Wrath: Once Upon A Time
Once Upon a Time (She Was Called Malicious)
Mal didn't know it, but while her mother had cursed entire kingdoms, she'd never killed a single soul. Her mother had once been malicious and spiteful and cruel and bad, but she had never killed. So Mal was already more evil in that regard. While Maleficent had enjoyed being evil, Mal had embraced it. Mal was deceitful and dishonest and all-around despicable like her mother could never be. Because Maleficent couldn't kill. Not wouldn't, not refused to, she was physically incapable of casting the spell, of bringing the knife down, of snapping the bone. Maleficent, the worst and most evil of them all, was scared of killing. So her daughter lived on, not as her legacy, but as her Queen. Not as her daughter, but as her Master. And it just killed her. She should be the one who was lounging in a throne, who was ordering executions, who was conquering the heroes.
But no.
She was in captivity, in prison, while her daughter spent her life under a golden crown on a velvet throne, ordering those she had deceived (so long ago) to do as she saw fit. Her spawn, her flesh and blood (that she had only conceived as a contingency plan in the first place) had flowered in her position of High Queen of the ex-United States of Auradon, now called Chess, a land that was as cruel as its rulers, and far more so than their predecessors, named for the games played by its rulers. So Maleficent plotted, and pushed, and tried to convince her cellmates that their children had to be taken down, that their unchallenged reign should come to an end.
But it remained unchallenged as long as Maleficent would live, and a good while longer because the girl she had once named Mal because she was only worthy of not even half of her mother's name had stopped being second-best. And her daughter's lovers would come in to taunt her, to make her understand that she had lost, and not to the generic "good trumps evil" character, but to her own daughter, and God, it stang. It was cruel and unholy that her plan to rule had resulted in only a slave's life and her daughter's success- because her daughter was never supposed to succeed.
And so when Maleficent died, it was not spectacular. It was hardly average. The faerie so many had feared for so many years before they knew what her daughter could do died in her sleep, a sigil carved into her forehead, the symbol of the Crown above that. When Maleficent died, when she was killed by her daughter, there was no fanfare. In fact, it was never announced, never even noted. When Maleficent died, only eight people even remembered her, because what she feared most in the world was oblivion, and her daughter knew that. And she watched from Hell, as she was strung over the rack, as she was pulled apart, physically and spiritually, how her daughter killed and pillaged and took without remorse. She watched her daughter who was supposed to be less become more. She watched as High Queen Mal came into her fae power- power that had been denied to her by the barrier on the wretched Isle of the Lost.
Maleficent watched from her position on a throne of iron, wrapped in thorns, as her whore daughter married her pathetic lovers, the succubus and the genie and the human, watched as her daughter layered her fae blood with the blood of a demon and a djinn, watched her grandson be even more powerful than her daughter, watched her daughter become weak with love and lust, and she screamed in anger.
Her screams only brought down the HellQueen, and then she truly regretted her slights against her daughter, because the HellQueen used her body to demonstrate torture, and no one came to her aid. Lord, no one even made eye contact with her, because they knew that if you allied with Maleficent, you double-crossed both the High Queen and the HellQueen.
No one was that stupid.
When High Queen Mal took her annual trip down to Hell, she saw her mother, strapped to a torture rack made of iron, slowly bleeding through her skin, and she laughed so loudly she woke demons from their slumber and the split the ground between the feet of the Descendants above her, in the Land of the Living. Her laugh made the buildings on the Isle of the Lost, the buildings she and Evie and Carlos and Jay had been tortured in, crumble to dust. A smile split across her face and she kissed the one responsible and spat at her mother's frail form.
Because Maleficent was never intended to be Magnificent.
(And her daughter wanted to make sure that she knew that).
So, this is the obligatory 'I wrote this when I was fifteen and didn't know what grammar was' purge/update. It's going to take a while. All the editing has already been done, but I do have to replace every single chapter. If you're subscribed to this story and forgot about it entirely, I'm sorry for the emails you're going to receive. Most of the chapters will also have small additions/subtractions, even if it's just a paragraph, that I felt somehow affected the overall story.
Also, I'm going to be posting the entirely Seven Deadly Sins 'verse in a single story on this site after the entire series is updated. It's to make it easier for people who find the story for the first time, but it's going to have references to articles I used in my research and other things that inspired me while I was originally writing the Seven Deadly Sins 'verse.
Love,
TheHarleyQueen