Hello again. I'm still a bit nervous about posting this story - I've never before written anything to be read by complete strangers - but seeing as chapter one seemed to go down OK, here's chapter two. By the way, thanks for the review, and for the follows. Much appreciated.
It was a beautiful wedding ceremony, held in the throne room of the castle. Maleficent and Diaval stood at the back of the large room, watching proudly as Aurora and Philip made their vows to one another. Aurora had previously offered them places at the front, of the type usually reserved for family members and honoured guests, but they had politely and gently declined, preferring instead to occupy a less conspicuous part of the room. Aurora had accepted their decision without question. She knew that they regarded themselves as outsiders in the human kingdom, and for Maleficent in particular, this room held dark memories. During the ceremony, Diaval couldn't help noticing that, despite her genuine expression of affection and pride, every so often her eyes would dart nervously around the room and up towards the ceiling, as if she was expecting to find herself under attack once again. It upset him to see her so ill at ease, but he knew that she would never have missed this day, and he admired the courage, and the unswerving devotion to Aurora, that would always triumph over any past personal trauma.
The ceremony concluded, and the congregation applauded the smiling, newly married royal couple. Maleficent and Diaval gladly joined in. Their beloved Aurora had become a young woman, a Queen and now the wife of a fine young man, and they couldn't have been more delighted for her. As Aurora and Philip made their way down the room, greeting their guests, Maleficent turned to Diaval, her discomfort now more evident.
"Diaval, I need to leave this room, just for a short time." He understood, and nodded. He moved to accompany her, but she stopped him. "No, you stay here and wait for Aurora. Besides, I'd like to be alone for a moment." She glanced towards the corridor beyond the open doorway. "I'll be in the corridor. I won't be long, but if I haven't returned before you see Aurora, please apologise to her for me, and tell her that I'll see her very soon." She walked towards the doorway, then stopped and turned back to Diaval. "Tell her how happy I am for her."
He nodded again. "Of course, Mistress; I understand. Aurora will understand, too."
Maleficent knew he was right. Reassured, she turned and left the room. Diaval watched her leave, then turned his attention back to the newlyweds. There were many guests for them to acknowledge, but he was more than happy to remain at the back of the room and await his turn.
Once out of the throne room and in the quiet, empty corridor, Maleficent felt better, as if a weight had been lifted. She wandered slowly along, listening to the sound of happy voices emanating from the room, wishing that she had been better able to join in. As she reached the far end of the corridor, a different sound stopped her in her tracks. She turned around.
A man was standing before her, his long cloak swirling around his heels, and a voluminous hood obscuring most of his face. She eyed him suspiciously, wondering what he wanted, but before she could speak, the man broke the silence.
"Maleficent. I heard that you'd be here today."
She stiffened at the sound of a stranger addressing her by name, her uncertainty growing.
"I am here at the Queen's invitation. How do you know me?"
He responded, in a low voice. "I remember you. I was here the last time you visited this castle. I was one of King Stefan's best soldiers...until that night, when my life was changed forever." His voice lowered still further. "Oh, I remember you well. You, and your dragon."
He reached up with his left hand and removed the hood. With a quiet gasp, Maleficent recoiled slightly. The right side of his face and neck had been badly burnt, and his right eye was missing altogether. Memories flashed through her mind; memories of the battle. She remembered Diaval, whom she had transformed into a dragon to aid her fight, breathing immense streams of deadly fire around the room. She remembered the screams of soldiers as they were burnt.
The man fixed her with a hard stare, and his voice became more menacing. "Well, I'm sure you know how the old saying goes: an eye for an eye." With this, he brought his right hand out from beneath the cloak, revealing what had been concealed therein: a flail. It was a brutal looking weapon, with a spiked iron ball hanging on a chain attached to a wooden handle, which he was clutching tightly in a hand that showed further evidence of burns. Maleficent's eyes widened in horror at the sight, and she recoiled further. The man's intentions had become terrifyingly clear.
Maleficent had no time to act. As quick as she was, the former soldier was even quicker, well trained as he was in the use of close combat weapons. Before she knew what was happening, the iron ball swung round on its chain in a swift, deadly arc, making violent contact with the left side of her face. Staggering back under the force of the impact, her vision blurred, she felt the burning heat of the iron, the sharp spikes tearing through her skin, and she heard her own voice crying out in agony. Before she could raise her arms to shield herself, or spread her wings to take flight, she felt a second blow, and a third, ripping even more viciously and painfully through her face. She dropped to her knees, covering her face with her hands, blinded by blood and by searing pain, and hearing her own screams ringing in her ears. Another blow, heavier still, struck her on the left side of her head, cutting off her cries mid flow. She slumped silently to the floor, and all went dark.
The man stood over the motionless faerie, raising his weapon to strike once more; a final, fatal blow, to avenge himself and his late King. But he was abruptly stopped as someone grabbed him roughly from behind and pushed him to the floor with considerable force, knocking him out cold. The flail fell from his grasp with a clatter of metal and wood, coming to rest nearby. It was over.