Note: Welcome to a new chapter! These seem to be getting longer as I go on...

Disclaimer: Nope, I still do not own the source material, only what I've conjured up here in my own imagination.


The First Breath of Autumn

The appointed seven days passed with a curious mix of excruciating slowness and dizzying speed, and though they stayed away from the Great Hall so that they could not be accused of interfering with the Lords' deliberations, each member of the group had their own ways of filling the time. Maleficent and Diaval flew frequently, to watch for any signs of trouble, which, to their relief, did not materialize. Phillip was occupied writing up the Dreaded Letter—and in his mind it very much merited the capital letters—and after a few false starts he had begun to feel that it was shaping up rather well, if he might be allowed to judge on his own behalf. Aurora had found herself in a very different sort of unfamiliar territory. After one good look, the Chatelaine—the woman who acted as the Lady of the House after the loss of the late Queen—had declared Aurora's current state of dress utterly unsuitable and all but kidnapped the girl, chivvying her down to the seamstresses' workroom before Aurora had time to protest.

For the sake of its reassuring familiarity, Aurora had worn her favorite frock which, as she had been raised a peasant (or at any rate, by three Pixies masquerading as peasants) the frock was a peasant's wear. It was durable, practical, and very comfortable, which was just why it was her favorite. Naturally, these same properties were exactly why the Chatelaine hated it. Upon their arrival in the workroom, Aurora was presented tersely, and her situation was generally agreed to be in need of immediate correction. While several of the women set to taking all the necessary measurements, another was sent off and after a few minutes returned with several gowns draped over her arms. Two were in somber colors, though the third was a slightly less subdued green.

"These," the Chatelaine explained, "belonged to your mother." A hint of softness entered her voice for the first time. "It would be kinder if we could make new gowns for you, but with nothing else to hand and only a week to work in, there is not much choice. I think she would have liked for you to have them."

She was ordered to try on the first of the gowns, and while the seamstresses went about their work, Aurora silently ran her fingers over the silky fabric and wondered about the woman who had last worn it, the mother she had never known. What had she been like? Had she been happy? Had she wanted a child, and missed her daughter after she'd been taken away? Aurora wished very much that she could have met that mysterious woman, yet at the same time desperately longed to have her Godmother near just then. The brief hour or so it took to get through the first fitting was not enough to sort through such confusing emotions, and once it was done she was ushered back to the guest suite, which was beginning to feel like something of a safe haven.

None of the guests had much appetite at breakfast when the seventh day finally arrived. Aurora had dressed in the soberest of the three gowns the seamstresses had been able to prepare. As reluctant as she had been to admit it, she realized deep down that appearances had become important in this new life, and she was going to have to look like a Queen, however little she actually felt like one. A messenger knocked quietly at their door at almost the very moment she and the others had decided that they were through pretending to eat their morning meal, as if servants possessed some magic of their own that allowed for perfect timing.

"The Lords of Aldersthame are prepared to receive you and request your presence at your earliest convenience," the messenger announced.

Maleficent acknowledged him, and after pausing only long enough to be sure that they were all ready, they rose and allowed the messenger to lead them away, arranging themselves around Aurora much as they had a week before. They arrived before a set of heavy doors, with guards posted to either side. These drew the doors open and stepped aside, allowing the messenger to enter the Great Hall and announce Aurora and her companions.

When they followed, they found that a good deal of progress had been made clearing away the evidence of the battle, even the damage to the window being covered over with oiled cloth to keep out the elements. Behind the throne, left empty as was only fitting, were hung a pair of huge banners, both identical and bearing the Aldersthame coat of arms, which Maleficent had first seen emblazoned upon the standards of Henry's army: a rampant lion sewn in gold upon a field of blood-red.

The conclave of Nobles that awaited them in the Great Hall was largely the same that had been there before, with the addition of a few lesser gentry summoned by their respective Lieges. All were dressed in their Court best, having had a proper chance to prepare this time around, though this was not the only difference; Now, Branl Carsgrave stood at the fore and Robert Brinwood was left to stand several paces behind. He did not even bother trying to hide his disgust at the situation.

Taking a step forward and bowing respectfully, Carsgrave spoke firmly, voice loud enough so that all could hear. "Lady Maleficent, Princess Aurora. We, the Lords of Aldersthame in assembled Council, have considered our position and elected to accept your terms. We proclaim Aurora, daughter of Stefan, to be heir to the throne, in exchange for your aid. We know we have already begged your patience; if it suits you we are prepared to carry out our partof the pledge before this day sees its end."

Maleficent nodded her approval of this plan.

"Then it is agreed. We…we would ask your leave for only one more thing before we go on," he said.

A nervous hush fell over the room. There had been serious contention over whether it was too dangerous to ask for what he was about to request, but in the end Carsgrave had refused to speak for the Court unless the request was put forward. He had not insisted out of any love for Stefan, but only out of decency for the dead. "We ask leave to bury our fallen King."

Maleficent's face remained unreadable, and for a long moment she did not speak. Carsgrave began to wonder if perhaps old Saff hadn't been right, for the dour Lord had objected quite vehemently. ("Look what she did when she wasn't invited to the Christening," he'd growled. "Heaven knows what she might do if we offend her again." No one there knew, of course, that her 'distress' at being univited had been taken too literally—and perhaps that first misunderstanding laid the seeds for a very different retelling of events in later days.) As much as it had galled him, Carsgrave had been tempted to agree with Saff about leaving out the request for Stefan's burial; Carsgrave was not exactly young himself and he was wise enough to have a general sense of the sort of man that Stefan had been. Still, even the worst of men did not deserve to be left to rot, though Carsgrave would not have breathed a word of his thoughts in front of the man's own child. He could only ask Lady Maleficent for permission as plainly as possible and hope to Heaven for mercy.

"You may do so," she told him at last. The entire room breathed a sigh of relief. By longstanding custom, a former King was not laid to rest before his successor was chosen, even if it were as simple a matter of confirming his firstborn son, and the successor, in turn, was not seated until the King was laid to rest. As glad as the Nobles were to dodge Maleficent's wrath, they were equally eased by the prospect of adhering to familiar traditions when so much else seemed to be changing around them. For her part, though the Nobles would probably never understand, Maleficent had agreed to the request for Aurora's sake, and for the sake of the boy Stefan had once been.

"We thank you," Carsgrave acknowledged formally. "I see little point in delay," he proposed to the gathered body. "Ansgar?" he inquired, turning to the Steward, whom he had asked to remain nearby.

"I have had everything made ready," Ansgar answered.

"Then we should go," Carsgrave suggested. "Lady Maelficent, you are welcome to attend or decline as you wish."

For herself, she had neither the need nor desire to attend, but one look at Aurora proved that the girl needed her Godmother with her, so when the time came Maleficent went along. The Barrow-mounds where Aldersthame had long interred its Kings was not far from the Castle. Soon, the four companions were there, along with such Nobles as chose to be present and the Priest whose office it would be to speak the Last Blessings. This same regarded Maleficent with a loathing only exceeded by the venomous looks Robert Brinwood continued to send her way. This was not wholly surprising to Maleficent; throughout the long enmity between the Moors and the Borderlands, Men of Religion had always been particularly adamant in their antipathy towards the Fae and their Magic. The Fae found this baffling, for in their minds the communion they had with Nature was a sacred thing—what could be more so?—and they could not understand how ostensibly holy men, human though they might be, could remain so ignorant. Actually, it seemed to be the Magic that bothered the Priests the most, which was all the more baffling. Yes, Magic could be used to bring about great evil—Maleficent herself knew that better than anyone by now—but Magic as a force unto itself was no such thing. The Fae had known from almost the Beginning that the Right or Wrong of Magic lay solely in the hands that shaped it; that understanding was implicit in some of the Fae's oldest stories, and the very humans standing there right that moment were depending on Maleficent to use benevolently-directed Magic for their benefit. Perhaps the humans would learn something from all this, though Maleficent found that exceedingly unlikely.

She paid little heed as the Priest began the prescribed rites, her attention instead drawn to the simple cairn lying next to the fresh grave. The small pile of stones stood in memory of the long-gone Queen, and Maleficent found herself thinking about this other, unknown woman, one who had done no wrong yet who must still have suffered in the wake of the Curse. She had lost her daughter, her child, while that child yet lived. To know that one's child was out in the world, somewhere, and that one might never see them again…that was a pain Maleficent had only lately become capable of understanding, and because of Maleficent this helpless woman had felt that grief. Here was another person whose forgiveness she could never ask for.

I never knew you, Maleficent mused, thinking of the other woman. I know you only by the child you bore, though maybe…maybe in her there is some of you. I can never undo what I did. I can only offer you the same promise I made to her, that I would give my very breath to keep her safe and all that I am that she may be truly happy. Maleficent could do nothing to bring this other woman back, but at least she could care for her only legacy.

Fae did not typically spend time contemplating the nature or possibility of an afterlife. They were immortal, after all, if not invulnerable, impervious to age or illness…but Maleficent hoped that there was something left of that woman—a ghost? a spirit?—to hear her words, and that wherever that something was, it was at peace. Next to Maleficent, Aurora also seemed to be thinking of the woman beneath the cairn. The girl hovered close at her Godmother's side, not straying from the security of Maleficent's shadow.

The simple service was carried out with minimal embellishment, and it did not take long, though it sat heavy in their minds. Stones were laid for a new cairn, and Aurora stepped forward to place one, although Maleficent stayed back. Once the cairn was built, the ceremony at last was over.

After a few final words, the gathering dissolved as they all made their way back to the Castle to attend to what must follow. The coronation was also a sober proceeding. In other times, a coronation would have been a lavish affair, as if those celebrating hoped to inure themselves to the fact that coronations were always preceded by funerals. Now, however, with battle so recent and a famine looming, the only concession to Royal splendor had been the hanging of the banners.

The Priest was again called upon, this time for the rituals of investiture. He did not seem very eager to become the instrument of drastic change, but he carried out his duty without incident. He recited the required words and placed the crown upon Aurora's young head. No one else caused any trouble, either, which Maleficent expected was the result of stern warnings from Carsgrave with, she was interested to note, the quiet backing of the Captain of the Guard who had 'conveniently' appeared to watch the room with an attentive eye.

When the Priest's part was done, it was the Nobles' turn. One by one, they came before the throne, bent to one knee and swore their fealty to their new Queen. Some did so more willingly or grudgingly than others, but they each went in their turn, some two dozen or so major Lords and Barons and a great many more of the lesser gentry. The whole exhausting ordeal took a very long time, but the last and least of the gentry finally spoke his oath, bringing the solemn procession to a close.

There were no grand speeches or banquets after that; the Herald proclaimed the name of Queen Aurora, formally sealing her new title for all to witness, and the witnesses filed silently from the Great Hall, marking the end of a long day.

Aurora realized that everyone expected her to move from the guest quarters and take up residence in the royal chambers—and for the sake of emphasizing her new status, she should probably do so at the earliest possible moment—but that evening she granted herself one last night spent close to her loved ones. By the time all but the smallest lamp in the sitting room had been snuffed, only Aurora and Maleficent remained awake. Aurora took a final glance at the crown where it rested on the table, right where she had carefully set it as soon as they had all arrived back a few hours before. It was still a shock every time she laid eyes on it.

"I wonder if I'll ever feel like I know what I'm doing," Aurora sighed.

"You'll grow into it," Maleficent assured her. "No one feels ready when they first assume a heavy responsibility—I certainly did not."

"What, you?" Aurora asked in surprise. She had never seen her Godmother project anything but perfect confidence.

"When I was your age, no," Maleficent admitted. "Actually, I was…much younger when the Moors were left without a Protector and I become Protector-in-Waiting. It should have been years before I began to shoulder those duties and…an older Protector should have been there to guide me, but it did not work out that way. I did have friends who cared for me, and good teachers who showed me everything I needed to know, but for a very long time I questioned whether I could be what everyone needed me to be. When the true test came, I found I could do it after all. You'll find your way."

"I hope so," Aurora said.

"You will," Maleficent promised her. "Best you go try and get some sleep," she suggested. Aurora nodded, and Maleficent also departed, following her own advice and taking to her bed. The Faerie's work began the next day.

Starting early, she let the wind take her to a secluded place and immersed herself in the energies that flowed through the human land. Though the territory was tamed in the human sense, it was not used to answering to the Fae or their Magic, so it was necessary for Maleficent to spend time learning the feel of it before attempting the work she had pledged to do. This took several days, but that also gave the Nobles time to organize themselves, gather up most of the vassals that had been stripped from their lands, and set out for their demesnes. Maleficent might have waited longer and ordered them first to look to their planting—it would require less of her power that way—but the difference would not be so great, and she was quite capable of creating what they needed from the soil itself, just as she had done with the wall of thorns. In fact, she had discovered that, after centuries of being farmed, the land remembered. It had become ingrained with something akin to an understanding of the things that the humans always asked it to produce. Perhaps that was why, when it was left untended, the land only seemed able to sustain a sour, weedy sedge.

When she knew she was ready, Maleficent returned to her secluded place and reached out to the energy she could feel flowing beneath her bare feet, and this time she let herself flow with it. Slowly, she began to speak, soothing, soft words full of sleep and plant-dreams and gently drifting. Lulled by the magic, the brambles and crab-grass and nettles gradually sank down and crumbled, returning their substance to the Earth to be re-used. Maleficent continued to speak, her cadence suddenly shifting from a drowsy murmuring to an urgent, enticing, rhythm, a call to rise, come forth, grow! In every corner of the Borderlands the deserted, neglected fields began to quicken with green shoots—corn and squash, wheat and barley, everything that was nourishing and good.

She let the Magic continue to flow, bathing the shoots in golden light, infusing them with strength and a yearning to unfurl swiftly. Finally, she came back to herself and let go the Magic, slightly wearied and drained of a fair portion of her power, but pleased with what she had accomplished.

Men long kept away from their homes, uprooted and turned to soldiers when they were farmers in their hearts, began to return to their cottages and families, and by the time they arrived the fields were green and thriving. The weather held fair and mild, a perfect late Summer, with the occasional gentle rain to slake the land's thirst and the farmers found to their fascination that they could actually see their plants growing, for what would normally have taken months to mature ripened in weeks instead. Maleficent flew daily, keeping a close watch and pouring forth more Magic anywhere that seemed to need it, and Diaval often came along, staying in the unobtrusive shape of a Raven. There was much lively talk then about the fast-growing crops and the barely-glimpsed, winged figure roving abroad who seemed to be behind it, though it was debatable whether the common folk made any connection between this mysterious person and the terrifying "sorceress" who had once brought sorrow.

There was soon speculation that not only was the crop coming in with preternatural swiftness, but that it looked as if it would also be a harvest of rare bounty, and when the time came ripe to begin the reaping, Aldersthame became a hive of activity. Not only was there the crop to bring in, there was hay to mow and lay up for the herds and flocks, and wood to chop and stack, for Aldersthame belonged to a Northern clime and Winter was nothing to take lightly.

Maleficent made one last circuit of the countryside at the harvest-time, visiting each major holding in turn, to make sure that nothing had been left lacking. Most often, her approach would send several of the fieldhands scurrying to the Manor to fetch a seneschal or other steward from whom she could then wring out enough information to tell her whether their needs had been met. That had been the way in Saff, Parram and Fingrove. It played out differently in Casrsgrave, where the Baron himself rode out to meet her upon word of her arrival. The main toil of the harvest was nearly done, but Maleficent noticed there were still plenty of folk out working as Branl Carsgrave reined in his mount and made a half-bow from his saddle.

"Lady Maleficent," he greeted formally. "What brings you to us this day?"

"I've come to ensure that you will have all you need for the Winter," she replied.

"We may have to take some care how we mete out our rations, but they should see us through. You have indeed been as good as your word," he acknowledged.

"You honored your part, thus I honor mine," she responded.

"And how fares the Queen?" he inquired pleasantly.

"Well enough," she told him, and clearly she meant to say no more, holding to her intent to keep the Nobles well distant until Aurora was better established. Still, things actually had been going well during the intervening weeks. The young woman seemed to be finding useful allies in the Chief Steward and Captain of the Guard, and while Maleficent was not one to accept unlooked-for boons without question, she had the increasing impression that Aurora's charms had won them over. The Captain in particular had been a surprise. Until the Coronation, Maleficent had been prepared to believe him as bloodthirsty as some of his men, like those who'd cornered her in their execution-circle during the battle at the Great Hall, but those, it turned out, had been hand-picked by Stefan and by Coronation day they had quietly disappeared. The much-reduced company of Guards who remained were those of the Captain's choosing, and Captain himself held to a very different sort of loyalty, a loyalty to the Crown rather than any particular person that wore it. Thus his duty had come into unexpected alignment with Maleficent's own determination to keep Aurora safe, and so long as their duty coincided, Maleficent and the Captain found that they had no quarrel.

"I am glad things are well," Carsgrave acknowledged. "We are on our way to mending, but if something were to happen now…. I hope you will not mistake me, Lady. It is right that the men have been brought home, and it is good to see the people happy, but if we are faced with any trouble from without or, worse, from within, we will have no soldiers to defend us."

"If there is trouble," she assured him firmly, "it will be met."

"Ah, but with what army?" he countered.

Maleficent did not answer him with words. Instead, she casually allowed her wings to spread to their full, sixteen-foot span.

The elderly nobleman's eyes widened…and in the next instant he threw his head back and laughed, an open-throated bellow that lasted until there were almost tears in his eyes. He took hold of himself as quickly as he could, knowing how his display might be misconstrued, and raised a hand in a gesture of peace. "Pray forgive me, Lady Maleficent. I laugh only at myself, and at an old man's folly. I never quite believed them, you see…." He paused a moment to wipe once at his eyes before explaining himself properly. "I was at Court all those years ago the day King Henry's army rode out only to come back in shreds, and I shook my head like everybody else at the outlandish tales the soldiers were telling, poor devils. Trees that walked, they said, and a great Serpent bursting from the Earth…and most of all, they talked about a single woman who stood athwart their advance and put them to rout when they failed to yield. I confess it, my Lady, I did not believe them back then. I suppose," he added delicately, "I came to believe parts of it in later years, but I think not until this moment did I believe it in my bones. Well! They say there's no fool like an old fool, and now we have proof," he chuckled, before his expression became more serious again. "It seems our safety is in your hands, Lady. I, for one, intend to be glad of that."

She acknowledged his sentiment with a nod. "There are others who may feel differently," she observed.

"Fah," he huffed. "No need to guess which, either. You'll want to watch him," the Baron said gravely. "Brinwood is one to hold grudges and I very much fear he may do something rash."

"Oh, I intend to watch that one very carefully," Maleficent told him.

"Good. Well, I am sure I've taken quite enough of your time with my chattering. I should leave you to go on about your work."

"There is much yet to do," she agreed. He offered another short bow and she gave a nod in answer as she turned and prepared to lift off.

"Fair weather for flying, Lady Maleficent," he called after her, causing her to halfway turn back, startled to hear such thoughtful well-wishing from anyone human.

"And fair fortune to you," she managed to reply. With that, she set off, lifting into the air and away to continue on her rounds.

It took another week to visit the further-flung provinces and finish ensuring that everything would be ready for Winter. Not a day later, a brief flurry dropped the first few drifting snowflakes over the country, an unmistakable sign of the seasons changing even though that particular spell of cold did not last long. Eventually, Autumn rolled in in earnest, but by then they were well prepared for it. What they were not prepared for, despite all their watchfulness, was just how reckless Brinwood was about to become.


Note: Yes, we have a cliffhanger! Also, the first hints of a serious plot, which I was not originally expecting when I started this. Alas, it seems that my last chapter was kind of a flop. It didn't seem to get much response and actually brought in my first-ever negative review. To be honest, that rather surprised me. So, I put it to you, my dear readers: was the last chapter truly lacking? If something went wrong, have I managed to get the story back on track here? Please tell me what you think of this latest offering-and thank you, everyone, thank you so much all of you who are coming along with me for this ride.