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don't fuck with faeries

setting: kh-verse
timeline: kh3 era, or at least post-3d
why: maleficent don't care. maleficent don't give a shit

warnings: enthrallment kink, sexual content of dubious consent, fire? i don't know? stuff's gonna happen

This is the wandring wood, this Errours den,
A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:
Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then
The fearefull Dwarfe) this is no place for living men.

She had returned to her own land, for the time being. She, MALEFICENT, that once was a conqueror of worlds, returned once again to her native land. She was not happy with this, but it was meet that she should regain her strength, ponder again upon where her foot should fall next.

Back among her dark woods, and foolish denizens, and murky fens. She had forsaken that long ago for power. After all, the dark was her domain, and its power rightfully was hers. It was her birthright. When that man had trespassed in her domain, she might have torn him like a fox among hounds, but he had offered her the knowledge she needed. A pity few mortals these days respected the old courtesies.

(He had betrayed her, too, in the end, taken the changeling from her and then let him slip through all their fingers like a fool. He had tried to subdue her. Treachery was within her expectations, but it was not to be borne.)

But she had other powers here. Powers of land-holding, and lordship. Powers of territory and blood-right. She, as all faeries, is lord of her dominion, and her dominion is darkness. For a mortal to challenge her within her territory would be outright foolishness. Of course.

So when she senses that a mortal has crossed over into her territory - at the very footsteps of her castle - Maleficent is not perturbed. In fact, she is quite pleased, though she takes pains to hide it.

Perhaps tonight may be amusing.

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(What’s madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day’s on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.
That place among the rocks—is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.)

It's desperation that escorts him over the threshold of these dark woods, and dread that is his companion beneath their boughs. How could they not? Lea knows Maleficent, knows her in a way that hardly needs them to have been formally introduced. He knows her reputation well, and has seen the consequences of her deeds. He's seen her speaking with the King, and the uncharacteristic tension that gripped the little mouse; the impotent pain and rage that had burned in Mickey's eyes had been almost unreal.

He knows what Maleficent is capable of--and deep in his heart, still young and new and fragile, he's afraid.

Lea doesn't let it make his steps falter or slow, though, doesn't let it lower his head or bow his back or darken his gaze. His stride is long and sure, and the small smile touching his lips speaks of lazy, effortless confidence. He remembers what it is to be heartless and brazen, and act like he was on top of the world. If he pretended hard enough, he might even believe it--it might even come true. He glides through the forest like a spectre that belongs there, hood up and cloaked in black, all but disappearing in the gloom. He climbs the steps of the castle, lifts a hand, knocks at the great double doors that confront him. He can't turn back, so he won't hesitate, no matter how much he doesn't want to be here facing her--the others need him to do this.

They need him to be cunning, and they believe him to be strong. He can't let their faith in him be misplaced. Now, as always, he'll do what must be done.

Maleficent has barely dealt with this one, only with his aftermath. The young man full of fire; she has never learned his name, not yet. He was once one of them, the Organization, the darkened and split, but any name he took under their stead could not have been his true name, and so Maleficent never took interest in it.

His knock at the doors sends the underlings scurrying. Maleficent lets them be; she interferes not at all when they open the doors and invite him inside. She will deliver a true invitation soon. She will collect her due, when it is time. The young man filled with fire cannot hope to understand what is truly at stake here. What it means to accept the hospitality of a fairy.

She instructs her henchmen to take him in and offer him food. She will greet him soon. She has time. She has all the time in the world.

Even when Maleficent's underlings open the door, Lea manages not to falter, in spite of the brief surge of alarm at the sight of them. Strange little things, almost goblin-like, with dusky skin and gleaming gold eyes--they look unnervingly like Heartless, and the thought of confronting those again, whole and complete after so long, is enough to make his own heart race.

He lets them invite him in, though, and escort him through the castle halls. He lets them guide him to what has to be a sitting room, and try to make him comfortable as best as he assumes they can. A few of them bring food to offer him--what looks like some sort of dark, blood-red wine, and a plate with some bread and cheese on it, and a small bowl of fruit; Lea can identify a pomegranate and an apple, but he's got no idea what the bright berries are supposed to be. He murmurs awkward thanks, but hesitates to actually take the offerings; the goblins put them on the table for him, instead, and most of them leave.

The fixed, unblinking gaze of the minion that does remain--if he's assuming charitable intentions, to make sure he doesn't need anything else--makes him uncomfortable, and so does the immediate hospitality--somehow, he'd expected to be attacked on his way in. He'd expected to have to fight for his life and talk his way out of a tight spot--it would be far more familiar, and might even leave him more at ease. Why should he be getting a welcoming reception like this, either as a stranger or as someone Maleficent knows and presumably dislikes? His skin prickles with the sense of imminent danger looming over him, hovering just out of sight and waiting to strike.

He's been paranoid for over half his life by now--it's only natural he should feel that way doing something this mad, whether that wariness is justified or not. Lea tells himself that quite firmly, but he still finds himself hesitating to actually take any of the offerings. He ends up avoiding the fruit and wine entirely, out of what he reminds himself is probably a completely unwarranted fear of poison; Maleficent has as little reason to poison him on sight as she does to welcome him warmly. Regardless, it's not advisable to lose control of his wits in a situation like this, either.....

Lea finally convinces himself to take some bread and cheese, eyeing the creature that's remained with him as he eats; he can't taste anything out of place, no taint of poison or Darkness that he can detect..... How long should he stall for? How long should he try to stay and buy the others time? A half hour, maybe? An hour? It depends on how quickly they can find Aurora, and convince her to come with them. He hopes they manage it quickly. He hopes Maleficent is busy. If he has to wait ten or fifteen minutes to be granted an audience with her, or even longer, he won't be put out at all. Whatever it takes to keep her busy and hold her attention.....

Maleficent waits a good quarter-hour before going to greet her guest. The first of her servants that return say that they only left the food for him. It is important that he accept a fair and generous offer, rather than acquiesce under duress. The extent to which a visitor's acceptance is self-willed will strengthen or dilute the binding.

But Maleficent needn't have worried. This young man, hailing from worlds unknown, for purposes unknown, has no idea what is and is not wise to do when seeking faeries...

She wills herself down to her receiving room and appears in a flash of green fire. She sees that food was taken. She smiles.

"Greetings," Maleficent says, with a proper bow. "I hope I have not kept you waiting."

Minutes tick past. Lea can't keep track of them, though he tries; there are no time pieces here, save for the steady gallop of his heart in his chest, and no windows to look for the Light. He could have been here for hardly any time at all, or it could be nightfall by now--really, it's impossible to tell. Lea guesses it's been somewhere around ten minutes, for the sake of having some sort of assumption at all--time enough to have surely at least found Aurora, right? Maybe they've even started talking. How long could the conversation take, anyway? Is she going to trust them?

He hopes so. Her life--and possibly his life--depend on it. Maybe everyone's lives hang in the balance here, if keeping the Princesses safe really is so vital to protecting the worlds. There's too damn much at stake.

By the time Maleficent deigns to come see him, Lea has settled in to just think. He's eaten--not much, but some, enough for Maleficent's purposes--a bit, and watched the strange goblin-creature scuttle around the room until it's clear he's (probably) not going to need to fight it, and there's really nothing to do but dwell on things he doesn't want or need to dwell on. Things like how credulous Maleficent and Aurora alike might be, and how much harder it is to act convincingly with a heart. Things like Darkness and dragons and Hellfire, and what miniscule scraps he knows about fairies in general and Maleficent in particular. This is one mission he feels woefully unprepared for.....

Fire. Lea senses it before he sees it, hears a sharp crackle and pulls in a deep breath of brimstone even as he lifts his head to look. At least Maleficent knows how to travel in style, huh? It's a ridiculous thought, but it helps Lea return Maleficent's smile, light and easy. He stands immediately, ducking his head--somehow, Lea feels sure that someone like him attempting a proper formal bow would come off as entirely disrespectful no matter what he did. He's not much good for court manners..... "No, no, not at all. I'm sure you're busy."

"One is never too busy to entertain a guest," Maleficent says. She takes a brief moment to survey the room that the young man, whose presence crackles in the room like a gas lantern - a foreign fire. On this, Maleficent's, world, fire is as a dog - it must be well-trained, well-heeled to be allowed within a home, caged within the hearth or bound to short, well-trimmed wicks. But in other worlds, she has seen fire spun into glass, raging bright in hot spheres like tiny suns, its constant hunger fed by ever-flowing streams of gases or energies that live in metal. This young man reminds her of such fires. Angry, for being bound.

The room is well-kept, its hearth well-tended. Perfectly hospitable. She dismisses the final remaining servant with a curt word.

"I do not believe we have been formally introduced," she says, finally. Such poor manners, for the one of lesser status not to make the greetings first. But, of course, if he is as foolish - or at least, as ill-educated as she hopes, she may gain the second piece of the puzzle she needs to make this evening truly worthwhile. "My name is MALEFICENT."

At the declaration of her name, the fire gutters in the hearth, the windows rattle, and beyond, out in the large hall where the massive front doors stand, the bolts draw shut of their own accord. But that cannot be heard in this room.

The young man full of fire has taken faerie food; he cannot depart this castle until sunrise, now.

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