Or maybe it was fish who did that. She couldn’t keep them straight.
At the bottom, she tried to cross and uncross her feet quickly the way she had seen some of the troubadours and girl performers do. Her golden hair fell like a ripple of costly fabric, first down one shoulder and then the other, as she quickly shifted position. She lifted the hem of her dress so she could watch her feet and make sure they were doing what they were supposed to. But it was all so utterly graceful that anyone watching would have thought it was part of the performance.
Of course, anyone watching might also have wondered at a young woman—much less a royal princess—prancing about like that.
She pirouetted alongside a table in the lesser banquet hall, did a little leap through a side pantry, shuffled past an only slightly surprised serving boy, and briséd through what was once an orangery but whose glass was now covered in thick, protective vines like the rest of the castle.
Aurora only paused her singing and dancing when she came to the wide ironclad door that led to the special dungeon.
At the bottom of a long, winding flight of cold stone stairs were several small, rounded chambers that looked like the lairs of mud dauber wasps. Most of them were empty—there was little to no crime in the castle since there was no place else to go, no one you could escape from in a remaining population of less than a thousand. And nothing worth stealing.
When the minstrel got a little too drunk and out of hand, the queen would throw him in the stocks. Only once did she ever send him to the dungeons to dry out.
No, the only people down there now were the architects of the end of the known world: Princess Aurora’s parents, King Stefan and Queen Leah.
Once she had snuck down there, to look upon her progenitors.
Her aunt Maleficent had never forbidden her from doing so—her aunt had never forbidden her anything. Aurora didn’t know why she felt she had to do it on the sly.
But she had waited until Maleficent had been down and come back up so she knew there would be torches still lit and the way would not be utterly black. Aurora had slipped off her golden shoes and tiptoed, sticking closely to the rough-hewn walls, flattening herself like a child playing hide-and-seek.
The king and queen had been daze-eyed and silent, sitting on the one hard bench in their tiny cell, staring at nothing at all. There was no emotion on either of their faces. They were like statues waiting for the end of time, for the castle itself to crumble down around them.
Chilled, Aurora had fled back upstairs as quickly as she could and found her aunt Maleficent and wrapped her in exactly the sort of hug the older woman didn’t like but put up with on occasion, for the sake of her adopted daughter.
Aurora had no intention of ever going down to the dungeon again.
For now she just shivered and moved quickly past the dungeon door, all desire to dance withered and gone.
Her parents had danced, it was said, as the world tumbled down around them.
Their sickness, their evilness, their greed and heartlessness that ran so thick through their blood—it was in Aurora’s blood, too. Naturally.
Feeling a rise of panic, she began to race to the throne room, stopping just before the door to enter at a more regal rate, smoothing the front of her dress.
Maleficent sat upon the throne with an easy elegance Aurora wished she had. Her long fingers languidly pointed here and gestured there as she spoke. It was almost time for the Midvember ball; a full month had passed since the previous festivities. The room was filled with servants and minor royalty, all with last-minute requests for magical adjustments to their costumes, or additions to the menu, or royal approval of a certain dance.
Some of the servants weren’t strictly human.
Some of the servants were black and gray and strangely shaped. They had beaks instead of mouths, or pig snouts, or, worse, no mouths at all. Their feet were cloven hooves or spurred chicken claws or huge, splayed trotters.
But they were needed to keep the fouler monsters at bay, the ones from Outside. Maleficent summoned them out of clay and spirits from another world—a not very nice world, the princess guessed.
Their intelligence was negligible. Their silence was insisted upon by the queen, who saw the effect they had on the uneasy human residents of the fortress. Aurora was torn about this; the good-hearted girl rued the unfairness of the strict orders they were under.
And yet they were so unsettling….
Maleficent’s eyes caught Aurora and her face cracked into a pleased smile.
“Come, my girl, over here. You’re a welcome break from these weary preparations.”
“Auntie,” Aurora said with relief, approaching the throne and standing beside the queen. As always, her fears and doubts subsided the moment she was near the Savior of the Kingdom. She felt safe. “Really, you shouldn’t bother yourself with all this. You do so much else for the kingdom!”
“Ah, but this is important for morale, my sweet,” Maleficent said, raising an arched eyebrow as she smiled down upon her ward. “With none of us able to leave the castle until the world heals—well, we need these diversions to keep our spirits up.” She lifted a long finger and tucked a lock of golden hair behind Aurora’s ear. “Besides…your parents neglected you for sixteen years. Sixteen years without a ball or a birthday for a royal princess! Even peasants do more for their children.”
“Thank you, Aunt Maleficent,” Aurora murmured, lowering her head. She felt nothing but gratitude toward the woman who cared for her—but she still couldn’t look her aunt directly in her yellow eyes. They never seemed to focus on anything. It was impossible to tell precisely what the woman felt except when she made an effort, by moving her mouth.
“I like the theme you chose this time,” Maleficent said, a smile twitching at the edge of her lips. “‘Sky and Water Blue.’ Very poetic.”
“I have to use my imagination,” Aurora said. “Since I’ve never seen the sea or a river.”
In her dreams, sometimes tinkling streams flowed past cool and shaded mud banks—but obviously that was a product of her own starved imagination, and often it was all in shades of brown.
“You’ve done quite well.” Maleficent petted Aurora on the head like—well, like a pet. A funny stroking motion that seemed meant for something else. Another curious habit of her aunt’s. “Now listen, you know the ball is going to go very late tonight. Why don’t you run along and take a little nap, so you’ll be refreshed? I know how much you love to dance.”
“But I want to help….”
“Another time, dear,” Maleficent said, touching her gently on the cheek. “There will be plenty more of these in the years to come.”
“Yes, Aunt Maleficent. Thank you, Aunt Maleficent,” Aurora said dutifully, then leaned forward and snuck a quick kiss on her aunt’s hollowed cheek.
Maleficent’s eyes darted nervously.
The powerful fairy had not asked to be the savior of the only people left in the world. She had not asked for the world to be destroyed in the first place.
She had not asked to become the parent of a neglected princess.
She probably wanted to just live by herself in her old castle, practicing her spells and communing with powers beyond the ken of mortal men, happily ever after.
So if she wasn’t used to the hugs or kisses or other displays of affection Aurora had not received from her own parents, well, they would just both have to learn. Aurora would wear her down eventually.