Maleficent(11)

            “Maybe they can. Maybe we can show them.”

                         So Maleficent and Stefan bonded over a hope for peace, something that made Maleficent feel closer to her parents than ever. Stefan came to the edge of the Moors, the place that became their secret spot. They talked about their lives, their future. Then, on Maleficent’s sixteenth birthday, they kissed—a kiss so pure, so honest, so real that it was True Love’s Kiss.

            But as the years marched on, Stefan spent less time visiting the Moors and Maleficent. He was busy making good on his promise to live in the castle, albeit as a servant. He seemed less concerned with building harmony between the humans and faeries, and more concerned with his life at the castle—a life he seemed to want to keep private. No matter what questions Maleficent asked out of genuine interest, Stefan avoided answering them.

            One day, Maleficent soared in the sky, spotting Stefan nearby on a cliff. It had been weeks since she’d last seen him.

            “Stefan,” she called down to him.

            “Hello,” he replied.

            “Hello,” Maleficent repeated. She suddenly felt awkward around him.

            “Where have you been?” Stefan asked.

            Maleficent narrowed her eyes. “I’ve been looking for you.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes,” she responded. “You’re always disappearing these days.” She lowered herself to him for a kiss. They leaned close together. And for a fleeting moment, it all felt right again.





                              MALEFICENT LEANED AGAINST THE ROWAN TREE, WATCHING THE END OF ANOTHER DAY. It had been a month since she’d seen Stefan, the longest time yet. Robin and the other Fair Folk had noticed her growing more solemn and quiet, but she was too ashamed to admit she was feeling a little lovesick, particularly for a human boy. She distanced herself from them, preferring to be alone in case she grew tempted to tell them about her companion, or in case Stefan suddenly appeared.

            As the sun set, Maleficent’s thoughts grew dark as well. She wondered where Stefan was. If he was okay. If he missed her, even a little. Try as she might, Maleficent couldn’t shake the sadness that filled her. Was she wrong to trust a human? Had her parents been wrong, too? Not for the first time, she wondered what things would have been like had her parents lived. She could just picture the scene—running home to the Rowan Tree and finding her mother sitting there, her back against the warm trunk. Maleficent would cry and tell her everything, and then her mother would kiss her forehead and tell her it would be all right. And it would be. Somehow.

            Maleficent shook her head. It was silly to get caught up in a fantasy. She sighed and gave herself a mental shake. She had to snap out of her melancholy. Perhaps she would see what Robin was up to after all. He was always good at cheering her up.

            Suddenly, there was a sound like thunder. Looking over the precipice, Maleficent let out a gasp. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the approaching army. It was charging toward the Moors, King Henry’s banner flying in the wind. Her heart sank in her chest. It was happening again. Another war. Quickly, Maleficent took to the sky.

                         In the countryside at the edge of the Moors, King Henry sat on his horse, addressing his army. Henry was a man long past his prime. His beard was gray and the wavy hair on his head was thinning. His waist had thickened over the years and his fingers ached with arthritis. Despite all that, he held himself proudly, comfortable in his heavy armor. This was not the first time he had gone to war. A kingdom was only as strong as the king who sat on its throne, and Henry had, on more occasions than he could count, proven his strength.