don't fuck with faeries

[ofairanddarkness]

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.

Comments

[ofairanddarkness]

"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.