A/N: So, here's your long awaited chapter update! I hope you enjoy some deep character insights in this chapter, as well as the story progression. Lots of happenings as this tale reaches its zenith in story arc.

I know I say this a lot, but reviews really, really help. They let me know what you as a reader like, dislike, want to see, etc. While most of the story is outlined, and many parts written, I am always happy to improve my craft to meet reader expectations and suggestions.

Chapter Soundtrack:

Take Flight, Lindsey Stirling

Magic, Jasmine Thompson

Our Farewell, Within Temptation

Chapter 37 - Grái gcónaí Buann (Love Conquers All)

"The Laws of the Seelie are very simple. The most important to remember are as follows:

Death Before Dishonor: You will protect your honor to the death. Honor is your glory, the only way to attain recognition. A true Seelie would rather die than live with personal dishonor, and shall never bring dishonor to another unless exacting vengeance.

Love Conquers All: Love is the perfect expression of your soul. It transcends all other things.

Beauty is Life: All beauty is to be protected.

Never Forget a Debt: You are bound by your code of honor to repay any debt owed as soon as possible. This includes both favors and insults. Repay your favor in a timely fashion. Exact vengeance almost immediately."

Aurora stretched languidly in bed, cuddled between two pale arms. Placing a cheek onto a soft breast, she sighed her pleasure. Underneath her, a deep chuckle resonated.

"Happy to be inside your fortress of glass and stone once more, Beastie?" Maleficent questioned airily.

Blushing, Aurora looked around. "Not as glad as I am to be back in our room. I don't miss the palace so much as I missed our..." her hand waved around the room to point at the many trinkets and posessions their life together had acquired.

It wasn't so much the finery or furniture, or even the silks in their chifforobe. It was the slightly out-of-place collection of Moors raw crystals and acorns that hung near the window that refracted prisms and rainbows onto the tapestry that told of their love, or the comforting way the room smelled like just them instead of the cottage which smelled of both them and their guests. Their palace bedchamber was an oasis to Aurora, holding so many memories. If she'd had the words for it, she might have compared it to the way Maleficent probably felt about her Rowan tree.

Humming gently in agreement, Maleficent turned her attention back to the small, worn book in her hands. Resting her chin atop Aurora's head, she began to read again.

Snatching the book quickly from Maleficent's fingers, Aurora scooted across the bed playfully. She held it aloft, peering upwards at the tool of distraction, and then back at her mate in challenge.

Maleficent frowned and reached forward, but did not lift her back from the bolster pillows. "Give that back," she commanded, her chin raising and nostrils flaring in annoyance.

If anything, the haughty and regal look that had overtaken the sharp features of her wife's face made Aurora all the more giddy. "I don't think I shall," she retorted, adopting a mimicry of the expression Maleficent had worn moments before. While reading the book's title out of the corner of her sight, she pouted. "After all, if 'Oisín in the Land of Youth' is more interesting than I, perhaps I ought to rise for the day so that the pages may better receive your attention."

The taller faerie Queen rolled her eyes in response, and promptly leaned back against the pillows to close them. Her jaw worked to swallow ripe curses that she would have liked to hurl, but this was Aurora after all. Exhaling a breath through her nose in an attempt to sound displeased, she muttered "Have it, then."

Not to be outdone, Aurora settled back down and opened to a random page. She smirked as she began to read aloud, intent on embarrassing Maleficent with the dry reading that she so typically poured over. "'My name," she said, "is Niam of the Golden Hair. I am the daughter of the King of the Land of Youth, and that which has brought me here is the love of thy son Oisín." Then she turned to Oisín and she spoke to him in the voice of one who has never asked anything but it was granted to her, "Wilt thou go with me Oisín, to my father's land?'"

Perplexed by this turn of events, she settled further into the pillows next to Maleficent, who was pretending to ignore her. She read on, "'And Oisín said, "That will I, and to the world's end;" for the fairy spell had so wrought upon his heart that he cared no more for any earthly thing but to have the love of Niam of the Head of Gold." Why Maleficent… You're reading a romance?"

"Yes," crimson lips answered curtly, and once again fell silent.

"Oh, I see," Aurora acknowledged, suddenly contrite. Quickly, she flipped through the memories of the past month and a half since things had begun going downhill politically. It had caused her many a long hour arguing with her councilors, though she was bolstered by the support of most of the lower gentry and peasantry.

Maleficent had been vexed most days, secretly following Luna around the Moors and castle alike, much to their daughter's dismay. Alexander had put his foot down in a shouting match between he and Maleficent, and though she'd been sufficiently chastised for her hovering, Aurora couldn't help but agree with Maleficent's worry.

Isobel and Caitriona now often accompanied Luna on her forays into the kingdom when Alexander was busy, which had hurt the eldest faerie to no end. She'd withdrawn into herself, and Aurora had been too busy yelling down impudent nobility to tend the emotional wounds. Instantly, Aurora felt ashamed. Closing the book gently, she placed it on a bedside table.

She nestled herself closer to the still form of her bean chèile, lifting a great brown wing out of the way to do so. "Malle, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you; I know I've been absent lately…" Aurora whispered, brushing fingertips lightly over a sharp cheekbone.

A lithe hand shot up to grasp around her wrist, gripping firmly. Aurora gasped, concerned that she'd done more harm than good with her admission. Only until iridescent green eyes opened to look at her ferociously was she sure that her shenanigans had brought her more trouble than she'd anticipated.

"You're sorry?" Maleficent countered acerbically, her breaths coming heavily.

"I… Of course I am," Aurora coaxed, her tone placating. "What can I do to convince you?"

Her view of the bedchamber spun as Maleficent pounced. Aurora shrieked both in delight and having been startled, suddenly beneath the pinning stare of her mate. Wings were held fully extended, blocking the dim morning light from their embrace. Maleficent darted forward to capture her in a kiss full of emotions. There was anger, evidenced by the crushing weight behind it, as well as the clicking of their teeth. Sadness was in the salty tang of tears that masked the normally sweet taste. Passion won out, overflowing from the hisses, licks, and moans that interrupted their lips touching.

Aurora felt her nightgown being untied from behind her neck, and she wriggled out of the lacy confection that the wardrobe had sent up. Her movements put a delicious friction between them, and Maleficent inhaled quickly through clenched teeth. Aurora knew that noise all too well: her mate was resisting the overwhelming need to take what she needed. Deciding to tip the scales and give permission all at once, she raked her sharp fingernails down Maleficent's chest from collarbone to breast, pinching the nipples that pebbled under her ardent attention.

Maleficent's fingers curled their way into her hair, tugging her face down to the curvy flesh.

'Oh,' Aurora realized, attempting to guide the woman above her down to the bed as she began to lave one breast while alternately massaging the other. Still, her wife would not be moved. Maleficent's knees settled firmly on either side of her waist, and her elbows locked.

Aided by the curve of the wings that now cradled on either side of them, her heated cries echoed and rang in Aurora's ears. Even in her need, Maleficent would not be convinced to give up protecting them. It brought a smile to Aurora's lips as she slid her hands down silky skin to grip tightly onto sharply jutting hips.

Pulling downwards, Aurora could more easily reach the object of her desire. While sliding one hand around to caress Maleficent's bottom, the other snaked down to stroke the damp curls before sliding two fingers gently into blissfully scorching heat.

"Oh, damnú![1] Gods, Aurora… Harder!"Maleficent groaned, rocking her hips forward at a heady pace.

Aurora was only too glad to comply, completely mesmerized by the beautiful sight of sharp white teeth biting back moans, and the shivering of skin and wings above her. When a slender neck arched back to release a keening noise that traveled from her ears to her own loins like wildfire, Aurora launched upwards to bite and suckle at it, unable to control her euphoria any longer. She moved her nips up to tug at an elfin ear and purr "Tá túálainn sin."[2]

At that, Maleficent shuddered and picked up speed. Her rhythm was beginning to be erratic, and Aurora knew to curl her fingers upwards at this juncture. She pressed her thumb down and massaged the most sensitive part of her lover while her fingers continued to plunge into slick depths.

Maleficent's heart raced, and she felt more drunk than she had been on Midsummer's Eve. Her blood roared hot in her ears. Tensing to still as she shattered and came undone, time seemed to pause. She couldn't control her screams at this point, though she didn't even try. Flames licked their way through her veins, combusting her from within.

Shakily, she laid down atop Aurora as whimpers continued to escape her lips. Delicate arms came up and around to hug her close, and the simple action was a soothing balm to her heart that had been feeling so very misunderstood and unloved as of late. Nuzzling into her mate's neck, she panted and continued to shake, now cold in the late Deireadh Fómhair[3] air.

Sliding over, she reached for the blanket to shield them from the draft before cuddling once more. Her hands began to wander lazily over Aurora's skin, which was glowing with magickal radiance leftover from their sharing pleasures. "I should..." she murmured, leaning forward to embrace her luminous woman closer yet. Now gentled, she sought Aurora's lips in a kiss sweeter than honey.

A stiff knock sounded on their hidden door beneath the tapestry. Jerking up to sit, Maleficent growled at the intrusion. If it was a handmaid bearing breakfast, they could very well wait.

"It's all right," Aurora soothed, pushing her back down. She shrugged her nightgown back on while tucking Maleficent's nude form underneath the blankets.

"It is most certainly not all right," Maleficent glowered, staring at the door like she could murder whoever was behind it with a look.

The knocking came again, even more insistent. Pointing at Maleficent to stay put, Aurora ducked under the tapestry to peek out the door. "Hello?" she called out into the servant's hallway.

Alexander poked his head around the corner where he'd been waiting, and hefted a tray full of breakfast into view. "I bring news and food, Màthair-chèile. I accosted your ladies' maid for it, I'm sorry to say. She was hopping around your hallway like a nervous hen waiting to lay an egg. May I come in?" he asked, a roguish grin lighting his face.

"Ahhh," Aurora hesitated, ducking back into the bedchamber. Just as she was turning around, Maleficent was there, already tying on a soft woolen robe with her face a picture of peevishness.

"What do you want?" she bellowed out the door at Alexander, choosing to shout her first words to the prince in the weeks since their argument.

Holding breakfast up once more like a shield, Alexander winced and bent slightly at the waist in deference. "Màthair, please. Don't be cross for the interruption; the letter I have is for your eyes only and Maimeo's dove flew a long way to bring it to you."

Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, Maleficent held her hand out for the letter without moving from the door.

"Come now, Mal… Màthair," Alexander responded sweetly. "I've brought your breakfast, you see?"

Maleficent did not respond in kind, turning on heel to walk away. She fluffed and extended her wings in his direction.

An equal human gesture would be to 'pluck the yew,' and Aurora blushed from head to toe. "I'm sorry!" she whispered frantically to the Seelie prince, taking the tray from his hands to place it on the table by the windows.

Alexander slid into the bedchamber quietly when Aurora did not shut the door on him. He didn't seat himself, aware that Maleficent was still rather tetchy. Closing the door gently, he pulled the tapestry back down as the horned faerie paced the room, tearing into the letter snatched from the breakfast tray. He knew that missives that bore blood-oath seals of 'so-and-so's eyes only' were never, ever good. Clearing his throat quietly, he nodded his head from Aurora to Maleficent, trying to clue the kinder of his mother-in-laws to the nature of the letter.

The more that Maleficent read, the more she seemed to wilt. Her wings fell slowly, as if weighted down by sadness. She turned away from both Aurora and Alexander, but reached out for her mate with a hand still clutching the missive. "I… I don't understand," she choked out, thrusting the parchment at Aurora.

The Queen took the paper gently from the trembling hand and passed it to Alexander like it was a hot coal, choosing rather to embrace the silent faerie whose shoulders now racked with silent sobs.

Perplexed at seeing Maleficent cry, even if only from behind, Alexander looked at the letter for answers.

Maleficent,

I write to ask your forgiveness as well as pass the sad news of your

familiar raven, Diaval. As you know well, magick never deals in absolutes.

I had promised to find a worthy successor for his fiach saol,[4] but the conditions were never optimal.

Laurentina did try her very hardest to cure the raven's melancholy and forge the bond, but the emotion was not there on part of your former familiar.

She is aggrieved at the hopelessness of the situation and wishes to bring him to you herself, both to apologize face-to-face and bring him home

to pass into the next world peacefully with you by his side. I fear the next time he transforms may be his last, so I send him to you as his original form.

Laurentina will arrive with him within three nights of you receiving this, as we are currently over the Breatnaise Strait in Galician lands.

My utmost and sincerest condolences, dear one.

Titania Regina

"Scrios Dé!"[5] Alexander muttered, folding the parchment back in three to place it back on the tray. Running a hand down his face in frustration, he cupped his chin and leaned against the wall in emotional fatigue. His name was being called gently, and he stood back up in attention. "Sorry, what?" he asked quietly, not knowing who had asked for him.

Aurora rose slowly from where she had knelt to comfort her mate while Alexander read the missive. Walking over to the dazed faerie, she motioned towards the door. "I don't mean to be rude... Alexander, she needs to process this. She won't unless..." she whispered while looking over a shoulder.

Alexander's eyes rested on the great, brown wings that curled around his màthair-chèile as she sat, her knees tucked under the great volume of feathers as though she was attempting to hide. "Of course, of course," he agreed rapidly, turning to let himself out.

Once the hidden door had been shut behind him, he turned to face the room and allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the hallway. Only moments later, an ear-splitting shriek came from behind the door, followed by the smashing of an upturned tray. He darted away to inform anyone with a wish to live not to venture inside, all the while bemoaning the sound of the broken crockery.

"What a waste of breakfast," he grumbled; pushing his way past another alarmed guard.

"Are you fairly cracked in the head, or do you mean to get us in a world of trouble, Ishbel?" Caitriona yelped at the Princess.

Isobel had decided that the fields around the castle were not adventurous enough for their late afternoon walk. Skipping lazily and fluttering her wings, Bel grinned with mischievousness. Now that they were far enough into the woods, she had told Caitriona her secret, anticipating the young woman's indolent screeches.

"It's just mead, Cait! I nabbed it out of Luna's room when she was napping. You act like I stole uisce[6] from the surgeon barber or something!" she teased, waving the leather wineskin at her companion. Her wings decided to trip her up then, and she fell laughing in a great heap on the leafy forest floor. Lying back, she displaced the fallen leaves by swooshing her wings and her legs; this too was followed by much giggling.

Sitting down primly, Caitriona snatched the wineskin away. "No, but you're filthy drunk, Bel. Your mother is out of her head in anticipation of some faerie toting her raven. Luna is in bed not feeling well today, and Alexander is prowling the halls like some sort of madman because of it. Queen Aurora is shut up in the council chambers with her scribe over Lordy knows what, and here you are…A drunkard a week before her fourteenth name day." Her mouth turned down disapprovingly.

Propping herself up to lean against a tree, Isobel frowned. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a fun idea. Biting her bottom lip, she shrugged. "You're the only one that cares, any how."

"That's not true!" Caitriona challenged, crossing her arms. "Your family loves you, and so do I. Even if you do look like a weasel preparing for winter with your heavy glamour, and smell like the wine cellar," she cheeked.

Rolling her eyes, Isobel waved a wobbly hand at Caitriona. "Oh aye, the citizens just love their 'white witch princess.'" Slowly, awareness came to her foggy mind at what Caitriona had slipped. A smile slid across her darkly painted lips. "You love me?"

Caitriona startled at the question. She hadn't meant to let it slide – Isobel was so very fragile emotionally. Newly seventeen, Caitriona was considered a spinster as a human lass. They were quite the unlikely pair, and frankly she wasn't keen on finding out how their Majesties would find such an arrangement – probably an egregious lack of judgment. "Of course, Ishbel," she began to explain. "Of course I love you, like…"

Isobel launched herself and tackled the mortal woman. Looking down at the black-haired maiden, she blushed and blinked rapidly, her faerie nature making the actions appear coquettish. The sheer beauty that shone from the alabaster face framed by white-blonde hair enchanted Caitriona, and her hands slowly began to cup sharp cheekbones without thinking about the action.

Leaning into the touch, Isobel's starving heart felt like it would burst. "I love you too, Cait," she declared, claiming Caitriona's lips reverently.

Unable to resist returning the kiss softly, Caitriona's memories wandered. While Sola had been naturally pretty, her face was decidedly less angular and more human. She had hair color the same as many girls their age, blending in easily in her early years as she tugged shyly behind Queen Aurora's skirts. It wasn't until she grew older and set herself apart that Sola appeared that different than any other girl of the nobility.

Her twin was a study in everything that was different; sharp in bone structure and in temperament, it was hard to believe some of the guard's stories about how she'd cried like a little lamb whenever Queen Maleficent would yell. Isobel's coloring was simply the thing that humans found most disconcerting, but Caitriona found it marvelous.

Releasing Caitriona's kiss to come up for air, Isobel felt like she could zoom into the headwinds without any difficulty. She pulled her human up into an embrace, wrapping her wings around them in happiness. Abruptly, Cait stiffened in her arms, her blue eyes focused on something behind them.

"Isobel!" she screamed as a trio of hooded men snatched her roughly from the princess's wings. Bel reached out quickly, but not quickly enough. The gathering basket Cait had carried to collect flowers toppled over as the men scuffled with them.

Hot, molten pain. It seared its way across Isobel's face and hands as she struggled. Fear clouded her mind, and she reached out against the torture that blurred her sight. "Caitriona! No, Cait!" she screeched, rolling and wrestling against the burning weight atop her.

One scalded hand finally found its way through a hole in the iron net, but it only served to burn her sensitive skin more. A booted foot kicked at her hand, and a sword stabbed at her side for good measure, eliciting a bawling yelp as she felt her skin bleeding and burning at the same time. As she saw Cait fight back against the three men only to lose consciousness when one smashed her on the neck above the shoulder with the butt of his sword, the faerie princess lost what sanity she had left. The men loaded a limp Caitriona onto a horse and mounted their own steeds. Thrashing about as the hoof beats of horses receded in the distance, she only succeeded at tangling herself further.

The resounding howls of agony carried over glen and valley, finally alerting the Queen's guard to investigate.

Laid on her back but unable to move, Isobel drifted in and out of consciousness. Her eyes could barely make out the carved wood of her canopy bed, or those around her. Oh, but she could hear them.

An unfamiliar woman's voice was livid. "I thought you had banned cold iron in this realm except for farming tools and horse shoes!"

Mother ignored the angry woman's question, instead asking one of her own. "What can be done?" she demanded, her voice wavering.

"She's half human, Maleficent. Their healing process is different, and this is cold iron we're talking about, not your run of the mill human smithy shite! Wherever did they get it?" Who was this? A healer? A warrior?

A woman with golden tresses much like her mama's entered her line of vision, and examined her with the widest set of amber yellow eyes she'd ever seen on a faerie. Mother addressed her from farther away. "Do what you can, Laurentina. I'm afraid my skills at healing are limited to breathing Life to extend it, and to plants."

Impossibly gentle hands stroked at her face then, though they still felt like red-hot pokers on the injured skin. Isobel began to fade from consciousness once more, her shoulders barely leaving the bed even though she wanted to rise up and tear the hands away from her battered face. "Easy, Isobel. I'm trying…" Laurentina fussed, her compulsion-spell laden voice like a song.

Laurentina was here. That meant Diaval was here. Isobel's thoughts were disjointed, muddled by the pain. "D-Diaval…" she whined.

"He's safe and sound, being tended to by your Lady Mother Aurora," the golden faerie's voice lulled, jerking her healing hands away from her face with a gasping hiss. Turning to Mother, the Seelie looked disappointed. "I've taken as much of it as I can, Maleficent. She was under that horrible net for at least the half hour your guards said it took them to reach her."

"Will she scar?" Luna's voice sounded hoarse from crying, and too far away. Bel reached towards her sister, but her hand was so heavy. It fell ineffectually onto the bed, having moved barely an inch.

The response was too hushed to hear, but the tone was discernable. The more she heard the pity in the voices, the more Isobel became angry. Why were they bothering with her, when Caitriona was out there somewhere? She was probably hurt worse!

If the net was anything like Luna's Unseelie dagger, her face must be a fright. Isobel had worked long and hard on her mother's hands after the incident, only for Maleficent to resign herself to bearing the pink outline of a blade on her palms. "S-stop," she begged. "K-kill me," her teeth chattered from the anguish of a broken heart and the iron burns.

Her mother's tear-streaked face hovered over her. "Sleep, my sweetling," Maleficent both comforted and compelled, her green and golden eyes haunted.

[1] damnú – Fuck, as in "Oh, fuck!" An exclaimation.

[2] tá túálainn sin – You are so beautiful.

[3] Deireadh Fómhair – October

[4] fiach saol – Life debt, literally, "soul debt."

[5] Scrios Dé! – Shit! Literally, "Gods destroyed."

[6] Uisce – whiskey