I hope you had a lovely time over the break. I hung out with a horse and made myself sick on raspberries.
The howls of protests had started approximately three seconds later, and had continued unabated for hours.
It started out tame at first, both protesting they couldn't let her go alone ("Into the jaws of certain death, Mistress!") to insisting a royal presence be required ("This could escalate to a full-scale war, Godmother, if I don't take initiative and extend the hand of friendship while there is still time to rally!"). The last one made an annoying amount of sense to Maleficent, but to acknowledge Aurora's fair point would only encourage the two.
Not even changing Diaval into a variety of creatures helped. He cawed and swooped about her head as a raven, worried at her feet as a kitten, swarmed over her shoulders as a snake and simply wailed when she transformed him into a fox, the closest form to a dog as she would dare.
Aurora herself first coaxed, then wheedled, begged and cried, made all sorts of promises and finally threw a tantrum the likes of which she hadn't pitched even in childhood. She had even thrown her pillows across the room – one had managed to clip Diaval while he was sulking in the form of a bat, and Aurora's anger had temporarily evaporated while she apologized profusely to the dazed chiropteran.
Maleficent had made the journey out to the Moors just to have a moment's peace, to find them buffeted but not to the extremes of the human kingdom. The relief the Moorfolk expressed at her return was gratifying, filling her with a warm sense of relief and appreciation. Even after those strange, cold years they still instantly welcomed her back, worried after her welfare.
Diaval promptly spoilt it. Maleficent had changed him back to a raven out of habit, and had been over the castle walls before she realized her mistake. He'd remained blessedly quiet for the whole journey, and if she hadn't been so relieved for the reprieve she would have found it mightily suspicious.
He had winged off somewhere when she finally managed to draw Balthazar aside, the fair folk preparing to welcome the evening – even during the dark years, they took refuge in their routine, and part of that was greeting the moon in all her many forms.
Balthazar and Maleficent remained tucked away in the shadows under a drowsy waterfall of honeysuckle, white blossoms jangling in the cool breeze and wafting their pretty scent. The Moors would hold out for much longer than the human kingdom – the lands were old, and as mired in routine as the inhabitants. It wouldn't take kindly to an enforced winter, so the summer here would not disperse without a fight.
"It comes from the human kingdom – Ulstead," Maleficent said softly, watching the water sprites begin their evening dance. "The name is unhappily well known to me, though my knowledge is dated by nearly two decades." Balthazar's disapproving grunt made Maleficent's head bow briefly, a claw of guilt shooting up to rake her heart. "Yes, I should have kept up my communication with the others. I assure you, Balthazar, I have never regretted that more than in this moment."
"The Fauve was the last to cease correspondence," Balthazar rumbled. "It may be wise to send out missives to the Lords and Ladies." Maleficent nodded in agreement, a little absentmindedly.
"Balthazar…" The tree guardian waited patiently. He knew the sad, faraway lilt in her voice too well. "This sorcerer, Roth…when last I heard of him he was making himself to be the nightmare of a southern kingdom. A silly little upstart at the time, but if he is behind this magical storm…my magic can't hold it off forever, and I cannot willingly expose anyone else to this threat."
Maleficent fell silent, watching the water guardians rise and spin through their dance. The moon showed her favour tonight, and her smiling face swam with their blooming lights, mingled with ripples and giggles alike.
The tree guardian waited still, his knotted and rooted heart sparing a bud of sympathy for their protector. It was moments like these, when none of the Moorfolk were looking and she was reasonably sure Diaval was distracted elsewhere that Maleficent looked closer to the brazen young girl she had once been. Strong and willing, but unaware of her own vulnerability.
"I will send missives out to Fauve," Maleficent announced, her shoulders squaring and chin lifting. "She has always been a great source of knowledge, if a little coy. One out to that wretched Magdalena, and I suppose I must send one to The Sorrowful Prince as well, blast him…" Maleficent continued rattling off names, most with an unflattering addendum, and if tree guardians had an equivalent to rolling their eyes Balthazar was sure he would be doing it.
When it came to beings of magic, the only thing that could possibly match their power was the degree of bickering and pettiness leveled at their peers.
Still, he had a request to make. It was rare he made any sort of appeal so Balthazar hoped she would take this one seriously. "Protector." Balthazar's rumble cut through Maleficent's tirade against the upper echelons of faefolk. "For my own peace, I must ask this."
She fell silent, looking up at him openly and expectantly, and it made his heart soften just a little. Maleficent was returning to them, to him, piece by piece – she would never be the light-hearted faerie she once was, the war had left too many battlescars and hard memories. But he could see the first shy blushes of spring his New Queen had breathed to life in their steadfast defender.
"Protector, I see the path you wish to travel. You do not truly expect to return from this venture." Maleficent flinched, but did not try to interrupt. "You undervalue yourself, and believe your sacrifice would be unimportant to this kingdom."
Now she did try to interrupt. "Balthazar, my presence – "
"Is not only desired, but required," Balthazar boomed over top, attracting the attention of a few pixies at the edge of the closing dance. "The Moors would be devastated to lose their protector. The Raven would languish and the New Queen would suffer." He leaned down so their faces were mere inches apart. "Those here would grieve your passing, and the Moor would be vulnerable until a new guardian arose. If not The Maleficent, then The War Queen must listen; this is a battle we cannot afford to lose."
It was, perhaps, the most Balthazar had ever said to her at once; he was the most taciturn of her guards, and she had always appreciated this. Their patrols had often been composed entirely of silence which spoke volumes more than words ever could.
"I…understand you, my friend." Maleficent did not break her gaze, merely inclined her head respectfully. "Your candor is appreciated; what would you have of me?"
Upon rejoining the Moorfolk, Maleficent's first hint there was something amiss was three squabbling pixies cannonballing into the side of her head. Her horns took the brunt of it, sending them skidding along its length to pinwheel off the tips and back into the air, but she still leveled her best wintry gaze at them. It silenced the wittering for a moment, and then to her surprise they simultaneously aimed a mirroring glare at her.
"Maleficent! You cannot be seriously thinking of venturing into that foreign human kingdom alone!" Knotgrass trilled, her fists firmly planted on her hips. Flittle and Thistlewit assembled just behind her, sheepishly supportive.
"I am a very serious individual," Maleficent replied loftily, wondering idly if she could somehow bribe the wallerbogs into filling Knotgrass' flower cap with mud. Then she finally made sense of words and blanched. "How…who told you I was planning on going alone?"
"We have our own sources."
"Secret sources."
"It was Diaval."
"Thistlewit."
Diaval chose that moment to arrive on a nearby branch and croak triumphantly at them all, matching Maleficent's fierce look with his own, albeit beady-eyed stare.
Maleficent gritted her teeth and tried to plan out how this particular battle would end. As happy as she was to put the old days behind her, it was much easier to get her own way when she was queen and every creature in the Moors trembled at her name. She sometimes gave Diaval too little credit – he could be a devious bird when he wanted to, and he had spent the last few years running interference between herself and the Moorfolk.
It all meant that he probably had a better rapport with many of the faeries, pixies and goblins than she did. He was certainly playing off that now.
Maleficent wanted to take Diaval with her. Ever since the idea of going alone, completely alone, had announced itself she had felt unbalanced and more than a little worried. She always had Diaval. She always knew exactly where her raven servant was, and had known from the minute he swore himself to her service.
Going without Diaval would be like once more being without her wings.
The pixies had devolved into squabbling amongst themselves, and it only took Maleficent stepping forward for the attention to once again be focused on her. "I am going alone because this is a danger unlike anything we've faced for many years," Maleficent began. "In the last hundred years the only threat to the Moors has been mankind and we have always held them back. This sorcerer we face now may not even be a man." Her voice lowered slightly, and the Moorfolk drew closer, "Despite my grave mistakes of the past, I have always been your guardian. I will not falter in that duty now and I will not ask anyone to accompany me."
Diaval squawked angrily, and she bit down on the urge to look his way. She would explain later, much later.
"Well then – " Knotgrass rose a couple more inches, "- we – as in, we the folk of the Moors – do have a requirement of this endeavour of yours. Taking into account your, er, previous difficulties –"
"– We want you to take someone else with you," Thistlewit chirruped, twirling eagerly. "Just to make sure you're safe! Perhaps take Amadeus, or Kisses-Morning-Dewdrops?"
"I go alone because of the danger," Maleficent answered, fighting to keep the irritation out of her voice.
"But you and Diaval cannot possibly – "
"I said alone!"
The glade was silent, and the folk around her looked befuddled. "Yes," Flittle said at last. "Alone, but for Diaval."
"Alone, without Diaval," Maleficent said in a tone of finality.
"You mean…" This was Flittle, finally chiming in, "Diaval will stay behind?"
"Yes. Exactly."
"…How strange."
"Well." All heads turned to Thistlewit, who beamed brightly. "If it's even too dangerous for Diaval, it must be very serious."
"Yes, exactly," Maleficent repeated gratefully. A pixie being agreeable always heralded trouble, she remembered too late.
"So we should all go with you!" Thistlewit said excitedly. "You'll be perfectly safe with all the Moorfolk about you, we can take turns keeping watch and scouting ahead, and we can set up camp every night and – "
Thistlewit continued chattering away to herself, while her suggestion was met with mixed reactions. The mudslingers and fungus sprites looked apprehensive, whereas the water -and-air nymphs were almost bursting with delight. Several of the younger ones scampered off to presumably prepare, hooting with glee at the idea of an adventure.
Maleficent had fallen into a momentary catatonic state induced by sheer horror, and it took her a couple of seconds to gather her wits. How many spirits and fairies were about the Moor now? Spring always brought a host of new flora dryads, and they were already well into the fresh summer months. The idea of possibly several thousand mischievous, easily distracted, comparatively vulnerable fae folk roaming about in enemy territory was enough to make –
Pain blossomed behind Maleficent's eyes; dry, hard agony which left purple and green spots dancing in her vision. Not now. Not when things were just going so well.
"No." The finality in her voice settled the eager creatures around her. "Certainly not. It rather defeats the point of protecting the Moors if you all come into danger."
"But – "
"This isn't a ramble down to the willow springs, Thistlewit," Maleficent snapped and guilt stabbed through her again when Thistlewit's round face began to crumple, tears brimming in her eyes. Pixies were juvenile but they weren't complete fools. Maleficent took in a slow breath and took a few steps closer to the hovering pixie, holding out her hand so Thistlewit could balance like a cottonseed on the tips of her fingers. "My…my apologies, Thistlewit." The apology was strained, but spoken nonetheless. "Perhaps we will need an army to face this man, but not everyone here is battleready. I cannot take that risk."
"We-we just wish to protect you, Maleficent," Thistlewit trembled out; pressing her tiny fists against her eyes to stems the flow of tears. "We just want to help."
The faerie swallowed past a sudden strange lump in her throat. "I know. Let me protect you for the time being."
Thistlewit shivered off her fingers, her sheer wings catching the silvery moonrays as she hovered back to her sisters. Maleficent drew in a deep breath and once more faced the Moorfolk. For a moment, she merely looked into each face, seeing the hope, the fear, the expectation, the trust and distrust…
Etching each face into her memory. A name to each mien, a history along with that. Her last minutes may be spent far from her home, and if her life was to be torn away she wanted to be able to recall every aspect in perfect detail before oblivion.
"I will consider this request," Maleficent announced, the sudden relaxation amongst the Moorfolk making her blink rapidly. "But I will be departing as soon as I am able, and I will not bring anyone who is unable to battle, or unable to keep pace." That effectively ruled out most of her flock, though they had yet to realize it.
"Diaval." The raven, forgotten until now, croaked apprehensively but winged up into the darkness. Maleficent spread her wings, giving them a warming shake, and was about to follow her servant when Flittle swung forward hesitantly.
"Maleficent?"
The faerie paused, her wings outstretched and glorious, moonlight catching previously unnoticed gold and copper flecks and setting them alight, until it seemed her feathers were garlanded with jewels. "Yes?"
"If…if you don't come back…" the pixie started, almost drowned out by the worried murmur that followed, "will there be another to protect the Moors?"
Maleficent's eyes flickered to Balthazar, who tilted his head towards her. "Yes. Another will come, until the Moors provide another champion. The Moors will always be protected."
It was a very sour trio who adjourned for a late dinner that night. It didn't help that the cosy private dining room they normally supped in was unavailable – a venerable Rowan tree had crashed through the east facing window and shattered the table, right where the queen would usually sit. Already jumpy from the magical tempest, Captain John had taken it as an ill omen and insisted Aurora take her meal in the innermost dining room, which was the one usually reserved for grand balls and royal events. It could seat well over three hundred people and was virtually impossible to dust.
They dined at one end of one vast table, the darkness feebly held at bay by a dozen stubby girandoles dripping with grimy glass ornaments. The glass reflected the quivering candlelight and made their eyes sting, but the darkness around them simply swallowed up any refractions sent beyond the table. Noise tangled in the cobwebs lacing the rafters and left ghostly imitations in the grey thread.
Aurora had been forced to go about her royal duties once her godmother had left, which included going through the seventeenth redraft of the new tax laws; authorizing the re-establishment of trade routes with two minor kingdoms; addressing the ongoing food shortages and, as a recent development, issuing a general reassurance to the population that this latest storm was not a sudden act of aggression on the part of the Moors.
"– I don't even find this darkness natural!" Aurora complained, finally throwing down her fork onto her half-finished plate of beef. The force of it spattered her dress with gravy, but she paid it no mind. Aurora leaned forward, trying to catch Maleficent's eye. "Godmother? Are you well?"
"Hmmm?" Maleficent didn't look up from her intense observation of her goblet. She had six glasses of spiced apricot nectar that night, all downed in quick succession; anything to wipe out the cloying taste of unfamiliar magic.
"You worry the Queen." Diaval's words were clipped, and he didn't look up from his own examination of his plate. Diaval usually took his food as lightly cooked as he could get away with – rare meat and raw vegetables might serve a raven well enough, but that diet left his manshape groaning in agony for hours, clutching his stomach and beseeching his mistress to just kill him, please.
Maleficent struck out at him with her gaze once, and it softened as it swung towards her Beastie. "My apologies, Aurora, I have been lost in thought for most of the day."
Aurora smiled warmly at her, nodding sympathetically and sending her golden curls flying about her face. "Of course, godmother. This new menace has us all a bit preoccupied." The girl settled back against her cushions, picking up her fork again with practiced neutrality. "Speaking of which, when are we leaving for Ulstead?"
Diaval perked up at that. "Yes, we should leave as soon as possible. That milksop – "
"– Phillip, who the prince of the kingdom we are going to save, Diaval – "
"– yes, the whelp prince, he is near recovered." Diaval grinned for the first time that night at Aurora's good-natured huffing. "He might have something useful to say. For once."
"Prince Phillip often has insightful and fascinating things to say," Aurora dutifully defended her guest and friend. But a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, hinting at the imp of mischief Maleficent had imparted over the years. "But I think that's a grand idea. He was eating this afternoon, so I believe tomorrow he will be well-rested enough to give us some very good advice."
"It will be insightful," Diaval agreed. The two surreptitiously glanced at Maleficent, waiting for her to chime in, but the faerie was once again absorbed by the ripples and swirls of the dark orange liquid in her cup.
"And fascinating," Aurora finished after a moment, and they exchanged a near-victorious glance. "So that's settled. I'll ask Captain John to arrange us some horses, and Ser Gerome was a perfect regent while King Stefan was…busy. I'm sure we won't mind stepping in for a few weeks while we sort out that Roth man."
Still nothing from Maleficent. Diaval knew he could wait the whole evening before she returned to the conversation as though she never left, but Aurora was not as well-honed with her patience. The queen clapped her hands together gleefully, once again letting her fork drop to her plate.
"Wonderful!"
Silence fell over the table. Then…
"No. You're not coming." Maleficent did not even deign them with a glance. She sat as she had been almost the whole meal, twirling the stem of her goblet between long, spindly fingers, her eyes frosty green. "You are needed here, Aurora. And Diaval must stay with you. I have decided."
The silence, now paralyzed with shock, was shattered by Diaval clearing his throat. "But you won't be going alone, Mistress. I will be coming with you."
He didn't falter under her scrutiny, merely allowed her severe eyes to rake his form, delve under his skin and set parts of his body and mind alight with her passion. Maleficent rarely looked at people with her full attention, and he knew why from the very beginning. For a faerie to give something their complete consideration was to feel flayed open and very…compliant.
"And what makes you think that, my little raven?" Maleficent asked silkily, setting down her chalice with a thump.
"Because I have always gone where you go, and I always will," Diaval answered serenely; his air was that of a priest delivering the same message for decades to a flock of non-believers. "Not even your magic can stop me. You could turn me into a slug and I would squirm across the garden, out to the fields and across the border. I may then be eaten alive by one of my former brethren, so it would perhaps be best if you turned me into something that could be of more assistance to you."
"Diaval." Despite his attempt at making her smile, Maleficent was deadly serious. "I have spoken to you of this before. You need not fight my battles – "
"With all due respect, Mistress, this isn't just your battle!" Diaval cried, and he could have slapped himself for interrupting her. But she was not the faerie she had been years ago. With naught but a certain narrowing of her eyes and tightening of her jaw, Maleficent motioned for him to continue.
Diaval took a deep breath, mainly to give himself some time to marshal his thoughts. "I know you…spoke to Balthazar today. About who would protect the Moors if…the worst happened." Aurora made a tiny noise, but did not interrupt. "I think I know who you're going to ask."
"Do you." It was a flat statement. She expected him to listen to her conversations, so she wouldn't have to repeat herself later.
Diaval nodded. "That…Sorrowful Prince. He's the only one who would make the effort."
"Who's The Sorrowful Prince?" Aurora finally broke in curiously. "Sorry," she added when Diaval shot her a disapproving look.
"The Moors were previously unaffiliated with any kingdom or court," Maleficent answered, fiddling restlessly with her cup once again. She had hoped to spare Aurora the intricacies of faerie politics for some time. "And we have maintained only the barest contact with any faerie or elf faction for as long as I can remember. The Sorrowful Prince rules the Seelie courts – he is a last resort, as I fully intend to come back from this, Diaval."
But her raven-man servant met her glare with one just as intense. "If you don't come back, neither do I," Diaval insisted, folding his arms across his chest. "It's Aurora's kingdom as well as the Moors that are at risk. And I rather like living in the Moors. I'd rather be at your side than waiting here."
"He'd fret himself to death if he stayed here, godmother," Aurora stepped in gently. "As would I. I would bring an army with us, if we had one available."
The realization struck the two of them then. They were all the two kingdoms had. In a way that was so sickening it was almost laughable, they were truly the best bet against this foe. It made Aurora pale and Diaval gnaw at his lip, but Maleficent remained as calm and statuesque as she had always been.
Then, like a tree bending and breaking to a gale, Maleficent sighed and dropped her head forward, her hair sliding to conceal her face in a silky chestnut curtain. It gave her a brooding air. "You…truly will follow me regardless, won't you?" The quiet sadness in her gave them both pause, and the two shared another anxious glance across the table.
It was Diaval who spoke first. "Of course, Mistress." She raised her head to meet his eyes. "To anywhere, I will shadow your steps." The warmth in his smile trickled like piping hot sunlight into the darkest caves of her soul, and she found an answering smile ghost about her lips.
"And me!" They broke away then to stare at Aurora, who was smiling with nervous but genuine warmth. "You're my godmother. And Diaval's my godfather, I suppose! I couldn't let you go into danger alone – what kind of queen would I be?"
"A queen who still draws breath," Maleficent reminded her dryly.
But Aurora shrugged, and looked sadly wiser than her handful of summers should allow. "I am a queen now – and you are both under my protection. I would make an unworthy queen if I allowed such a threat to linger at my borders. Even if you locked me up in the tallest tower, I would climb out the window and set out behind you." Her smile turned a shade cheeky. "Besides, if you take me now at least you know where I am!"
Finally, Maleficent groaned and picked up her cup again. "Skies above, fine." Aurora whooped and leapt out of her chair, burbling happily as she dashed around the table to fling her arms around her godmother. Maleficent put on an air of long-suffering tolerance, but her hand came up to rest affectionately on Aurora's crown.
The faerie pulled back to hold Aurora at arms length, the maiden still positively trembling with delight. "But. You must swear to do exactly as I say, and if I tell you to run you must run for the border, and not stop." Aurora nodded with as much severity as she could muster at that point.
"Alright, godmother," she consented. "I shall stick close to Diaval, shall I?'
"Certainly not, he is a foolish, vain bird who will only get himself killed for some silly noble reason," Maleficent contradicted instantly.
"I am not vain," Diaval protested bitterly to his plate, sending Aurora into another fit of giggles.
"Diaval?"
The raven-man was shaken from his thoughts by the first word his mistress had spoken to him since dinner adjourned. She was seated on the window seat in their quarters, stripped of its plush cushions so she could recline on the hardwood base. Her hair was unbound and tumbled down her back and over her shoulders, honey highlights set against the matching colours in her wings. She was watching the storm outside, watching it battle with the hard summer that had grasped the land. So far, the summer seemed to be winning – any ice that made it to the ground quickly melted, and handfuls of snow flung about the air came down as a warm summer shower.
It was eerie, unnatural to see such a storm play out while the stars gleamed magnificently in the stark sky. "You have always been honest with me," Maleficent continued, her fingers curled pensively around her scarlet mouth. "I have always been grateful for it, even only in hindsight." She shifted slightly, and Diaval was blessed with the sight of his mistress in one of her more open states.
They were provided with sleeping clothes but Maleficent preferred the light shift she wore under her gown – it was thin and gossamer, made from spidersilk, and in his human form it sent all sorts of confusing shivers and sparks up and down Diaval's form. It seemed impossibly fragile against her wings, which were huge, relaxed and –
- ruffled.
Diaval's fingers twitched.
"Yes mistress?" he croaked, hastily swallowing to wet his suddenly dry throat.
"Am I doing the right thing?" Maleficent asked softly. He crossed the room to her, maintaining a respectful distance for now, but every fiber of his being was screaming at his to plunge his hands into her feathers and start smoothing them out. He'd done it for her before, and she found it immensely relaxing. "Deciding to bring Aurora along," she clarified, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "She is so eager to help, to be a good queen."
"Mistress, I – "a frisson went through her wings at his voice, and from here he could see the creamy flecks, the bars of gold and veins of copper flickering gaily through out. Diaval struggled to find his voice. "I-I think when you relinquished the crown to Aurora, you did not consider that she rules over you now. Aurora does not think like that, but if she desires to confront this sorcerer with us there's little we can do. Aside from tying her to Balthazar."
Maleficent looked at him then, her expression equal parts hope and wry humour. "Is that an option?"
"I doubt Balthazar would thank you." The chuckle he received buoyed his heart in ways he never knew possible when he had simply been a raven.
"I would die of grief if I lost her now, Diaval," his mistress admittedly softly. Her hand slipped from her jaw to her forehead, supporting elbow resting on the wide windowsill. Diaval was sitting behind her before he even realized he had moved, his hands only shaking a tiny bit as they nestled themselves between her shoulder blades. His mistress' eyes half-closed, her breathing deepened and he felt rather than saw her shoulders relax. "I fear, truly, for her life."
Diaval squeezed his own eyes shut, hands working automatically to smooth, flatten and shape her wings, working the small oil glands at the base until his head was so full of her warm, heavy scent it made the room spin. "Mistress…I know that you will protect Aurora or die trying. She knows that, and she is just as determined to protect you." Perhaps more. Not an avid reader yet, Aurora had nonetheless ordered the librarian to bring her every book on magic and sorcery the castle contained; when Diaval had bid her goodnight she'd only grunted in reply, her nose buried in the peeling yellow pages of a worn octavo.
"But what if that's not enough, Diaval?" whispered Maleficent, watching the storm through her lashes, her irises sandy jade slits. "If I perish and still the danger persists?"
"Well, I suppose I'll have to step in after that," Diaval said solemnly, and he felt the laugh vibrate under her skin to tingle deliciously through his fingers.
"I am glad she would have you, at least," Maleficent breathed, and she spoke no more that night. Diaval continued his work, banishing the though of sleep from his mind as he reveled in her wings. Even when he finished, he went over them a second time, until he pridefully couldn't have done better for a – a mate.
And as he worked, Maleficent watched his reflection in the glass, but kept her thoughts to herself.
Oh gods, so much TALKING. I can't wait until they actually leave next chapter.