Dame Cynthia Kathryne St Claire swept into the teahouse. The double doors swung shut behind the vibrant lilac silks that swirled around her. A waiter hurried to draw up a chair at the small table loaded with sandwiches, tiny cakes, and a tea set with about four too many floral designs. Lord Tybalt Montcroix paused, teacup in hand, smiling as Dame Cynthia smoothed out her dress and helped herself to a lavender scone. "Darling you look delicious. That is De Floranci's Spring of Eleven is it not?" "Early Summer of Eleven, actually." The score sliced easily under her flurry of strokes, far less composed than usual. "Of course, I remember. The Corantine War delayed silk shipments. De Floranci was inconsolable. Although it meant we got a lovely blend of Spring silks with Summers Hats." Lord Montcroix raised the teacup back to his mouth and then paused again. "Don't ever let this leave this room but I've never cared for De Floranci's Spring hats. Always was the weakest part of any of his collections. Do you remember Spring of Seven? Those hats almost ended the poor man's career." He finally took a delicate sip of tea. "Oh, I agree, darling." A mountain black currant jam found its way onto Dame Cynthia's scone. "But I don't have time to discuss such frivolities." Lord Montcroix almost spat out his tea. The teahouse rang with the noises of his spluttering and coughing has hurriedly tried to swallow it down. "How could you say such a horrid thing! You! Why, Cynthia, you spent the entire Sunset Gala arguing with Lady Procipine Ashfield about whether De Floranci's Winter of Four or Giles Whiteley's Autumn of Eigutilisedr utalised the woodland animal theme." Dame Cynthia St Claire's face flashed at the mention of Lady Ashfield, a mixture of anger, gleeful vengeance, and sadness. "Why, you spent the entire duration of Lord Mayor Kirkland's speech talking about the hat pins alone. What on earth has gotten into you that would make you say such a vile thing, Clair Bear." "Tybbie dear, there is nothing I love more than discussing De Floranci. But in light of what I have just seen even his genius pales. Why poor Alastair Ashfield is about to be caught in a hideous scandal." More spluttering filled the room as Lord Montcroix chose the wrong moment to take another sip. "Lord Ashfield? The man's purer than my poodle. What on earth has he gotten himself into?" "Oh no, dear. He's not to blame in the slightest. He's just the poor soul who will be caught in the crossfire ." "And what is this horrible scandal you know so much about but I have heard not a whisper?" Dame Cynthia Kathrynne St Clairs eyes flashed again with the same mixture of sadness for poor Lord Ashfield and the gleeful vengeance of putting Lady Ashfield in her rightful place. She paused as she raised her scone to her lips. "Well, it appears Lady Procipine Ashfield's obsession with Giles Whiteley extends further than his fashion genius." "You don't mean...?" "Caught canoodling closer than curtesy concedes." Scarlet black currant jam slid to the edge of her mouth. Dame Cynthia dabbed it away, leaving her lips stained red, a vampiric look combined with her pale complexion and deep scarlet robes. "I have seen my fair share of canoodling and those two were rather. He was kissing her like a cat at a cutlet." The teacup fell back to the saucer. "You saw it?" "Why of course, Tybbie. Would I spread around such a vicious rumour if it was just hearsay?" "How on earth did it happen?" "I had just entered one of my favourite spa's and there they were. The steam was not as thick as they thought." The other half of the scone disappeared. "The steam from the hot rocks that is. The steaminess come of them could have powered an ocean liner." Lord Montcroix chuckled. "I wonder how long it's been going on?" "Oh, at least a couple of months. They were not new at it, let me tell you." Lord Montcroix raised the teacup to his lips, his eyes glinting with an idea. "You remember when she excused herself at the Sunset Gala? Was gone for more than half an hour. Do you think...?" "Almost certainly. Seven months. My, my." "Poor Alastair. Do you think he knows?" "The man is no genius but compared to Porcupine he's Jackson Bainbridge-Darcy himself. He's bound to have figured something out." "Yes. Remember her excuse at the Sunset Gala?" Lord Montcroix's voice changed to a high falsetto. "Oh, I must go and congratulate the Lord Mayor on his speech." "That does not take forty-five minutes." "And she walked off in the other direction." A delicate tinkle flowed from Dame Cynthia St Claire's lips. One that did not match her deep scarlet robes and the look of anger and glee on her face. "If she's been coming up with excuses like that for seven months she's bound to have let something slip." The double doors of the tea house flew open as two people walked in. Giles Whiteley strode in, calm and composed with only the flash of terrifying anger behind his eyes. His yellow spring of nice pantsuit was slightly ruffled, the vest a little askew and the buttons hurriedly done. His hair was still wet. Lady Procipine Ashfield flew in, her blue satin swirling like a storm around her. Her boiling red face, from the mixture of steam and anger, showed none of the composure of Giles'. Dame Cynthia Kathrynne St Claire rose, her red silks crackling like fire. Her stained lips smiled without lighting up her pale face. "Porcupine. Care for a cherry?"

(This doesn't really meet the prompt but I've been wanting to write something like this for a while so who cares)

Everyone loves a good villain. In fact most people need one. So when you get branded as being out there, macabre and overly dramatic, it follows that you will find yourself filling that role. I neverminded taking on the role; Mistress of All Evil fitted me. And although it's true I'm not completely evil, I do have a streak of it running through my veins. But some people believe everyone has good in them, that there isn't a set role one must fulfil. I have found that some people taint my legacy, the one I meticulously created, by suggesting I am simply misunderstood. They aren't entirely wrong but they miss the point. I might have been misunderstood but I am still evil, I am still the villain society needs me to be. So let me lay down the facts and spin you a tale, the true tale of Maleficent, Mistress of All Evil

As I have said I never fitted in. Despite being a fairy I couldn't pull of the rainbow and glitter look, so by the age of 10 I stopped trying. While my other 12 classmates wore fairy-floss dresses and dew drop necklaces, I wore shadows and storm clouds. After I graduated the Fairy Academy I pursued work in the kingdom. But after a year I left, no-one would hire a fairy like me. So I set up my own castle in the forests and swamps and soon came to rule over all that crawled and slithered. The other fairies got jobs in the kingdom and came to prominent positions of power. So when the king and queen hosted a christening for their baby girl they were all invited. I did not really care that I was not. I never could make small talk. But as I gazed into my crystal ball, studying the future my mind must have strayed for I ended up seeing the Princess as she grew. And I saw myself. Naturally I did the only reasonable thing and dressed myself in my robes and teleported to the palace in a blaze of fire. I planned to bless the baby with a prophecy of her childhood. But my flare for dramatics got in the way: "The Princess will indeed grow in grace and beauty....but on her sixteenth birthday, she will prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel AND I...!" I was cut of at that point by all the yelling and the sound of guards rushing at me. You see I meant to say what I had seen, that she would prick her finger and I would give her a band-aid. Of course when you start ramping up dramatically and then yell "AND I!" people get the wrong idea. Try it yourself. In the confusing I vanished but I heard later that one of the fairies had cursed the princess to sleep for a hundred years or something. Stupid little glitter twit, if she hadn't done anything the future would have remained the same. I suppose I am partly to blame, I shouldn't have flown off so quickly, if I'd waited I would have seen the princess falling a sleep and known something was wrong. I'm sure you know the rest of the story. I fulfilled my part and had the princess prick her finger (yes I did give her a band-aid, the future can't be changed.) Thankfully the repulsive flutter and squeak put in some little thing about a prince coming to rescue her. Anyway as you can see I was misunderstood. People literally misunderstood what I said. But I am not misunderstood, I am evil. It is my role. And I filled it well. So if you would all kindly stop making me some anti hero. I am a villain. I wear the cloths, I do the actions, it can't all be for nothing.... I Maleficent, Mistress of All Evil, am a Villain.

I looked over the balcony, officer's cap under my arm. The music started back up again and the dancing partners trickled back to the floor. The stained glass windows scattered coloured light across the slowly twirling pairs. In the middle of them I saw them standing together, slowly spinning as they held each-other close. I couldn't tell them. I couldn't ruin their wedding. And yet I could almost feel myself slipping away. Maybe I was imagining it but day by day my body grew weaker. I clutched the railing as I descended down to the dance floor. The stitches in my side screamed. Within the month the military doctor had said. I would have to tell them soon....but not tonight. Tonight was for them and I wouldn't ruin it if I was going to drop dead from the infection the next morning. The song ended and they walked to the tables at the edge of the dance floor. I slowly walked towards them, trying to hide the grimace of pain. "Congratulations," I said, placing my hat on the table. Abigail put a hand over her mouth and her eyes misted over. Christopher sprang to his feet in shock. "You made it," he said as his arms wrapped around me. "I wouldn't miss my two best friends wedding," I said, finally pulling out of his hug. "Even if I had to have a few things happen to get leave." Abigail stood, face shining as she smiled at me. "So how have you been? I hope you're doing well and keeping safe. We're worried sick every time you leave." My eyes prickled but I smiled. "I'm couldn't be happier to be back. How long has it been?" "We haven't seen or heard from you since you were called up in July," Christopher said. We sat in silence for a second before he broke it. "How long do you have?" I could barely keep the tears down at the words. "About a month." "Well, any time we get to spend with you is precious." I couldn't take any more. I stood and excused myself, saying I wanted to say hello to a few other friends. The tears started the minute I turned around.

I honestly don't know why anyone would read this. I'm sure some might find my life interesting but to me it is always others lives that are far more so. They were the ones who fought the fights, over came the odds, saved the day and all that. I on the other hand was the one they fought, who stacked the odds in my favour and tried to destroy the day. I suppose that makes me interesting. You people always do seem fascinated by villains, not to mention dead people. Truly I do not understand it. Although I tried not to become to much like my predecessor, and that included his paralyzing fear of the Door, I must admit that it holds some amount of fear with me. When you manage to kill a God you become most terribly aware of your own mortality. But all that is over and I now wander these hallowed halls in search of something...anything. My discovery of you and my ability to pass my knowledge on is of course the reason I write. I hope that through my life and the life of those around me you may learn from the error of my ways and take from their lives lessons on loyalty, patience, kindness and courage. I also admit that I hope through my writing I may assuage my deep depression at not being with them. I truly hope, more than anything in this life or that, that I may one day be reunited with them...with her.

Darkness clouded my mind. I tried to think but it froze my brain. The image loomed out of my imagination and I feel backwards, gasping for breath as I tried to force it out. Everywhere I turned it stared back, gluing me to my spot, crushing all resistance until I gave into the darkness.