A/N: Prompt from clair-de-neptune; There's been a forest fire in the Moors caused by a great thunderstorm's multiple lightning strikes on some of the oldest and most magically powerful trees of the land. The Moors are in huge disarray. Worse, Maleficent's very life essence and power is rooted in those trees that now lay dead. Thanks! This didn't go in the direction I'd originally planned, but still... Here you go. Another random entry in my drafts I set out to finish! Trigger warning: character death.
Maleficent can feel the fire in her rib cage. She's crouched on the forest floor, palm pressed against the trunk of her tree, breath harsh as it leaves her body. With her eyes closed, it's easier to feel her tree and those around it dying.
Squawking, Diaval beats his wings violently in the air above her. Barely managing to lift her face, eyes barely opening into slits, she meets his panicked gaze.
Seeing something on her face as she slumps again, forehead painfully digging into the bark nearest her, legs weak and knees slamming to the unforgiving ground, her faithful servant warbles a sad, anxious song as he disappears into the distance.
Maleficent hopes he's heading towards her princess, her queen. Hopes he'll find her before her energy forever leaves.
Lightning had ripped through the Moors on the heels of the darkest storm clouds Maleficent had seen since Stefan had forsaken her. Blinking against the painful, drilling raindrops, wings wrapped tightly around herself, she'd been ill-prepared to deal with the natural attack. As much as she'd anticipated and prepared for assault from the human kingdom, even with Aurora's rule, she'd allowed herself to grow complacent. Lax. Practically powerless against natural offences.
Seeing the destruction rent around her after the storm's passage on the back of her eyelids, the feathers of her wings still hum, telling her the electricity's still crackling through the air. Answering heat dances under her fingers. It's painful, sparking, and as dark spots dance in front of her, her ears strain for any sounds of hoof beats.
Suddenly, bringing her out of unconsciousness, slick, cold fingers wrap around her face, a soaked figure pressing down against her side and pushing, pulling her into them. "Maleficent," the figure's ragged, tight voice croaks, "Mal. I'm here."
Painful against her lungs, Maleficent can feel the fire barely sputtering in her breast, trying to hold on. Limp in the arms around them, her wings barely tremble even as her hands weakly reach up to brush icy cheeks and equally icy trembling lips. She knows there's almost no pulse to the life sluggishly trying to fill her body. Everything's dying. "Dove?"
Diaval cries hoarsely near her, hopping to a stop near her legs. He tucks his head into her, cooing quietly.
"Yes. Your dove," Aurora brushes her lips along Maleficent's sharp cheekbone, hot tears splashing on Maleficent's bony hands, her hair like golden spun silk scraping along her horns. "Mal. Mal. Please. Don't go."
But Maleficent can only smile, forcing the pain inside her into a jerking, halting shake of her head. The magick that had filled the air in The Moors is fractured. Lost. Bereft. Without the original trees humming always inside her, she can feel that the energy needed to keep her alive is only damaging her kingdom. She can't let herself feed from it. Can't let herself cannibalize everyone and everything else who needs it. She exhales. "My precious beastie..."
Aurora kisses her fingers, a sob racking her body as she feels another tree fall to the fire raging through the forest behind them in the stiffening of her faerie's body. "Godmother..." her voice dies mid-word, the old nickname painful in her throat, "Please. I need you. I still need you."
Fluttering her eyes shut, Maleficent allows one last smile to cross her plump lips, her essence emptying even as Aurora kisses her directly, cold and frantic and wet with rain. She'd held on. Waited for just that contact. "You'll know what to do... You'll know how to... With everything I've taught you..." Her heart barely throbs in her chest. "Thank you. My Aurora. For always... For becoming so much more... For showing me..." Her mouth's so dry. Her power's so faint. Everything's fading. She can barely hear the voices of her people anymore. "For everything..." Are they saying their goodbyes? Is this their goodbyes? Is this Aurora's goodbye? Her goodbye?
It has to be. "For..." she tries one last time. "For..." Her fingers slacken and drop off Aurora's forever soft, beautiful face, one last kiss only fleeting on her fingertips.
Indeed, "For," Maleficent's voice echoes, stops, and never rises again, too late to stop the screams of a True Familiar and True Love breaking down and carving, heartbroken and echoing over The Moors and Man's Lands alike, their beloved faerie's body hollow.
Too late.
Too late.
Too late.