Once Bitten, Twice Shy

"No, I haven't heard a thing about Stefan, not since his death," Queen Aurora answered, looking into her godmother's topaz eyes. The two sat at a small table outside, sharing a light lunch with tea. The sun shone brightly behind a lightly cloudy sky, with a light breeze bringing the sweet scent of honeysuckle to gently wafting up their noses. Cook had prepared them two wild salads, consisting of mostly leafy greens with dashes of purple violets, white clover, and yellow dandelion. Aurora explained to him that Maleficent kept a strict vegetarian diet, one that she herself kept as well before becoming Queen.

"No rumors then? No whisperings in the halls?" Maleficent coaxed, trying to keep the conversation light. No sense in worrying the girl, especially if the old fairy's suggestion amounted to nothing more than a wild goose chase.

"I never took you as one for gossip," giggled Aurora, sipping her tea.

"Ah well, you know what they say about old habits," she said casually, referring to her history of spying on the vengeful king.

"Godmother, he's gone now," Aurora said, suddenly serious, her smile gone. This strong, beautiful woman saved her life on countless occasions throughout her childhood, even when Aurora's family had so devastatingly wronged her in the past. Aurora wanted to give her the world and more as thanks for being her surrogate mother, but for now the least she could guarantee her was a life free of her tormentor.

"You're safe," she told her, with as much sincerity as she could express.

"I know," Maleficent replied after a beat, smiling gently. Here was her little beastie, the one she pulled from cliff sides and tucked into bed, looking after her. How the tables turn, she thought.

The two quietly sipped their tea for another moment, enjoying the wonderful day, when Maleficent spoke again.

"So," she began, "how's running the country?"

Aurora rolled her eyes and groaned dramatically, setting her teacup down with a hard tink. Maleficent chuckled.

"I feel completely powerless," she replied, adding another eye roll to emphasize her annoyance. Maleficent narrowed her eyebrows. She imagined Aurora being overwhelmed with all the new power, not the other way around.

"Nobody listens to me. The court always overrules my ideas," she moaned before giving an example. "I told them I felt we should give compensation to the families of the men who died in battle over these past years, and they told me it would be far too costly. I suggested a tax break instead, and they shot me down."

"What about creating a feast day in their memory? Or a memorial statue?" suggested Maleficent, "that would certainly be cheaper."

"I suggested a day of remembrance, but they told me it would cut serf productivity." The fairy huffed and sipped her tea again as Aurora continued. "Did you know the Feast of the Royal Family is still on the calendar? How does that not cut into 'productivity', but a day of remembrance does?"

Maleficent shrugged as Aurora collapsed back into her chair and sulked.

"Careful beasty, your youth is showing," she chided playfully, watching the teenager pout. Just as she opened her mouth to offer another piece of advice, she became distracted by a small black object darting through the sky. The object nearly passed the castle before rounding back again and barreling straight towards them. Her staring caught the attention of Aurora, who followed her gaze to the newfound projectile as well.

Within moments, the black spot revealed itself as a raven, and in the same moment, it reached within a few feet of their table. The creature immediately shed its fowl form in a small explosion of feathers. From the cloud appeared a breathless and, frankly, grimy Diaval, crouched low on the ground from his abrupt landing. His hair appeared uncharacteristically disheveled, as did his once soft hands, now stained black with dirt under his nails from digging up Stefan's grave the night before.

After several heaving breaths, he managed to get out, "It's true!"

"What?" both of the women said in unison.

"What is he talking about?" Aurora asked, becoming excited. "Diaval?"

"Yes, what are you talking about?"

"What the fairy said *wheeze* its true!" The man lifted his hands from his knees and placed them on his former mistress' shoulders. She cringed at his touch, the act giving her flashbacks to 16 years ago, but did not pull away. His black eyes pierced her green ones as he rasped, "He's back."

Maleficent sat back down, stupefied, unable to move or say anything. Her gaze floated off to the side, looking at nothing in particular as her mind stood still. Aurora, on the other hand, still completely clueless, shouted questions.

"Who's back? Who are you talking about? Godmother, tell me!"

Maleficent's eyes flickered back to Diaval, concern and worries bubbling up like the effervescence in peasant ale. She didn't want to tell Aurora, in her blissful juvenescence about this, she wanted to keep her safe and ignorant to the horror. Diaval's frown deepened and he gave her a meaningful stare. Though he shared the same feelings as his former mistress, he knew better than to hide things from Aurora. She was the Queen now and she ought to know; Maleficent, he thought, should understand this as well.

Turning slowly, the once strong, stoic Queen of the Moors faced her godchild, her eyes hard. She clasped Aurora's small hands within her own, and the child's fervor calmed at once.

"I do not know how, and I do not know why, but your father has returned to the world of the living. I can only expect that he seeks revenge upon his killer."

"He doesn't have a killer; he fell," Aurora pleaded, "he just fell."

"I doubt he sees it that way."

Diaval approached the two women slowly, wringing his hands. He always seemed to be the bearer of bad news. At least he was in character. Black bird, black news.

"I don't want to frighten you, Aurora, but," he paused, casting his gaze to the pebbly dirt before meeting the young Queen's eyes once again, "he wants the Kingdom back as well."

Aurora's face sunk further as her fears were confirmed. Part of her entertained the silly notion that he would avoid his former life, but really she knew there was no point in rising from the dead if you're not going to enact revenge upon your enemies. The fairy felt Aurora's fingers tremble within her grasp.

"Tell us what you've heard," commanded Maleficent to Diaval, never taking her eyes of the girl in front of her.

"Only that Stefan is back," he answered, "He does not look like himself; he wears the body of another, but he has the same name, the same voice, and the same memories as the Stefan we know. He was with a woman too, Ravenna, a Queen in her own right. She's helping him reclaim his throne."

"How?"

"I-I don't know."

"Is that all?"

"Yes mistress."

Maleficent stood straighter, regaining some of her former regality. She let go of Aurora's hands and turned to face her companion.

"I must tell the rest of the Moorfolk. You," she said, casting her gaze to Diaval, " you will stay here with Aurora; see to it that she is cared for and protected."

"Yes, mistress," he replied casting his gaze downward.

"Diaval," she chided.

"Yes… Maleficent."

She gave him a tight smile and lifted her hand awkwardly, as if to touch him, but then drew back, thinking better of it.

"I trust you," she whispered.

With that, she took a few steps away before unfurling her wings and launching herself into the air. Diaval watched for a moment as she gracefully soared high overhead, becoming smaller and smaller until she reached the trees of the Moors and disappeared into them entirely. Then, he turned to the silent Queen.

"Aurora?" She didn't reply. He took a step towards her. "Aurora?"

"Tell me it's not true," she said, her voice wavering. "Tell me he hasn't come back."

"Aurora I—"

"Tell me that monster has not returned!"

"I can't," he said, feeling just as broken as her voice. Her eyes scrunched up tighter, and tears began to well up. He rushed to her and gathered her in his chest.

"Shh," he soothed, "It will be alright, shh".

He felt her arms wrap around him and clutch his coat just as he wrapped his own arms around her heaving shoulders. He remembered being in this exact same position not two days ago and wondered if his embrace would ever be more than a post to cry on. He rubbed his large, rough hands in gentle, circular motions over her back to further sooth her. Glancing down, he finally noticed the filthy condition of his hands, and how they were forming ugly brown smears on her sky blue gown. He would never be clean enough to touch her.

Realizing his mistake, he withdrew his embrace and pushed gently on her shoulders to separate them, only to have her hold on steadfast.

"Please don't let go Diaval, not right now, not yet." She mumbled beneath the worn fabric of his shirt.

"You think I would leave you?" he replied, "not a chance. I just don't want the whole kingdom to see you like this. Why don't we go inside so you can have a good cry in the privacy of your own room?"

"B-but the staff and t-the court will see me in the halls," she mumbled.

"I know another way."

Leading her to the back of the castle near the servant's quarters, Diaval opened a high window and helped the Queen through in a not-so-ladylike fashion. They travelled up a set of cobwebbed spiral stairs that opened into a room haphazardly strew with hammocks.

"The barracks of the iron workers, courtesy of King Stefan."

He heard her sniffle and realized his mistake. He quickly pulled her across the room before she could resume crying and opened another door. This one revealed a hallway, leading to more stairs, and finally the hall that led to her room.

Once inside, Diaval shut and latched the wooden door, allowing Aurora to collapse on her bed. She wriggled for a moment, and then stood back up.

"Diaval," she said, "I'm going to need your help with this."

"What?" he asked, his eyes bugging slightly as he watched her unlace the front of her dress. She pulled off the outer shell to reveal a cream colored, tightly laced corset underneath.

"Please, " she said, as she contorted her arms behind her back to begin pulling on strings.

"Oh, em, right," he mumbled before walking over to her and attempting to loosen the strings. She pulled her shining locks over one shoulder, giving him better access to the laces, while also revealing a pale patch of bare skin on the back of her neck. Diaval glanced at it, momentarily distracted. A brief image flashed in his head where his lips pressed on that triangle of skin, but he quickly waved it away. He moved his eyes downwards, concentrating on the strings.

When the corset finally became loose enough, Diaval helped Aurora lift it over her head, allowing her to toss it heavily on the floor. She breathed deeply for the first time in hours.

"I feel so much better now," she mumbled, "feel like I could run miles."

"Best to not, lest you want the kingdom to think madness runs in the royal family's blood."

Diaval bit his tongue immediately. He had his foot so far down his throat at this point he wondered if he would ever walk correctly again. He noticed Aurora smiled, but her eyes said differently. She leapt onto her bed, facedown.

"How did he come back, Diaval?"

He took a seat on the large wooden chest at the end of her bed and folded his hands, contemplating his answer.

"Honestly, I don't know. He didn't look like himself, he was in another man's body, some large brutish blonde, but he still acted and sounded like Stefan. The woman he was with too, she looked like someone who knew what she was doing. She must have helped bring him back."

"Yes, Ravenna was it? I remember the court speaking about someone by that name. They said that she was at war with another kingdom, that if she won she would certainly come here next."

"You don't seem too interested in a possible threat to your country." Aurora groaned and flipped over on her back, lying starfish in the middle of her bed.

"I thought it was all poppycock," she protested, becoming defensive. "The court making up lies to scare me out of my throne. I never thought it could be true. Besides, I've never heard of this 'Ravenna' woman before. If she really was so all-powerful, I think we would have heard about her before. "

"Maleficent's powerful, and you never heard of her before this year." The girl frowned.

"Touché."

The two stayed like that for a moment, Aurora in her underdress, breathing deeply as she stared at her burgundy canopy, and Diaval sitting a few feet away, gazing upon her as an aesthete does a painting. Eventually, even Diaval realized that social customs dictated a break in the silence.

"I take it you've finished crying?" he asked, wondering if that was an inappropriate thing to say.

"I haven't decided yet," she replied, remembering the warmth his body offered, how indescribably good it felt to be within his arms. She wondered if his arms specifically made her feel this way, or if any person with a tight enough grip could offer the same feeling.

"Well, you let me know if you need me again," he said, regretting the words. Did they connote too much? Did it label him as simply an object to cry on? Did it make him sound irritated? He certainly wasn't irritated; he would take the opportunity to embrace her in a heartbeat, if only on better circumstances. Why was he overthinking this?

I need you, she nearly said. The words had bubbled straight from her heart to her mouth without even acknowledging her head. The audacity. Thank heavens her lips had the common sense to stay shut.

They again elapsed into silence, but Diaval did not know what to say to break it. Frankly, he found contentment in just being with her, watching her rest. But, the longer he gazed at her, so peaceful and innocent in her loose, cream white gown, the more his thoughts began to stray to places they shouldn't. He imagined himself lying next to her on that great bed, at first just clasping each other's hand, chaste enough; then, he imagined her clinging to his side, one leg hiked up over his, his pale arm wrapped around her delicate shoulders; his vision wavered and all of the sudden he was on top of her, one hand supporting himself with the other cupping her cheek, guiding her lips on his −

He stood up abruptly from the chest and walked to her vanity, keeping his head down to avoid seeing her reflection in the large, silver mirror. He picked up one of her silver utensils, a paintbrush-looking thing, with bristles of a whitish-yellow hue. He turned it over in his hands, fascinated with its incredible shine.

"It's for make-up," Aurora explained, smiling as she observed his fascination.

"Hmm," Diaval answered, not really listening. "Wait, what?"

"For make-up, to make me paler and cover up blemishes."

"Why would you need to be paler? You look beautiful the way you are."

Aurora blushed. Every day, her handmaidens and servants, the greasy members of the court, and her betrothed, Prince Phillip, they all called her beautiful. One of the consequences of the Gift of Beauty, she presumed. But for some reason, when Diaval said it, it meant more. He knew her before she became royalty and held the power of two kingdoms, before she wore richly colored silks and velvets, and before she had an entire staff dedicated to her adornment. He thought her beautiful at her most raw, just her with no powders or jewels to speak of.

She flipped back onto her stomach and smiled at him. He felt himself blush, and quickly turned so she wouldn't see. He messed with her utensils once more, waiting for the redness to fade. He plucked a squat cylindrical dish from a stack of other, similar cylinders.

"And what is this?" he asked, showing it to her.

"It's for the lips," she explained, getting up and reaching out for it. He passed her the container, and she deftly popped the lid off, revealing the strawberry colored grease inside. She dabbed her little finger in the jar and began applying it. "It gives them color. Makes them soft."

She smiled at him, her lips a delicious ladybug red, like Maleficent's, but less severe and more… sensual. They certainly did look soft. He wondered…

"Do you mind if I get a glass of water?" he asked suddenly. He needed to get away, to think about how he would pass the time without becoming… distracted.

"Um, no, by all means," she answered, taken aback by his random request.

He quickly bolted out the door with a fleeting, "I'll be right back", thrown in her direction.

Left alone once again, she huffed loudly before flopping back on her bed.