Note: At last, another chapter! This is a longer one...with a lot of talking...so I hope everyone likes it. Thank you so, so much to everyone who has followed, faved, or reviewed this story so far.

Disclaimer: Yep, still not mine. Nope, please don't sue.

Questions About the Future

Maleficent placed the Flower Crown on Aurora's brow in front of the assembled Moot. That final act of restoration complete, she let her eyes slip closed as she savored that moment, drawing back to where Diaval waited patiently at her shoulder. It was done. The time of the Dark Queen was over and once more Winged Maleficent was Lady Protector of the Moors.

She was drawn out of herself by Diaval's voice: "Look who showed up," he murmured. She heard his amusement, and shared the feeling when she followed his gaze and saw young Phillip hovering in the crowd, looking all around himself with his mouth half-open, torn between nervousness and wonder.

"I'm going to have to have a talk with that boy," Maleficent mused.

Diaval conceded this was true, though he spared a wry grimace of sympathy. "Maybe we don't have to be too hard on him?" he suggested.

"We shall see how it goes," she replied archly, but Diaval relaxed. He had long ago learned to recognize the subtle hints in her expressions, and though her words were unsympathetic, Diaval could see the suggestion of mercy in the lines of her face.

The revelry lasted well into the night, and long before all grew quiet Maleficent stepped away from the crowd, venturing out to the edge of the Moors and walking the track where her wall of thorns once stood. She welcomed the silent, shrouding darkness, which still felt more comfortable to her than the daylight after so long living in shadow. To one side were the lights of the Moors, in all their many shapes and colors, and to the other were the human Borderlands, lit in celebration by orange bonfires. The plain at the border lay dark and quiet, King Henry's army of old no more than ghosts and memory. All was well, now, all secure. Still, as a vigilant Protector, with the long view of her immortal kind, Maleficent could not help but wonder: how long would the peace last? One generation? Two? Could it possibly endure longer? She sighed and shook her head. She could not foretell. She could only hope…and keep watch.

The sound of footfalls from the Moor side was followed by a tentative query: "Mistress?"

With a sweep of her hand, she invited Diaval to join her. He stepped diffidently from the shadows. "Aurora's been looking for you," he said.

Maleficent gave a short nod in acknowledgment. "I'll return in a moment." She took one last look across the kingdom she thought of as the Borderlands. Their War with the Moors had begun well before King Henry and dragged on through the decades of Stefan's mad reign. Between the War and Stefan's misrule, the Borderlands was wrung dry and all but shattered. Aurora was kindhearted, and she had a quick mind, but she was so young, and she had never been taught the first thing about leading a nation. That meant that someone was going to have guide Aurora while she learned to rule and help her put the kingdom back together. "After we visit, we'd best get our rest," she informed Diaval. "We are going to have a great deal of work to do."

There hadn't been any emphasis to the words, either spoken or perceived, but without warning something about the phrasing caught Diaval's attention and a great cloud of worry began to descend. He probably meant to remain silent, but the words were out before he could think: "'We,' mistress?"

She crooked an eyebrow and fixed him with one of her looks. "Yes, 'we'. Why would it not be?" Had he not been so mired in anxiety, he might have noticed that her look was a mask, and behind it she was feeling a growing concern of her own.

Diaval swallowed hard. His next words were barely audible. "You have your wings back."

Her eyes narrowed, but then her face softened, the undercurrent of concern still present. "And that's what I said I needed, wasn't it?" They were at the precipice now.

Diaval nodded glumly. When she had taken him into her service, she had said she needed him to be her wings, and now that she had hers back…it must be that she wouldn't need him anymore. His whole posture slumped in misery at the thought.

As much as Diaval dreaded a final dismissal, Maleficent found it equally upsetting to contemplate the possibility that he would ask to leave. In that moment, though, his desire to stay was written on every inch of him, and she realized with blinding clarity that he would never ask to go.

She smiled at him then, and it transformed her austere face so completely it took his breath away. "I will always need my clever spy…and my good friend."

He straightened, eyes bright with hope. Her eyes brushed his only briefly as she turned and raised her hand to beckon him.

"Come," she said. There was still much unresolved, and neither were quite sure where exactly things stood, but they knew at least they would be together, and for now that was more than enough.

Aurora was waiting anxiously for them when they returned to the celebration. Laughing, she practically leapt into Maleficent's arms, taking her in a tight hug. "There you are, Godmother!"

"Yes, here I am," she agreed serenely, releasing her young charge. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Aurora exclaimed, spinning in place when mere words were not enough to express her enthusiasm.

Her happiness was infectious, but then as she spun she caught a glimpse of the bonfires in the Borderlands out of the corner of her eye, and her smile faded. She was still and quiet for a long time as the truth began to sink in. "I'm not going to be able to stay here, am I? In the Moors, I mean," she clarified, eyes fixing desperately on her Godmother.

"No," Maleficent agreed gently, taking the girl's hands in her own. "That is not going to be possible now." She guided the girl to a fallen log where they could both sit comfortably. They availed themselves of it, and the pure sensation of her own wings spreading to accommodate the low seat came as an unexpected shock. It was a simple thing, an automatic motion, those smooth muscles extending in an elegant sweep, but now it sent a thrill up her spine. So long it had been, so very long…..

Firmly, Maleficent schooled herself to address the matter in front of her. "The Borderlands are your home," Maleficent began. "They celebrate now, and perhaps for a little while they could be happy with things left as they are, but Stefan encouraged ambitious men to crowd his borders, and cultivated worse in his inner circle. If no one else comes forward to claim it, there will be a war for the throne, and what little the ordinary people may have will be utterly lost. That throne is your right. The people will need you to take your place as their queen."

Aurora's features took on an uncharacteristic frown. Certain things had suddenly added up. "You say it's my right, but it was stolen, wasn't it?" The look on her innocent face descended from one of distress to one of horror as the realization crystallized. "That's why they were there—he stole the throne when he took your wings!"

"That ambition was what drove him to it," Maleficent confessed, no longer able to keep secrets from Aurora, no matter how the truth might hurt. "But," she continued firmly, "you are not his child alone. You are also your mother's child, and carry on her line just as much as his, though humans always seem to forget about such things." Maleficent surprised herself slightly at her own words. She had never spared much thought for the pale, unfortunate woman she'd seen only once, at Aurora's christening. She could only imagine with a shudder what it must have been like to be bound to Stefan as his wife. And yet, that nameless woman had probably been stronger than others had given her credit for. "You are her daughter," Maleficent insisted, "and you are my God-daughter. You have the right because I say you do."

Aurora still looked troubled, so Maleficent put a tentative arm about her shoulders. "I would change this if I could," she admitted. "If there were anyone else fit to take the throne, who could be trusted to honor the peace, I'd keep you by me and pass the burden on to them. But there is not. Rule must fall to you now."

Aurora considered all this carefully, then nodded solemnly in understanding. "I guess that's all true. It's only that—it's just—I have no idea how to be a queen. Godmother," she breathed in alarm, "what am I supposed to do?"

"It will be alright, Aurora. I promise. You will not be alone," Maleficent added soothingly. "I'll be there with you."

"Really?" Aurora's posture was stiff as she all but pleaded.

"Of course," Maleficent said firmly. "I wouldn't leave my poor Beastie to fend for herself, now would I?"

"Of course not," Aurora laughed, her mood swinging with lightning swiftness from anxiety to joy. Maleficent merely smiled; such was the way with the young.

"That's better. I'd say we've had enough of worrying for one night, don't you?"

"Yes, Godmother," Aurora agreed cheerfully. Her smile morphed into a mighty yawn as the very late hour suddenly caught up with her. Maleficent didn't blame the girl. It had been a long and draining couple of days. After taking just long enough to ascertain that the other human visitor was not involved in any trouble—and he wasn't, unless one counted the fact that Phillip had fallen sound asleep and subsequently been covered in garlands of flowers by the pixies—Maleficent and Diaval shepherded Aurora back to Maleficent's Rowan tree.

The Rowan very willingly wove a bower for the girl among its roots, with a floor of soft grass and moss for a bed and woven vines for a blanket. As soon as Aurora was safely tucked in, Maleficent considered seeking her own nest, but at just that moment the Moors began to stir with the dawn breeze. As the very first faint line of light appeared, the breeze teased through her hair and caressed the feathers against her back. Instantly, any weariness was forgotten, and her wings itched in anticipation from the roots to the very tips. It was time.

She could think of nothing but the possibility of flying, her wings spreading halfway without her even being aware of it. She only distantly heard Diaval inquiring what had caught her attention, but the sound of his voice reminded her that he was there, and she found that she wished for his company. He seemed almost as eager as she. Even as she shook her wings out to their full spread, she gave him back the shape of a Raven and with a single, powerful push she was gloriously airborne. As smoothly as if her wings had never been lost, she caught the updraft over the canyon, using it to lift her in a slow, ascending spiral.

Her mind was completely taken with the feel of the wind, the air through her feathers, the lift bearing her up, though some faint pocket of rational thought used the easy climb to assess if the years of loss had left behind any weakness. The initial answer was, not at all. That satisfied, there was nothing but joy again, and when at last her mind was clear of the heady rush of flight-flight-flight, she leveled off, having risen well above the clouds. Diaval was close at her side, and Maleficent realized she was glad of this. Still, the need to push, to truly feel the power of her wings, was upon her again, and she began to take strong, forward strokes, gathering speed. Now the wind of her passage was howling against her, but she kept her pace, reveling in it. Diaval could not keep up by dint of sheer power, but he was both experienced and clever. Maneuvering so that he came just behind and a little outside, he rode her slipstream, letting the air in her wake do his work for him.

When she was sated with the feel of raw, undiluted speed, she tested herself in other ways. She began a slow, graceful roll which she gradually tightened into a blistering spin. She extended into a glide, each feather stretched out to the fullest, harnessing the high currents. When that took her as low as she cared to be, she rose again in a looping arc, and just as she reached the peak she snapped her wings closed and plunged into a heart-stopping dive. She threw her wings open and pulled up only feet from the treetops (Diaval was tempted to say inches) and after that she settled into a steadier flight, free of wild aerobatics.

They were over the Borderlands by then, and Maleficent let old habits re-establish themselves, crossing over the territory in a loose patrolling pattern, much the way she had watched over everyone in her youth. The whole of their flying took Diaval and Maleficent over both the Borderlands and the Moors themselves, but it was something she noticed when flying over the Borderlands that really stuck with her. When it was over, she landed gently in her nest amid the branches of her Rowan. Diaval, intuiting that she needed the Rowan to be her private place, found a comfortable roost in another tree nearby, tucking his head under his wing before falling asleep. Rest came more slowly to Maleficent, for crossing over the Borderlands had set her to thinking over the problem of how to gain Aurora a foothold as Queen when Stefan's jackals were certain to resist. But as she reflected on what she had noticed while flying, she realized that there was indeed a way. By the time sleep descended, she had a plan.