A/N: For those of you who read chapter 1 and got worried that you wouldn't see enough of Maleficent/Aurora interactions, let me put you at ease: there will be many of them in flashback form. This chapter may give you an idea of how that's going to go down.

Chapter Soundtrack:

Evidence of Beauty, Celtic Harp Orchestra

Dark Waltz, Hayley Westenra

Close Your Eyes, Meav

Chapter 2: I Heard Someone Crying

"Close your eyes, my love, my own
My precious child, mo stóirín

The summer will come with warmth and sun
The grainy leaves are growing
Softly sleep while watch I keep
The breezes gently blowing

Dún do shúil, a rún mo chroí

Close your eyes, oh love of my heart

A chuid den tsaol, 's a ghrá liom

My worldly joy, my treasure

Dún do shúil, a rún mo chroí

Close your eyes, oh love of my heart

Agus gheobhair feirín amárach

And you will get a present tomorrow"

Bronze curls tossed to and fro as a thin body moved beneath the covers. Liadain bit back a curse as she woke once more, cold to the bone. Autumn changes quickly into winter on the Scottish highlands, and while she was used to harsh weather from living on Iona for so long, the awful snowstorms here were quite another thing. The drafty castle did nearly nothing to keep the seeping dampness and biting, icy breezes from reaching her delicate form.

As the princess rose from the bed to gather another fur from the stack near the fireplace, the palace halls reverberated with the ethereal sobbing she'd long grown used to. Every time Liadain brought up the subject of the crying, she was brushed off with yet another excuse or explanation. Most often, it was blamed on the winds that whipped through the Moors to haunt the entire countryside. It wasn't plausible: if the entire kingdom were kept awake by the howling as she was, the masses would have surely gone insane long ago.

Tossing the fur onto the end of the bed in frustration, Liadain turned towards the horrible noise that echoed once more. She'd never get back to sleep tonight; between the piteous lachrymose and the blizzard that raged outside, it was an impossible feat. The princess muttered to herself under her breath as she shoved her feet into slippers and lit a candle. The front door to her bedchamber was locked as it was every night by Muireann, but Maire always left the servant's door unlocked. Sending a silent prayer of thanks upon Maire, Liadain slipped underneath the tapestry and through the hidden passage.

"Where are you?" she demanded of the spirit that insisted on keeping her roused. While she held the candlestick aloft in the dark, the keening seemed to answer her. Steeling herself, Liadain limped towards the sound. Round corners and up stairs she wandered, following the call of sadness and despair deeper than the pits of Hell. As she went farther, the route smelled dank and dirty. Spider webs hung from the corners of the stone ceiling.

Liadain paused to catch her breath at what appeared to be the end of this corridor, but it was hard to breathe in the stale air. She sneezed and rested her back on the wall to rub at her knees that were aching awfully. The force of her leaning dislodged a partition behind her, and the Princess stood and turned with excitement at her find. Pushing the swollen wood entrance open, it grated against the stone casing, and she looked around to check for anyone who might have heard her. It wasn't likely at this time of night, though.

Beyond was a grand bedchamber, and Liadain stopped to light a few dusty candles that littered the center table, allowing her eyes to adjust. The space seemed dead, like a spell had been cast upon it; the front door stone-and-mortared shut. A filthy set of lead glass windows lined one wall, and afforded some very dim light from the stars and moon. One of the huge panes swung wildly in the winds, snapping against its hinges. She walked over to shut and latch it against the gales, and was glad to see the snow had finally let up.

Squinting, Lia looked at her surroundings. A thick layer of dust covered the furniture's draping, and she went about removing them to toss in a corner. Once she'd finished, her eyes danced happily at the handsome grouping of cherry wood tables, desks, and overstuffed velvet settees. The large bed was canopied with a navy and gold tester, and the duvet matched. Curiously, there were two matching dressing tables – one right next to the other. Atop them were matching sets of ladies' grooming kits, carved ivory combs and silver brushes.

Her knees knocking in combined weakness and anticipation, Liadain sat at the table to the left. Hands hovered lovingly over the precious possessions, and finally caressed them with the lightest of touches. It was as if the ladies who lived in this room had merely gone away to dinner and not returned.

Leaning back, she opened the center drawer to the dressing table and gasped. Inside were numerous necklaces, bracelets, cuffs and rings. They weren't so much beautiful as they were strange and different. An ivory cuff set was the most pleasing to her eye, and she picked one of the chunky bracelets up to examine the delicate carvings more closely. As she did so, Liadain ran her fingers over the sharp relief of the design. She wished that she had the ability to compel the cuff to give up their secrets like the old druids used to say they could. Now, there were no more druids – or at the very least they'd gone into hiding. There were even more secrets in this world now that the priests of old could no longer decipher them for you.

Smiling to herself, she placed the jewelry back into the drawer and shut it. Her gleaming green gaze roamed across the other clues to the puzzle on top of the table. A glass vial still had some amber colored liquid in it, and Liadain un-stoppered it to sniff the scent. She quickly wished she hadn't; the perfume was obviously old and had become ridiculously concentrated. The smell permeated the air around her as she coughed. Now thoroughly saturated with an aroma like the forest on a spring day mixed with burning wood and cloying incense, the Princess rapidly stoppered the bottle and consigned it back to its place.

Lia's hands clasped the last thing on this dresser, a squat glass container capped in filigreed silver. Unscrewing it, she was disappointed to find rather uninteresting rouge lipstain, and plunked it back down. Her back was beginning to ache from sitting on the stool, and she rose to stretch while turning to her right. There along the wall hung the most intricate portrait she'd ever seen.

Rushing to the wall, she drank in the woman's face greedily while running her hands down the gilded wood frame. "Mother…" Liadain whispered, her eyes pricking with tears.

The Queen stared back in perpetual happiness from the painting, her fine brow and blue eyes twinkling with mischievousness. Delicately bowed lips held the hint of a smile, and a lively crown of pearls had been painted in sunshine gold curls done up in splendid braids and twists. Lia decided then and there: Her Lady Mother Aurora was the most gorgeous woman that had ever lived.

Behind her, the windowpanes began to rattle fiercely. Stunned, Liadain spun to look at them. A black hooded spectre scraped its claws down the glass panes and screeched it's malcontent at being locked out, and the Princess screamed in terror.

Tripping over her feet in a hurry, she scrambled through the servant's door into the passageway once more, running as fast as her legs would carry her. It wasn't very swiftly at all, and Lia cried out in panic that the vengeful spirit might be just behind her.

Muireann launched out of her bed with fright at the excruciatingly pained shrieks of the palace ghost. The unbearable spirit often moaned and called out during the night, but she had never heard it make this particular noise before. It set her heart to racing, especially as she heard the clamoring footsteps of the guards as they raced towards it and past her chamber.

For years, the noblewoman had dared to hope that the ghost was not that of her dearest friend the Queen, but between its recent upturn in activity since the Princess had arrived and the plainly tortured screams that rang afresh tonight, she was convinced. It was all the blasted child's fault: if Liadain hadn't been conceived by whatever passing fancy Aurora had set her sight on, she would not have died in mortal sin. Muireann's heart burned with guilt as well – though haughty, she knew that she was partly the reason that the Queen may have dallied with someone other than…

Another howl sounded, and seemed to shake the palace to its very foundation. The woman threw a robe over her shift and raced into the hall as she remembered.

Aurora paced her way around the bedchamber, alight with exuberant bliss. Maleficent had returned from the Moors to stay at the palace as she typically did during the peaceful interludes between negotiations. After debriefing the Queen's council on the welfare of the citizens and farms she'd travelled by, the great Fae had flown off once more for a quick jaunt. Lord only knew what the fairy did during her private time in the clouds.

"Well, my Queen! You're in quite the jolly mood," Muireann commented, throwing a smirk towards the petite blonde who was impatiently watching the skies.

The Queen stopped to grasp at Muireann's hand, clutching it tightly. "I… I cannot bear to keep it a secret from you. You're my best friend," Aurora squealed.

The maid of honor glanced upwards. "I'm your best human friend, you mean," she joked.

Aurora nodded, her cheeks pinking at the insinuation. "Then you shouldn't be surprised when I say that Maleficent has proposed a joining of our kingdoms," she lobbed back, her tone just as playful.

Muireann rolled her eyes. "You've already joined the two kingdoms. Whatever are you going on about?"

"You know… marriage," Aurora murmured, her sapphire eyes glittering with delight.

Dropping her friend's hand like it was a hot coal, Muireann stood and backed away. "Your Majesty!" she yelped. "You… you mustn't. It's not natural!"

Looking at the hand that had been refused, Aurora frowned, and her expression darkened. "What is ever natural in regards to anything surrounding my life? I love her; I live for her. Our hearts beat as one."

"You can't just marry Maleficent, my Queen! She's a fairy! You cannot simply domesticate her. You must set her free!" Muireann trilled.

Aurora turned her nose up at her Lady's Maid. "No one is asking for your approval," she glowered stubbornly. "I will marry her!"

Muireann shook her head vehemently as she cowered against her Queen and friend's sudden temper. "Don't do this, I beg you. Don't wed her, Aurora. If you don't care what happens to you, think about children. How would you have children? It's not as if she's bedded you and you're forced by honor to follow through."

The Queen turned away then, her chin dipping slightly in embarrassment.

"N-no! How could you, Majesty… Your honor and virtue! Oh, I knew that it was a bad idea for her to stay in here with you when she came to visit," the horrified Lady bellowed, pointing at the canopied bed like it was a snake. "And what about Prince Phillip? He's been asking to court you for years, and you've always put the deprived, dumbstruck fool off. The poor man!"

The room darkened with the shadow of a tall, horned figure, and Muireann turned slowly towards it. Maleficent stood in the doorway, her red lips twisted into a ferocious snarl. Her wings seemed to grow larger as the feathers fluffed in ire.

Crossing the room in only a few long strides, the fairy hugged at Aurora and tucked the tiny human Queen behind her. "Be gone from my sight!" she hissed at the vile woman that had been attempting to poison Aurora's mind away from her devotion.

Muireann ran.

She gasped for breath, only stopping to rest at the far end of the palace. The tapestry next to her suddenly flipped up and the hidden door opened, revealing a filthy, bawling Princess Liadain.

The daughter of Aurora tugged on her sleeves. "Oh, thank God! Lady Muireann, I heard someone crying and…"

Blind rage filled the woman at the sight of the creature who had stolen her best friend away from this world. Plucking the Princess up by her ear, Muireann fumed. "It's the wind! Nobody is crying, you stupid girl… How are you out of your room?" She must not know.

"Oww! Stop, you're hurting me!" Liadain squalled and dragged her feet.

The insolence only made Muireann tug harder.

Lia clawed at the Lady's hand on her ear. "I said stop it!" she hollered when the woman kept pulling her down the hall. The tension between the two exploded with an ear shattering bang as the Princess shouted, "Enough!"

Muireann was thrown against the opposite wall, her eyes wide at the normally frail lass. It was as if she were tossed like a doll in a tantrum. Liadain's eyes were wild, a hazel gleam shooting through the teal.

Down the gallery, the castle guards marched towards them. Once the men had reached the scene of the scuffle, their leader addressed the frazzled Lady. "Milady, is everything all right? We heard shouting during our search," he inquired, sounding concerned.

Pointing a shaking finger at the Princess, Muireann did the only thing she knew how – she lied. "The vicious little thing is disobedient, Captain. Have your men lock her in her bedchamber, immediately. Make sure there is no way she can escape."

Turning away, she closed her eyes to the sight of the men restraining the Princess, and shut her ears to the clang of armor and screams of betrayal as the girl was hauled off.

Tristan trotted his stallion to where he knew the Prince would be when Phillip did not meet him from his procession at a nearby nobleman's estate for a stag hunt. As he approached the bent figure in the distance, the Exchequer sighed in annoyance.

By the north side of the Wall of thorns, Queen Aurora's cairn stood. As Queen of two kingdoms, it had only been fair to bury her next to the border. Phillip crouched in the snow; his face forlorn and haggard as he arranged and rearranged the many small rocks that subjects would place on the monarch's grave as they passed.

Dismounting, Tristan stood a few feet away from Phillip and cleared his throat to await an explanation.

"Last night, I dreamt of visiting Aurora in the Moors like I used to after her coronation. I saw Maleficent and Aurora standing there, as they always had… just like it was yesterday," the Regent began, his voice cracking with stress. "Liadain was with them, and she'd grown tall and strong. 'Rora turned to me and said… D'you know what she said?" he guffawed, sounding unhinged.

"No," Tristan replied drily, distaste for the subject matter showing plainly on his face.

Nodding, Phillip rambled on. "She asked my forgiveness, Tristan. My forgiveness, as if I wasn't the one who sent her daughter to live on the farthest piece of rock I could throw her to."

His elder brother grit his teeth and kicked at a stone disrespectfully. "I'm sure it wasn't all that bad, nor your fault."

"You don't understand, Tristan. I pushed the council to forbid Aurora to marry the fairy if I didn't have my chance first. It's why she flew that last trip. She gave me six months to change Aurora's mind…" Phillip groaned, sitting in the snow now. "At the end, she was gone. I never did change her mind… and I was mad with grief for it. I knew that Maleficent would think I was the one who'd gotten her on with child. So I sent Liadain away, and that was that. Now, the cursed fairy haunts us nightly."

Tristan peered down at the sorry lump of a man left slightly unbalanced from lack of sleep and the recent death of his wife. "I tell you, man. It's the wind through the Moors – not the fairy. It's not the Queen either, no matter what Muireann is going on about. It's just the damn wind. Your guards find nothing when you send them on the wild chases." Pausing to brush at the beard that grew from his chin thoughtfully, the Ulstead nobleman regarded Phillip again. "You're absolutely sure that the little bastard isn't yours?"

Phillip seemed intensely affronted by the question, folding in on himself and scowling. "As I've said for thirteen damned years – no. And I've no idea who, so don't ask." His hand caressed the cairn as if to soothe the long dead Queen from offense as well. "Y'know, I may be guilty, but I heard Muireann tried to leave the baby on the windowsill to catch cold when she was born. The midwife noticed and swaddled her next to Aurora, but it was too late. She slipped into a sleep that none of us could rouse her from, and died only a few days later. Such a waste," he muttered.

Aurora's eyes were blurry from exhaustion, and sweat beaded upon her brow to roll down her face despite the chilly morning air. Reaching out, she searched for her baby. "Where is it? Give me my baby," she pleaded. Her body felt so heavy, like an anchor being thrown in the sea.

Muireann stood off near the window, refusing to look at her. The baby bawled for Aurora, and the Queen's breasts ached at the need to do what nature intended.

The midwife trudged back into the room from the hall with a stack of clean linens, unexpectedly dropping them to beat at Muireann's arm with a fist. "How dare you?" the wise woman scorned the Lady. "She may be without a da', but she's just a wee bairn!" She snatched the babe from the sill and wrapped it tightly to place against Aurora's chest, propping the mother's arms underneath the cocoon of blankets and squirming infant.

Aurora smiled weakly down at her child, though her arms had gone numb minutes ago. The room was becoming faint. "Liadain, shh my Liadain," she hushed the little Princess.

Satisfied once the baby stopped crying and had begun to take her first nourishment, Aurora allowed her eyes to slide closed.

It was the last time they would see this world.