Chapter Text
I.
Being the protector of the moors again, Maleficent rediscovers, is no easy task.
It had been easy to raise a wall of thorns and keep out trespassers by brute sorcery. It is not so easy a task to keep the moors safe from unwanted intruders, without disturbing the fragile peace forged with the humans of Aurora’s kingdom.
Where she had dealt with magical threats with force before, she must now compromise, so that any ire against the moors may not be misdirected against the neighbouring human kingdom. Where she had thrown out human intruders without a second thought for their safety, now they must be neatly carted off the face the Queen’s justice, lest there be resentment among the humans about who it was that really ruled them. Rumours of magical threats must be thoroughly examined, and meetings with dignitaries from other magical kingdoms must be attended ("without turning the visiting Ambassador's head into a pumpkin just because he looked at you wrong." Diaval reminds her sternly.)
All of it requires feats of diplomacy that leave Maleficent quite exhausted, and keep her away from home almost constantly, sometimes for months on end.
On the first year of Aurora’s reign, it pains Maleficent to keep away from Aurora for so long; to be constantly in terror that something might happen to her beastie, who she has come to love more than she thought she could love anyone ever again.
But Maleficent is willing to do what it takes to keep the moors and Aurora’s kingdoms safe.
Because, if it would ensure the safety of her beastie and her rule, surely a few journeys and compromises are nothing.
II.
“It is so beautiful” Aurora says contentedly for possibly the hundredth time that day, looking up at the midsummer sun going down. It is the summer of her second reign and perhaps it is her long absence, but everything seems bright and new; the wood elves sing softer, the water tastes sweeter and even the very air seems lighter.
“You’ve said that about everything you’ve seen today.” Maleficent replies, a slight hint of teasing in her voice. She turns to the raven. “Diaval, I think our young queen might be getting a little lightheaded from all this sun.”
Her teasing earns her a caw of admonishment from Diaval, and a gentle shove from Aurora.
“It’s not my fault everything here is so lovely!” Aurora says, blushing slightly.
Aurora loves summer. Summer is when she is given leave from her duties to join the fairy folk in their mid summers indulgences. Summer is when she can run free through the moors, free of any thoughts of meetings to be attended, or dignitaries to placate.
“You have no idea how good it feels to be back in the moors.” Aurora says finally, giving a small sigh.
Aurora loves the moors too, in all their wild abandon.
Her human kingdom is full of turmoil even in times of peace, with courtiers maneuvering for power and her subject restless in their discontent. They ask, ask, ask. For power, for wealth, for pardons, for mercy, for protection. The requests are endless and threaten to overwhelm Aurora with the sheer number of them sometimes.
“It’s…hard, sometimes.” Aurora says, and her voice is small, barely audible over the swaying of grass. “Rulings…takes a lot out of you.”
The moors are already safe under the protection of Maleficent, and need no ruler to guide them in their natural path. They ask for nothing of Aurora, save that she love them.
“Sometimes it’s a little hard to bear everything.” Aurora continues, emboldened by Maleficent’s attentive silence.
“Come here, little beastie.” Maleficent takes her by the shoulders and holds her close, her wings enfolding them involuntarily. “If it ever gets too hard, remember that you will always have a home here.” Her words are underscored by Diaval’s soft cawing from above.
Lying here, safe in Maleficent’s arms, the offer is tempting, to leave the human kingdom to its disorder and run away to the moors. To take Maleficent up on her offer right now, and never have to return to her palace of iron and stone.
“I don’t think queens can just run away from their kingdoms, fairy godmother.” Aurora murmurs instead. “But thank you.”
Her father had ruined the human kingdom with his greed and envy. The least she can do is put it to rights again.
“I think a queen can do as she likes, beastie.”Maleficent must have recognized the gentle refusal in Aurora’s replying shrug, for she says again, softly. “The moors will never turn you away, Aurora. However you decide, please remember that.”
“I know you won’t turn me away.” Aurora smiles, lulled into contentment by the steady beating of Maleficent’s wings around her.
Maleficent doesn’t ask Aurora for anything at all, but the queen loves her regardless, with all the love her young heart can hold.
III.
It does not escape Maleficent’s notice that the queen who returns to the moors when the human kingdom can spare her, is a mere shadow of the princess who had left two years ago. The responsibilities of ruling are starting to leave their marks on Aurora; they live in the shadows under her eyes and in the way the girl clings to Maleficent whenever they have a chance to meet.
“I don’t understand why she cares about those ungrateful fools.” Maleficent grumbles to Diaval one day, as she watches Aurora ride away from the moors, flanked by her personal guard.
“Yes, why can’t we all putter about the moors and go pranking the wood elves like you did in your youth?” Diaval asks sardonically, settling himself on a nearby rock.
“Not my fault they were too slow.” Maleficent says, flicking a nutshell at him for that comment.
Diaval rolls his eyes. “God forbid we can’t all be the terror on wings that you were.”
“Why, thank you.” Maleficent preens, and then goes back to frowning when the mention of wings reminds her of Aurora’s departure. “I don’t see why she has to leave with them. I’d planned to fly her back myself.” She had been looking forward to a restful flight in the cool night, and perhaps a little fun teasing her little beastie, who is still quite timid about flying.
“Didn’t want to appear too tied to the fairy kingdom, I expect.” Diaval says. “There’s already grumbling among the humans that she visits too often with the fairies. Can’t expect they’d be too pleased to see her being carted back and forth from the palace by one.”
“Loathsome, suspicious creatures.”
“Does that include Aurora, or are you making a special exception?” Diaval inquires, disapproval clear in his voice.
“You know what I mean.” Maleficent huffs. “I just don’t understand why she feels so strongly about this whole queen affair.” She knows she’s being unfair, but she can’t help but feel bitter about the pleading look on Aurora’s face as she had refused Maleficent’s offer to fly her home, eyes silently begging her to understand.
“You protect the moors, she protects her kingdoms.” Diaval shrugs. “I don’t see a difference.”
“I protect the moors because I love them.” Maleficent argues. “They have always been my home. Aurora didn’t even set foot in the palace until she was sixteen!”
“Humans don’t feel the way you and I do.” Diaval looks away from Maleficent and up at the sky. “They care about things like duty. Aurora is a queen, so she feels a responsibility to rule her people well.”
Duty? Responsibility? Maleficent makes a face. “Disgusting concepts.”
Diaval sighs exasperatedly. “Humans need concepts. It helps them make sense of a senseless world. Maleficent, I swear, for an intelligent woman, you are quite dense when it comes to human nature.”
She almost turns him into a bloody wolf again for that.
IV.
By the third year of Aurora’s reign, it becomes clear that the young princess has more aptitude for ruling than her lord father ever did, charming the smallfolk with effortless grace, and keeping an iron rein on her courtiers, both through her own wiles and through Diaval and Maleficent’s counsel.
It is with a lighter heart that Maleficent journeys that year to find the eastern prince who has found a lamp worth more than any treasure of gold or silver. She comes back with neither lamp nor prince, but instead an agreement of trade between his kingdom and Aurora’s, and is pleased to find the young queen's reign still secure, and the moors safe under Diaval’s watchful eyes.
She always drops by the palace on her journey back, both to give Aurora a report of her findings and for a chance to see the girl again, before flying back to the shade and safety of her beloved moors, and to the sarcastic but concerned remarks of her faithful raven companion.
V.
“So I told him that I understood that it makes no sense for a kingdom of legend to suddenly rise up from under the water.” Maleficent recounts to Aurora, as they sit under the shade of the old tree. “But I couldn’t very well ask it to go back down now that it was up there, could I?”
Aurora laughs, having heard the tale quite a few times already, but enjoying Maleficent’s cantankerous retelling of it.
“I suppose he didn’t like that.”
“Well, he liked it rather better when he found out that there were large deposits of precious crystal on the island, just waiting to be mined by some ‘worthy adventurer’, as he put it.” Maleficent rolls her eyes. “Humans.”
“As you say, godmother.” Aurora says the words casually, and she has said them many times before, yet Maleficent immediately feels the wrongness of them.
“Aurora,” she begins, and then comes to a stop, unsure of how to proceed. There is no delicate way to approach this matter that has been weighing in her mind for a little while now. “Erm...perhaps it is time for you to stop calling me that, don’t you think?”
Aurora seems a little put out by that. “And why not, fairy godmother?”
She can’t really explain why, except that recently it seems to upset her whenever Aurora calls her godmother. The best reason she has been able to come up with is that the term fairy godmother has been traditionally reserved for sorceresses of quite...advanced age, and regardless of that, such a career choice had not been something the naturally solitary Maleficent had ever considered to fit her.
“It... doesn’t sound quite right for a queen to be calling an old fairy from the moors her godmother, Aurora.” Well, that is the truth, if a somewhat twisted one.
“You’re not old, and I thought queens could do as they want.” Aurora drily echoes Maleficent’s earlier words, and not for the first time, the fairy curses Aurora’s treacherous memory for details.
“Aurora…" she tries, and somewhat succeeds, in injecting a threatening inflection to her tone.
“It’s rather a long name, I’m not sure I can remember it all that well,” is the teasing reply she gets from Aurora in return for her trouble. “Maybe I can call you Mal?”
“Only if you wish to be in a coffin six feet under right afterwards,” says a snide voice to their left.
Maleficent doesn’t need to look around to know that Diaval would be perched halfway up the tree they were resting on. Even in human form, he has some peculiarly birdlike habits.
“Oh, it’s you.” She says, as Aurora offers Diaval a considerably warmer welcome, complete with a wave.
“Loving as ever.” Diaval sighs, coming down and balancing himself in a half-crouch against a nearby rock. “Isn’t she so sweet, Aurora?”
Maleficent leans into the warmness of Aurora’s body against hers, and closes her eyes, letting their casually teasing conversation wash over her without quite listening. As she drifts off, she is vaguely conscious of Aurora’s hand coming up to rest against her head, and the cool touch of fingertips ghosting over her horns. Maleficent only smiles faintly at this familiar touch, as ever indulgent of Aurora’s fascination with the external manifestations of her fairy nature.
“…is that not so, fairy godmo- Maleficent?” The name sounds dissonantly foreign in Aurora’s voice, and that wakes Maleficent from her light slumber more than the actual words.
“Hmm?” she blinks a little, coming back to the present.
“Diaval asked why we weren’t taking a dip in the river if it was so hot, and I told him you don’t like get your wings wet, is that not so?”
“Indeed.” Diaval says, and there is something new in his voice, that makes Maleficent’s eyes narrow. Her head swivels around to look at him, only to sees his eyes flickering between Aurora’s hand curled around her horns, and Maleficent’s own head resting on the queen’s shoulders.
He looks back at her then, a slight frown creasing his face. Maleficent looks away immediately, head casually lifting away from Aurora’s shoulders.
“Yes,” she mutters in reply, turning slightly away from the both of them. “I prefer not to drag myself through the water unless I must. I don’t see why you humans are so fond of doing that.”
The sound of Aurora laughing indulgently at that doesn’t quite take the edge off her discomfort. She can’t fathom why Diaval’s eyes shine with the light of some new knowledge, or why noticing this discomfits her so.
VI.
It is the fifth year since Queen Aurora ascended to the throne, and Maleficent is far away in the northern borders of the Moors, inspecting their northernmost stronghold, when news of the human intruders reaches her on raven wings.
It seems a few humans took to heart the old wives’ tales of gold and jewels to be found in the moors, and had decided to take them by force, regardless of the strict laws enacted by Aurora against entering the moor.
“Weapons!” Diaval manages to gasp out in his human form, as Maleficent flies them both back at breakneck speed to the southern borders between her moors and Aurora’s kingdom. “Iron and fire with them!” He chokes on his words then, as the passing wind takes away his breath.
It is easy to tell where the disturbances in the moors is when Maleficent descends, for there is smoke and loud noises coming from near the river.
Maleficent strides ahead in the direction of the clearing, ignoring Diaval’s disgruntled mutters about the rough journey.
And then stops abruptly.
Neatly wrapped up on the ground at her feet are three human soldiers, their weapons piled up neatly near them. Maleficent looks up.
Aurora is there, flanked by a bevy of human knights. Her garb shines gold and red, miraculously untouched by the dirt of the moors. It irritates Maleficent. Aurora smiles at her, a perfect smile, and for some reason, that irritates Maleficent too.
“And why are we all assembled here on this fine day?” she asks, forcing her voice to be calm and her breaths even. “Are we all welcome to this party, or is it invitation only?”
“My soldiers rode after them the moment I heard word of this plan, Maleficent.” Aurora begins without preamble. “As you can see, we arrived in time to disarm them before they could inflict any damage. I cannot begin to apologize for their actions, Maleficent, but believe me when I say their punishment will be harsh, and well-deserved.”
“Their punishment?” Maleficent cannot help her eyebrows from rising in disbelief. “Their punishment will be decided by me.”
“I am their Queen, for better or for worse.” Aurora says and there is an implacability in her voice that brings up Maleficent short. “Will you undermine my authority, right in front of me?”
“These humans are unwelcome in our moors Aurora.” Maleficent moves forward and pitches her voice low, so as not to reach the ear of Aurora’s guard.
“These humans,” Aurora imitates her tone, drawing herself up. “are my people, now. I am one of them.”
She has grown in their days apart, Maleficent realizes with a start. She is used to looming over her opponents, but the girl who once had to stretch to reach her waist, is now a woman that meets her eye to eye, and the determination in her eyes is uncompromising.
“Am I unwelcome here too, then?” Aurora continues, and it takes Maleficent a moment to follow the young queen’s train of thought, so rattled by the new observation is she.
“The moors will never turn you away, Queen Aurora.” Maleficent reminds her softly.
Aurora looks away at that, somewhat shamefaced, but her reply still comes back strong and sure. “The moors have you and Diaval to watch over them. The humans have only me.”
“Aurora.” Maleficent hisses, and is only half-disappointed when the woman before her doesn’t cower. “These human were in my kingdom, with weapons designed to hurt my people!”
“I know and they will be punished for it, by me, for this is my kingdom too, and I haven’t forgotten.” Aurora’s voice trembles. Just for second, the girl of Maleficent’s memory stands before her, before the years of ruling assemble themselves back into the regal face of the queen of fairies and humans alike. “I know you don’t approve, but please understand.”
“I don’t think it matters to you if I approve or not.” Maleficent shoots back drily. She wishes she can take back the words the instant she says them, for the hurt that flashes across Aurora’s face is unbearable.
“Aurora-“ she begins, reaching out for the girl, who only moves away from her slightly, and stands up tall and straight.
“Yes.” Aurora says flatly. “Yes, I believe it does not. The human intruders are of my kingdom and by rights, they fall under the Queen’s Justice.”
There is a silence, as two implacable wills meet. Then the human breaks it, by laying a placating hand on Maleficent’s own.
“Would you deny me my birthright, the one you fought to return to me?” Aurora asks softly.
Maleficent looks down. The part of her arm where Aurora touched her seems to burn, as if the woman in front of her was made of steel and fire, instead of flesh and bone.
Sweet Aurora, I’ve never been able to deny you anything.
And so it passes that day that the protector of the moors bows in deference to the human queen, and lets the human intruders leave her realm unharmed.
And Maleficent is made uncomfortably aware of something taking root in the place in her heart where she thought nothing could grow again.
VII.
A few months later, whispers begin to reach the moor of a new undertaking by the human queen, something that is causing dissent within the soldiers and grumbling among the queen’s advisors.
The rumours intrigue Maleficent, but before long she is called away to deal with a trouble brewing near the western borders, where a renegade fairy seems to have taken up the unfortunate of habit of ensorcelling innocent wolves into ambushing human travelers.
By the time Maleficent returns home, the deed is done, and she can only stand and stare in wonder.
It stands at the edges of the human kingdom, an immense arch made of iron encased safely in wood; on one side showing a human with a sword outstretched to the sky, met on the other side by a statue of a fairy with cheekbones as sharp as glass, holding out a staff of twined vine.
There are public proclamations issued to every corner of the kingdom of what the arch symbolizes, but Maleficent receives a private note all of her own, waiting at her home and carried by the queen’s own three fairy counselors.
From the sword and shield of every soldier who would raise arms against you. From the arms born by every human intruder who crossed into the moors with the intention of violence. My fairy “aunts” have told me that iron on doorways was used in olden days to ward out the fair folk from human homes. Let this doorway be used, then, not to burn fairies, but to let them pass through into the human kingdom, welcome and unharmed.
With love and heartfelt apologies for my overbearance,
Aurora
As far as apologies go, it is magnificent. Maleficent flies to Aurora’s castle immediately to respond in person to the letter, and the thing that seems to be growing in her heart beats stronger every time she looks towards the arch.
VIII.
“Next time we go flying.” Aurora gasps as they land. “Remind me not to eat so heavily beforehand.”
“I can’t fathom,” Maleficent says, “Why on earth you insist on flying with me, when you hate it so.”
Maleficent knows that Aurora is not particularly fond of flying. She knows it from the way the queen clings to her whenever Maleficent takes her flying, and by the way Aurora prefers to either bury her face in Maleficent’s chest, or babble incessantly while staring at the fairy, rather than look down and take in the scenery around her.
“Gives me a chance to spend some time with you, doesn’t it?” Aurora shakes the dust off her regal cape before turning back to smile at Maleficent. “I get little enough of that as is, what with you flying away to deal with some magical trouble or other every few weeks.”
Maleficent looks away from Aurora then, and thinks of a boy with solemn eyes and overgrown hair, who had thrown away a coveted ring, rather than burn her with it.
Stefan had been fond of flying. His eyes had been full of wonder at the sight laid out below him, and Maleficent had loved him for it, had loved to see him glancing about the moors with boyish wonder, seeing so much beauty in the place she called home. And when she had flown him to the highest of the floating cliffs, she had loved him even more, for he had gasped out loud at the wondrous sight of the human castle framed by the shining trees of the moors.
Too late had she realized the greed and ambition that lay behind that love.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Aurora whispers, breaking into her thoughts. "You look far away."
“Just…old memories.” Maleficent replies, looking back at Aurora.
She is prepared for the look of heartbreak that comes over Aurora’s face every time Maleficent mentions the old hurt.
“Come here.” Aurora says softly, patting the ground next to her. Maleficent obliges by walking over and sitting down in the spot.
She is not prepared for the soft hands that brush away stray hair from face, or the warm breath of Aurora as she moves closer and pull Maleficent into a hug. “I am so sorry, Maleficent. I don’t know what to say.”
Maleficent’s first instinct is sheer panic at the feeling that Aurora’s hands moving over her face seems to incite in her. Lately, it seems to happen whenever Aurora touches her, something that had never been a problem before.
Her next instinct is to shrug off the hands, and she almost does, until her brain catches up to the fact that the feel of them is undeniably soothing and warm against her skin.
“Well, it seems you don’t have to say anything at all.” She breathes, closing her eyes as Aurora’s hands continue their exploration.
There is silence for a time, as Aurora idly thumbs over her cheekbones, and Maleficent listens to the far-off sounds of the moors’ inhabitants in yet another of their friendly bouts of mudslinging.
“Must you fly off tomorrow?” Aurora asks her, looking more beautiful than ever bathed in moonlight.
“Of course I must.” Maleficent replies. “Who else can stop the wicked witch of the waste from terrorizing the poor defenseless humans of the saltshore kingdom?”
“Do you think she is truly a witch?” Aurora asks curiously.
“In truth?” Maleficent rolls her eyes. “She is probably neither wicked nor a witch, but you know how humans are prone to exaggeration and overreaction.”
“Yes, a trait unknown to any fairy I can think of.” Aurora murmurs, looking quite innocent when Maleficent squints at her in suspicion.
“I am curious to know how she got such a name for herself, though.” Maleficent continues, getting a little lost in her contemplation. “The rumours are that her skin is quite uncommon for a human, and reacts very unusually to moisture.”
“That must make flying on the broomstick that she no doubt owns quite the trial then, on stormy nights.”
Maleficent chuckles at that. “You could come find that out for yourself, if you wish.”
“You know I cannot” Aurora sighs, “The tales of your journeys are enchanting, but not enough to stop me from wishing you won’t go away for so long.”
“It keeps your kingdoms safe, my queen.” Maleficent drawls out the last two words, putting a whole new level of sarcasm into them that makes Aurora eyes narrow.
“And who will keep you safe, my fairy?” Aurora asks, in kind. Her face creases into genuine worry as she continues. “Am I to keep fretting every time you go away, that you might never come back?”
“Why, are you that starved for company?” Maleficent means the question lightly, and is not prepared for Aurora sighing in melancholy.
“Diaval is busy courting his lady love, and how am I supposed to keep myself entertained if the two people closest to me don’t have time for me anymore?”
“I’m sure your ladies in waiting keep you entertained well enough while I’m away, and what about that Prince… Phillip?” Maleficent cannot help but inquire. Now there is a fellow that can't seem to get enough of Aurora, the last time she checked.
“Phillip?” Aurora frowns. “He seems rather busy taking over for his ailing father just now.”
Come to think of it, Maleficent hasn’t seen him hanging around too often recently.
“And in any case,” Aurora continues “He’s nice enough, but he’s not you.”
And there is it again, Maleficent thinks. How Aurora can make her heart soar with a few simple words, she doesn’t know, but the human is damnably good at it.
“I’ll always come back to you, Aurora.” The words fall easily from Maleficent’s lips. Words have always been easy for her, when it comes to Aurora.
“Sweet-talker.” Aurora murmurs, but she is smiling.
“Yes, I’ve been told I’m rather good at that.” Maleficent replies with a straight face, and is gratified by the sight of the smile broadening into a wide grin.
“You’ve always been sweet to me.” Aurora says, looking into her eyes in the way that has recently started to steal away Maleficent’s breath with the intensity of it.
Maleficent looks away.
IX.
The wind is cool as it rushes against her skin, and feel of it ruffling her feathers as it passes, is as enchanting as it has always been. It is getting into wee hours, and Maleficent knows she must press on soon, to reach the seaside kingdom where a young boy seems to have found a breed of dragons long thought to be extinct.
She takes a few moment to swoop through the clouds anyway, entranced by their glow in the moonlight.
It will soon be the seventh year of Aurora’s reign, and Maleficent has begun to be quite grateful for the chance of these long journeys away from home.
For her little beast has grown into quite the beauty, and it hurts Maleficent to look at her sometimes.
X.
When Maleficent returns from her trip to the seaside kingdom, she drops by Aurora’s palace before heading home, as usual. Aurora’s three fairy counselors are having a not-so-relaxing picnic at sunset on the castle rooftops when she lands, so she descends quietly and steps behind a gargoyle.
She listens to their inane arguing for all but five seconds before her mischievous nature gets the best of her. A few wiggles of her hand have Thistlewit and Flittle fighting over which of them threw the honeyflower at the other, with Knotgrass vainly trying to break up the fight. Maleficent laughs quietly to herself, and modifies the spell to keep pelting the fairies with food.
“I do wish you would not trouble my aunts so.” Says an amused voice behind her, and Maleficent cringes as a child caught stealing a sweet would.
Aurora - who is getting stealthier each day, damn her – is standing behind her, wearing a frown that is trying not to turn into a smile.
“Yes” Maleficent sighs theatrically and flicks away the enchantment. “It is cruel, I know.” She smirks.
“Indeed.” Aurora says, turning up her nose comically. “Especially when you prank them without me around to watch.”
“Mischievous little beastie.” Maleficent murmurs, her smug smile widening as Aurora makes a face at her.
“Come on.” Aurora tugs on her hand. “Come away on a walk with me, before they notice us.” Maleficent obliges, flying them down to the garden that Aurora has created in imitation of the moors. It is a work in progress – every time she visits, Maleficent sees something new here that reminds her of home.
“Quite extensive.” She motions to the lake that is now bubbling its way down the garden.
““I had it installed only a few months ago.” Aurora says. “It took a fortune to reroute a path of the main tributary, but the textile industry has been doing rather well since I revoked Father’s ban on spindles, and I thought it best not to leave the extra revenue languish around for generations without being put to good use.”
Maleficent makes a noncommittal noise. Aurora’s casual mention of Stefan makes her chest tighten momentarily, as if in anticipation of hurt from a fading wound.
“Well, what do you think?” Aurora looks at her expectantly, waving a hand over the shining lake.
“It's alright.” Maleficent acknowledges. This garden is not the moors, but she certainly feels more comfortable here, than in any other part of the castle.
“I’m glad you find it…’alright’.” Aurora says drily. Maleficent arches an eyebrow in return and the queen’s smiles widens.
“I really am glad you like it.” Aurora says. “I built it for you. Perhaps you’ll visit me more often, if you enjoy my palace a little more.”
It is the wistfulness in her voice that undoes Maleficent, and has her scrambling for words to assuage her guilt.
“I would visit you more if that’s what you want, Aurora.” She says hurriedly.
“I know that it’s …selfish of me, to want you with me so much.” Aurora says. Her hands are twisting her sleeves into knots, Maleficent notices absently. “I know you have things to do, places to be and-“
The thing in Maleficent’s heart is growing again, pulsing unbearably as she listens to Aurora’s hesitant words. She thinks maybe this is a bad idea, this walk is a bad idea, this entire journey is just the latest in a whole slew of bad ideas.
“-and anyway, how was the wicked witch?” Aurora finishes, jerking Maleficent back from her thoughts.
“Not as wicked as I hoped, unfortunately, but a witch at least.” She says, not quite sensible of what she’s saying.
Aurora smiles at Maleficent’s poor jest, and it is so beautiful, this whole night is so beautiful, and she is so beautiful-
“You are so beautiful.” This is a mistake. Maleficent realizes that the moment the words leave her mouth, realizes it anew as Aurora smiles again, a light blush darkening her cheeks.
“Thank you.” She whispers back in the quiet of the night, eyes crinkling. “Maleficent.”
The name sounds sweeter and more familiar each time Aurora says it and perhaps that is why Maleficent makes the second mistake. She draws the queen closer to her, nestling Aurora’s head against her shoulder blades.
“You’re always welcome, Aurora.” Maleficent cannot resist stroking her hair as she replies. She thinks she might be too far gone to care.
“You’re too good to me.” Aurora whispers, eyes closing in contented bliss.
Maleficent’s hands still in her hair. She pulls them away slowly, feeling that odd feeling of guilt in her chest again, the one that only Aurora seems to be able to conjure up.
What is she thinking, being so thoughtless to the only human who had looked at her face and seen something worthy of loving there?
“What is it?” Aurora asks, concerned.
I am beyond despicable.
“Good to you? I wish I could be better, beastie.”
She shifts to put some respectable distance between them, too focused on the turmoil in her heart to see the hurt that flashes across Aurora’s face.
XI.
Maleficent thinks she has learned something of the ways that humans love, from Stefan and Aurora.
She understands there are rules to their love, some which are meant to be broken, and some which are absolutely not.
Maleficent thinks of Aurora’s face smiling brightly at her, of her hair as its glints in the sunlight, of her face as implacable as marble when she is holding court.
She thinks of the red, red lips of her beautiful beastie, and she fears she may be treading quite heavily over the latter of those laws.
XII.
“So this is your great trouble?” Diaval asks laconically, during her next visit to his nest. “That you love Aurora? My, this is shocking news.”
“Keep talking.” Maleficent threatens, “And I’ll turn you into a worm and your hatchlings will eat you up before you can cry ‘wolf’.”
“The girl …no, the woman loves you, Maleficent.” Diaval says, waving aside the threat with a roll of his eyes.
“Of course she does!” Maleficent can't but snap back at him, irked by his lack of concern. “Don’t you think I know that?”
Maleficent is not blind. She remembers that way Aurora loves to touch her wings, how sometimes when Maleficent falls asleep in moors, lulled by their peacefulness, she wakes up to Aurora idly stroking her horns, or thumbing over her cheekbones.
“I was the first thing close to a human that she knew, besides those bothersome fairies.” Maleficent mutters. “Of course she loves me, in her innocent, human way. Don’t you see any problems with that?”
Stefan had loved her wings too. Loved them enough to chop them off and keep them all for himself.
“There you go again, with your blind distrust for human feelings.” Diaval says softly. “Don’t discount Aurora’s feelings so easily, Maleficent.”
Maleficent shakes her head. There’s a part of her that knows she could have Aurora, if she tries, in the way that she hungers for. Could whisper the right words in her ear, and put thoughts in her mind she’d never have had otherwise, and win her over.
“She doesn’t love me the way I’ve grown to love her.” Maleficent says, “And I don’t blame her for it, but how can I continue to feel this way and still look her in the face, knowing that I’m lying to her?”
For, of course Aurora would trust her – she has known Maleficent all her life, she would believe anything Maleficent tells her, would probably willingly go forward with whatever Maleficent gently pushes her into doing.
But it would be a short-lived victory. Some part of Aurora would know, and would come to resent her for it, as humans had a tendency to. Aurora would know, and Aurora's heart would break, and Aurora would stop loving her.
The thought of losing her love, in any form, makes Maleficent’s heart clench up in terror.
“I need to leave.” she says dully.
The part of her that remembers Aurora as a child wars with the part of her that wants to sink into Aurora’s embrace forever and never wake up, and the part of her that hates Stefan for his betrayal wars with the part of her that wants to protect his offspring till the end of time. There are too many parts of Maleficent that are at war with each other, and they confuse her, dulling her brain until she wants nothing more than to not feel anything at all, anymore.
“Leave?” Diaval asks, dumbstruck. “What, leave the mo-awk!! AWK!!!”
The last part comes out as a squawk, as he is turned back into a raven mid-speech, but Maleficent is already flying away, off to the old tree that she calls home, her mind whirring with the preparations she must take.
XIII.
Maleficent takes one final flight around the moors, as she always does before her journeys.
They are everything to her, the moors. They are Maleficent’s love and downfall and redemption, and the beauty of the roses hidden in their thorny undergrowth, is the beauty of Aurora herself.
“You’ll do fine, beastie.” She doesn’t know why she whispers the reply out loud.
(Perhaps the part of her that is the child who played in the moors believes that the wind sprites would find her words and carry them home to the intended recipient.)
“Awk! Awk awk awk AWKAWKAWK!!”
The sudden incessant cawing makes Maleficent clutch her ears instinctively. “Into a man.” She grits out between clenched teeth, waving two fingers briefly before covering her ears again.
“Leaving so soon?” Diaval asks from next to her, in a blessedly human voice, and she sighs in relief, taking her hands away from her ears.
She exhales softly. “I think you and I both need to know why I must leave.” The words hang thickly in the air for a moment, before snaking away into the nooks and crevices where all the secrets of the woods have settled themselves in over the years.
“I…” Diaval has a way of looking troubled when he is searching for the right words to say, and he has that expression on his face now. “Maleficent…I know that you think that – that your feelings are-“
“-are none of your concern.” Maleficent cuts him off sharply.
He pursues it nevertheless. “Regardless, don’t you think she deserves more than this? More than you sneaking away like a thief in the night, without even a goodbye?”
“I know that my…” she cannot get out the words at first, and tries again. “my feelings are…unwelcome. I do not wish them to be welcome. It seems decided, then, that the best of course of action is to leave. The moors are in good, capable hands.”
He waves away her indirect praise. “Leaving without so much as a goodbye. It would break her heart, Maleficent.”
And there it was. The one thing she could not bear – hurting her little beastie, her queen, her radiant Aurora.
And Diaval - who is so much better at this emotions things than her, damn him – Diaval knows it too.
“A letter.” Maleficent relents, at last. “I will write her a letter.” She puts up a hand to stall a protest that never comes. “It will be enough.”
She hopes it will be enough. She does not think she can face saying goodbye in person to Aurora.
XIV.
And so it is that a beautiful summer’s day sees Queen Aurora storming into the moors in full regalia, followed frantically by a dozen knights, as they try to guide their horses through the overgrown woods while keeping their queen in sight.
Maleficent, who had been speaking with Balthazar on some final preparation regarding the moors’ borders, looks away at the sound of the undergrowth being viciously crushed and ripped apart under the hands and legs of the livid queen.
She watches entranced, as Aurora advances closer and closer, her knights struggling to keep up (none of the fools having yet struck upon the idea of getting off their mounts, in order to better move forward, Maleficent notes in derision.)
“What.. is …this?” Aurora asks, her voice even though her breathing is coming hard. She waves the crumpled letter in her hand at Maleficent. Even from this distance, Maleficent can spot the words smudged almost beyond recognition, as if they had been twisted up over and over again by an unforgiving hand.
“A farewell.” She replies, staring directly into the flashing fire of Aurora’s eyes. The queen’s face is twisted in fury, and it strikes Maleficent as passing queer that she finds even this to be beautiful on Aurora.
Aurora looks mutinous, and Maleficent internally gears up for war or pleading or something, before Aurora seems to gather herself, and looks around her instead.
“Not here.” The young queen decides, her eyes landing on the curious eyes of knights and fairy creatures gathered around them. “Somewhere more private, please, Maleficent?”
Maleficent silently acquiesces, enfolding Aurora in her wings, as she has done a hundred times before, and taking them to her secret home above the clouds and treetops. There under the shade of the old tree, they face each other, as lovers coming together for a last farewell, or perhaps two great enemies facing off in one final battle.
“Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Maleficent lies. “If you are ever in danger, if your kingdom ever needs protection, Diaval will act appropriately in my stead.” Maleficent does not think Aurora will need it.
The next thing she is aware of is her heart rate plummeting, as two arms bodily throw themselves around her, holding her in a grip that would have stripped her of breath, had she been capable of breathing by that point.
“And what if I need you?” The words are whispered tremulously into the air, and trembling hands latch on to her body, as if it is Aurora’s last hope for salvation.
For a moment, Maleficent dares to hope for something she cannot hope. For something that Aurora’s human heart, generous though it is, cannot possibly grant her. Then Aurora wandering fingers accidentally brush over her wings, and she remembers Stefan, and the moment passes.
“You’ll do fine.” Maleficent emphasizes her words with a gentle kiss on Aurora forehead. “You’re a good queen. Your people love you.” And they will love you even more, now that I’m gone from your life.
“I know how good a queen I am.” The retort is sure and swift, and despite herself, Maleficent feels a fierce pride for the golden lioness that stands before her, radiant even in her grief. “That is not the point here.”
“Diaval will come to your aid in my stead any time you need.” She promises Aurora.
“He’s not you!” Aurora cries. “And it is not your protection I want!”
“He would be a steadfast ally to you and truth be told, a better protector than I have managed to be.” The truth of the words tastes bitter in her mouth.
“What happened to ‘I’ll always come back to you?’”, Aurora asks, and the tone of her voice is wrenching. “What happened to staying with me forever?”
And Maleficent has no answer for that.
“Aurora-“ she begins.
But Aurora is already turning and striding away from her.
XV.
When the day of parting comes, it is quite anticlimactic.
“Don’t leave me.” Aurora fails to say, after the last of the preparations have been made.
Maleficent has not been hoping for a “Let’s run away into the moors and live together forever.” and is thus not disappointed, when Aurora fails to say that too.
Aurora also fails to throw her arms Maleficent, fails to run after the fairy as she alights into the sky, and fails to scream frantic protestations of love into air after her retreating figure.
Instead Aurora, the dawn, the sunlight of Maleficent’s life, bows to her slightly and bestows graceful wishes for a short and uneventful journey northward.
And as Maleficent turns away in farewell, Aurora stands tall as befits a queen, save for a slight hunch in her shoulders. (And perhaps that befits a queen too, for who but a fool would shoulder the burden of an entire kingdom alone without flinching?)
---TBC---