Chapter 4: Aurora's Dilemma

Watching her 'Beastie' return to the world of humans, Maleficent retreated back into the safety of the Moors, unable to watch until her beloved god-daughter rode out of sight, but content (for now) in the knowledge that she was safe in Prince Phillip's company. Wings trembling with suppressed emotion, a weak echo to the turmoil she'd felt when Stefan had betrayed her, she didn't bother to turn her head as she changed Diaval into a human with a flick of her hand.

"You should have told me!"

"She can handle it, my Lady," Diaval implored, stalking after her.

"But I had a right to know!" Maleficent shot back.

"And it was her place to tell you."

"Humans, like the man threatening her, are monsters that can never be reasoned with!" Fists clenching in suppressed frustration, Maleficent whirled around to face him, her expression anguished. "Men like her father."

"Things will be different," Diaval argued.

He had seen the effects of Stefan's hatred, driving the king mad, waging a hopeless war against the Moors. How Maleficent's pain had twisted her, embittering all the good in her heart and turning it cruel. But even more, he had seen Aurora grow up, pure, and innocent in spirit, free from the vice that plagued the rest of her race.

"Alaric has no power here," he pointed out. "And Aurora is strong and capable, not to be bullied by the likes of him."

Giving him a pitying smile, a smile that said he knew nothing, she shook her head firmly. "But he does have power," Maleficent replied, her words heavy with meaning. "He has power over the common people, power to give them the courage to voice their outrage with the Moors. The past three kings have waged war against us, it's ingrained in the people's blood to hate us. For all that our Beastie may be fair and just, they will see her as weak, and tear the throne away from her."

Walking several paces in silence, Diaval gave Maleficent room to think, following discreetly behind. Around them, the colorful population of the Moors moved about in their daily lives, acknowledging the two as they passed, but not approaching, sensing the grave mood that enveloped them.

Confiding aloud her thoughts, Maleficent announced unexpectedly, turning to face him. "We can't allow Alaric to have his way. Preparations must be made for any threats he may decide to act upon. I'll fight him myself before I let him harm our Aurora."

Surprised by the venom under laying her words and catching the unbridled fury in her eyes, he grabbed her arm, a daring gesture on his part, one he wouldn't have dared to attempt a few years ago, but a feeling drove him to do it. This wouldn't help Aurora! If Maleficent stepped in with an army of Moors at her back, it would only prove that Alaric was speaking the truth! Aurora had to win her own battles.

"You told her that she had to make the decisions," Diaval reminded swiftly, brows furrowing, bringing up the conversation with Aurora. "Do you not trust her?"

"I trust Aurora will handle the situation in the manner properly befitting a queen," Maleficent stated stiffly, pulling away from him with a jerk. "But I don't believe Alaric will give her a chance."

"You can't help her," Diaval said lowly, searching her eyes. "She must work this out for herself. You'll only make things worse if you take control of the situation."

"Eliminating the problem before it gets out of control is best for everyone! Tell me, Diaval, what will you do when he takes the kingdom out from under her, leaving her alone and friendless, what good will your pleas for her case do then?" Her tone snide, it was a harsh question, unfairly put, but he didn't flinch.

Swallowing hard, ignoring the jibe, he reasoned, "She won't be alone though. We'll help her, give her wisdom, and be a guiding light. And she has friends, allies, who will stand with her. She won't be alone, overwhelmed maybe, but never alone."

Frowning, eyes narrowed as she studied him, a slim brow suddenly quirked up as a trace of a smile warmed Maleficent's face, softening the edge of her anger. "You've changed, Diaval," she noted slowly. "I don't know why I didn't see it, but you've become somewhat human. And you're right. Aurora isn't a child, but she'll always be able to turn to us for help and we'll be there."

Tilting her head contemplatively, gaze roving over his figure, coming to a decision in her mind, she nodded abruptly in resolution.

"Diaval, you've been a long and faithful companion to me, but now I have a new task for you. I cannot be by Aurora's side, be seen beyond the Moors borders. As you pointed out, Aurora must face things for herself. But neither must she be alone. And I have need for your watchful eye. Hereby, I grant you the power to shift your form at will, into any of the creatures that you have already become, for as long as Aurora has need of you."

Power washing over him as she amended the spell, a strange and completely new sensation filled his body.

Riding slowly back to the castle, Aurora's thoughts spun heavily, filled with doubts and recollections of everything that was happening. Next to her rode Phillip, their horses keeping abreast of each other, but he didn't interrupt her thoughts or offer conversation, understanding that she wanted space to think.

There was so much resting upon her, depending upon the choices of her actions, and she couldn't just hand it off to someone else. Simply skip out of this responsibility, all because she didn't want to accept it and the consequences it would bring. Avery had already warned her, and her Godmother had seconded his opinion in telling her that another couldn't decide for her.

But she couldn't understand the hostility her people felt for the Moors.

"Wait," Aurora suddenly spoke up, halting her palomino mare. Phillip slowed his own gray to look at her quizzically, mouth opening to politely inquire why as to her unexpected change of action, but she added hastily, before he could voice a syllable, "I want to go through the town. Ride for a little longer, and visit my people," she explained.

"Of course," Phillip conceded amiably, smiling now that he understood, turning his horse so it once more fell in step with hers. "And if you don't disapprove, I'll continue with you."

Returning his smile with one of her own, one that was filled with affection, they cantered down to the village nestled in the lee of the castle. Smoke sullied the wind, carried away over the thatched rooftops, coming from the smithy, and chandler shops. People bustled about the streets, milling in conversation with friends, doing business in the market, or carrying out errands and other tasks that brought them outside. Alive with the noise of voices and feet, scents tickled the nose, some repugnant, like the lyre shop, or enticing, such as the smell of fresh bread, and some were even heady, as of that in the perfumery.

Dismounting to better make progress on foot, Aurora's eager face turning to take in the everyday sights of the lives around her, openly expressing her delight at seeing it, they wove through the streets, hemmed on all sides, greeting those who acknowledged them, and letting the scenes absorb their senses.

Entering the town green, where the heart of the market throbbed with activity, Aurora grabbed Phillip's hand in sudden excitement, dragging him over to the stall that had caught her attention.

"Oh, look!" she gasped, admiring the clockwork toys that moved as if with a life of their own, entranced by the movements.

"Princess," the old woman who ran the stall said welcomingly, her crooked, gap toothed smile joyful at being visited by her future queen. "It is an honor."

"The honor is mine," Aurora returned gracefully, smiling easily. "Can you show me how they work?" she asked, hand lightly skimming over the backs of the toys.

"Your majesty," the old woman murmured, touched, bobbing in an unpracticed courtesy, disappearing into the back of her booth to retrieve some half-completed specimens. Beckoning Aurora and Phillip closer, her knobbled fingers danced expertly upon the clockworks, twisting the gears into position, winding up the keys, sewing the fabric closed. Eyes wide in wonder, soft exclamations escaping them, the two young royals didn't hesitate to express their amazement. Pleased by their unabashed praise the old woman didn't hesitate to display as many of her clockwork creations as they desired.

"What brings you and fair Prince Phillip outdoors, if I may inquire?" she posed curiously.

Smile unwavering, cheered to find one who was willing to talk to her freely, titles aside, Aurora answered eagerly, "We were out visiting the Moors."

Like the sun disappearing behind the clouds, the woman's face darkened, wrinkles creasing disapprovingly, lips pursed with distaste, she held herself stiffly upright. Quick to put distance between them, she swept the toys up carelessly. "Excuse me," she said, voice gruff, no longer attempting to perform the courtly mannerisms required.

"I'm sorry?" Aurora questioned, taken aback.

"Friends of the Moors are not welcome here!" she snapped, eyes flinty. "We don't want none o' your magic, or tricksie ways!" Yanking down the front of the stall, she was officially closed to all business.

Turning in shock, Aurora found Phillip frowning with displeasure at the abrupt departure. "What is wrong-" she started, but Phillip put a stilling hand on her arm, face softening into a look of concern.

"Don't talk about it here," he quietly implored, glancing around at the square which had become curiously empty. Where before crowds had bustled around them, stiflingly close in proximity, the street was now deserted, the few people left avoiding them scrupulously.

Following his gaze, she caught the eye of one or two of the peasants stunned by the reality of the fact that their expressions full of suspicions for the two young royals who consorted with faeries.

It's true, she realized. My people hate the Moors.

Throat tight, Aurora nodded, allowing him to lead her away.

Entering the stable yard again, Aurora gave Phillip a small, but sincere, smile and said quietly, "Thank you for coming with me."

Returning her smile, he replied chivalrously, "Anytime, you only need to ask."

Nodding in contented acceptance of his words, she slipped from her mount's back and handed it off to the stable boy. Bidding her excuses and farewells, she returned inside. Hitching her skirt up as she climbed the stairs, so it didn't wrap around her ankles, she headed up to her room. Declining conversation with any who attempted to talk to her, it was with grateful relief that she closed her bedroom door behind her.

Going to the window, skirt wrinkling in an unlady-like fashion underneath her as she sprawled on the seat, Aurora flung open the casement, resting her arms on the sill to lean out and let the fresh air bathe her face.

The old woman's words rang through her head; hate twisting her voice, the wrinkles around her lips pursed in distaste, revolted expression once more making Aurora shrink inside, the memory crisp in every detail with its freshness. Was that really how her people felt? Did they hate the Moors so much? A disquieting thought made her breathe sharply, chills running over her body, nails digging into her palms as her hand fisted tightly. Maybe everything Alaric said was true?

Some unknown minutes passed before a knock came. "My lady," Avery said discreetly. "I must beg to disturb you, there's another message from Lord Alaric."

"You may enter," Aurora replied softly, the burden of her responsibilities weighing heavier.

Answering her summons, Avery set the letter on her desk before stepping back out, leaving it for her to read at her discretion. Glad for the maintaining of her solitude, but knowing that the letter required her immediate attention, Aurora fetched it and brought it to her window seat. Resigned to face whatever declared intentions Alaric bore, she wasted no time in opening it.

My dear Aurora,

It pains me greatly to hear your answer. I'm afraid that the Moors have beguiled you, and so, have blinded you to their evil, which leaves me with the decision to hasten my coming. I know your father would not want you to be friendless in a situation like this, and I willing accept that responsibility. As I was his friend, so I shall be yours.

But until I arrive, I must beg that you do nothing rash, and avoid the Moors at all costs. While it is a noble move to be on good terms with them, it is a foolish endeavor. They will only turn around and betray you. I'm sure you don't need more warning than that.

Ever your friend, and concerned for your wellbeing,

Alaric