Hello, fellow Maleficent fans! This fic is officially completed as of July 10th, 2015!


~CHAPTER ONE: RETRIBUTION~


The skies were dark today.

Maleficent cast a fleeting look over her shoulder as she strode through a slim opening in her Wall of Thorns. Branches and rocks tumbled out of her way, cleaving a smooth path that led straight into the thick and magical realm known simply as the Moors. All around her there lay an unnerving silence. No one and no thing dared even tremble in her presence for fear of waking her ever-present wrath.

Though at the present time, she was feeling quite satisfied with herself.

"Diaval," she called, glancing up at the overcast sky.

The raven was there a moment later, black wings fluttering restlessly in the air beside her. With a careless flick of her fingers, the raven became a human, and the human a man with silky black hair and eyes to match.

"Yes, mistress."

"Ah, there you are," she said, smiling wanly. "I wondered if you'd flown off in a huff, never to return."

"Of course not," he answered at once, though his eyes strayed sideways, glancing at her to decipher her mood. "Though you did cause quite a…"

"Spectacle?" Maleficent laughed, delighted. "Well, yes, that was my intention. The look on Stefan's face…I shall treasure it forever." Vivid green eyes flashing with mischief, she batted aside low-hanging tree limbs, her magnificent staff pounding against the earth at every step.

"I'm sure he won't forget this. He's a vengeful man," Diaval said carefully, picking his way through thorns and tangled moss. The Moors' foliage didn't move out of the way like it did for his mistress.

"I see the truth in this," she admitted, gazing again at the dark sky. "But, nevertheless, the deed is done. His daughter's life is forfeit."

Diaval frowned as they crested a large hill, the one overlooking Maleficent's frightening tree-like home. "Aren't you worried the king will find a way to protect her? Or, better yet, find a young man who may bestow –"

"True love's kiss?" Maleficent interrupted, scoffing. "Diaval, my boy, there's no such thing." She paused atop the hill, her eyes absorbing the massive, twisted chair she'd deemed her throne. "Don't you see? That's why I chose this curse. There's no undoing it. She is destined to sleep until the stars fall from the sky and the earth shudders and breaks apart."

Diaval was more chilled than he'd like to admit, but still, he dutifully followed Maleficent down the hill and across the horrid-looking moat that surrounded her throne. Everything here was dark, so utterly and terrifyingly ominous, that even a raven tended to shy away. Maleficent usually sent him on tireless errands throughout both the Moors and the human kingdom, so he seldom spent any length of time here.

Maleficent herself was rarely near this area of the Moors, despite it being her only safe haven. For the past several years, she'd been intent on creating chaos and spreading it throughout King Stefan's kingdom. She would never give the king a moment's rest, Diaval knew, not until she herself was dead. That was the price he must pay for tearing the wings from her back.

"What do you think the king will do?"

Maleficent turned, her long black cloak swirling around her, and gracefully sat down on her throne. She still kept the staff in her left hand, unwilling to relinquish it even for a second. "About the curse?" she asked, pursing her lips. "Try to kill me, I imagine."

He shook his head and leaned against the trunk of a particularly large tree. "No, with his daughter."

Maleficent sighed. "She'll doubtless be sent away somewhere Stefan deems "safe," though he has to know that the girl will never escape my curse. It will find her, one way or the other."

Diaval nodded, watching his mistress's face carefully. "And if Stefan does try to hunt you down before the curse is enacted?"

Her brilliant emerald eyes flicked around the quiet forest before settling on his curious black ones. She smiled hugely, her white teeth glittering in the eternal gloom of the Moors.

"Why, that is impossible, Diaval dear. Stefan cannot hunt anyone or anything. He does not have the hunting capability. He is the prey, and I am the predator." She caressed the smooth black arm of her towering throne. "This is the way it has always been."

Diaval nodded and stepped back, succumbing to the gloomy night, and thought, But what of your wings? He took them from you with such hideous force. This king is more dangerous than you think.

But he dared not speak these doubts aloud.