So, yeah, this happened. Somehow. I've had the guts of it on file for about seven months and have only just managed to finish it now. It frustrates me because I have a lot planned for this fic but the chapters come verrrrryyyy ssssslllooowwwwwly. It'll probably be finished by the time Maleficent XI: Revenge of the Brownies is released in cinemas.

Unbeta'd as per usual.

They rode for most of the day, taking breaks only when Diaval physically couldn't put one foot in front of the other. Aurora dozed on and off, slumped peacefully against his back. Thistlewit was nestled a little higher up between his ears, her drowsy mumblings a source of great hilarity and relief on the journey.

They closed in on the border quickly. The presence of The Great Animal had brought summer and winter's conflict to a temporary standstill, and the first half of their day it was a pleasant, almost scenic ride.

Afternoon however, brought the winds again.

Diaval supposed it was because they drew nearer to the high, dense wall of cloud which piled up ever thicker against their kingdom's border. It was not the official border between the two countries, but a boundary delineated many centuries previously by creatures not bound by man's struggles and desires. It stretched to the clear blue heavens until it met the untamable gales which existed that high. Ferocious winds sheared the top off the wall and whisked it in long banner streams over their heads, churning the cloud until it dropped as snow.

He tried not to focus on it, preferring to stare at the ground or fix his gaze on a distant tree. The wall's impenetrable smoothness was unnatural.

Occasionally he would catch glimpses of other Moorfolk protectively prowling alongside their convoy. The road ahead of them was always tamped flat by thousands of tiny handprints; once, when he crested a hill and looked down over a gleaming white landscape, he saw a swarm of sprites miles down the road, working feverishly to make the roads passable.

"It's not just for us," Maleficent explained when he mentioned it to her. He saw what she meant a short while later; huddled groups of humans determinedly driving their livestock down the road, their most precious possessions strapped to their backs or piled high on carts.

All heading to the castle.

They would have to detour around them, pick their way through frosty fields, round blackened crops or irritable sheep. Diaval privately added 'sheep' to the list of animals he did not want as part of his morphing arsenal.

Even with the help of the Moorfolk, they probably would not have crossed into Ulstead without Maleficent's magic pushing them forward. Diaval fretted over this. She was impatient, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. But getting them there required a lot of complex, ongoing magic. Redirecting the wind, parting snow, increasing Diaval's stamina, suffusing her own wings with raw magic to drive her onwards. Not to mentioning her ongoing, silent communication with the Moorfolk. And that was just what Diaval could guess; who knew what else Maleficent had running on the side?

He was proud of her, to be a part of her retinue. No one else in the Moorland could have lasted as long as his mistress.

The sun was dipping below the horizon by the time they disappeared into the cloud. Diaval half-expected them to be met with resistance, to fight through haze as thick as wet clay. Part of him hoped they would – then they could turn back, retreat to the ruined castle and work out a new plan there. Safe, with his fledgling guarded by Moorfolk and Maleficent not flying headlong into danger. Again.

But they were permitted passage, into a world eddying with shades of crushed pearl, accented pale blue, delicate gray and the occasional wink of clear, pure snow white. It reminded Diaval of when Fauve, before she ceased communication, had bragged to Maleficent of her travels to an arid red continent halfway around the world. Maleficent was fascinated by the sorceress' story of tiny, hopping mice, and had attempted to recreate it on Diaval.

She had chosen to perform her experiment at the peak of winter, and Diaval had dropped into eight inches of freezing snow. His world had been white, muffled and narrowed down to what little he could see beyond his own nose.

And Maleficent's laughter. She had tracked him only by his long feathery tail poking up out of the snow like a gloomy blade of grass.

When she plucked him, squeaking angrily, from the ground he was treated to the then-rare sight of her smiling genuinely. She had swept ice from his downy fur with long, warm fingers and told him he made an endearing mouse.

Even then she had made his heart, his little animal heart, thunder hard in his chest.

Diaval stopped his train of thought there. Recently, it never lead anywhere productive and left him tingling and frustrated in a way he could not clearly define as a man or a raven.

They plodded along the misty road for what felt like hours, even the hardy dirt beneath his feet frozen to glittering silvery pebbles. The road stretched out before him, a long silk ribbon meandering through swirling fog. He was focusing so hard on the road ahead he didn't even notice when they cleared the barrier and emerged into Ulstead.

He was alerted to their arrival by Aurora's gasp, and the road beneath him lighting up with frosty fire.

It was moonrise now, Her Ladyship high over the treeline and so close Diaval was certain he could shift to ravenshape and soar up to meet her. Realization struck him, all at once, that the pearl shades in the mist were her, the moonlady, reaching in and following their footsteps. He had never felt so watched over, so protected by the moonlady until now – if she had been womanshape, Diaval was sure she would be smiling.

"I've – I've never seen the moon so huge," Aurora murmured into his ear, pulling herself up so she was nestled in his warm mane. "It's lovely. I never really noticed before."

She stared silently for a few moments, her eyes wide, and the moon in miniature swimming in each pupil. "Godmother says the moon is a lady. Or people think she's a lady, or if she were anything she would be a lady, or - it's like…she's looking right at us."

'The moon watches over magical creatures, little one,' thought Diaval reverentially. 'Good and bad; seelie and unseelie; peaceful and warmongering.'

"I wish she could talk," his fledgling said suddenly. "She would see all sorts of things up there. I bet she'd have amazing stories."

Diaval whickered a laugh.

Aurora giggled and tried to prod him into sharing the joke, but Diaval fell silent. He was watching Maleficent circle above them, her spindly hands flickering instructions.

Diaval obediently walked another quarter of a mile until he came to a gate half-frozen open. A few solid kicks loosened the ice enough for Diaval to push through. A road meandered upwards, through frosted trees glittering as though perfectly carved from crystal. Diaval lingered, guiltily, just a little, staring up at the stars wheeling overhead. Though they weren't that far from the Moorland, they still looked different.

They rounded the last bend. Atop the hill, an icy farmhouse crouched sullenly before them, its windows dark and eaves dripping with icicles. Its front door was wedged open and a broom lay discarded by the steps.

He felt Aurora shiver nervously.

Wings beating made him shift hopefully – Maleficent was by his side a second later, her hand pressed against his long, black neck. Her thin hand was a point of delicious warmth for him and it made his hindlegs tremble weakly.

She was speaking now, her voice low. "We will stay here for the night. I have some business I need to attend to before we go further."

Diaval bowed his head. Aurora slipped off his back and, with a flicker of Maleficent's fingers, Diaval was back to wobbling about in a tricky human form. Thistlewit transitioned easily, draped bonelessly over his head.

The pixie stirred. "You'll be sorry once the owls get back, they'll see what you did to all their vases," she called sleepily, then dropped back into her slumber.

Maleficent glared, but Diaval could see her red lips curving upwards slightly regardless. She met his eyes briefly, and his pale cheeks flushed.

His mistress swept ahead of them, and when Diaval made to follow she waved him off distractedly. "I will go first." She glided up the path, a dark silhouette against the glittering empty landscape.

Maleficent was swallowed up by the gaping doorway; Diaval and Aurora shared a look.

A spot between Diaval's shoulders prickled uncomfortably – he tried to suck in a calming breath.

Aurora shifted from foot to foot.

A bird cawed in the distance, too far away for even Diaval's expert ear to identify. They all had an element of sameness anyway when he was in manshape.

Aurora pressed close to him, her cold little hands grasping one of his.

When Maleficent returned they both couldn't have been more relieved. Diaval was about to greet her when he saw how white she was, like water had been added to her already milky complexion.

"Stay down in the kitchen tonight," she said crisply. She turned back towards the house.

"We won't use the upper rooms?" Diaval called. "There must be bedrooms."

Her shoulders tightened. "Yes. They are occupied."

"The family is still here?" Aurora's brow was furrowed; Diaval all at once understood.

"…In a sense. They are not to be disturbed now."

Aurora was very silent as they crept into the house, remained that way as they cleared a space in the chilly kitchen and Diaval tried to build a fire in the long dead hearth.

Eventually Maleficent's impatience got the best of her and she simply waved a fire into existence. It flared gold for a few seconds before settling down to a happy yellow crackle, bathing them all in warmth.

Diaval frowned. He had been at a near full gallop for most of the day, but even so he expected a sudden temperature change to be more painful than it was. His skin shivered and prickled, but nothing else. No burning agony as his sluggish blood moved into his extremities.

Maleficent avoided his gaze.

Yawning, Thistlewit slipped down from her lazy perch. She floated closer to the fire, shaking out her downy hair. "Did we make it?" asked the pixie, hugging herself tight with her thin little arms. "What do we do now?" At some point she had acquired a puffy coat - it looked as though it were made of thatched dandelion seeds.

Rubbing her temples, Maleficent seated herself by the fire. Her mouth and eyes were taut with exhaustion, fine cracks in her otherwise porcelain skin. "I must contact Fauve before we go further – she most likely has an idea of who and what we're dealing with."

"She's a scholar?" Aurora didn't look thrilled at the prospect.

"No - she's a terrible gossip." His mistress huffed sharply. "But she is the most tolerable of those I can contact and less likely to demand a blood price for information."

Diaval and Aurora shared another uneasy look.

Their beloved faerie didn't speak again for a long time – not to them. She paced the wide of the tiny kitchen, muttering in a musical tongue and occasionally flicking her long fingers. Sparks skittered along her nails, chittering like merry birds before zipping off to parts unknown. Occasionally one would arrow back into the room and sink into her skin; Maleficent would pause, her head tilted as though listening intently.

Her travel companions, first fascinated and then bored, loitered listlessly about the room. Thistlewit vanished on some mysterious errand, leaving the two on their own.

With nothing better to do, Diaval began to search for their supper - he managed to dig up a cold loaf of bread and what looked to be soft cheese under a fine icy film. While they warmed to an edible temperature, there remained only what to drink.

Usually he would seek out water from one of the untainted Moor streams, but human water was different. They seemed in capable of separating their waste from their drinking water, and were forever situating the midden too close to their well.

He found some small beer, bristling with crystals. It would have to do for now. Diaval sighed and placed it next to the fire. It would be sour but hopefully drinkable.

With little else to do, he settled next to Aurora at the kitchen table. She was sorting through a bundle of damp herbs, separating each into neat little piles. She was deep in concentration, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth – some of Diaval's exhaustion melted away.

"What have you go there, Aurora?" Diaval asked, playfully tugging one of her braids. She smiled and shook her head until she smacked him with a lock.

"I found these in the cupboard," she beamed. "They've dried beautifully but they're just a little damp. I thought I could make Godmother some tea while she's speaking with her friend."

A grin cracked his face – he couldn't have stopped it even if he wanted to. "You're a thinker, Aurora – and look." His fingers tapped a bundle of crumbly dark green leaves. "You have some mint here. Mistress will adore that."

Aurora sat up a little straighter and resumed sorting her herbs with added enthusiasm. Diaval helped as much as he could, but he let Aurora carry most of the conversation. To his surprise, Thistlewit rejoined them a short time later, dragging along a basket containing six large brown eggs.

It was almost cozy. Sitting by a roaring fire, teaching a rapt Aurora about the different herbs, Thistlewit furtively eating chamomile petals. He could almost forget why they were there, what was upstairs, where they needed to be and –

Maleficent threw herself down next to him and glared at the table.

They fell silent. No one dared to move.

After a minute or so, Diaval finally dared to ask, "Are you well, Mistress?"

"Yes." Maleficent didn't budge. "After a very frustrating search for her next message, Fauve has finally insinuated I will find all my answers here. At the table. Honestly, if that sly little – "

Aurora squealed – Diaval almost hit the ceiling in fright. Maleficent reared back, hand raised and buzzing gold.

Wide eyed and slack jawed, Aurora could only point in front of her. Right in the middle of her herb pile, the wood was buckling almost imperceptibly.

Maleficent dropped back into her seat, unable to make out any sound except a stuttering squeak.

The wood crackled, and a tiny green shoot poked out. It rose steadily from dead wood, its colour almost garishly bright. A miniscule leaf unfurled from its slender stem. Then another, and another, all the while growing up and out until the shoot was twenty centimeters high. It stopped, bobbing gently. The very top of the shoot began to swell rapidly, darkening to gorgeous green bulb, which burst open in a spray of sweet scent. As one, they all inhaled deeply. Along with the budding flower's natural scent was a rich, heady tang of magic.

In seconds, the flower had perfected itself. A pretty, bright marigold, so full of colour and warmth it outshone the hearthfire.

Aurora recovered first. "What an unusual colour for a flower," Aurora murmured, inching closer to it. Maleficent appeared to be frozen to the spot, her eyes gleaming, transfixed by the flower. It was unusual, now Diaval had a chance to properly look. Still the fiery colours of a marigold, but every petal was latticed elegantly, and veined with fine gold scripture. He tried to read it, but the script seemed to wriggle and slither. An ache started in his eyeballs, forcing him to look away.

A few flakes of frost began to settle on its fine petals, and they instantly flashed to steam. The steam seemed to send a chime of noise into the air, like someone whispering from the next room.

"Fauve, you clever thing," Maleficent breathed, striding over to the flower. Her fingers flickered over it, weaving a pattern, and the flower looked as though it were nodding in delight.

"Mistress…" said Diaval softly, coming up to stand at his customary place by her shoulder.

"I…" Maleficent glanced at the single, perfect flower still patiently posed on the table. "I need fresh water. Very fresh."

"We can get it, Godmother," Aurora chirped, smiling. "It's not far and we can see if there's anything else out here for us to eat with dinner." Unlikely, but her enthusiasm was welcome.

His mistress stared long and hard at Aurora, her lower lip caught up between her teeth. He could almost see the wheels turning, weighing up the danger to their queen. "There…is a well, just past the vegetable garden," Maleficent said finally. "See what you can find there."

Aurora cheered and ran to grab her coat. Diaval followed her without prompting – as he passed by his Mistress she leaned in close, her breath stirring against his ear. "Thank you. Keep her safe, please."

His words knotted in his throat, Diaval could only nodded jerkily and lurched after Aurora. She was already fluttering out the front door.

Outside, the cold hit them hard; Aurora's chattering teeth could probably be heard back in the Moors. His own skin crawled and goosebumped, and he briefly wished for a fuzzier form. Perhaps a bear? He hadn't been a bear yet. It would be warmer than a human, and he would be extra efficient at keep Aurora safe.

Too late for that now. Diaval tried to think warm thoughts and motioned Aurora to follow him. Just a short walk around the right side of the house and they came to an ice-heavy fence, easily hopped over. Before them a neatly set out kitchen garden was nearly lost under snow – beyond that cowered a frosty chicken coop near the dark outline of the well. Ten yards beyond that was the treeline, branches not quite obscuring the glittering expanse of a lake.

A twinge of unease tugged at Diaval's heart. The lake was bad. Stay away from the lake.

Aurora seemed to be fine, however and was charging ahead. They staggered through the frozen vegetables, Aurora hopefully scraping away a layer of ice from each.

"Some of them might be good," she said uncertainly. Diaval was not inclined to agree. They were frost-blackened and shriveled.

As they passed the chicken coop, Diaval was surprised by the warmth radiating from it. He rested a hand to the side and peered in through a crack – sleepy eyes peeped back, blinking with dumb animal curiosity. Magic tickled his palm – familiar magic.

"Thistlewit must have given them a haven in exchange for the eggs," he murmured to Aurora. She looked quite delighted, and hurried to look at the birds. A few teeny cheeps squeezed out, and she nearly burst in excitement.

"Little babies! How lovely!" She wiggled her fingers at the hutch. "I didn't know Thistlewit could do that."

Diaval gently chivvied her along, and she parted reluctantly from the hens. "Basic eye for an eye magic. Like using a basket to carry eggs instead of just your hands. Faster, easier, tidier."

Aurora giggled. "I remember Godmother teaching us that. You must pay very close attention."

A few snowflakes sizzled on Diaval's red cheeks. Thankfully, they had the well the tackle now.

The well was a struggle to open – it took a lot of heaving and huffing for both of them, and in the end the lid parted from the well with a resounding 'crack!' They dropped it, panting, and peered inside. No rushing water, no dripping, not even a gust of wind.

Aurora dropped a stone down the well. They listened for what seemed like an age before a hard smack echoed up from the depths.

"Probably frozen solid," she said glumly. Diaval sighed, his breath misting thickly. His Mistress needed that water. She had looked so – so enchanted when Fauve's flower had bloomed. He didn't want to be the one to bring back nothing…

Aurora was at the treeline before he realized she had even departed. He slipped and skidded his way to her as quickly as possible, but couldn't stop her hopping over the perimeter gate. "Aurora! What are you doing?"

She pointed eagerly to a path Diaval had not noticed. It was tiny, a mere rabbit's trail through the trees, but it was certainly heading down the hill. "That leads to the lake, I'm sure of it!"

"How do you know?" It looked unsafe. Slippery. Dark. He was reminded again of the feeling he got from the lake, an inkling tugging at the primal part of his soul. Diaval shivered – it had nothing to do with the temperature.

"I just do!" Aurora looked at him pleadingly. "Please? It'll only take a minute, I promise, and if there's anything dangerous we'll come straight back up."

"Aurora I…I'm not sure…"

But Aurora had one more card to play. "In and out, I promise! Godmother will be so happy…"

Diaval struggled for a few more seconds, but he had already lost. His Mistress needed the water, part of him rationalized. Aurora would be safe. He would keep her safe, even if it cost him his last breath, his wings, his freedom…

The journey to the lake was easy. A fifteen minute walk through still trees, their footsteps crunching loudly. Diaval was so alert it almost ached, jumping at every twig broken underfoot. Aurora marched ahead confidently, the wellbucket swinging from her hands.

Eventually, they stepped from the trees into a surprisingly neat little clearing. The edge of the lake was lined with crystallized willow trees, their fronds dipping into perfectly preserved waves lapping at the shore. A stubby dock jutted out into the lake, mooring a single dinghy.

The water looked depressingly solid, but they picked their way down anyway. The observation Diaval had felt at the house was ten times worse, his heart skipping a beat every now and then. Aurora was in the lead now, parting the heavy strands of the nearest willow.

Diaval followed her closely, carefully watching their pathway back to the house. Anything could be out here. At night, under a moon like this, with most of the humans dead or hiding? He knew what terrible things lurked, just waiting for a chance to slither out – some of them he knew by name and saw daily.

Some he knew only by smell. Or sound. Or by how quickly the other folk fled from their presence.

Could be anything out here. A frost troll. One of the Cucui was unlikely but he still didn't want to meet one. An each-uisge was more likely, and he sincerely hoped it was not one of them. They would be dead before Maleficent could hear their screams. A Shining One was the worst possibility he could think of – by the time Maleficent heard their screams they would wish they were dead…

Aurora moved towards him suddenly, trying to shout a whisper. "Diaval! On the lake!" She dragged him to the edge of the frost curtain.

His flesh quivered as the ice-crusted fronds brushed his skin, frost sticking briefly before melting to lukewarm droplets running down his palm. He peered out curiously at the lake – the figure on the frozen lake was slim and took delicate, mincing steps, and thus far didn't seem to notice them huddled away. A swift, graceful turn revealed two things – the figure was woman-shaped, and she was dancing.

Without uttering a word, he pushed Aurora deeper into the shadows. The woman didn't dance like the water sprites of The Moors, worshipping the moonlight and dancing for the sheer joy of it. She danced like someone on display, pretty and measured and all the while –

Watchful. She knew they were there.

Diaval glanced back at Aurora, who was watching him with wide, questioning eyes. He swallowed past a knot in his throat. "We should head back," he suggested hoarsely. "I don't think we'll have any luck out here." Aurora's eyes flickered back over his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly. "I promise I won't go out on the ice, just to the edge." Rattling the empty bucket hopefully, Aurora made to stand up.

"No!" The bucket slipped from her fingers. Diaval raised his hands placatingly, wishing he could take back some of the harshness that had splattered surprise across her face. "I – there's someone out there. Best not to let them know we're here."

Brow furrowed, Aurora pointed hesitantly. "Um…There isn't. There's no one there."

His heart lurched, like a shard of the unnatural ice had suddenly lodged in through his spine. Diaval whirled, his feet skidding deep furrows into frost and his gaze combing the landscape.

The lake was empty, and peaceful.

His bird instincts started screaming. The ones responsible for telling him when a feline drew near or a farmer raised his club. A newcomer's presence filled his senses, he could feel them as acutely as he would if they were pressed close against his back. A knife-tipped breeze shook the moon from behind the last ragged cloud and turned the willow tree to long chandeliers, their whips dripping with perfect white diamonds. It bled colour from the world and deepened the shadows.

An odd shape caught his questing gaze. This willow was old, craggy and half-curled in on itself, hunched like a mad woman in the throes of a fit. Filtered moonlight sank into its crags, made odd shapes play out, but there, just curling around the apex, was a shadow that looked like a hand –

Shadow fingers twitched, and curled. Behind it another shadow moved and deepened, curling around until a solitary, dark eye blinked at them from the depths of darkness. It was black, dusky like oil, with unnatural colours skimming across its surface.

Aurora pressed close to him, tucking herself under his arm. "Who-who's there?" she called tentatively.

The eye blinked. "Who's there yourself?" it responded, and it was strange. Female, definitely, yet resonant and earthy in a way Diaval hadn't heard from a woman before.

Diaval did not answer, shifting so Aurora was perfectly hidden behind his lithe frame.

The eye narrowed, its colours narrowing down to a thin band of eerie light. "Surely the cold hasn't soaked down to your manners, then?"

"We didn't mean to offend you," Aurora piped up from behind him. The shadow shifted, and to Diaval's relief the woman had the standard two eyes, paired together. She stepped closer, until her bare toes met the edge of the shadows. The bouncing moonlight was enough to reveal her features – full cheeks, a tiny pointed chin, peculiar eyes a little too wide-set. She stood strangely; self-possessed, but with her chin angled down so she peered out at them through thick, dark bangs.

A small, secretive smile played about her mouth, like she was enjoying an enormous joke. "No offence taken, lady," she cooed, dropping into a small, mocking curtsey. Typically, Aurora took it at face value, and emerged from her hiding place, all smiles. "I was at fault first – fancy lurking in the shadows!" She laughed falsely. "I took fright, seeing strangers in these parts. I thought you brigands!"

Testing, prodding, coaxing. The scare tactic did not work so she was aiming for building trust. Aurora was not one to be coerced but a cautious maiden struck right through each of her defenses. She stepped up beside Diaval now; his fists flexed involuntarily when he saw how the woman drank in the sight of the queen.

"Not at all," exclaimed Aurora, spreading out her palms and laughing a little. "We have been lucky actually, travelled all day and not encountered a single bandit." Diaval winced, and the girl shot him a sly leer. The signs of life were everywhere; or at least, where they had been. The magical winter had come fast and hard, and those with no shelter nearby were little more than snow-bound lumps along their path.

The girl's grin widened, showing small, pearly teeth. "You're travelling? You must be very brave to be travelling in this weather. Where are you going?"

"Well, we…" Aurora glanced anxiously at Diaval, who tried to convey his reticence by gaze alone. "We…are hoping to see the royal family here. To offer our services."

"The royal family?" She was still smiling! Diaval began to hate that pleasant grin. "How kind of you, especially after the old king passed so suddenly." The girl's face clouded, a little crease of distress appearing on her brow. "It was..." She shuddered; Diaval didn't buy her suffering for a second.

But Aurora was taken in – she was never good at ignoring any display of trouble, and Diaval practically saw her heart go out to this stranger. "You poor thing," Aurora whispered gently, taking a step forward. The girl shifted uneasily, dancing briefly on the tips of her toes and tilting her head. "You saw it, then?"

"Indeed, miss," the girl murmured, her eyes wide and inky black. Diaval thought he saw something surface in them, something sinuous and watchful, and he fought back a shudder of his own. "The new king took over a little bit afterwards, I came out here as soon as I could…"

"Oh, but it's not safe out here!" Aurora burst out, hurrying forward and grasping the girl's hands. She looked surprised and more than a little panicked, but didn't pull away. The personal, pure magic of Aurora, Diaval supposed. "You should cross the border, enter my own kingdom – "

"You have a kingdom, miss?" The girl cocked her head again. "If you have a kingdom, who's this you're travelling with?" She leaned in a little, dark hair curtaining about her face. "Not a bandit, miss? You'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

Aurora laughed and craned her neck to smile at Diaval. Horrible, black certainty descended on Diaval at once. There was so much they hadn't told her, so much they should have instructed before they crossed into this frozen wasteland! Not in the least…that. Diaval opened his mouth to head her off, offer anything but what Aurora thought was free, what wasn't hers to give.

But he was a fraction too late.

"This is Diaval, he's…my godfather," Aurora said, beaming. Her whole attention was focused on the ravenman, so she missed what Diaval plainly saw take over the girl's face.

The girl's smile changed. Just a little. A tweak at one corner, a darkening to her brow. A few tiny twitches and her face was no longer that of a dopey peasant girl with a placating, nailed-on grin. Her cheeks hollowed with shadows, and her black eyes burned with sick, greasy fire.

"Di-a-val," she sounded out each syllable with relish, rolling them about her mouth before spitting them out.

Diaval felt It. The shroud, the netting, the trap fall about him. Her voice laid across his skin in a crackling, lightning filigree, sinking in and wrapping about his bones. The notes tightened, carved deep until they hit marrow and though it was but a whisper, it echoed through the cave of his body to chime against his soul.

"That's a pretty name," she said coyly, idly twisting a lock of her hair around one slender finger. "It means…mischievous, trickster, doesn't it? In the old tongue?" Diaval couldn't hide his cringe – her sonorous voice rattled through him and picked at the corners of his mind.

"Yes," he gritted out. The girl looked enormously pleased with the result.

Aurora faced the girl again, and it was like the wickedness Diaval had glimpsed simply fled. The girl smiled and tugged winsomely on her hair. "What's your name, then? You are so pretty, you must have an equally pretty name."

No.

Whoever this girl was, sprite or demon or sorceress, Diaval would not allow her ensnare Aurora the way she had him.

"Oh, I'm – "

"Briar Rose," Diaval interrupted in a rush. They both look at him – one surprised, the other suspicious. "She is known by Briar Rose."

Aurora looked as though she wanted to ask him why, why the deception, but she was a clever girl. She glanced nervously at the girl and carefully stepped back. When Aurora dropped her hands the girl's face momentarily crumpled, ugly and furious and hurt. But her sunny disposition was back in a trice.

"Briar Rose?" she said lightly. "Just as I thought, so pretty! Is that really your name?"

She watched Aurora closely. Aurora looked her dead in the eye, and Diaval felt another spark of pride for his brave, trusting princess.

"Yes," she said, her smile faltering. "It is. My parents weren't around when I was younger, and Diaval gave me the name." No lies. That at least had stuck with Aurora. Diaval remembered that sleepy spring afternoon, lounging by a warm spring as Maleficent imparted disjointed, idle bits of advice to a half-dozing Aurora. Never lie to faefolk, as they can always tell. But misdirection, half-truths, riddles and cryptic words were employed by the fae themselves and therefore allowed the humans to operate on equal footing.

If her smile had been glassy and unconvincing before, it was not even passing Aurora's muster now. "How very kind of him. He did a lovely job." Her eyes cut into him. "Diaval, tell me where your name comes from. Tell me who gave you your name." He was helpless against her command.

"It comes from nothing," he blurted out, the words boiling up into his throat. He tried to press his lips together but the compulsion was too strong, like the urge to retch. He felt like being sick. "It was my name as soon as I was me."

Her smile was the most genuine he had seen so far – cruel delight sharpened her features into violent prettiness. "That must be wonderful, to have a true name –" a quick glance at Aurora, "– given so freely."

His glare was acidic, hateful, but she didn't deign to acknowledge it.

"What's your name?" Aurora ventured, and the girl's smile lost a bit of its dark humour.

"My name?" she seemed a little surprised. "What kind of name would I have?" Now it was her turn to flinch; the words had flown out thoughtlessly, a real question instead of the calculated enquiries.

"I suppose…one that you like, or describes you best?" suggested Aurora. "Or a nickname? Do you have a name?"

The girl seemed to really see Aurora for the first time. "I have lots," she said indignantly, petulantly folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes glinted strangely, a perfect circle of warm red surfacing in each iris for just a second. Diaval inched closer to Aurora just in case – she was dangerous, but not in the way he had initially thought.

"Lots…" she mused, staring at a point a few inches over Aurora's shoulder. "Pen. My name is Pen."

"Pen?" Aurora repeated. The girl nodded jerkily. "It's charming!" Her compliment was so genuine, so delighted it shocked the girl – Pen – back into the shadows.

Faintly, in the distance, bronze wings thundered.

Pen had withdrawn even further – the hint of red was gone, and her eyes were silky black once more. "You scurry back to your best hidey-hole," she cautioned, glancing up towards the hidden sky. "Worse things than bandits about."

"Where are you going?" Aurora asked anxiously; Pen grinned, a wide crescent in whirling shadow.

"Not far." It was an ill promise. "Until next time, Briar Rose." A glint at Diaval. He fought down the howl rising in his chest. "Diaval."

She was gone. Madly, stupidly, Diaval rushed after her. There was no trace of her, though he searched frantically.

All he found was the dropped bucket, sitting upright, filled with chunks of pale-blue ice.

Tada! I'm going to get some food. I have had a litre of coffee and a small tin of tuna today. And that sounds quirky and manic pixie but my intestines are hangry.

Hope you liked it, love to hear what you think.