The two guards leaned idly against the castle gatehouse, still weary from the wedding celebrations. They watched the road, aware that any traffic would be unlikely to pose a threat given that peace had surrounded the sleepy kingdom for hundreds of years now, previous kings' wars taking place in far off lands where they could not threaten the tranquillity of the rich and fertile plains. In the distance, they watched the storms subside over the mountains, knowing that somewhere Stefan's light cavalry and foot soldiers were winding their way on to Maleficent's castle, ready to tear it apart stone by stone, and kill anyone or anything that remained within its accursed walls.
A captain swung out of the gates on his white charger. Claude Chevalier, one of the oldest of the captains in Stefan's army, had been left behind to guard the palace from any attack with some of the older and more belligerent foot soldiers. This had greatly displeased him, especially when he was told he would be riding as guard to Prince Phillip and Princess Aurora, who would be 'riding out' in a carriage that morning to display themselves in all their new splendour to their adoring subjects. Claude despised 'babysitting duties' and even though he wished the young couple well, could not see why the young prince could not protect the princess himself – just yesterday he'd ridden into the woods alone in the morning, defeated Maleficent in the evening and still managed to return to the castle in time for the wedding to occur! Sighing, he reined in his horse, aware that logically the newly-weds should not be out alone and that an outrider was an essential part of the traditional entourage. The two gate guards straightened to an almost salute.
"Mornin' gentlemen," said Claude, ripping a perfect salute and staring down the slovenly pair.
"Captain!" both soldiers straightened a little further and looked a little more respectful as a result.
"Their majesties will be riding out in a few moments. Best to keep yourselves alert."
"Ay sir."
"And don't be trying any of that lazy saluting on the prince, Hawkins – it's my reputation on the line as well if royalty is offended by slovenliness today."
"Yes sir." Satisfied that his troops would pass inspection, Claude rode back into the castle, and took his position beside the royal carriage.
Princess Aurora arrived on the arm of her new husband, who gallantly lifted her with the utmost ease into the carriage. As the prince took his seat in the plush coach, a groom took the reins and Claude closed the door, taking the opportunity to admire the young princess. She was indeed very beautiful, something he had not had time to fully appreciate the previous night. She was clothed in the most exquisite of embroidered dresses, the flame coloured taffeta hugging her figure and giving the impression of supreme power. Despite the impressive appearance of the dress, Claude felt it did nothing to highlight the gentle beauty of Aurora's face – she looked, in all honesty at this short distance, like she was exceedingly uncomfortable in the rich trappings and would have been far more comfortable in the light pink (or was it blue?) dress from the night before. Perhaps due to her youth, she looked for all the world like she'd been caught dressing up in her mother's clothes. Prince Phillip, far more used to courtly dress, was used to the regalia and paraphernalia of office however and didn't seem hampered by the heavier-than-practicable sword or cloak. With a courtly nod to the Prince, who he had tutored in sword-fighting years before and with whom he shared a mentor-student relationship, Claude trotted his horse behind the carriage and the party set off through the gates and out onto the road ahead.
Maleficent was convinced she was getting no closer to the castle, and knew she'd started to bleed again. Pain engulfed her senses until the only thing she was sure of was her own insistent voice in her head, commanding that she move her hand forward, then her knee, then her hand, keep crawling, can't be much further... In the gutter now, she welcomed the brush of the cold grass against her legs, feeling that there was still some relief she could take from the world around her, even though it was nothing more than a fleeting moment of coolness against burned flesh. She dared not try any magic – she barely had the physical strength left to move, let alone command a force only a few lucky individuals had the opportunity to harness and use as their own for the briefest of moments – if she lost control, it would kill her instantly. Mud, ash and grass forced themselves against her knees and hands, thin wisps of plants entering her wounds and irritating them. Her arm gave way and she toppled forward into a patch of dock leaves, thanking her lucky stars that she'd missed the nearby nettles as she rolled onto her back. A blackberry bush laden with fruit looked invitingly close and she reached up a hand to pluck some berries, ignoring the occasional scratch from the thorns. The bittersweet fruits tasted sharp in a mouth that had been burned with soot, but the tiny amount of juice they released was enough to make her throat feel capable of speech and the fruit sugars awakened her senses just a little. A thin smile on berry-stained lips greeted the sun as it reached its zenith and Maleficent sighed contentedly, willing sleep to take her. Before her wish could be granted however, a faint rattling noise disturbed the silence and snapped her attention back to the road ahead. Instinctively, she turned onto her front and cowered in the long grass as she watched a carriage draw closer. There was an outrider – obviously the carriage held royalty. Perhaps even Stefan. She glanced down her body – she was a mess and perhaps she shouldn't leap out on the carriage just yet.
Caution was overruled by a sharp pain in her side. Slowly, conscious that excess movement could result in further damage to her already broken body, Maleficent pulled herself up onto the road and crawled slowly towards the oncoming carriage.
Chevalier saw Maleficent at a distance and shouted a warning to the groom to slow down. The captain spurred his horse ahead of the carriage, sword drawn, ready for any attack. He reassessed his reaction when he drew level with Maleficent. A woman – probably – was clearly very badly burned and showed evidence of bleeding profusely from a gaping wound in her side, her unsteady crawl up the road evident of a long struggle to get help. Hesitating, the captain shouted back "It's a woman sire – she's injured." Sheathing his sword, Chevalier leapt down off his horse and removed his cloak to wrap around Maleficent's shoulders. As the cloak made contact, she shivered involuntarily.
"Please don't – it hurts," rasped Maleficent, the wool scratching at her skin as she wondered at the feebleness displayed in her voice.
"I'm sorry – I think the groom has a linen cloak – I'll fetch that." He left the cloak around her shoulders and Maleficent realised for the first time that it shielded her from the sun – something which she hadn't realised had been adding to her discomfort. She risked a glance at the carriage. The soldier had convinced the groom to give up his cloak and now the two of them were approaching her cautiously. With surprising gentleness, the woollen cloak was removed and the promised linen replacement laid across her bare back. She curled up, kneeling, inside the cloak, her modesty at least shielded from further harm.
"Who is it?" asked Prince Phillip. He leapt out of the carriage, followed closely by Aurora. Maleficent cringed at the sight – if she was to be offered help, it would be unlikely to come from this pair.
"I'm not sure sire," replied the groom, "though she's burned so badly it seems doubtful we'd recognise her in any case." Phillip walked over to Maleficent and looked down at her briefly, his shock at the state of this unknown woman written for the world to see on his face – what could have happened to her? "Do you have a name peasant?"
"Yes sire," rasped Maleficent, raising her head to meet his gaze and opening her eyes. "I believe you know it well." Disbelief and recognition crossed Phillip's face.
"No... Aurora – get back in the carriage!"
"Who is it?"
"Maleficent," whispered Phillip in horrified acceptance of this turn of events. "But I saw you die..."
"Who did you say – oh my..." Aurora looked down into the pitiless yellow depths of Maleficent's eyes. "I remember you..."
"I know," Maleficent replied quietly, scarcely daring to hope for mercy, but knowing the young princess would be the easiest in the party to manipulate. "Help me." At this, Phillip drew his sword. Chevalier turned to the Prince.
"Sire?"
"It's Maleficent," stated Phillip simply. He wasn't convinced that he could trust his eyes – he remembered the fear as he'd faced the dragon; the agonising shriek as Maleficent had fallen. If there was any possibility she could have survived that fall, the sword's magic should have secured her fate by itself. Was he now to believe that there was no power in the fairies' curse on the sword? Should Maleficent be alive – was she alive?
"What should we do sire?"
"She's dead – everyone expects her to be dead. I killed her myself..." muttered Phillip, backing away to protect Aurora, "get back into the carriage – we must warn my father and King Stefan that she survived. Groom! Take us home! Deal with that creature captain!" Phillip tried to drag Aurora away, but she hesitated.
"No. She asked us for help." Aurora still seemed to be mesmerised by Maleficent, who for her part was beginning to panic. Chevalier had drawn his sword and although it was now hanging loosely at his side, within seconds she could find herself dead if the whim took him to follow Phillip's orders. Maleficent tore her gaze away from Aurora and turned her head to Phillip.
"Please!" she insisted. Phillip recoiled from her and went back to trying to persuade Aurora to move.
"Phillip, we have to," started Aurora. "She's defeated – you won – she's no threat now."
"But when she recovers – what then?" asked Phillip. "No – she has to die. In the carriage, Aurora, lest you have to watch her execution." Aurora shot a look back at Maleficent, her eyes betraying some kind of regret that was never voiced. The young princess darted back into the carriage as Chevalier and Prince Phillip took positions either side of Maleficent. "Any last words?" asked Phillip menacingly.
"Tell King Stefan and Queen Charlotte I'm sorry for cursing Aurora." The words slipped out unprompted and it was difficult to tell whether Maleficent or Phillip was more surprised to hear them. Her ridiculous assumption that the young couple might have spared her life echoed in her mind; her heart was now hollow and devoid of all hope. She looked up at Chevalier.
"Quickly captain, you have your orders," said Maleficent, leaning forward on her knees and preparing herself for execution. The captain reached down and pulled her head up and backwards. Maleficent winced at the pain, but then immediately froze as he moved the tip of his sword to her collarbone, directly above her heart. She'd seen this method of execution before – it was quick, the victim dying seconds after the sword struck. "Thank you," she whispered. The captain tensed and was about to move his arm down when something made him hesitate.
"I cannot."
"Captain..." warned the prince.
"Not like this." Chevalier shook his head and looked across at Prince Phillip. "I'm sorry sire."
"Then I shall – and woe betide you when we return to the castle!" Phillip made to strike with his sword, but just like Chevalier, could not bring himself to complete the task. "She asked for help," he whispered, lowering his arm.
"I know," answered the captain.
"But she would never show us mercy – why not just rid ourselves of her?"
"Because we're not like her." Chevalier rested a hand on Phillip's arm, his former student looking to him for confirmation that this was the correct course of action. "Even when we suspect it may be a mistake, we have to show mercy, to do the right thing – otherwise, what is the point?"
"Quite right," mumbled Phillip. "Can you carry her on your horse? She can be our prisoner until King Stefan decides what to do with her."
"I can try sire." Phillip returned to the coach, swiftly followed by the groom and with little difficulty the conveyance was turned and headed back up the road towards the castle at some speed in order to prepare the guards for Maleficent's arrival. This left Chevalier with the unenviable task of attempting to lift Maleficent onto the horse's back by himself – something made all the more difficult by her sheer lack of strength. After some minutes struggling, he settled for leaning Maleficent against the horse and mounting as she held desperately to the reins and tried to remain standing. Due to her height, she was awkward to pull onto the horse in front of him but eventually the two were seated and Chevalier pulled the groom's cloak around her protectively.
"Can you sit in front of me and try not to fall off the horse as it heads back to the palace?"
"Possibly," replied Maleficent, pathetically trying to pull the cloak closed and feeling little relief at this uncomfortable rescue. "Thank you, captain."
"Excellency?"
"For sparing my life."
"The Prince spared your life. I simply – reminded – him it was the right thing to do. I should warn you that I will not do so again if the King later decides you are to be executed."
"I shall not pretend it was an act of kindness then," replied Maleficent, hating herself for a moment of weakness.
"Only to the Princess, excellency." Chevalier urged the horse into a slow trot and held Maleficent firmly onto the horse, causing some discomfort but at least ensuring she kept her seat for the rest of the journey. Neither spoke as they approached the castle, but as the gates loomed above them he felt Maleficent tense in his arms and looked down.
"This was not a good idea," muttered Maleficent, looking around for a quick means of escape, despite the fact they were now in the courtyard. "Please let me down!"
"No – you're now officially a prisoner – albeit one in need of medical aid."
"Please – he'll kill me!"
"Most likely, yes. You did curse the princess."
"I should never have come back," she added nonsensically, her breath catching in her throat. Without warning, she pushed away from Chevalier and landed heavily on the cobblestones below. Before she could attempt to run however, a course of pain through her body brought her to her knees. "Stupid, stupid," she muttered. A group of guards had been waiting at the gate for her to arrive, specially arranged by Prince Phillip, and she watched now as the circle closed around her. On the castle steps, hurrying down to meet their children, were the royals themselves – King Hubert, and King Stefan and Queen Charlotte. Maleficent looked back at the encirclement around her and collapsed, sheer exhaustion draining the last of the fight from her. "So be it," she whispered, as she finally passed out of consciousness.