Maleficent

Chapter Four

UNTIL THAT MOMENT, AURORA HAD NEVER REALIZED SHE COULD FEEL SIMULTANEOUSLY WONDERFUL AND TERRIBLE. SHE WAS DREADING THE CONVERSATION SHE KNEW SHE WAS ABOUT TO HAVE WITH MALEFICENT. It made her stomach ache.

But back outside Aurora’s castle, the weather was oblivious to her inner turmoil. The sun was shining; the brilliant blue sky was unmarred by a single cloud. And for the first time in days, there were no faeries waiting on her to solve a dispute or bring light to an issue that had no solution. The only sounds were the soft breeze that sang through the trees and the voices of Knotgrass, Flittle, and Thistlewit. The three pixies were, as usual, bickering among themselves. Aurora slowed her pacing and a smile tugged at her lips. Their voices brought back many good memories — as well as a few she would rather leave behind. The pixies had been her only role models for the long years she had lived hidden in the cottage in the forest. Their voices were as familiar to her as her own, and as familiar as Maleficent’s. They had scolded her and praised her. They had raised her and guided her, just as Maleficent had.

Thinking of the Dark Fey, Aurora took a breath and resumed pacing. She fiddled with the ring that now adorned her left hand. The sight of it filled her with a happiness she could not describe. But when she raised her gaze to the sky, waiting for her godmother, that feeling faded and was replaced by trepidation.

She loved Maleficent. She loved her biting comments that were harsh because she cared. She loved the fey’s hard scowls that hid her soft heart. She loved Maleficent for all the reasons some feared her. But she also loved her because she was her mother. Maybe not biologically, but that had never mattered. Still, despite the strength of their relationship, Aurora found herself jittery as she waited for Maleficent to arrive. She had seen Diaval flying away from the willow tree after the proposal. It was only a matter of time.

As if on cue, the sky darkened as Maleficent swooped in front of the sun’s rays. Behind her was Diaval, struggling to keep up with the fey’s anger-fueled speed. A great gust of wind kicked up as the Dark Fey descended to the ground, her wide wings thrumming in the air. Knotgrass and the other pixies grabbed for a tree, trying to stay upright.

Landing in front of Aurora, Maleficent drew her wings to her back. Diaval flew to a nearby branch and settled on it nervously. The air around Aurora seemed to thicken as dark clouds rolled across the Moors. Maleficent’s emotions had always been tied to the Moors’ landscape. It was easy to see she was not pleased.

“Hello, Aurora,” Maleficent said, stepping closer. Her thick red lips glistened and her green eyes narrowed as she looked down at Aurora. Behind the fey, a small pond began to boil. “Anything…new?” The words oozed from her mouth.

Aurora took a deep breath. There had been times before when she and her godmother had not seen eye to eye. And they had made their way back together. They would do so again — she hoped. “Godmother,” she said, “Phillip asked me to marry him.”

“Poor thing,” Maleficent said, the tone of her voice implying she cared very little for him despite the words. “How’d he take it?”

“My answer is yes,” Aurora said, the words coming out in a rush.

“And mine is…no,” Maleficent countered.

Aurora lifted her head. Even though she had grown taller and stronger — and had become queen — she still felt small beside her godmother. Nevertheless, this was important — as important as the safety of the moors she ruled over. And if her godmother had taught her one thing, it was to stand behind her convictions. Putting on a brave face, she pulled her shoulders back. Then she spoke her mind. “I wasn’t really asking.”

“Nor was I,” Maleficent said, unbothered by her goddaughter’s bravado.

Aurora held back a groan. She had known Maleficent was going to be difficult, but this was ridiculous. She was acting like Knotgrass when Flittle turned everything in the cottage blue one summer — including Knotgrass’s favorite dress. “What’s next?” Aurora said, her voice sounding precariously close to a whine. “You’ll turn him into a goat? Disembowel him?”

Maleficent shrugged. “It’s a start.”

This time, Aurora held in a scream. Phillip had never done anything to Maleficent! He had, in fact, bent over backward to prove himself to the faerie time and time again. Aurora would have thought that if nothing else, his attempt to save her life years ago would have meant something to Maleficent. But despite all Phillip had done, Maleficent remained wary of him and his intentions.

As if reading her mind, Maleficent paced slowly around the young queen. Her long fingers curled over the top of her wooden staff, and her dark eyebrows rose on her pale face. “Are you aware there are faeries missing in the Moors?” she asked accusingly.

“Of course,” Aurora said, annoyed that on top of everything, her godmother would assume she was unaware of what was happening in her kingdom. She had heard the rumors. She had reassured the families of the missing faeries. She would get to the bottom of it. It was just taking time. But Aurora was most upset that Maleficent would bring that up in a conversation about Phillip. “What does this have to do with him?” she asked.

Maleficent nodded, the implication clear. She believed humans to be the cause of the disappearances. “Last I checked,” Maleficent went on, “he was human, a repellent, loathsome—”

“I’m a human,” Aurora said, cutting her off.

“And I’ve never held that against you.”

Aurora shook her head and cast her eyes downward. “Until I fell in love,” she said. Sadness filled Aurora’s face. Her godmother was wrong. Maleficent had held Aurora’s humanness against her before. Aurora couldn’t help remembering another time, long, long before, when Maleficent had cursed her — simply for being the daughter of the human who had broken the Dark Fey’s heart. Did Maleficent not see that she was punishing Aurora once again, for doing exactly what Maleficent herself had done? How was Aurora any different than Maleficent had been as a girl? True, Maleficent’s love story had ended in heartbreak. But ultimately, the story had brought Aurora and Maleficent together. True love had saved them both.

Around them, the woods grew quiet. Aurora and Maleficent looked at each other, a million words unspoken between them. Aurora saw a flash of pain on her godmother’s face and felt a flicker of uncertainty. Was the pain for Aurora or for herself? The silence stretched on as the Dark Fey seemed to lose herself in a memory. Aurora didn’t need to ask what Maleficent was thinking about. She knew. It was the same thing she had just been thinking about. Maleficent was remembering Aurora’s father, King Stefan, and his betrayal.

“True love doesn’t always end well, beastie,” Maleficent said, the pet name making Aurora smile despite the tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes.

“I’m asking you to trust me,” Aurora said. “Let Phillip and me prove you wrong.” She moved closer to Maleficent, forcing the faerie to stop pacing. “The king and queen are celebrating tonight. They’ve invited us both to the castle.”

Maleficent’s eyes widened. “You want me…to meet…his parents?” Nothing could have shocked her more.

Up on his branch, Diaval cawed in disbelief.

“It’s just dinner,” Aurora said, though she knew it was much more than that.

Her large black horns sweeping back and forth as she shook her head, Maleficent curled her lips. “They don’t want me in Ulstead,” she pointed out. “Why would I agree?”

“Because his mother wishes to meet mine.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Maleficent did not say anything as Aurora stared up at her with eyes full of hope. Then Maleficent turned to go.

Reflexively, Aurora took a step closer, her arm outstretched, as if she was going to try to stop her godmother. But then Aurora lowered her arm. She knew there was no point in forcing Maleficent to stay. “Just think about it,” she added. “For me.”

Maleficent’s answer was a flap of her wings as she lifted into the sky. Aurora watched her until she was nothing but a black dot on the horizon. With a troubled heart, Aurora turned and headed into her castle. She would have to hope that somewhere, deep inside, Maleficent could find it in her to accept Phillip and his family. Because if she couldn’t…Aurora shook her head. She couldn’t think about that now. The pending dinner was worrisome enough.

Phillip stood inside the royal chambers, deep within the walls of Castle Ulstead. As a boy, he had loved coming to the grand rooms, listening from the wings as his father negotiated with foreign dignitaries or met with his war council to plan attacks. The lavish oversized furnishings had seemed huge to him; the large animal heads mounted on the wall always seemed to follow him magically. He had always been simultaneously terrified and intrigued by the trophies his mother insisted King John keep in the chambers. This had been an exotic and foreign place. The lack of life — both literal and metaphorical — had always made him both excited and uncomfortable.

As Phillip got older, however, the intrigue had faded. Now he found the lifeless eyes of the animals depressing. And while he still enjoyed spending time with his father, he often wished they could do it outside, away from the room that, despite its size and ever-present fire, seemed to suffocate him and make him feel cold to his core.

Unaware of his son’s dark thoughts, King John strode across the room. He wore a huge grin, and in his hand he had a sword. “I want you to wear this tonight,” he said, holding it out.

“The king’s sword?” Phillip gingerly reached out and took it. The weapon felt surprisingly light. He had seen it strapped to his father’s side hundreds of times, and in his head it had always been a heavy, unwieldy weapon. The significance of his father’s giving it to him now was not lost on Phillip. But the king seemed to feel the moment needed explanation.

“Because of you,” he said, his voice full of pride, “Ulstead and the Moors will be united at last.”

Phillip shook his head, trying to hand the sword back. “My love for Aurora has nothing to do with politics,” he protested.

“Your love will ensure peace for generations,” King John said, changing the sentiment ever so slightly but enough to make it clear he understood. Then his eyes welled with tears. Phillip struggled not to smile. His father was nothing if not a romantic. He should have known that to King John, the marriage was a love match first and foremost. The king pushed the sword into Phillip’s hand once more and added, “I’ve never been more proud.”

Phillip slowly holstered the sword, shifting on his feet as he got used to the weight of the object at his hip. Then he looked back at his father. He had come to the royal chambers for a reason and been distracted. He needed to talk about his mother. Before she had composed herself, Phillip had seen a flash of anger cross her face when she first heard his news, and it had been eating at him. Phillip had come to his father now because he had always done so when he was worried about something. “What about Mother?” he finally asked. “Is she upset?”

“She’ll learn to love who you love,” the king answered without hesitation. Then, clapping a hand on Phillip’s back, he began to tell him a story about when his and Ingrith’s betrothal had been announced.

Phillip only half listened. He hoped his father was right. But a piece of him wished that his mother didn’t have to learn to love Aurora. He didn’t expect her to love Aurora in the unconditional way he did. But why was it so hard for her to embrace Aurora when everyone else did with such joy and ease? Was Ingrith incapable — or simply unwilling?