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If I had a flower
For every time I thought of you,
I could walk in my garden forever.
- Alfred Lord Tennyson
“Pardon me?”
“I will do no such thing. I am not one who repeats themselves.”
There is a long beat of silence, broken only by the occasional whisper of wind against stone.
In the castle courtyard a bonfire ritual rages as the night’s children dance and shriek in their moonlit madness. Glowing green embers make shadows dance across gargoyles and grotesques standing sentinel in every corner of the dark citadel. Tonight, their mistress has matters to attend to of grave importance, her voice absent from the familiar echoes.
She must attend to a human.
Her human.
The presence of whom had been entirely accidental, although Maleficent would be loath to admit it. A human noblewoman swept up in the flames when absconding from that abysmal christening. As far as everyone else was concerned it was all part of the plan. The Mistress of All Evil makes no mistakes, only enemies and promises. She’d started with intimidation, claiming that should the little human serve the Fae well, she’d be released to tell the tale and spread word of the dark powers in the moors not to be trifled with.
And yet.
Time passed and Maleficent’s attitude towards the pitiable creature changed like the moon’s face. At first she barely registered the little beast’s existence, only acknowledging it when bored or scolding the lesser Fae for being so friendly to it. Stupid little things.
The first extended interaction between the women was once more entirely by accident. Maleficent almost didn’t recognize the human during an idle passing through the castle halls, the creature’s fine gown had long become filthy and dull from time and work. Its skin was pale from sleeping away the days and tending to the night Fae’s needs, skin sallow from lack of nutrients.
She ordered answers about the human’s state to a passing crocodile Fae, turning the thing to stone petulantly at the answer. Her voice projecting in the thin space made all cower, the rage in her tone near boiling point already, “You fools. No baths drawn in weeks, fed only on garbage scraps? If you can hardly survive such treatment what idiotic illusion led you to believe a human shall? You,” Her staff sweeps to point at a crow beast that gives a squawk of pure terror, “Draw a basin full in the nearest quarter. Send for the weavers to await in her quarters with a meal of substance. Do it now before I put you on her plate myself.”
The hall moves with a dizzying speed as the Mistress of All Evil sweeps out, violence barely restrained. Her mood certainly isn’t improved upon Diablo coming to her hours later,relaying another incident involving the human woman.
Which is how the Thorn Fairy ends up bending into the small doorway to see the beast weeping and shrieking at the weavers, flinching at every movement. All rush to explain before any accusations can be lobbied, a venomous look sent down the cloaked woman’s nose. A tsk tears its way out before she turns to the woman with annoyance in her voice, “These are the weavers. Yes, they are spider creatures. No, they are not trying to attack you. Now stand up and be still, girl.”
It takes a moment longer than Maleficent would like for the sniffling to stop and the woman to stand. The Thorn Fairy shoos Diablo out to his duties while turning to face the door herself. The room is quiet, only broken by the shuffling of eight legged beasts on stone, buzzing magic, and murmuring of the weavers in twisted tongues.
Then, the human speaks.
“Why…Why do you face the wall, Mistress?” The voice is barely more than a whisper from a hoarse throat. Damnable curiosity of the beasts leaving them unable to not ask the most absurd questions for long. Are they so allergic to silence?
The grey skinned fairy scoffs, “Your question is foolish however I will bless you with a response for using the appropriate title, child of dawn. You humans tend to view your modesty as something of ludicrous importance so I am not gazing upon your body for the sake of interspecies respectability.” There is a moment of disbelieving silence from the human, Maleficent adding, “These weavers do not speak the human common tongue along with many others in my castle. I remain to translate so you do not continue your obnoxious quaking like a damsel.”
She’s pleased when the woman utters a simple thanks and remains silent. Until her eye catches on a plate of food left untouched. Another huff tears out of the Fae’s throat, jagged magic arching from her staff to nudge the plate closer to the human inelegantly. “Human. Eat.”
Then, the pitiable creature has the audacity to question the dark mistress, “But, Ma’am…What of the binding powers of fairy food and drink?” Maleficent has half a mind to turn and curse the woman that very second. Instead she draws a slow breath, voice barely more than a hiss, “Girl. If I wished to bind or curse you I’d need no food to do so, and none of those lesser creatures would dare interfere with a being under my possession. Furthermore, you’ve already been given quarters, clothing, and safety under my reign. If I so wished you would already be buried under a debt woven deeper than bone. By all means, incur my wrath further so I might have a reason.” The sentences are barely snipped out when she hears the human rush the meal in her state of starvation.
Maleficent delves into her thoughts amidst the renewed quiet. The human had enough wit to be wary of the food around her, only eating scraps tossed aside and drinking rain water for weeks to survive whilst keeping a low head. What a peculiar and stubborn little thing…And at least a touch more intelligent than most of her species.
The weavers sound their finishing, the Dark Mistress turning to evaluate their creations. The human’s wardrobe bursts with fabric and fixings now. The noble lady’s face is one of wonder while gazing down at her body draped in fine fabrics woven of dark magic. The structured gown sweeps with each step with its floor length skirts. The square neckline is decorated with threads of green pearls, over a fitted bodice that spills long, bell sleeves. The edges are decorated with the same green pearls beaded intricately into the lacework. The outer fabric is a midnight black that would make the most starless of nights jealous of the depth, skirt bearing a wide front panel of cool violet brocade.
The human flushes at the tall Fae’s gaze reading her from tip to toe. That sharp edged smile brings a shiver to the room, Maleficent humming before she speaks, “Consider yourself particularly fortuitous to be under my care at this moment, mortal. I know of more than one who would pluck such a sight up for their collection of human brides.”
Dark fabric sweeps out of the doorway, smug at the incredulous sputtering in her wake.
From then the Mistress of All Evil paid a touch more attention to the human, at times lazily asking of her condition when passing in halls.
Their next extended interaction was at one of many moonlit rituals in the castle of scales. For a reason the Thorn Fairy could never quite comprehend her henchmen had become quite taken with the fragile thing. Although they were still fools, oft blind to the differences in their species and effects of Fae magic upon humans.
So when Maleficent saw a merry band of them trying to corral the woman into their circle of mad dancing her long shadow fell upon the crowd. They may be stupid, but not enough to think sticking around was a good idea. And so the human was dragged to set upon the arm of the great scaled throne of the Mistress in all her regality.
Once more the human allergy to silence showed when it spoke softly, “Mistress…may I be permissed to ask a question?” A silent side long glance told the human to speak while she still had her tongue. “This may sound quite silly but…Upon your head, are those horns part of your garb or part of your personage?” Maleficent turned to face the human fully now, incredulous. A sharp bark of laughter made the human at her side flinch and Diablo fluff in reflexive defense.
Maybe it was the innocent foolishness of the inquiry or the ritual imbibements that soothed the Fae just enough to decide against snapping the little thing’s head off. Regardless, she gifted an answer instead of a death sentence, “The curiosity of your species shall surely be its end one day. Yes, these horns are my own. I keep them covered to avoid damaging things around myself.”
The human’s gaze sparkled in curiosity as it raked over her headdress. Maleficent doesn’t know why she continues speaking, much less why she makes the offer, “You may touch them if you wish, yet such a move will mean I have leave to touch you in turn. Such a thing is only fair repayment.” The human’s eyes widen as they dart about in thought.
The Thorn Fairy is surprised enough when the human leans forward with hesitance, even moreso when those dainty fingers tuck under the brim of her headdress rather than over the leather. Soft digits drift through hidden hair to dust across sensitive keratin scales.
A full body shudder is masked with a sleek sweep of the arm to knock the human into her chest with a shriek. Sputtering questions are silenced with a tone of unearthly calm, “My, is it not fair that such a bold move is met with one in return? Cease your complaints and be still. It is rare for anyone to be allowed upon the Throne of Thorns, rarer still for it to be a mortal.” A huff and a slump as the red faced woman tried to sit primly on the cold lap of the dark Fae queen.
There was a shift after that night.
It became a ritual in its own right, the human ending up safely perched on the Mistress’ lap each bonfire night. The clothes the weavers made become more ornate and less perfunctory, just so considering the list of chores doled to the child of dawn was quickly dwindling. The Fae treated her with a wary respect as if unsure what to do about her now, being treated more as their lady’s precious pet than a threatened captive.
Things only moved along because her dear little Diablo was frankly fed up. And as always he was the only one that Maleficent would even come close to listening to.
So when the raven insisted on a night flight by the river the Thorn Fairy had no questions, just grumbled about being pushed and prodded by a little bird. Diablo avoided her glare when they just so happened to come upon the human woman by the river, knelt curiously among the wildflowers. The human gave a dutiful curtsy.
Maleficent stood back silently as Diablo hopped about the mortal’s hands, urging her away from enchanted or poisonous plants towards safer flora. An amused lilt floated by, “My, it seems my familiar is quite taken with you these days. Enough to not leave you to perish amidst the belladonna and datura at least.”
The noble woman chuckled at that, giving the raven a tap on the beak and a soft scratch on the head. The wiggling and contented croaks reminded the mortal more of a loyal dog than a sentient bird named after the literal devil. Diablo’s ego was only further stroked by the mortal weaving a simple necklace of flower buds to rest on his neck like a collar.
In return for the gift he shakes loose a few feathers, dropping them into the mortal’s hands like they were made of the purest gold. The lady coos her thanks yet her fingers move sloppily trying to weave them into her own tresses.
The scoff of the Thorn Fairy makes her jump. Her long shadow falls over the mortal, flicking her with an annoyed, “Stay still. Face forward. If you broke them I would be the one to suffer his whining and curdled ego.” The noble woman obeys, silent as long, grey fingers weave flowers and feathers into a few braids. Diablo makes sure to send a few smug looks her own way, too.
While the Mistress of All Evil grumbles at the attitude, the approval of her closest confidante brings ease to mind and heart. Enough that she stealthily weaves in a few locks of her own. An old wives tale told amongst the children about binding people together forever more. As if for extra reassurance she tucks honeysuckle behind the human’s ear while weaving sweet clover through each braid.
Maleficent is brought out of her remembrance by the human noble making an indignant sound, arms crossed and pouty face flushed.
“Well, all this time I thought you hated me, so pardon if I'm just a tad suspicious of this love confession!”
The Mistress throws her arms up in sheer exasperation. “My speech may be terse yet you remain ignorant to months of blatant acts of courtship?” Maleficent wants to blow something up at the human’s visible confusion.
She settles for setting a passing bat Fae on fire instead. Progress.
The mistress of All Evil huffs, eyebrows knit in tight displeasure. “You have been served moonfruit wrapped in heather, your jewels buffed with hawthorn oil. Primroses left at your door at twilight, snowdrop at dawn!”
The mortal’s absent look made the Fae seek to bang her head into the stone wall. “I assumed it was just another Fae meal, and that the oil was just a kind gesture of perfuming the pieces.”
“And the flowers? Surely such a practice is not foreign even to the children of dawn?”
That statement made the human avert her gaze, face flushed. She was clearly trying to find an excuse for her willful ignorance in that regard. The Mistress of All Evil let out a long suffering sigh, bringing a long pointed finger to poke at the necklace around the mortal’s neck. It was a simple thing of what appeared to be polished obsidian affixed by golden thread.
The Thorn Fairy lifts her horned hennin and tugs off the tightly wound wimple. She shakes loose several feet of tresses colored such a dark seaweed green they appear black. Jutting from the crown of her head were two tall, sharp horns carved from midnight skies. Her touch was gentle as she took hold of the human hand, even bending her towering frame. Maleficent brings the lady’s hand to brush over the left horn. Mortal fingers brush over every ridge reverently until they pause at a gap, a missing scale.
Maleficent’s face curls into a smug grin when the mortal woman flushes even darker with eyes wide. Her free hand comes to clutch the necklace.
Oh. oh.
The Fae looks like the cat who’d got the cream as she prepares another of her usual smug remarks. Whether fortunately or not she gets no chance to speak, her human sends an indignant look of fire before lifting her other hand to the right horn. In a quick, bold, and dangerous for anyone except her movement tugs Maleficent to her height until their lips meet.
There’s a brief pause of processing before the dragon Fae scoops the human up to deepen the touch, separating with a devious cackle. Her grey face remains close to the soft mortal’s, voice dark and heated as she speaks.
“Little thing, you can be certain that I have no intentions of ever letting you go, now. You will be the crown jewel of my hoard forever more.”