Maleficent

Chapter Two

AURORA STOOD LOOKING AT THE ROOMFUL OF UNHAPPY FAERIES WHO HAD COME TO CONFRONT HER. BIG, LITTLE, THIN, PLUMP, THEY WERE ALL AFLUTTER. The air was filled with the sounds of wings and mouths flapping. Aurora listened and watched, her head high, her face calm. Outwardly, she appeared every inch a regal and measured leader. Though in truth, she was actively trying to keep her breaths even and not bite the inside of her lip.

The situation was making her agitated.

For most of the past five years, her rule had been peaceful and relatively painless. There had, of course, been the odd squabble between faeries to sort out. And the occasional dispute between a cranky pixie and a more easygoing mushroom faerie over who had claim to a certain tree. But all in all, it had been rather, well, lovely to be queen of the Moors.

Lately, though, a feeling of unease had begun to filter through her kingdom. Still quiet, beautiful, and relatively peaceful, the Moors weren’t in danger, per se. But the feeling was bothering Aurora — and Maleficent. Goddaughter’s and godmother’s attachment to the land went deep. When the Moors hurt, the two of them hurt, too. Now, as Aurora looked out at the castle full of upset faeries, she realized it was beginning to bother the Moor folk as well.

Lifting her head, she focused on the gathered faeries. She knew they were waiting for her to continue. The weekly update had become a tradition of sorts. Aurora felt that an informed kingdom was a happy kingdom. Although some days, like today, were more frustrating than others. “Next item of business,” she said, “the missing faeries. I’ve sent another clan of tree-sprites to search the backwoods. They’ll report back to me at nightfall.” Beside her she heard Lief mutter. She turned her gaze at the large tree faerie, who served as one of her top advisors. He was staring at her accusingly, his branches gesturing angrily, and he lifted a large root before stomping it down. “Please don’t raise your roots to me, Lief,” Aurora said, trying to keep her voice even. “We’ve checked the Tomb Bloom field. We’ll keep searching until they are found.” Several more reports had already come in, the most recent from a family of mushroom faeries who said their teenage son, Button, had gone missing two nights earlier. They weren’t, they’d told Aurora, too concerned, as Button was a bit rebellious. But still, they thought it best she knew. What concerned Aurora was that Button wasn’t the first mushroom faerie to have gone missing. And the ones who had disappeared before him had not yet returned. But she kept those thoughts to herself as she doled out words of comfort.

Lief was not satisfied by Aurora’s response. Again he waved his branch-like hands in the air. This time, the movement caused a few leaves to flutter free and fall to the ground in front of Aurora.

“Yes, I’m aware the farmers from Ulstead have been using our river water,” she answered.

Lief bellowed.

Aurora raised an eyebrow at the faerie’s reaction. She relied on Lief to be calm and steady, and this was completely out of character for him. She pressed on, ignoring her advisor’s growing agitation. “I’ve decided it’s time for our kingdoms to start working together.” She paused. “For peace.”

But a loud caw interrupted her. Looking toward it, Aurora saw Diaval perched on a branch. The raven’s feathers were ruffled and she could see judgment in his black eyes. She held back a groan. Diaval was supposed to be on her side. He was supposed to be her friend.

Stepping away from Lief and out of Diaval’s line of sight, Aurora addressed the faeries. She knew that they were upset and that they thought humans were to blame for the disappearances of their friends and family. She also knew that it was up to her to reassure them even if she didn’t have any answers — yet. “I am queen of the Moors and I am human,” she said.

Instantly the room grew quiet. Sighing, Aurora moved toward her throne and sat down. The large chair was made of soft leaves and green grasses. It rose out of the natural floor of her castle and seemed to embrace her as she sat. Two flower faeries rushed to her sides and began braiding her hair. “I realize it’s been an adjustment,” Aurora went on, “but the borders were opened for a reason. In time, you will get used to the occasional human. You just need to give them a chance — the same chance you gave me.”

Her words were met with mixed reactions. Some of the faeries shifted their feet. Others fluttered their wings faster. A few even whispered among themselves. But no one made a move to leave. “What is going on here today?” Aurora said, becoming exasperated. She was standing now, and her voice was a bit stronger. “In case you didn’t know, I live here!” And this castle has gotten entirely too crowded, she added silently. “Everyone, please, wait outside!”

Flopping back into her throne, Aurora exhaled as she watched the faeries file out of the room. To her dismay, they didn’t continue walking and leave the palace. Instead, they lined up right beyond the door, eager to wait and be heard by their queen. Closing her eyes, Aurora rested her head against the back of the throne and inhaled. It was going to be a long day.

“A word, Your Majesty?”

Opening one eye, Aurora saw Flittle hovering in front of her. The small pixie looked the same as she had the day Aurora had met her years earlier. Her curly brown hair, the ends tipped with blue that matched her dress, bounced as she fluttered nervously. Even when Aurora had been a young girl, Flittle had been flighty and prone to bouts of nervousness. She was acting even more anxious than usual. Hovering beside Flittle were Thistlewit and Knotgrass. Together, the three pixies were looking at her with odd expressions. She loved them. After all, they had raised her — for the most part. But that day she wasn’t sure she could tolerate their antics.

“Pixies,” she chastised, “you need to wait your turn like everybody else.”

“This can’t wait, Your Grace,” Knotgrass said, shaking her head. She brushed her hands over her simple red dress. “We know you’ll want to see this!”

Flittle nodded. “We could hardly believe our luck,” she said.

Holding out her hand, Knotgrass revealed a tiny spiked ball.

Aurora sat up. “Is that—”

Before she could finish, the “ball” transformed into a hedgehog faerie.

“Pinto!” Aurora said, clapping her hands together happily at the sight of her sweet and wonderful friend. The little hedgehog faerie often disappeared for weeks at a time, and it warmed Aurora’s heart to see her now. Perhaps the day was taking a turn for the better.

“She has come bearing gifts,” Flittle explained. “The first sap from the warming trees.”

“It’s for the big day!” Thistlewit blurted out.

Aurora cocked her head. “What big day?” she asked. She saw Flittle give the little blond pixie a hard nudge with her elbow.

Just then, Pinto leapt onto the arm of the throne and raced toward the top. Reaching out, the hedgehog faerie grabbed the delicate crown off Aurora’s head, and then, as Aurora let out a shout of protest, Pinto jumped into the crown and ran. It spun like a hamster wheel across the ground.

“Pinto!” Aurora said, leaping to her feet and giving chase as the faerie darted away. “I’m not in the mood for that!” Just when she thought the day couldn’t get more exhausting…

Ignoring Aurora, Pinto kept going. She ran out of the throne room, down the halls, out of the castle, and into the Moors beyond. Aurora followed, her hands clenched in tight fists as she muttered under her breath. Usually, she liked to walk slowly through her kingdom, taking in the lush beauty and saying hello to the various faeries she passed. But not that day. She ignored their greetings and didn’t even notice how bright the sun was shining or that the sky was a brilliant blue. Instead, she kept her eyes glued on Pinto.

Reaching the edge of a small lake, Pinto hesitated. It was just long enough for Aurora to reach her. Leaning down, she grabbed for Pinto — and her crown. “Got you!” she started to say. But as she spoke, her foot slipped on the muddy ground and she fell forward, landing in the water with a splash.

“What has gotten into all of you?” Aurora yelled, pushing herself to her feet. She roughly brushed off the mud and water that covered the front of her dress. Her feet were drenched in muck. As she brushed a strand of hair out of her face, she felt a line of dirt follow her finger. As Aurora looked at the three pixies, her eyes narrowed. She usually enjoyed a fun game of tag or hide-and-seek in the Moors. But not that day.

“Well, since you asked…” Thistlewit began. But before she could finish, Knotgrass slammed her into the mud, smooshing her face down and turning her green dress brown.

Aurora gasped. The pixies were known for picking on each other. She couldn’t count the times she had woken up to their squabbling when they had lived in their small forest cottage. But this? It was downright ridiculous.

“There she goes, Your Majesty!” Flittle exclaimed.

Aurora turned and saw Pinto. The faerie had grabbed hold of the crown again and was running it toward a large weeping willow. Aurora followed.

Pulling back the long branches that fell to the ground, Aurora stepped inside. Behind her, the branches dropped, and Aurora suddenly found herself in silence. The soft green leaves muffled the noise from outside and enclosed her in a canopy with the sunlight dappling through. The space was warm and inviting.

“Pinto!” Aurora called, her voice sounding loud in the silence. “Come out here now.”

When no hedgehog faerie appeared, Aurora moved farther into the natural room. In the center, on a rock near the trunk of the willow, she saw her crown. Aurora picked it up and held it in her hand. So much fuss for a thing that was merely a symbol. She hadn’t even really wanted a crown when Maleficent first made her queen of the Moors. But she had given in when presented with the beautiful headpiece made of the branches of her kingdom. Staring at the royal symbol, Aurora realized that so much of her life was about compromise, ruling, and helping her subjects. In the silence beneath the willow tree, she noted that it had been days since she had been truly alone.

Just then, she heard a soft rustling. Aurora turned, expecting to see Pinto. But to her surprise, she found herself looking at Phillip. Even now, five years after they had met, he made her feel weak in the knees and undeniably, indescribably happy. Usually.

“Phillip!” she said. “I’m so happy you’re here.” Although I wish I weren’t in such a state, she added silently, keenly aware of her mud-covered clothing.

The prince moved closer. A lock of his brown hair fell over his eyes, and Aurora resisted the urge to reach out and brush it back. She was always telling him teasingly that for a prince, he was remarkably relaxed about his grooming. But secretly she loved the touch of wildness about him. “And I you,” he said, his voice sounding oddly shaky. “Of course. Since I’m the one who came here. To see you.”

Aurora smiled but her eyes continued to roam the area, searching for Pinto. True, seeing Phillip was a pleasant surprise, but with the Moors turned to madness and a castle full of complainants, she didn’t have the time to spend with him or to wonder why he was acting strange. She had work to do. The peace she had promised moments earlier could only be made with action — and she could not bring action if she was searching all over for a wayward hedgehog faerie.

Still scanning the ground for Pinto, Aurora decided to do both at once. “I wanted to ask you something. Do you think there could be a union? Between Ulstead and the Moors?”

“A union,” Phillip repeated, his voice catching in his throat. “Do I—”

Aurora cut him off. “Yes. I’ve been imagining a bridge. To connect the two lands.”

“Oh, a bridge,” Phillip said, once again repeating her words. “Yes, a bridge is a wonderful idea.”

“Oh, good. I’m so glad,” she said as she finally turned her full attention to the prince. Then her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head. She had been so caught up in her own drama that she had failed to really look at him when he had appeared. But there was something about Phillip’s presence — and his outfit — that gave her pause. “Wait,” she finally said, “that’s your formal coat.”

As her heart began to beat faster, she looked around. The willow tree. The warm, romantic canopy. The pixies’ odd behavior and Pinto’s race through the woods. Phillip in his formal coat…He was going to propose!

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep in the squeal she wanted to let out. “You’re in on all of this, aren’t you?” she said, her voice trembling. She wiped at her dress, wishing she hadn’t taken the tumble into the water.

“If you’re busy, I could always…” Phillip started, his voice teasing.

“No!” Aurora said, shaking her head. “Not busy at all.”

“Because I’d hate to take up your precious time….”

Aurora wanted to hit herself upside the head. Why had she gone on and on about her stupid day? “All ears,” she said, smiling encouragingly. “What did you want to talk about?”

Phillip stepped closer. The smile on his face faded and he grew serious, his eyes full of emotion. The world seemed to slow as he stopped in front of her. “Five years ago, I thought I lost you forever,” he said. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. Both of them remembered when she had nearly died and what they had almost lost. Opening her palm, he gently ran a fingertip up her finger, stopping at the dark red scar that would forever be a reminder of when she had pricked her finger on the magic spindle. When he looked up, Phillip met Aurora’s gaze. “I’ve decided to reclaim this day for us. I have loved you since the moment I met you….”

If she had had any doubt that this was a proposal, it vanished. Aurora’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered.

Phillip laughed lightly, bringing levity to the serious moment. “I haven’t even got to the good part yet.”

“I think it’s pretty good,” Aurora said softly.

Phillip reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small box. “There is no magic, and no curse, that can ever keep me away from you, Aurora.” He paused, and then, his eyes filling with light and love, he teased, “Are you sure this is a good time? I could probably…” Aurora shook her head, and Phillip kneeled down. “Will you marry me?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Aurora let out a loud “Yes!”

“Yes?” Phillip asked, though her answer had been perfectly clear.

Tears of joy falling down her cheeks, Aurora nodded. “Just stand up and kiss me,” she said.

Phillip didn’t need to be told twice. Rising to his feet, he pulled Aurora to him, and as his lips closed over hers, the willow tree exploded into a riot of brilliant colors. Flower faeries, having waited patiently for Aurora’s response, flew into the air in celebration. Aurora didn’t even notice, lost in the kiss — and in the love she felt for Phillip. She hadn’t known, until the moment he asked, how very deep and true that love was. They had been through so much together. And now they had the rest of their lives for many more adventures.

Hearing sniffles, Aurora finally pulled free of the kiss. Looking toward the sound, she laughed as she saw the three pixies hovering in the air. Knotgrass’s cheeks were stained with tears of joy as she clasped her hands. “We’re having a wedding!” she cried.

Beside Aurora, Phillip nodded. But then his expression turned serious. “Of course, we have to tell our parents.”

Suddenly, the warm and fuzzy feeling that had been flooding Aurora’s body dimmed. She imagined the look on Maleficent’s face and shivered. “Do we?” she asked. As if on cue, there was a loud caw. Looking up, she saw a large black raven take flight from a nearby branch. Diaval. The bird was no doubt flying to tell Maleficent the news. He had always been the Dark Fey’s eyes and ears.

Even so, Aurora knew she would have to tell Maleficent the news herself — eventually. While it was tempting to hide in the canopy of the willow tree forever, she took Phillip’s hand in hers, and they headed back to her castle. She would use their walk to prepare herself for what Maleficent might say. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be “congratulations.”