When Aurora woke she was not surprised that Maleficent had gone. She did, however, feel incredibly empty. She always kept to lurking just out of sight. Sometimes it was unsettling, the thought of Maleficent knowing where she was while she hadn't the foggiest where she was. But it had never felt like being watched, not in that way. It was more a guardian angel than a predator.

"She loves you as best as she can."

Diaval had shown up later in the morning, in human form. The first thing Aurora realized about the situation is that he and Maleficent must of gotten into a fight. His punishment being stuck human until Maleficent felt inclined to return him to normal. The next realization is that he walked all the way to the castle from the Moors.

"She doesn't like being touched, not even by you. She doesn't smile often. But she walked into the castle expecting to die, just to give you a chance to live," he said, "She's a very complicated person."

"Love shouldn't be a chore," Aurora mumbled as they walked through the town outside the castle. She aimlessly looked at the vender tables. Most of the common citizens didn't pay her any head. The closest anyone got to recognizing the plain looking blonde girl was a long stare and the mental debate over bowing or not.

"No it shouldn't," he agreed, "Which is why instead of blaming her you should pity her—don't tell her of course. If she thought anyone was pitying her she'd probably turn me into a ferret for the rest of my life."

"If I could know why then maybe—"

"Don't even start," he said, "Her secrets are hers and not mine to divulge."

And to that Aurora, as frustrated as she was, had to smile. Maleficent had released Diaval of his life debt to her, she knew. But he'd elected, wordlessly, to stay. They didn't talk about it or acknowledge it. Things simply carried on as they were: Maleficent doling out orders, Diaval obeying and suffering to become whatever animal she saw fit to make him into.

"Aurora I've known her far longer and better than you have," he said, "I saw everything she didn't want me to see. She may never show you the outward affection you want—and deserve. But she'd die before she let anything happen to you. Trust that about her."

"If she had to be miserable for so long, I'm glad it was with you," Aurora said. And she meant it.

Diaval smiled, well half-smiled. His eyes, in comparison to what his mouth was trying to convey, were sad, a dull kind of sad that had existed for a very long time. He looked almost tired, tired perhaps of looking at Maleficent frown. And Aurora was too. She'd always accepted that coldness was just a part of who Maleficent was. She was passive, monotone, closed-off, and quiet about most of her opinions. It wasn't until she asked her about her wings that she knew something had been stirring inside Maleficent that leaked constant pain into her heart.

Then she began to imagine the person Maleficent might have been before when she still had her wings. Perhaps she smiled and laughed regularly, perhaps everyone wasn't so afraid of her, perhaps she played games and had friends. She must have, to love Aurora as she did, the goodness inside she tried to hide had to come from somewhere. Nothing comes from nothing.

The one thing Aurora was sure of was her father, he was involved somehow. He'd been the one who had stolen her wings, she gathered that much. Maleficent was strong, she'd heard stories from the other faeries about how she, very nearly single-handedly, defeated a battalion of human soldiers. Overpowering her would have been difficult. However her father stole her wings, he did not do it as her enemy.

"So, what did you say?" she changed the subject.

"Beg pardon?"

"What'd you do to make her angry?" she gestured to his legs, "She sent you here walking."

"Mistress and I did not agree," he said.

"About?"

"Many things."

Aurora sighed. He'd gotten as bad as her godmother. Secrets left and right, secrets about her birth, about her identity, secrets about her curse, secrets about her father. Aurora's life was a web of falsehoods hidden by those who claimed to know better. And now mundane secrets too, secrets about day-to-day conversations. It was not unusual for Maleficent and Diaval to bicker and now they were hiding that too.

Thus far the only person in her life who hadn't lied to her was Phillip. Her heart very quickly went racing when she pictured his eyes in her head and her cheeks lit up.

"You alright Aurora?" Diaval asked, "You look flushed. Mistress will turn me into a cockroach if you fell ill under my watch."

"I'm perfectly fine," she lied poorly. "Just thinking is all."

About?

"Many things."

He looked like he very nearly wanted to smile.

"She's teaching you bad habits," he said, "Her wit is far too sharp to be yours."

"I'm not sure, I think it suites me," she said in a mock of Maleficent's voice and Diaval laughed.

They moved past the marketplace, Diaval following in Aurora's steps obediently. She led them to the hillside. It was wet from rain and nearly blew a mist in the wind. The sun pulled behind a cloud as she turned to look at the Moors far off in the distance, the wall of thorns still standing tall and thick. Somewhere in there Maleficent walked, watching over, healing, probably terrorizing a bit as well.

And somewhere not far from the Moors her old cottage lay as well. As unfit as her Aunties had been that cabin had felt like home and still felt like home far more than the castle ever could. It had been quiet and warm and snug and content. The castle was boastful and cold and large and loud. It only ever felt like home when Maleficent was around, which was few and far between. Maleficent was off wandering the woods…

…Those same woods where she first met Phillip.

"Diaval, can I ask you something?" she said.

"Anything Aurora."

"It's hypothetical of course, but I was—When two people sort of like each other, really like each other…how—how is that supposed to go exactly? I mean I read stories but…" She felt her cheeks heat up with the more words that fell from her mouth. She wasn't even sure what she was trying to ask. She knew the way these stories went when they were stories, but how was she meant to go about it in real life? Did she and Phillip talk about it? Did she wait for him to bring it up or was it proper for her to do so as well?

"And what exactly has you thinking hypothetically?" he asked, looking very closely at her.

"The curse," she lied, "True love, I mean." It was an awful lie and he was looking right through it at her.

"You'd do better asking mistress," he said, "She's more suited to, uh—hypothetical questions than I am." She could see his smile though, a knowing kind adults gave children when they understood something the younger ones did not. Aurora did understand it, she just didn't know what to do about it.

Asking Maleficent was the obvious choice but it was also the more dangerous one for a number of reasons: chief among them being Phillip's safety. Maleficent was protective to a fault, and she didn't like Phillip. Well, she probably wouldn't like anyone. Still Maleficent would know better than Diaval and was less likely to make fun of her.

"Perhaps…"

It didn't get farther than that however as she finally caught sight of the position of the sun in the sky. She jumped up from her perch on a boulder, nearly sending Diaval toppling over in surprise.

"I'll be late! I have a—meeting or council or whatever they're called," she rambled hiking up her gown and running across the tall grass. "Wait here Diaval," she called behind her.

"Well I wouldn't get very far even if I didn't," she heard him groan behind her.

Aurora tugged the knots from her hair and pressed down her dress feverishly outside the council room. She hoped she didn't smell too much of grass and rain (like Malefcient). She used a handkerchief to wipe away sweat on her forehead.

"You look fine, ma'am," said the chambermaid who helped her look presentable, "You'll easily be the most beautiful person in that room," she smiled.

Aurora took a deep breath and flattened her dress some more. There were some grass stains around the hem and light fraying was starting but she pushed that from her mind. She was a queen, she'd hold her head high.

Pretend you're Maleficent.

And she walked into the double open doors as gracefully as she could muster. The sound of her shoes on the tile floor echoed and she let it be her entrance music, that's what Maleficent would do. Be commanding, not dangerous…not too much like Maleficent.

"Her Majesty, Queen Aurora," the major domo announced from the doorway and all the councilors stood up and bowed their heads. As last time, Aurora curtsied back, hoping she looked far surer of herself than she felt.

"Good afternoon, Majesty," said the larger one. "We have reviewed the faerie queen's request for a moot in our hostilities."

Aurora wasn't sure if she was meant to respond to the statement so she stayed silent, nodding her head a bit to show she heard and understood. He shuffled through papers a bit and Aurora felt herself grow very, very tense.

Something was wrong.

The way the three other men shared glances with each other, the look in their eyes that told Aurora they knew something she did not and not at all in the familial, fun way Diaval's eyes had teased her. This was very real, and very dangerous. Something was off.

"As mentioned in our earlier meeting," he said, "We wanted time to extract information on the nature of motivations of those involved to assure the safety of our kingdom—both kingdoms."

It sounded routine but it felt toxic, something was festering and she suddenly wished with all her heart her godmother was here. Could Maleficent feel that as she had felt Aurora fall victim to the curse? Perhaps. She wanted her wings like a shield.

"We feel we cannot completely ignore the events surrounding your birth and sixteenth birthday," he said.

Aurora had pleaded before them earlier that the curse had been a family matter, a personal grievance between the royal family and the faerie queen. She swore up and down in their own jargon that it had not been a state affair, that it had been settled. The looks in their faces told her she should know something was not right but she began to panic and sweat.

"We feel the only way to resolve this matter is to put the faerie on trial for her crimes," he said, "If we find her not rehabilitated then the punishment for crimes against the kingdom which include regicide and a second account of attempted regicide…is beheading."

Aurora felt the air rushing out of her lungs as if she'd fallen down a deep crevice but here she was, somehow still standing in the her own council room watching a group of men condemn her godmother to die. She recalled the sheer terror she felt that night watching the iron chains come down and trap her. Watching the guards beat her through tears she hadn't even known she was crying.

"No!" Aurora said before she could stop herself, "You can't—you will not put her on trial. You can't!"

She'd gone from queen to child in three seconds. She was truly sixteen in that moment, younger than she'd ever been and she truly felt it as she practically screamed in her head for Maleficent's help. Please Godmother! Please…mother.

They couldn't do this. They'd never catch Maleficent, they'd never be strong enough to keep her prisoner, the fair folk would never allow it, they'd riot, they'd fight, they'd attack the human kingdom. They'd…get exactly what they wanted.

She looked at the councilors and for the first time saw them.

"Why?" Aurora said aloud. She knew her tone accused them.

"To put it entirely frankly Your Majesty," the large one said, "Your father bankrupted the realm. Between the cost of iron, the salary of the iron workers…we've got nothing to offer back as debtors, and we are debtors to many kingdoms."

"War makes money," said the tall one plainly. "As of right now, a peace treaty with the fair folk would not benefit us in anyway."

"So you decide to try and kill each other over it?" Aurora said, "I don't think lives are worth gold."

"No but the jobs created by the lives lost is," said the one with the big nose, "This is the way nations run. We need the output a war would provide, if we're being completely frank with Your Majesty, the faerie can give us that."

Aurora decided in that moment she'd do better in stone silence than anything else so she turned her heart to steel, just for a few moments. She stood back up and pretended she was Maleficent.

"Very well," she said evenly, "I will—I will come to call upon you later about the—advancement of this plot. For now, I think I shall retire."

She was out of the door before she could see their faces, but she felt her eyes. She'd given herself away in all the chaos she'd given herself away. They would never believe she and Maleficent were simply reluctant, diplomatic friends. Perhaps it had been a test as well, to trick her into revealing exactly what she just had. Maleficent told her she could not show bias and she had just screamed it at them.

And their plan was horrid on principle. The sacrifice of so much for money, that couldn't be it, that couldn't be the way a monarch solved things. Kings and queens were meant to protect their kingdoms, the strong, the weak, the sick, the prosperous, everyone. How could she call herself a queen if she abided that thousands of people would die for money? That was a coward, a low-life, black market dealer. Not one to wear a crown.

"Diaval!" she cried hoarsely when she was out of the castle's tall walls.

He appeared as if from nowhere, a black raggedy shape against the green of the hills around the kingdom. He was not smiling now, not when he saw her face and the tears that were wetting her cheeks.

"I've ruined it, I ruined all of it!" she cried as his skinny arms caught her form. She hugged tightly to his chest and as much as he tried to offer back, it was Maleficent's arms she wanted. She needed to know it was not as bad as she feared, she needed to know it wasn't her fault.

"I want to go home," she whispered, "To the Moors, please."

He wanted to ask, he even opened his mouth to do it but she let out another sob beyond her control and he did not fight her.

Diaval had entertained himself by watching the birds and watching every corner to make sure Maleficent wasn't about to pop from behind a rock and turn him into a puppy.

Her anger over their row had only justified it in his mind. It was proof that beneath the endless layers of glares and stillborn emotions that she truly did feel deeper than anyone possibly could.

"It's your fault, you know."

That first statement had been worded wrong when he looked back at it. That doomed the conversation from the first. But he meant to make small talk as often as he could with her. But he'd spent a few days straight as a bird, his social skills perhaps had gone lax in that time.

"You're not the first person to tell me that, what am I being blamed for this time?" she said, not looking up from the shrub she was mending.

"Aurora being afraid of thunderstorms," he said, "It's because of that trick you played."

He watched her face, first looked confused as her mind shuffled through countless memories to find the one in question, then contort into the simmering rage of her realization: the memory of dosing the pixies in a thunderstorm inside their house. At the time Maleficent had not cared much for the child, "it'll live" she said after the rainstorm was over.

"What?" she said.

He'd caught her off guard, and that had been the first clue that he should back off. He hadn't meant it all so seriously, he'd observed it and wanted to tell her. Plenty of parents are responsible for scaring their children in some way over something. But she did not seem to find it a funny story to tell at dinner parties. She looked disgusted.

"I only—I was just saying she didn't like storms after that," he said, "It's really nothing." She stopped talking to him then and walked away.

And now, with Aurora crying in his arms did Diaval understand what he'd condemned Maleficent too, even in the smallest of ways. It was, in all truth, not a huge problem or something to make a fuss over. But seeing the crying queen he understood Maleficent's pain at knowing she'd brought the girl even a little discomfort and pain in the form of a childhood fear.

Maleficent was a mother through and through. No, she was Aurora's mother through and through. And now Aurora was sputtering tears begging to be taken back to Maleficent, to home, and to the only person who had shown her any true love all her life.