Mal entered the largest library she had ever seen. It seemed endlessly full of books. For the first time, she could not deny that she was impressed. All the knowledge. . . It was tempting, to say the least. She steeled herself. It was time to formally meet the Queen. If she messed this up, she messed their entire plan up.

Keep it together, she told herself. You're stronger than your mother ever was.

Ben pulled a chair out for her, and she gingerly sat down. He sat beside her, and Princess Guinevere was on her other side, leaving just Belle's clever hazel eyes trained on her.

"It was so nice of you to invite your new friend, Ben," Belle said. "Malory, dear, would you like some tea?"

"Um, sure," Mal said. She did not bother to correct her. After all, that would make her name drop just a little more impressive.

"Coming right up," Belle said with a smile. "It's such a nice name, Malory. Is it after Sir Thomas Malory?"

"Maybe if you reminded me who he was I'd be able to tell," Mal said, taking her tea cup.

"He was the last Knight of the Round Table, knighted by King Arthur with one purpose- to write down his legend," Belle explained. "Adam and I, well, we've always loved the Legend of King Arthur."

"Hence my name," Guinevere said, rolling her identical hazel eyes. She took a sip of her tea, and gestured for Mal to do the same. She copied, and found herself enjoying the brew. It did not need any sugar (not that Mal was the type of fairy that liked sweet things) and tasted perfectly fine without milk. It had objectively met all of her standards.

"I think I was, then," Mal lied. She had to admit, Malory would have been a much kinder name than Bertha.

"Interesting," Belle said. She had not drank from her tea yet. "Where did you come from?"

"Well, I've been travel-"

"Yes, yes," the queen interrupted. "But where from?"

"The Moors," Mal said, caving into the queen's persistence. There was no reason to withhold that information. Everyone knew fairies often came from the Moors, after all. That's what Maleficent and the Feyrelands were famous for.

"Have you heard about Bald Mountain?" Belle asked.

Mal felt suddenly very cold.

"What about Bald Mountain?" she asked.

"Monsters have been entering the kingdoms surrounding it," Belle said. "Why, King Phillip, Prince Florian, and Queen Ella have gone with the best of their Knights to discover the source."

"Oh, that," Mal said. "Then you understand what I have been on the road for. I wondered if something worse had happened."

"No, not yet," Belle said. "Although Ella has been gone for quite some time."

For a moment, Mal felt touched at the open expression of sadness and worry. Clearly they had been friends. Clearly what was happening worried Belle. She seemed genuinely worried for the fate of the people.

Snap out of it! You know better than this- even if people get hurt, you'll get glory and power and-

"Mal?"

"Sorry, what?" She realized she'd zoned out. Ben's steely blue eyes stared at her knowingly. They were piercing, as if he'd seen her thoughts.

"I asked if you had any family," Belle said gently. "And if you miss your home."

"My mother chose to stay," Mal said, the anger creeping into her voice. "And no, I don't miss it at all."

A tear dropped into her tea. Mal reached up to her face, and realized that she was crying.

"I know what it feels like," Belle said. There was empathy there. "Ben, Jenny, would you mind leaving? I promise, we'll pick up the tea in a few moments."

Guinevere opened her mouth to protest, but Ben took her hand and pulled her away from the table.

Belle's eyes met Mal's.

"My mother died alone. My father chose to leave her. She chose to stay there so I would not die of the plague," she explained. "I know that anger, too."

"I-"

Mal did not know what to say, so she said nothing. Belle was giving her that piteous smile, full of empathy and sadness and love-it made her feel both sick and warm inside. Belle placed her hand over Mal's tiny pale one.

"It gets better, I promise," she said. "Know that your mother and father loved you."

"What if they didn't?" Mal asked, her expression darkening.

"Then you will find a family that will," Belle assured her. "Adam found that."

"I appreciate your hopefulness, your majesty," Mal said, managing a small, genuine smile. She stood. "I'll get Ben and Guinevere. Do you mind if I excuse myself?"

"Not at all."

Mal rushed out to the second room of the library, where Ben and Guinevere were waiting.

"You can go back in," she said. She then started to continue onwards when Ben gently tapped her arm. She turned around, and found herself breathless at the sight of him.

Get it together. Love will be the end of all of it, she reminded herself. He told you himself. Stay away from love.

"Why aren't you coming with us?" Ben asked.

"I've excused myself," she said airily. "It should be for family."

"Oh." He appeared to be looking for what to say next. Mal had to admit, she admired that honest, expressive face. So clear, no pretenses. Just the way Mal liked it.

"I hope you don't mind, your highness," she said. "Good day."

"Wait!"

Mal let out a frustrated sigh. She'd only taken one step away. She whipped around angrily. "What?"

He was not the slightest bit afraid of her, angry with her eyes glowing. "I want you to call me Ben. None of those other things."

What was that softness in her heart? She let herself smile genuinely. "I will, Ben. Thank you for your hospitality."

Guinevere was relieved to be released from the tea party. She loved her mother, but Belle had made it awkward. What had she told the fairy that she couldn't-or wouldn't-tell her own children? Besides, she now had a large selection of princes to dream about. She took her place in the gazebo, staring out at the lawn. A game of croquet was in the works.

Prince Aziz seemed rather taken with his ambassador, Schezarade. Prince James was insufferable, a prick that she thought more deserving of Talia than herself. He liked Talia well enough, but Guinevere he despised. Perhaps it was her more tomboyish hobbies or swordplay or gardening? She did not care enough to ask and thankfully he did not care enough to tell.

Princess Talia sat down next to her.

"When will Prince Ben join us?" she asked, waving her fan to conceal her mouth from the rest of the royals.

"He's busy," Guinevere said, keeping her eyes on the game.

Talia pouted. "He's always busy."

"He has to make sure the gala's a success," Guinevere replied evenly. "He wanted to make it his responsibility."

"He has servants for that," Talia said with a frown. "Nevertheless, his hands-on approach and responsibility certainly is attractive."

Guinevere shrugged. "I suppose."

"And it's much better for our kingdom's sake-"

"What about ours? I thought you were saving the proposal till the gala?" Guinevere asked, surprised, turning to look at Talia. Her simple auburn braid went flying over her shoulder, nearly hitting her in the face.

"I am, but I am planning for our future," Talia said solemnly. "I must be a queen, Guinevere. I may be a princess now, but one day I will be queen, and I must be ready for that day. Do you understand?"

"I thought you always said I was too young to understand," Guinevere teased.

"You are," Talia replied coldly as she fluttered her fan. "I don't know why I bother speaking of such things to you. You see things like your parents- romantic dreamers with no sense of the real world."

"I wouldn't exactly say they have no grasp on reality," Guinevere said, a growl creeping into her voice. "Look at Maman's inventions."

"Yes, I suppose they are rather useful," Talia said, looking at Guinevere as if she were stupid. "But her head is stuck in the clouds. I fear your brother may turn out the same way soon."

"You just said-"

"He barely reins it in, Guinevere," Talia informed her sharply. "His discipline is the only thing-"

Unable to take it anymore, Guinevere stormed away. She hated this about Talia- she was always so negative about others. Even when she tried to make the topic something she knew Talia liked, Talia found some way to use it to criticize someone.

She approached Princess Jane, the daughter of Queen Ella and King Christopher. She vaguely remembered her mother telling her to be nice since Queen Ella had gone with the search party and the party hadn't given a report back in a month.

"Hello Jane, nice day, isn't it?" Guinevere asked.

Startled, Jane whipped around her, sending her frumpy powder blue dress flying in a twirl. She curtsied, practically making her bob fly. "Your highness! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you approach-"

"I'm Jenny, remember?" Guinevere said gently. "No need to do this every visit! I promise, I'll always let you use my name if you let me use yours."

Still trembling, Jane nodded. She let her sweet smile come through. "Do you want to play a game of chess y- I mean, Jenny?"

"Yes, I would, Jane," Guinevere said. She sat down at one end of the tables set up. "How are magic studies going?"

"Well, Fairy Godmother's teaching me simple spells, levitation and the like," Jane said eagerly. "But what I really want her to teach me is the glamours and the transformations like what she did to my mother!"

"I can't wait till I see you wearing a gown as brilliant as the sun and dance the night away, breaking hearts," Guinevere offered, even though she personally could not see any possibility of it. Jane was pretty, but she was no heartbreaker. She was much too sweet for that. If she said something like that, Jane would accuse her of lying to her. For some reason, Jane had gotten it into her head that she was ugly. Of course, James, her twin brother, might have had something to do with that.

"Hey, Ugly Duckling, can you turn away?" James cried out. "I'm trying to see a nice view!"

Embarrassed, Jane ducked her head, trying to hide in her dress. Guinevere rose to her feet.

"Leave her alone!" Guinevere shouted, right at the same time as another girl- Princess Evangeline. The daughter of the Fairest marched over to Jane, embracing her.

"Come on, let's go to the powder room," Evangeline said gently, and she began escorting Jane out. Guinevere turned to James.

"What are your skirts in a twist for?" James demanded, at ease despite her storming nearer.

"Why are you so cruel to her?" Guinevere seethed.

"I'm not cruel, just honest," he replied, casually checking his spotless fingernails. "I don't see why everyone has to lie to her."

"We're not," Guinevere said.

"Believe whatever lies you tell yourself to sleep at night," James said. Before he could turn around, Guinevere punched him.