Back by popular demand ;D Here's some more Malora for those of you who are still hungry. I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve, so don't think that this is the last you've heard of my new OTP.
Disclaimer: Thank you, Disney. You're my favourite. Once Upon a Dream is sung by the wonderful Lana Del Ray and written by Sammy Fain and Jack Lawrence.
Beta'd by GrimGrave. Thanks, hun :heart:
20-ought pages of Word document later… This is huge. Seatbelts, everyone!
Crowning the Queen
The king is dead, the king is dead. Long live the queen!
It had been a difficult year between her father's failing health and the demands of the kingdom and, if she was completely honest with herself, the princess was glad that the king—gods rest his soul—was finally at peace.
But it seemed her work had only just begun.
Seventeen-year old Aurora's coronation had been a rather standard affair with bloated nobles bearing ulterior motives aplenty and it wasn't until after all of the pleasantries had been exchanged and the villagers herded into an orderly mass below the balcony outside of the grand hall that the first extraordinary event occurred.
"Hail her majesty: Queen Aurora!"
The crown, though small, was an immense weight upon the princess's shoulders as it was placed upon her head and she had to force a cheery smile as she waved to her people.
No part of her wanted this—this position that she had been trained all of her life to fill.
Something else called to her heart—a siren's call that whispered to her in the moments she wasn't occupied. Something that she couldn't quite name.
Whatever it was, it wasn't this.
Still, the newly-crowned Queen commanded, "Open the gates. Let my people feast and make merry"—her first official decree and most certainly a crowd-pleaser if the cheers from below were anything to go by. As she turned to reenter the castle, there was a raucous cry and a dark shape darted out of the sky; something tugged at her hair and the crown fell to the balcony's stone floor with an airy sound.
A thousand quiet voices spoke all at once, becoming a dull roar:
"Did you see that?"
"A crow?"
A woman crossed herself. "Devil birds. That's a bad omen for certain."
"Aye. The poor dear."
"First the king goes mad and now this?"
So began the reign of a "cursed" queen.
Ten years later…
Aurora sighed, fidgeting with the laces zigzagging along the front of the corset-like top of her dress, not really listening to the nasally voice of her retainer, Edward.
The queen was bored. Utterly and dreadfully bored.
She was bored of the elaborate parties and false smiles of the blue bloods who attended them. She was bored of the vast emptiness of the castle and the servants who treated her as though she wasn't a person, but something to fear. And, above all, she was bored with her real life because it felt as though her dream world was growing more and more fantastic with each passing day.
/ "Aurora, come away from there."
The blonde smiled, her arm still stretched out, her palm mere centimeters away from the sylpheed's snout. "Why? It won't hurt me."
The speaker, a tall, pale woman with high cheek bones and full, red-stained lips, clad in a black dress with a spiked collar made of stiff black feathers shook her head and returned her gaze—and incredible mixture of gold and amber ringed by bright green—to the sky above. Even reclining in the outstretched boughs of an ancient tree, she possessed an air of regality. "Very well. Have it your way."
Aurora shrugged and returned her attention to the creature before her: a horse-like spirit with skin like tree bark and the ability to control the winds. She stroked its nose, smiling as it snuffled and nuzzled her palm. "Aren't you just lovely?"
Eyes like liquid chocolate flickered and its ears went back—the only warning the girl received before a frigid wind gusted past, spooking the nature spirit and causing it to bolt, the force of its departure creating a blast of air that knocked the blonde onto her backside with an, "Oomph…!"
A shadow fell over her and she looked up at her companion, wincing guiltily.
"I warned you, did I not?" Her tone was severe, but then her gaze softened and she offered a hand to the young woman. "Let me help you."
The princess's heart beat fast against her ribcage and she smiled helplessly as her cheeks heated. "Thank you…" /
"… beastie…"
Aurora snapped to attention. "Excuse me?"
She had said it more sharply than she had intended and the dark-haired man flinched, cowering. "Pardon me, Your Highness, I didn't mean—"
"What did you just say?" she demanded.
"I-I merely stated that we've a serious problems with those damned winged beasties who are plucking the corn stalks clean."
Beastie—why did mixed feelings of sadness and elation swell beneath her breast at that word?
"Highness…?"
Aurora gestured for the lanky young man to leave and he bowed neatly before hurrying out of the throne room.
o-o-o
"I need you to be my eyes and ears."
"Caw!"
"What do you—? Don't be ridiculous, Diaval. Now go."
.
.
.
"Tch… Next time, I'll turn you into a filthy little rat."
o-o-o
"Something is troubling the queen."
"Yes, she just hasn't been herself of late."
"Oh my… I wonder—"
The chatter stopped the moment Aurora stepped out from behind one of the low stone-walls dividing up the space outdoors where the freshly washed clothes were hung out to dry and the servants all curtsied, their eyes wide.
"Y-your Highness! Good morning."
"Did you sleep well?"
"Are you hungry? I can fetch the cook."
"No… That won't be necessary. Thank you."
The trio curtsied again and hurried back inside, casting worried looks over their shoulders all the way, and the blonde sighed.
Alone again.
They were correct, of course—she had been acting strangely. Lately she had begun to feel as though something was… missing in her life and the feeling had become a listlessness that she couldn't shake no matter how frequently she wandered the castle or the estate she ruled over, all the way to its edge—the moor.
For some reason the mysterious, unexplored land called to her—a siren's call that she could not heed.
It was unbecoming of a queen to roam, according to her advisor.
"Caw!"
Aurora started, whipping her head around to find the creature that had made such a cacophonic sound: there was a crow perched at the top of one of the stone barriers, its beady eyes fixed on her as it tilted its head quizzically. It spread its wings, gliding down to the floor and landing in front of the doorway leading into the kitchen.
"Caw!"
When the blonde didn't move, it hopped forward a few times, flapping its wings and jerking its head, and she frowned slightly, realization hitting her at last.
"You want me to follow you?"
The bird cooed and fluttered a short distance, taking off the moment the young woman took a step towards it; gathering up the hem of her dress, the queen hastened to follow it.
…
Up, up, up—these stairs seemed to go on forever.
Aurora followed the whisper of feathers until, after bustling down a narrow corridor, squinting in the low light that filtered in through gaps in the stone walls, she was quite lost.
"Pretty bird?" she whispered into the dimness, running her fingertips over cool stone to guide her way. "Where did you go?"
A cry echoed along the hallway and the queen headed towards its source, taking care to avoid bits of rubble and sticky cobwebs. She had never been this high up in the castle and the servants had suggested that she avoid it entirely. Apparently her father had been a bit… unstable—a "man obsessed."
But with what, she didn't know. No one spoke of it and every time she asked, she got the same, pitying look. After his death, this wing had been abandoned entirely.
Speaking of which, wasn't there supposed to be a guard here?
After travelling a short distance down the passageway, the flaxen-haired maiden came to a plain wooden door across which there was a faded sign that she couldn't quite make out in the dim light and, she wasn't sure what possessed her to, but she stooped to peer through the keyhole.
She gasped: in a glass case sitting in front of a stained glass window was a beautiful pair of… wings?
/ She ran her fingers over jagged edges, sorrow causing hot, wet tears to sting her eyes. "Oh… What happened?"
"They were taken from me." Sadness made the woman's voice a few shades huskier. "Along with something else very important to me."
The girl's stomach flip-flopped anxiously and she tightened her grip around the taller woman, desperately seeking to convey comfort. She knew she likely wouldn't like the response, but she asked quietly, "What was it?"
"My heart." /
Aurora swayed, suddenly dizzy, and leaned heavily against the door, sliding into a seated position as her breath came out in harsh little bursts. She pressed a hand to her breast, as though doing so would dislodge the heavy weight that had settled there, squeezing from it any feelings of joy or hope.
What was a pair of wings doing in the castle?
And, more importantly… why did the sight of them make her heart feel as though it was breaking?
…
"Did my father leave behind any keys?"
"Keys…?" The old man sounded perplexed. "Why the sudden interest, Your Highness?"
She hesitated for a moment, uncertain as to whether or not she should share her discovery. "I was exploring upstairs and I found a locked box that I cannot open."
"A box, you say? Well, I'd have to see it."
"Never mind," the blonde said quickly. There was no way she was going to share such a magical discovery with anyone.
Because, honestly, she had no close friends here in the castle—no one she could trust.
o-o-o
"I've found them, Mistress."
"Found what, Diaval?"
"Your wings."
"Tch. The information is scarcely a secret. That miserable man has them locked up in that wretched castle."
"Ah…"
"Mm? What is it?"
"What I meant was that she's found them."
"… Well that's a different matter entirely, now isn't it?"
o-o-o
Blue eyes flicked upward, though the blonde didn't stop stitching the fabric in her hands. She wasn't particularly fond of sewing, but it was something to do and it wasn't as though she could just go into town and purchase a pair of breeches for herself. She could just hear the tongue wagging now.
In any case, someone was watching her and she didn't want whomever it was to run away.
Carefully, oh so carefully, the queen tilted her head: sure enough, a long, humanoid shadow fell across the archway high above and, though she wasn't sure how someone had gotten up there, they had.
"I know you're there." As soon as she said them, the words tasted oddly familiar and the woman frowned, puzzled. "Don't… Be afraid."
/ "I am not afraid." /
Her lips parted to voice her reply, though she soon found that her vocal chords wouldn't cooperate. 'Please…'
But the shadow ignored her silent plea, retreating without a sound, and Aurora rose to her feet, finding her tongue in a burst of panic. "Wait! Please don't go!"
The frantic cry echoed and there was the sound of footsteps hurrying towards the sewing room. "What happened? What's wrong?" a maid demanded as she burst through the door, the clinking of armor clattering from somewhere behind her—the guards responding to her distress.
"I was just… I thought I saw someone," Aurora responded distractedly, aquamarine orbs scanning the rafters feverishly.
"Highness…There's no one here but yourself."
Two tall, burly guards came barreling down the hall, skidding to a halt in the doorway and beginning the usual interrogation:
Was she alright? A difficult question to answer, at the moment.
What had distressed her? A figure that she wasn't even sure existed outside of her dreams.
Did she think there had been a breach in security? No… Yes… Did it matter? The queen was the unchallenged ruler of the land.
Perhaps her advisor had been right… Perhaps her imagination was running away with her.
Someone was knocking gently but incessantly on the door to the queen's chambers—had for the past fifteen minutes or so—and the woman refused to get out of bed or even acknowledge it.
"Highness, please… You've guests."
Guests? She wasn't expecting anyone and it wasn't as though the average person could even approach the castle gates without facing the unfriendly end of a sword or spear so that would mean…
My, was it that time already? It seemed as though every lord and prince became aware of her marriageability around this time of year and the unnecessary (not to mention unwanted) attempts at courtship commenced. These men came from far and wide bearing gifts, treats, and pleas with greed in their hearts and lust in their gazes. It also seemed as though their attempts went horribly astray every single time…
/ "Welcome, Lord Heimlich."
The man—a ginger-haired boy, really—smiled, bowing at the waist with a flourish of his traveler's cape. "Queen Aurora." He clapped his hands sharply and the men flanking him stepped forward, lowering to one knee and presenting the jeweled boxes in their hands. "I bear gifts."
The queen sighed, hiding the indifference behind the action with a small smile. "You have my thanks. Please, join me for dinner?"
…
The grand dining hall seemed vaster still when only two people were seated at the long wooden table and Aurora shifted uncomfortably as Heimlich rested a clammy hand over hers. "Your Majesty, I've been meaning to ask you something very important."
She immediately knew her answer, but she waited politely for him to ask the all-too predictable question.
"Would you—"
The blonde blinked, movement in her peripheral vision drawing her attention away from the nervous young man: there was a green flash of brilliance that made black spots dance at the edges of her vision and she flinched away from her suitor, blinking.
"My Queen?"
"Apologies." She had to pull herself together. That had likely been the sun streaming in through the stained glass window—no reason to let her exceptional imagination run wilder still. "You were saying?"
He opened his mouth, but what came was a bleat like that of a goat and he snapped it shut, his face going the same colour as his hair.
"Are you—?"
There was a dark chuckle and the young lord bolted, throwing back his chair with a loud clatter as he clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. Footsteps hurried towards the dining room—her men en-route to protect their monarch—and the doors burst open, a dozen armored men shouting and brandishing their weapons.
And Heimlich fled from the room, bleating frantically and tripping over his own feet. /
There hadn't been many suitors after that first incident, but eventually the stream of men both young and old had resumed. Some even redoubled their efforts.
In any case, the gentleman waiting at the castle gates had likely travelled a great distance and for naught… So she supposed she may as well make nice.
o-o-o
"My, is it that time already?"
"Sorry… What time would that be?"
"A time for fools to chase what they cannot have."
"Mistress?"
"Come, Diaval. We've work to do."
o-o-o
"Presenting: King Phillip of the winterlands."
A king? That was new. But the trumpets and fanfare were a lot of noise over nothing, really.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Queen Aurora." A gloved hand clutched hers, the bearded, admittedly handsome, man bowing his head respectfully and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. "The rumors don't do your exquisite beauty justice."
Smile prettily. Blush demurely. Play your part. "Thank you, King—"
"Please, just call me Phillip."
"Very well, Phillip."
He offered his arm. "Shall we take a walk, Highness? We have much to discuss."
Aurora swore she caught a glimpse of electric green ambience shining forth from atop the ramparts for a split second, but she couldn't be certain. "Certainly."
Just then, a scrawny black cat darted between the legs of the horse upon which the man who had announced the king sat and the beast shied away, rearing up and stumbling into the pageant of troops standing behind it. As they tumbled like dominoes, their leader looked on, aghast, and the blonde opened her mouth to warn the man of the bucket of slops—that, come to think of it, hadn't been there a moment ago—at his feet, but it was too late and he stepped back, knocking the disgusting mixture over and tripping over the metal container to fall onto his rump in the swill.
As he tried in vain to get to his feet, succeeding only in making a bigger mess, the blonde lifted a hand to her mouth to hide the amused smile that threatened to spread across her face.
A week later…
She had to admit: King Phillip was a brave man.
Even after his embarrassing first visit, the man was still sending her letters—long, romantic odes to her beauty and grace that should have made her heart soar.
Or something like that.
Instead, they filled her bosom with the niggling sensation of guilt.
…
Try as they might, the staff couldn't manage to get the queen out of her room. And they had tried: begging, sweets, and a chance to roam as she was prone to. Nothing worked.
If they pressed their ear to the locked door, they could make out the sound of pacing and the occasional 'crash!' and 'thud!' of heavy objects being moved about and it made the already leery men and women of the castle staff even more concerned for Aurora's health.
Word spread as word always does and, soon, the entire kingdom was questioning the young woman's sanity.
An apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.
o-o-o
"What news do you bring me, Diaval?"
"The queen is under the weather, according to the whispers of her servants. I have not seen her myself, but I know that she's shut herself away in her room for the past three days."
"No, no… That won't do."
o-o-o
Something 'plink!'ed against Aurora's window and she stirred, rolling over and burrowing into her sheets. When the sound occurred a second and third time, she realized that it was no coincidence and sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed.
She crossed the room and threw open the thick red curtains on either side of the window across from her bed, peering out into the darkness. Nothing.
'Plink!'
The blonde frowned quizzically and went over to the other window—this one a large bay window with a flowerbox at its sill—to look out into the night. She gasped: in the boughs of the apple tree leaning precariously towards the castle sat an exquisite woman dressed all in black, her pale face nearly glowing in the moonlight. She clearly wasn't human, if the long, slim horns jutting out of the leather skullcap wrapped around the crown of her head was anything to go by, and the queen could only stare at her visitor, speechless.
This was likely her most real dream yet.
"What's troubling you?"
"I'm not sure…" She leaned out into the night, breathing in the crisp, cool air. "I feel as though my life lacks something. Something terribly important."
"And what would that be?"
"I don't know," the blonde admitted. "And that's what bothers me the most. If I don't know what I'm missing, how will I ever find it?"
"Indeed…"
She studied her companion for a moment, struck by an odd sense of familiarity. "Have we… Met before?"
"Entirely possible. Do you dream often?"
"I used to." The smaller woman smiled slightly. "I think I would remember beauty like yours, though."
Blink. "You find me beautiful?"
Was that an actual question? The queen was finding it difficult to breathe simply because those wild ochre eyes were fixed so intently on her. That blink—that split second that she wasn't being focused on—allowed her to gather her thoughts. "I do."
Aurora hadn't looked forward to something in quite some time—especially not sleeping. But to sleep was to dream and she would begin to fidget around supper time, when she could see the sun sinking behind the hills through the wide bay windows in the dining hall.
It was days before Aurora had her next dream and each morning until then, she would open her eyes tentatively, only to be greeted by the sight of the sunlight streaming in through the curtains, painting lines of radiance on the stone floor. A sight that made her heart clench disappointedly.
The young woman stirred, rubbing her eyes groggily. She must have fallen asleep…
Immediately, the blonde jumped out of bed and hurried over to the window, throwing it open—
"Apple?"
Aurora started, recoiling instinctively from the rich red fruit thrust towards her. "N-no. Thank you."
"Suit yourself." The woman bit into the apple, her eyes glowing a dazzling shade of gold, and a pink tongue swiped over crimson-painted lips as its juices stained them. Frowning thoughtfully, she allowed the rest of the fruit to fall to the ground below. She was sitting in the tree outside of the queen's window once again, her curvaceous form cradled in its branches.
Part of Aurora wondered how soft those full, pouty lips were and part of her responded—as silk.
"May I ask why you have horns?" she asked, more to distract herself from her distracting thoughts than anything.
"I'm a Faerie." Her tone suggested that the answer was quite obvious and the blonde supposed it was.
"But Faerie-folk only live in the moor." It had always been that way—humans and Faeries simply did not seem eye-to-eye. Her father and the king before him had tried everything to conquer them to no avail. "Why are you here?"
"Mm… This is a dream, is it not?"
Right. It was becoming difficult to tell what was real and what wasn't. "What's the moor like?"
"I've forgotten." But how could that be? Didn't she call the mysterious lands her home? Her confusion must have shown because the Faerie continued, "It's changed so much from when I was a child."
"What happened…?"
Her companion shifted, rearranging graceful limbs more comfortably. Finally, she murmured, "There is great evil in this world. If you trust man, you are destined to be betrayed."
"You're wrong."
A thin, dark eyebrow quirked upwards. "Pardon?"
Aurora met golden orbs unflinchingly. "Not all humans are bad."
"Perhaps…"
They were silent for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, before the blonde asked, "Were you betrayed?"
"Once, yes." She could tell from the female's tone that there was more to the statement and she waited patiently for the Faerie to continue, "The other human, I still have hopes for."
"I'm sure they'll come through for you," the queen said encouragingly.
That lovely face was unreadable. "I pray that they do."
There was a sad lilt to that throaty voice and the young woman leaned forward, bracing her forearms against the sill. The flowers smelled lovely. "What was the moor like before?"
A chuckle. "It was wondrous. So many species—Will o the Wisps, pixies, treants, and spirits of the earth and sea— coexisting within a realm brimming with the natural magic that burns within all living things."
"Magic?"
"Yes." She held up a hand and it became full of sparkling gold-brown dust that swirled around her palm like a snow globe. "Magic."
"Ah...!" the blonde's lips parted, a soft, surprised sound leaving her. She reached towards the Faerie's hand and the woman closed her fingers, snuffing out the awe-inspiring radiance. "Oh… I've heard stories of the moor's guardian."
"Take care, child. Tales change with their teller."
Aurora nodded. "And what about the moor now?"
"Now… Now it's lonely."
Lonely? Certainly she could relate to that.
"I'd like to go there someday."
"Oh?"
She nodded sleepily. "Yes. It was my father's dream to conquer the moor."
She couldn't quite get out the other part of the sentence—"though I disagree with him entirely."— out due to a huge yawn that brought tears to her eyes.
Up this close, the queen could see flecks of amber within the intense, smoldering gold. "… Sleep."
And Aurora slept.
"Highness, you wished to see me?"
Aurora didn't respond for a moment, her fingers tracing over the curves of the ornate metal key in her hands, her dream still firmly in mind. She had opened the door at last and seen the feathered prizes up close and the nagging sensation that they did not belong here had kept her up all night. "I want you to gather a platoon of soldiers. We're going to the moor."
"But, Your Majesty, the wildlands are terribly dangerous. We have no idea what's in there! Please, allow your general to—"
"I will lead my men," she said firmly.
"… Yes, Majesty."
…
As they were leaving the castle, the soldiers marching smartly in time with one another, the blonde maiden tugged at her steed's reigns and dismounted, stooped quickly to retrieve the ruby-skinned fruit nestled in the sprawling roots of a tall apple tree growing alongside the castle and holding her breath as she turned it over in her hands.
There was no bite mark—no proof that the mystery woman had ever been there.