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The woman was a prisoner, but she came from a noble line, so she was not treated like a common ruffian and thrown unceremoniously into a dungeon. Instead she was given rooms above ground, and a fine wardrobe, and regular meals, and as much freedom as could be afforded to someone who had threatened the safety of the kingdom. She had the run of the entire garden - but the garden was enclosed by high walls and regularly patrolled by guards.
Regina knew all this. What she didn’t know was why everyone referred to the woman as the dragon, or why she had started feeling the sizzle of magical wards in the gardens as soon as the woman had started taking daily walks there.
Regina sat on a stone bench under a leafy tree, trying to lose herself in a book, and surreptitiously watched the woman as she stalked along the pathways between the rose bushes.
She was very tall; certainly taller than Leopold. She wasn’t as broad as the King, although she moved with as much regal pride as he did. She was pale and fair, her hair held back in a tight braid and her face almost entirely free of any paints or powders; and yet she made a striking figure as she moved moodily through the flowers. She was dressed in a man’s clothing, but the garments looked very well on her indeed. Her trousers and shirt were of a dark silk that gleamed in the sun, and she wore a waistcoat richly embroidered in vibrant blue and glittering silver. Regina could not keep her gaze from straying away from the page to track the woman’s progress through the garden.
This ritual was repeated every day: Regina would breakfast - usually alone, as Leopold would have left the royal chambers to eat with Princess Snow in her rooms; when Regina had completed her frugal meal, she would pick up her book and make her way down to the garden. No one stopped to speak with her beyond bowing and wishing her Majesty a good morning. Leopold did not trust her to be in charge of anything yet, and so she had no staff or duties beyond being available at his pleasure whenever he desired a companion.
Regina determined the woman was a late riser when, by the third day of her confinement, it seemed she’d established the practice of appearing for her walk well after the fourth hour of the morning. Her wandering was not aimless though; she’d start with the rose bushes, then make her way through the aromatics, inhaling deeply by the lavender and chamomile; she’d finish with the decorative fruit trees, peering at the bright oranges and reds with confused suspicion.
On the fourth day, she altered her path so that she walked by Regina where she sat, stiff with tension and staring blindly at the open book in her lap. The woman passed by silently, the only sound the scrunch of her footfalls in the gravel.
On the fifth day, the woman nodded as she walked by; Regina’s head was bent fixedly over her book, but she caught the movement out of the corner of her eye.
On the sixth day, the woman murmured good morning as she passed. Regina’s heart beat faster to hear her voice; it was higher pitched than she’d expected, light and airy and very pretty.
On the seventh day the woman said, “Are you a prisoner too?”
Regina burst out with surprised laugher. “No!” she gasped, without looking up. “I am the Queen.”
“Ah. Forgive me, your Majesty.” And she walked on.
Regina sat, still staring at her book. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, splashing onto the page.
On the eight day, Regina straightened when the woman approached. “Good morning,” she said boldly, refusing to care that one of the guards may report her to Leopold.
“Your Majesty.” The words were stiff and accompanied by a minuscule bow.
“My name is Regina,” she whispered when the woman had walked by, having passed too far away to have heard.
The woman stopped. She turned. “You know who I am.”
“I do not,” Regina said.
The woman frowned. “I am Maleficent.” She paused, as though waiting to see the impact of her words.
“Good morning, Maleficent,” Regina said, offering a small smile.
She saw the surprise in Maleficent’s face. When she bowed this time, it was deeper, truer, not designed to be an insult.
The next morning, Maleficent paused as soon as she reached her. “Good morning, Regina.”
Regina’s smile was automatic, and brighter than any she had produced since the day of her marriage. “Hello,” she said.
“What are you reading?”
“Oh.” She had forgotten the book in her hands. “Poetry.”
“I enjoy poetry.”
“Do you? Would you like to borrow this?”
Maleficent smiled. “I don’t think you’re supposed to just give me things, your Majesty. I’m sure the King has ordered I am to be watched very closely.”
She sounded proud of the fact, and Regina smiled.
“It’s just a book. How could the King object?”
“Books can be dangerous things, your Majesty.”
“Perhaps if they are heavy enough.”
Maleficent laughed, a delighted sound; her eyes grew very bright, and Regina felt her heart flutter in her chest.
When Maleficent approached her the next morning, Regina had two books with her. One thick and heavy, bound in leather. The other was much smaller, not much longer than Regina’s hand, and bound in cheap paper.
“This is for you,” she said, as she handed the slim volume to Maleficent. “I asked the King, and the Librarian said this would be sufficient for you. I am sorry.”
Maleficent smiled as she took the book between her hands and tucked it into a pocket. “Thank you.”
“Of course, no one has said that you cannot listen.”
“Ah.”
“Will you sit?”
“Gladly.”
Maleficent lowered herself to the stone bench, sitting beside Regina, but so careful to not move too close that she did not disturb a single fold of Regina’s skirts.
Regina opened the book, cleared her throat, and began to read.
She was familiar with this book, and so she read clearly and well, knowing how to draw even more beauty out of the words by her inflections and tone. She was almost able to ignore her companion’s presence; Maleficent was so still and silent, Regina found it easy to read aloud without any hesitation or reserve.
She had read perhaps six pages when Maleficent spoke. “Forgive me, your Majesty. I must ask you to stop.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Are you bored?”
“Oh, my dear. If this is boredom, then may I have such a surfeit of it- Hmm. Forgive me. Again. I forget myself.” She cleared her throat, stood, and bowed deeply. “I must return to my rooms. My illusion of freedom ends with the fifth hour. And hark, I hear it chime that now.”
“Of course. Forgive me. I did not intend to get you in trouble!”
“No trouble, your Majesty. I assure you. Until tomorrow? I am eager to hear what comes next.”
Regina nodded and watched as Maleficent walked unhurriedly away from her, towards the approaching guards.
The next morning, as soon as Maleficent entered the garden, she walked directly to Regina. “Would you walk with me?” she asked. “I need to take some exercise, but I would be most grateful for the company.”
“Of course,” Regina said and stood, a little awkward in her movements, burdened as she was by the heavy book she carried.
“Allow me?” Maleficent asked, holding a hand out. She wore gloves of black leather, polished to a glossy shine.
Regina stared at her, wide-eyed in shock. No stranger was permitted to touch the Queen. Surely Maleficent knew this?
“The book?” Maleficent clarified. “Allow me to carry it for you?”
“Of course!” She felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment at her misunderstanding.
Maleficent tucked the book under one arm, her demeanour calm and unruffled, unperturbed by what had happened.
They walked side by side through the garden, following Maleficent’s regular path. She pointed out her favourite roses, plucked marigolds and primroses to weave into a little bouquet that she presented to Regina with a flourish, and scowled at the orange trees. “What is the point of fruit you cannot eat?” she muttered.
“Because they are pretty,” Regina said. “And Leopold likes pretty things. Even if they serve little purpose other than to be looked at.”
Maleficent’s scowl grew more thunderous. Regina thought she could understand why the castle staff called her the dragon. Maleficent looked furious enough to breathe fire.
“Would you like me to read some more?” Regina asked, offering a distraction she hoped Maleficent would accept.
She was not disappointed. The anger dropped from Maleficent’s face almost immediately. “I can think of nothing I would like more.”
Regina read until the passing of the fifth hour chimed, stopping when she saw Maleficent’s guards approach.
They walked together again the next morning. Maleficent had held her hand out for the book as soon as she had arrived, and Regina had handed it over, and everything had progressed smoothly from that moment. Or at least, things went smoothly until they encountered a loose paving stone. They were walking down a set of shallow steps that led to the grove of decorative trees when one of the stones tipped out from under Regina’s foot. She lost her balance and began to fall. Maleficent reacted startlingly quickly; flinging out an arm to steady Regina, her gloved fingers closed over Regina’s hand. Regina gasped at the contact. The leather was soft and smooth under her fingers. Maleficent’s hand was strong, steady as a rock. She held onto Regina until she had regained her footing and was standing on stable ground again.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I did not mean to take liberties.”
Regina shook her head, wanting to say there was nothing to forgive. But she was prevented by running guards who shouted warnings and demands for Maleficent to stand back.
The guards surrounded Maleficent, ignoring Regina’s protests, and shuffled her away, back to the confinement of her room.
When they had gone, Regina noticed that Maleficent had dropped the book. It lay in the grass, spine twisted and pages torn by the guards’ booted feet.
That night, Regina learned that Leopold knew exactly what had happened in the garden.
The next morning, Maleficent appeared at the same time as she always did. She smiled brightly when she saw Regina sitting on her regular bench, and strode confidently towards her.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Hello,” Regina said, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Maleficent frowned. “What has happened?”
Regina shook her head. “Nothing. It’s fine. Please, sit. I will read-“
“Do you not want to walk with me?”
Regina bent her head. “I shouldn’t.” Her voice was small.
Maleficent dropped to one knee so that she was more on level with the seated Regina.
“Tell me what happened.”
“It’s nothing,” Regina said. “The King…the guards reported…that you had…that we…”
“Walked together?”
Regina shook her head. “Touched. That we touched.”
“But we haven’t- Do you mean - when I took your hand yesterday?!”
Regina nodded.
“But that..you were falling!”
“I know. But that is not- No one is permitted to touch the Queen. No stranger. And you…you are a prisoner and a..well, I’m not sure exactly what your crime is. But Leopold was very clear - you are not permitted to touch me.”
“Not even to save you?”
“Apparently not,” Regina said in a small voice.
Maleficent produced a sound Regina could only describe as a growl. “I cannot promise that I will not lay hands on you if the option is to watch you get hurt!”
Regina shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. And even if I did, I would not make one as ridiculous as this. But Leopold was very insistent.”
“And if I do take your hand again?”
“Please don’t,” Regina said urgently.
“What has he said?” Maleficent demanded.
“That you will lose your hand.”
Maleficent laughed. “He is welcome to try to take it.”
“I don’t think he was exaggerating.”
“And nor am I.”
Regina sighed. “Shall we walk?”
Maleficent grinned. “I have been looking forward to that all day.” She got to her feet and extended her hand for the book.
“This is a different one,” Regina told her as she handed it over. “The other is still being repaired.”
Maleficent stiffened. “I beg your pardon for damaging it.”
Regina shook her head, laughing. “I have lived at Court for nearly a year now, and I swear I have never met anyone with manners as pretty as yours.”
“It is a little disheartening that it is only my manners you find pretty,” Maleficent said with a grin so wicked, Regina’s heart pounded like she’d been running.
“Keep that up,” she said drily, “and the King will take more than just your hand.”
They returned to the bench at the end of their walk, and Regina reclaimed the book so she could read. This was not a book of poetry; it was a tale of star-crossed lovers that started with intrigue and loss and great danger.
Maleficent sighed. “You read very prettily my dear, and I could listen to you through the night. But this story…it saddens me. A little too much like real life for my taste. I much prefer the poetry.”
“But it has a happy ending,” Regina assured her.
“Could we not start with that?”
“Oh, no, Maleficent. A happy ending must be earned!”
Maleficent sighed again. “Much like the privilege of holding your hand.”
That night Regina learned that Leopold was not at all pleased that she continued to walk with the dragon.
She still went to the garden the following morning.
Maleficent smiled when she saw her, but the smile faltered and faded when she noticed how stiffly Regina sat.
“What has happened?”
“It is nothing,” Regina assured her, holding out the book for Maleficent to take.
The movement caused the hem of her sleeve to pull back a little, enough for Maleficent to see Regina’s wrist, and the dark marks that marred her skin.
“What-“
“Maleficent-“
“Was this the King?”
Regina sighed. She nodded. “He said I am not permitted to spend any more time with you.”
Maleficent sat beside Regina. “May I?” she asked, holding out her hand, palm facing upwards. She waited.
Regina took a deep breath and placed her hand in Maleficent’s.
Regina felt the press of soft leather against the back of her fingers, felt the heat of Maleficent’s body radiate up through the glove, warming her hand. It soothed the ache in her wrist.
With gentle fingers, Maleficent unlaced her sleeve and drew the fabric back, revealing the bruising that showed where Leopold had grabbed hold of her. When Leopold had told her that she was no longer permitted to spend time with Maleficent for her own safety, she had scoffed; she had told the King that he was overreacting, that Maleficent was no danger. She had gone to walk away from him, and he had hauled her back by her wrist, raised a hand to strike her. He had stopped himself in the moment before his blow landed, and he had apologised profusely, but the signs of his anger had already been stamped into her skin.
Maleficent made that soft growl again. “I can help with this. If you will permit me?”
Her gaze never leaving Maleficent’s face, Regina nodded.
Maleficent placed Regina’s hand in her lap and took off a glove. She held out her still-gloved hand and waited. With a deep breath, Regina raised her injured hand and tentatively placed it in Maleficent’s; her fingers curled automatically to hold on to Maleficent’s leather-clad ones. Maleficent turned her wrist a little and pulled Regina’s hand closer to her. She reached out with her bare hand, and Regina found she could not stop looking at it. Maleficent had long tapered fingers, her skin was pale and unblemished, her nails smooth and uncoloured. Regina could see the faint lines that criss-crossed Maleficent’s skin - life lines she remembered her mother calling them once; they showed how much someone had lived. In the moment before Maleficent touched her, Regina decided she had beautiful hands.
But then they were touching, skin to skin, and Regina could think of nothing but how warm Maleficent was; how easily her fingers glided over her skin, tracing up along her middle finger, past her knuckles and around her wrist, and through the little curve formed between her thumb and index finger. Somewhere behind her, Regina knew there were guards shouting warnings, and that their feet were pounding into the ground as they ran. But that sound was nothing compared to the thudding of her own heart beating, powerfully enough that the blood roared in her ears.
Something shifted in Maleficent’s touch. Regina saw a faint glow of purple form under Maleficent’s fingers. She seemed to brush this glow into Regina’s skin, and everywhere she touched, Regina’s skin grew even warmer and tingled. When Maleficent’s touch moved on, the tingling feeling faded, and Regina’s skin was left unblemished and the pain of her injury was nothing but a memory.
“What are you doing?” she asked, “How are you doing that?”
“Now you know my crime,” Maleficent said. She smiled wryly. “Magic.”
“You shouldn’t be able to do magic here,” Regina said. “There are wards everywhere. I can feel them.”
Maleficent’s smile broadened. “The King, and his wizards, may have underestimated me.”
“Release her!” The first of the guards had reached them, and he was furious. “Release the Queen, you monster! Or I’ll have your head!”
“Are you healed?” Maleficent asked Regina, ignoring the guard. Regina nodded. “Very well, I will release you.” She smiled as she returned Regina’s hand to her lap.
“On your feet, dragon!” the guard shouted, waving his sword threateningly in her face. “The King will have you hanged for this insult!”
Maleficent gave a deep, long-suffering sigh. She got to her feet. She smiled apologetically at Regina. “Forgive me, your Majesty. But I tire of this. I think I have had enough of being a prisoner.” She raised her ungloved-hand to her mouth and gave a piercing whistle, the sound somehow magnifying until a few guards had to clap their hands over their ears.
When Maleficent ended her whistle there were a handful of moments where nothing happened; every guard froze in place unsure of themselves; even Regina found herself sitting on the edge of the bench, waiting for an unknown something to happen.
Then, as the guards shook themselves free of their inertia and started to snarl and descend on Maleficent, there came a thunderous battering at the garden walls. The guards turned towards this unknown threat; the pounding against the walls continued, and brick and mortar started to fly. The wall began to crumble, revealing a nightmarish creature; its hide was rubbery, it reeked of low ride, and seemed to consist of nothing but tentacles covered with horror-toothed suckers.
“What is that?” Regina demanded, leaping to her feet so she was facing this monster.
“A friend,” Maleficent told her.
The guards had dashed off to try to fight off the intruder, leaving Maleficent and Regina alone. “I’ve been waiting for her,” Maleficent said. “Now, with your permission your Majesty, I think I will take my leave.”
“You’re going?”
“Would you prefer I stay a prisoner? Let the King take my hand for healing you?”
Regina sighed. “No. Of course. Forgive me. Of course you should escape.”
Maleficent held out her hand. “Come with me.”
“But-“
“We can escape together. Come with me, Regina.”
Regina stared at Maleficent’s outstretched, open, hand. She looked to the garden wall that continued to crumble under the onslaught of Maleficent’s strange friend; the guards’ weapons were bouncing ineffectively off the creature’s rubbery skin, and the hole in the wall was now wide enough for a team of horses to ride through. She looked back to Maleficent, seeing the hopeful look in her face.
When it came to it, it really wasn’t much of a choice at all.
Regina put her hand in Maleficent’s.
Maleficent beamed. She closed her fingers over Regina’s hand and covered it with her other hand, and beamed. They stood that way for a moment, smiling at each other, lost in each others’ eyes, Regina feeling nothing but warmth and safety in Maleficent’s touch.
Then the creature at the wall howled, sounding like drowned death. ::Maleficent! I don’t have all day!::
Maleficent laughed. She tugged on Regina’s hand. “Hold tight, my dear. I don’t want to lose you now!”
Regina tightened her grasp on Maleficent’s hand.
She had no intention of letting go.