Maleficent's hands steadied the Princess, and she tried her hardest to ignore the trembling that she felt underneath her hands. She didn't flinch when Aurora met her halfway, body thrown haphazardly against the faery. She took the steps down toward Aurora without thought and her arms opened wide, not as a sign of peace, but an offer of security. She turned, not toward him, but to Maleficent, blue eyes eerily luminescent in the dark and asked very simply: 'I want to go home now.' He spoke to her with a voice softer than the breeze that rustled through the Moorlands at night and he made it almost to her side when she finally responded. Prince Philip went towards Aurora as one would a spooked horse, hands steady and spread out wide and low, to show that no harm was meant no trickery would be brought down sudden. Why should she when it was her anger and her grief and her hatred that had brought everyone to this exact moment? She bristled when Prince Philip is the first one to break from the stand off and approach Aurora but does nothing to stop it.

She wasn't even sure she was the right person to offer comfort. She ignored it, shoved it deep within her until it's an ache in her bones. It demanded she stride down the steps, step over the fragments of a kingdom, and steal the girl away before any more harm could befall her. She had watched Maleficent carry Stefan's body back within the castle, the man stripped from the iron monster, and now she stared at a father she had dreamed about but would never know. She stood within the No-Man's Land between the two sides, her fingers curled and unfurled at her sides. The three pixies hovered just out of reach, eyes wide and sad as the gravity of the situation affected even their tiny minds. Diaval wore his raven-shape, the nature of his true form allowed him to recover from the battle barely an hour past. For the Moorlands, Maleficent stood with her back towards the shattered window, and her body tense and ill-at-ease with the iron walls all about her. Prince Philip stood by awkwardly, and looked as out of place as Maleficent herself felt. The gathering within the space itself was small and awkward, both sides glared at their opposites and wondered who would be the first to strike up the feud for the countless time.ДЇor the Kingdom, the Captain of the Guard stood over the lifeless body of the King behind him were several guards and the few advisers that Stefan had commanded to remain within the iron walls to see his eventual triumph over the Moorlands. The fire had eaten through the Throne Room and left nothing but the scorched iron, black as the smoke-drenched night, in itвЂ™s wake.

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