#maleficent 2

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Feeling herself die was a funny thing. 

   She had seen death so many times before, helping commit elders to fly with the ancestors, watching as they became one with the earth. 

   But this was different. 

   Riza knew that there were going to be casualties. No battle went without them. But she didn't expect to die on the outskirts of the fight, bleeding out on a stony ground, surrounded by crumpling buildings, wounded guards, and distant screams.

   It felt wrong somehow. As if she were betraying her own by daring to fade away slowly, instead of dying in battle for the hope of a better future. 

   Riza couldn't even move if she wanted to, to at least return to the battlefield of the Ulstead castle. Her wings couldn't carry her, one had been shot through with dozens of iron bolts, and the other was broken, having snapped under her weight when she fell to the hard ground.

   The stone beneath her had grown warm and damp with her blood, its thick scent mixing with the dust filled air. The pain of her injuries had all but faded, numbness setting in as the sound of the world began to slip away. 

   This was truly it. She would die. 

   No family by her side, no lover, no friends. Just a barren street and the sounds of a fading war. Not even her magic could save her. The dozens of iron bolts still lodged in her stomach were slowly sapping it away, killing her just as it had killed Conall. 

   Oh, if he could see her now. The healer he had always had such hope for, slowly dying, all because she wanted to help save the humans who had no part in the fight. Choosing to evacuate the crowded streets in the name of hopeful peace, only to suffer the same as he had.

   Letting her tired eyes slip closed, Riza simply waited for her end to come. It wouldn't be long, just a few more moments.

   It felt like falling asleep.

   A loud but distant yell caught her attention however, distorted and warbled. It sounded like a woman, desperately screaming for something.

   The sensation of hands on her all but snapped the jungle fey into focus. The pain of her broken wing almost pulling a scream from her throat as she felt herself being lifted.

   What was happening?

   Her wings were limp and dragged across the ground, being nothing but dead weight as she was laid on a hard wooden surface. 

   Humans. She could smell them. Even if her eyelids felt too heavy to lift, her nose had never failed her. What did the humans want from her? She had tried to help them.

   Some sort of cloth was harshley pressed to her stomach, with more voices shouting for things Riza couldn't understand. She could feel her wings being moved, her head being gently lifted.

   The fey must have lost consciousness for a moment, as she suddenly heard her sister's voice. She sounded devastated, as if she were pleading to Riza. Shrike had never sounded like that. At least not surrounded by others. By humans no less.

   A hand took hers, warm and shaking. All Riza could do was weakly squeeze back.

   There was another on her left. Even at her weakest, Riza could feel the warmth of their magic, they were strong. An elder perhaps? Or at least another spiritual fey come to help send her off? 

   How lucky she was, she would get a proper goodbye.

   A feeling of spreading warmth surrounded the fey. Calm yet mighty. It swirled around her chest and attached itself to her fading core, pouring energy into it, and gently guiding it to her entire being. 

   Riza could feel the iron still stuck within her be pulled out, one by one in a quick succession. And she felt the wounds it left behind close as quickly as they could.

   Even the sensation of the bones of her wings melding back together, righting themselves as if they were never broken.

   But she was still weak. 

   So tired. 

   Her conscience slipped away once again.

   And all was silent.

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   There were moments when Riza was aware of the world around her. Faint sounds of voices, the sensation of someone holding her hand, the chill of a light breeze, the warmth of something being poured down her throat. All reminders that her heart still beat.

   But her eyes never wanted to open, she couldn't force her body to move. 

   It was torture. 

   The fey couldn't tell how fast or slow time was moving, if it was day or night. Only the short sensations of a world she could not see were any hint. Whoever her visitors were more than likely visited during the day, the light warm breeze seeming to accompany them. During what she assumed was night, only the occasional sound of footsteps or perhaps a woman humming. 

   Where even was she? She wasn't in her nest, or anywhere near her people. Maybe the human kingdom? But they were at war, why would they let her live? Care for her?

   Her thoughts faded away again. They always seemed to do that now. A few minutes of awareness, and then silence. 

   Whenever her awareness returned, there was someone with her again. Their hand was cold, not the familiar warming sensation that normally greeted her. Whoever they were, their voice was muddled, like she was underwater and they above. A tundra fey maybe? They always ran colder than the others. Maybe Udo? He would survive the war, who else would tend to the fledgling fey that had all but imprinted on him?

   The hand in hers squeezed tightly for a moment, the voice attached to it going silent. Were they waiting for something? 

   Another squeeze and then nothing. The cold hand in hers disappearing. 

   Without her anchor, the darkness won over her again. Time slipping away.

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   At first she wasn’t even aware that her eyes were open. At first there was just an empty void of white, and slowly the colors of the world faded in, taking the shape of an obviously human room, though slowly being taken by nature. Floors of smooth stone were covered with vines of fresh flowers that bled from stone columns around the room, each leading towards the bed she layed on. A fey did this, that was certain.

   Her limbs felt heavy, and she herself still felt half asleep, but she forced herself to sit up. Using her arms and wings, Riza was able to keep herself upright, doing her best to ignore the strain in her muscles. She hadn’t even stood and yet she already felt tired. She wanted to stand, to figure out where she was, to leave. She needed to find her sister.

   A door she hadn’t noticed opened just then, through it came an older woman. A human. In her hands she carried a bowl of some sort, which she promptly dropped the second she laid eyes on Riza. For a moment neither spoke, the woman in shock, and Riza because her throat felt as course as sand. 

   “Oh thank goodness,” The woman spoke, her voice confirming her older age. “You’re awake dear.”. 

   The bowl was forgotten on the floor as the woman came close, taking a wooden pitcher from a small table near the bed and pouring its contents into a smaller wooden cup. The cup was gently pushed to Riza’s lips, who drank without question, as the dryness of her throat became more apparent. It was three cups later before the old woman spoke again.

   “I’ve been wondering when you would finally wake up again dear. It’s been nearly two weeks now, your kin’s been so worried about you.” It took a moment for the fey to process what the woman had said. Two weeks? She had been asleep for two weeks? Her face must have conveyed her confusion, as the woman gained a look of pity.

   “Aye, it’s a lot to take in, but you’re in good health dear. Your body was healed the day of the battle, but your elders said it was your spirit that needed rest. But don’t you worry, you’ll be back with them in no time.” 

   Riza tried to speak, but the only noise to leave her was a dry croaking sound, which she tried to force into something resembling a word. “W-who?” She asked, as she made a half hearted point towards the older woman. 

   The woman was kind enough to not laugh at her struggle, instead she gave a warm smile. “My name is Mariand dear, and from what I’ve been told, your name is Riza correct? A skilled healer and a savior who helped the people of Ulstead?”. Mariand had begun to pour another cup of water, pressing it into Riza’s hands as she stood. “Word’s spread about how you and that white haired fellow chose to help the villagers during the fight. Us common folk favor you to the queen at the moment.”.

   Mariand smirked, her wrinkled face seeming younger for a moment. “Or, former queen. A farm animal can hardly be a queen.”. 

   “Wh-at?” 

   “Lady Maleficent turned the Queen Mother into a goat. King Philip will hold trial for her eventually, probably after the wedding.”. Mariand busied herself as she spoke, holding back a giggle as she opened the window curtains farther, before picking up the bowl she had dropped.