day the curse was broken.
The queen wasn't sure how long they stood there. She lost herself in the blurred sight of thick, brown feathers and the warmth of her Godmother's kiss – a kiss of true love - against her skin. She felt her anxiety wash away under its power, her doubts and fears made little by the sheer power that was her Godmother's love for her. When the fae finally did pull away, tucking Aurora's hair behind her ear as she did so, the queen could feel the warmth of the kiss lingering in her bones, all the way down to her toes and in the air all around her, as though she had her own wings to fly on.
"There now, little Beastie, a kiss to return the one that was taken," her Godmother said, her marble face having gone soft and sweet, as though she had drunk in the honey of Aurora's golden hair.
"Thank you," Aurora said finally, taking her Godmother's hands and squeezing them, enjoying the warmth of their bond linked between their fingers.
The woman's red mouth curved. "Always."