“I’m Queen,” Rory repeated numbly.

“The commands were successfully transferred last night, as advised,” said the machine which had trailed her every step. She ignored it, focusing on Rupert, who nodded for emphasis. “Yep.”

“So that mean you’re not King.”

“I’m not King.” Not yet. He would be once he married her, of course.

She nodded like that made sense to her, before deciding, “I’m asleep. There was something wrong with the mushrooms last night.”

He laughed, turning to Maleficent, growing somber. “You look exhausted.”

“I’ve barely slept,” she confessed.

For a hundred years, she’d not rested, attempting to find a counter-spell in vain.

“What of Aurora? Anything you can think of?”

The Fay closed her eyes and shook her head. “She’s safe, for now. I’ll carry on searching, I swear.”

Rupert saw her guilt plainly in her features. For the first time, he said what he should have told her long ago.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

She might have spelled Marina, but that was because he’d let the Queen’s rule of terror get to that point. He’d made every mistake, could he fault his friend for attempting to rectify them?

“It’s not about whose fault it is. She’s a little girl and she’s lost in limbo. I will save her.”

He wasn’t going to argue with that - it wasn’t like he didn’t want Mal to do her best to bring his Aurora back to life.

So he just nodded, telling her, “just take care of yourself, too.”

Mal didn’t remain long, thankfully, for as much as he liked her company, he had better things to do right now.

With Rory’s authorization, their surveillance footage was distributed, solidifying their rule. Those who wished them harm were under lock and key. He’d done his best to see if there was a way to help his daughter. Right now, nothing mattered more than locking Rory’s pouty lips under his. So the moment Mal disappeared, he did just that.

God, she felt so perfect in his arms. Rory pushed against his chest, and he immediately took a step back, frowning. What had he done? But she just turned to the robot that hovered next to them.

“Could you please get lost?” she asked a little breathlessly.

“My locating program makes that impossible, Miss Stephenson.”

“Leave the room until she calls you back,” Rupert clarified.

He laughed when the robot obeyed. “I’ve always found them creepy. I kept them immobile or hidden away.”

Rory shrugged. “He’s okay when you get used to him,” she replied. “Now if you please, I’d very much like to resume what we were doing.”

“As Her Highness demands.”

* * *

Mal should be downstairs, attending the wedding like the rest of the world. All of Ferren, it seemed, had come to celebrate the beginning of the new rule. Aurora, whom they’d always respected, and Rupert, whom they had the sense to love and fear, couldn’t have been more popular if they’d tried. The footage of their adventure had been watched through Europa like a movie rather than a surveillance video. And who could blame them? Robots, dragons, princesses, and Kings.

Mal should be merry. After a hundred years of penance, her gravest mistake was finally starting to be put to right.

Only starting, though.

In the highest tower, behind all the spells she could weave, lay a little girl, frigid and timeless, sleeping in beauty. Mal knelt before the door, her own spells preventing her from walking in. Only the King could cross this threshold.

Whatever Rupert said, it was all her fault and she’d fix it, somehow. What had occurred between Rupert and Aurora Cinders had made her realize how. It wasn’t a matter of studying magic. Her curses couldn’t - wouldn’t - be thwarted by anything but love.

She had to find the little girl’s true love.

She sighed. What were the odds of that, when the child had been asleep for a hundred years? He could have died long ago.

Closing her eyes, Mal forced her mind to blank out. She’d meditated for years. Searching her mind and the nature around her for a power stronger than hers, in vain.

Now her search was very different. She envisaged the adorable child she knew well, recalling her eyes, her voice, and the feeling of her little hands in her palm. Her soul. Such a beautiful ray of energy.

And then, she opened her mind up, expanding her reach so far a bead of sweat fell down her forehead. Through the entire world, through the ages and space.

Millions of souls, most lonely and broken.

Her mind found one of these, focusing on it. She opened her eyes, looking around.

“Little goddess. What are you doing in my domain?”

Mal had never felt fear. Nothing and no one in her world could threaten her. She knew this thing could. Instinctively, she looked down and took a knee.

“Hades,” she said reverently.

The lord of the Underworld didn’t strike her right then, by some sort of miracle.

“Where are you coming from?” the god asked sharply.

“One of the mortal realms, sir. A world called Gaia.”

“Rise,” said the god.

She obeyed and lifted her eyes again.

“So, what? Has my brother done something, again?”

She frowned. “No, I’m here because of a child who…”

The god lowered his thundering voice threateningly. “Do not dare summarize the issue. I want the whole story. No spoilers.”

So, Maleficent told everything to the master of the Underworld, and awaited his answer.

“You want a soul back.”

She nodded. The god smiled. She knew that expression. She often wore it. It wasn’t a nice, friendly sort of smile at all.

“Well, well.”