Perhaps, deep down, you knew that this would happen. After all, you were the one to break into the kingdom and set the curse.
Who was the one who said that Aurora would grow in beauty and grace, beloved by all?
You did, fair queen. You were the one who spoke the curse, eyes raging and hands held back. The world turned green around the child, the curse wrapping itself around both you and her.
Were it not for what you yourself said, then perhaps you would have saved yourself. The princess would grow with the pesky pixies and you would hide away in the Moors, brooding over your wings and waiting for time to pass.
Sixteen years would pass, the princess would sleep forever, and Stefan would suffer.
But instead, you watched over the princess; she believed in you. Even as a child, before she knew of the Moors and long before the idea of being a princess was pure childs play (and the idea of being cursed nonsensical), she adored you.
Even now, were you to wake her from her bed, she would still love you. Aurora would do anything if it meant pleasing you.
Even with her eyes shut, she must dream of you. Perhaps dreams lost their magic now that she has you and the Moors.
You tried to revoke the curse and it failed, but there must be another way. Surely you, dear queen, could stop it. There must be some loophole, some way to reverse it.
Please, dear queen, try. You can do it.
There is true love in your eyes, even as they close and release tears.
You must save her, Maleficent.