Author's note: So, I should probably say this first and foremost. I have no idea what I'm doing here. This is the first piece of FanFiction that I've ever written, and although for the most part, this first chapter is drawn directly from the film, trust me when I say that it will quickly be leaving the films behind. Am I writing the characters correctly? Do I even have a remote grasp on how to write engaging dialogue? Search me. But, this concept has been bothering me for quite some time, and I think I'm finally ready to put it down on paper. Or, whatever the equivalent happens to be online. So while this first chapter, and potentially the next few, is mostly obligatory exposition, I can assure you that it will get better as I dig into the meat of the story. And this is one massive story, which is why my ultimate plan is to split it up into multiple "seasons", if you will. So...Enjoy, and all that jazz.

Chapter 1

The first thing he noticed was the stench.

It permeated everything, and mixed with the unpleasant dampness of his cell, he could have probably listed off about a million places he'd rather be at the moment. That is, if he hadn't been under other pressures. Like trying to rack his brain for what had transpired just hours earlier. It had all been so sudden, so out of the blue, that it had hardly been given the chance to register.

What was his name? Phillip. Or rather, Prince Phillip of Germany, if you were into giving people titles. He had met the girl of his dreams that day, and had every hope of spending the rest of his life with her. That had been the plan, at least, right up until the moment he walked through that door and had been thrown into flurry of madness. Maleficent. It was the one name that kept running through his head, the one person that he would have never expected to find waiting for him. He wanted to kick himself for being so gullible, to walk right into such an obvious trap, but instead, he simply sat there in his own self pity.

It was then that he began to understand what isolation really meant. As a prince, he had never truly been alone. Sure, there had been times in his life when he had been given a break from the company of his father, or other various dignitaries or tutors that he was forced into coercing with, moments when he had ventured into the forest to simply get away from it all, but, if he was honest with himself there was always a servant waiting just outside his bedroom door, ready to tend to his ever beck and call. Even when there was no other human presence around, he always had Sampson to keep him company. But now, sitting there in complete and utter silence, with thoughts and emotions his only friends, his mind couldn't help but wander. Why would the woman who was hardly more than a legend to scare small children, kidnap him? Why would she have brought him back to her castle and chained him up in her dungeons, without even the slightest explanation? It wasn't as though he had done something to put himself on her radar...or had he? No, he was a prince to be sure, first in line to the throne, but in the grand scheme of things, he was a nobody to someone as powerful as she.

So why was he there?

Phillip grips the skin around his steel-bound wrists, wringing out the numbness that being shackled, had brought on. They were hardly comfortable, but then again, he figured that was probably the point. Judging from the cobwebs hung about the ceiling, a rusty battle ax that sat nearby, in a rather out of place fashion, and the general aura of his immediate surroundings, Phillip got the feeling that this wasn't the presidential suite of prison cells. He needed to find a way out of there, that much was obvious. The real question, was how to do so without arousing suspicion. There was bound to be a guard posted right outside his door, just waiting for him to make a move. As if being chained and shackled wasn't a big enough problem as it stood. Maybe if he could get a hold of that battle axe...

There was a creaking of the door, then, footsteps. The fluttering of wings.

Jerking his head out of his lap with an almost jarring speed, Phillip's chocolate brown pools fall upon his horned captor. Maleficent. Maleficent, and her toady of a feather-brained raven. Swooping in from behind, Diablo perches himself on the handle of the battle axe, his cold beady eyes practically gazing into Phillip's soul. Hardly in the mood for a visit from the "Mistress of All Evil" herself, Phillip furrows his brows and looks away in disgust. The way she presented herself, her eyes wide with a cruel sort of glee, he knew she had won, and she knew it too.

"Oh come now, Prince Phillip. Why so melancholy?" Asking Phillip in a mocking tone, with no reply intended, Maleficent steps further into the cell, each step echoing across the tightly spaced chamber. Oh, she was going to have fun with this. "A wondrous future lies before you! You, the destined hero of a charming fairytale come true!"

Twirling her hand over the balled end of her scepter, her fingers dancing through the air as she works her magic, Maleficent present him with an image of his current state, an explanation as to what would unfold in the coming days and years. After all, she may relish in all sorts of evil pleasures, but she wasn't as heartless as one would think. And who knew? Maybe she'd get something out of this as well? "Behold! King Stefan's castle." Once a fogged over crystal, the inner workings of her scepter are revealed as an image is displayed within the core. An image easily recognizable to Phillip, the castle of which he had visited just hours earlier. "And in yonder topmost tower, dreaming of her true love..." Phillip watched helpless, as the image zoomed further and further in, panning up into one of the towering structures jutting out of the castle grounds, past the windows and doors, coming to a sudden halt at the bedside of a sheltered woman.

"The Princess Aurora."

So that was what this was all about. Coming to the realization that even to this very day, Maleficent was still determined to see the princess die, the princess that he had been betrothed to as a boy, Phillip's heart sank. As little as he knew of her, he couldn't help but pity the sight of her laying there in that bed, practically beyond the veil of life. It made his stomach churn, but what was to come next, only made him feel worse. "But see the gracious whim of fate. Why, 'tis the self same peasant maid, who won the heart of our noble prince, but yesterday." It was her. It couldn't have been, and yet, there she was. The girl he had met in the forest, the girl he had fallen in love with at first glance, had been nothing more than the very woman he was engaged to in the first place. Filled with a mix of emotions, a rage that Maleficent had touched her, Aurora, a frustration that there wasn't anything he could do to help her, a grief that came over him like the floodgates opening, Phillip sat there and watched as Maleficent continued with her fun. "She is indeed most wondrous fair. Gold of sunshine in her hair, lips that shame the red, red rose. In ageless sleep, she finds repose."

Phillip couldn't take much more of this. He couldn't. This was almost worse than torture, the way he squirmed in his seat, half-heartedly pulling on his chains. Oh so ready to break free and strike down this monster of a woman while he still had the chance. Maleficent, on the other end of the spectrum, was ready to laugh. This was just to easy! She had him by the collar, and she wasn't about to let it end there. "The years roll by, but a hundred years to a steadfast heart, are but a day." Moving the progression of images floating within her scepter along, she gives her noble prince a peak into his glorious future. The image of her own castle gates, reeling open with a haunting creak. "And now, the gates of the dungeon part."

A withered, aged, elderly Prince Phillip crawls through the opened gates on horseback, shaggy bear flowing down over his chest and intermingling with the hairs of the horse. His skin shagged, his once princely garbs were now nothing more than rags. The steed fared little better, malnourished, nothing more than skin and bones. It was probably the most pathetic image of himself that Phillip could muster up. "And the prince is free to go his way. Off he rides on his noble steed, a valiant figure, straight and tall, to wake his love..." Pulling back as she shakes the images away, Maleficent finally finds herself with little left to reveal to her prince. The vision he had seen was enough to shake him to his core, and if that had been the whole point, she was certain she had succeeded. A malicious grin crawling onto her face, she searches for the last few words needed to crack him open, to push Phillip beyond his limits and incite a reaction, any reaction from him. "With love's first kiss, and prove that true love conquers all!"

Without saying a word, Phillip lurches from his seat, ready to attack. He didn't care if he didn't stand a chance against her, he was fed up with the joy she was getting out of this, and was desperate to swipe that smug off look of her face. Unfortunately, there was one tiny little detail he had forgotten about. The chains buckle, yanking him back a comfortable distance from his target. With this last failed attempt at a struggle, he could do nothing more but watch with a glaring frustration, Maleficent bursting out into a wicked laughter. Putting her back to the prisoner, Maleficent extends her arm to Diablo, beckoning him to her side.

"Come, my pet. Let us leave our noble prince with these happy thoughts." Hopping onto her arm with an incredibly uncoordinated fashion, Diablo gives Phillip one last haunting smile as he rides his master to the cell door, the door that would shut the former prince off from the world, for the remainder of his days. With only the presence of a misshapen goon bringing him a meal every morning and night, he had little to look forward to. As much as he struggled to pull free from his shackles, Phillip had little hope for a chance at happiness, and that, was a pleasing thought to the raven. "A most gratifying day."

Closing the cell door shut with ease, Maleficent gives Diablo a curt nod. "For the first time in sixteen years, I shall sleep well." With the turn of a key, gears clanking from within as the door locks, Maleficent can't help but feel relieved. Not that she would ever show it, but down deep, it had been an incredibly stressful past decade and a half, as she frantically searched far and wide for the Princess Aurora. Fulfilling her prophecy was more than a matter of pride, it was a promise she had made, something that she couldn't very well take back. If the sixteenth birthday came and went without even the slightest attempt on the girl's life, Maleficent would loose all the fear, all the respect that she had earned from the people residing in nearby kingdoms, and that wasn't something she could allow. She had worked much to hard to get where she was.

Sliding the key into a hidden pocket within her cloak, Maleficent puts the whole matter behind her as she casually strolls out of the dungeon, no intention of returning anytime soon. In fact, the only place she had on her mind, was her sleeping chambers. With her mind at ease, she was ready for a peaceful slumber.

It started out like any dream that a "Mistress of All Evil" would have. Fire and brimstone, the peasantry running in horror as their livelihoods were destroyed, all the doom and gloom one would expect from one who named themselves Maleficent.

With clouds ablaze with a purplish hue, swirling about the Forbidden Mountain rather ominously, Maleficent cackles in delight as she watches King Stefan's kingdom burn from afar, from a stake she had claimed on a treacherous cliffside overlooking the valley between her domain, and that of the King's. If her waking life could be considered miserable, this was certainly the highpoint. Carrying complete control over how her drams played out, Maleficent often found herself fantasizing about this very moment, night in and night out. Each time, was just was satisfying as the next. After all, what better way to end the day, than with another round of scheduled chaos?

The royal army charges across the valley, each adorned with the finest suits of armor imaginable, swords and spears out and ready. It was every man the King could muscle up and send her way. Just like she liked it. A challenge. With the open thrust of her palm to the wind, the earth opens up, swallowing the left flank hole. Amongst a wave of shouting, screams of terror, the crunching of bones, an entire unit of the army was gone. Erased from her mind as quickly as she had thought them up. Still, the remaining forces pressed on, determined to reach their goal.

"Fools!" Enjoying the rush of adrenaline this nightly power gave her, Maleficent raises an army of her own. An army of the dead, of soldiers and knights slain in battle against her more...powerful form. This may not be the true conjuring of the dead, but it was as close as the pale woman was willing to go. Even she had her limits on how far she was willing to take the dark arts. This, however, wasn't even close to that limit. Not by a mile. Sending the skeletal army into battle against those of flesh and blood, Maleficent takes a back seat and simply enjoys the show, a show of her own creation. That was why the sudden emergence of a presence breathing down her neck, startled her so clearly it, appropriately expressed itself upon her face. That, was something that seldom happened. "How dare..."

Twirling about to face the one who had such a little appreciation for personal boundaries, Maleficent is brought to a startling realization that there was little life anywhere near her. Much less close enough to breathe down her neck. "...You." Squinting cautiously as she looks about the barren but treacherous mountain slope she had claimed, jagged rocks jutting in and out of the already dangerous terrain, the horned woman is unsure whether to proceed with her nightmarish dream. Naturally, she must have imagined it, and yet, she had the strangest feeling that there really had been someone there. Someone she hadn't procured out of her subconscious.

"Well, playing tricks now, are we? I do hope you realize who you are dealing with."

Taking a few carefully placed steps forward, her face softens as she searches the ridge of rocks that formed an arena around her, trapping her at the bottom. For a moment, she considered climbing up to a vantage point that would grant her a heightened sense of sight. If there really had been anyone there, she would be able to spot them from above. But then, she hears something. The crackling of rocks, of pebbles bouncing down the slope that had attracted her eyes in the first place.

There was a figure, blacked out in shadows, but clear enough to distinguish that it wasn't a usual haunt of her dreams. This...man, this horned, cloaked creature, was like nothing she had seen before, neither in her dream state, nor in her waking life. It had the air of death surrounding him, real death, and the smell of rotting bones. It stared down on Maleficent with a chilling glare, making no obvious movement, nor sound. It simply stood, and watched, and waited, for the mistress to make the first move.

Swallowing as softly as she could, doing her absolute best to preserve the state of dominance that she so often possessed, Maleficent curls the corners of her mouth into a nervous grin, her lips widening as if to speak a first word.

She didn't get the chance.

Yanked out of her sleep by the irritating caw of her raven, Maleficent glares into the darkness of her quarters. That had to have been one of the most ill placed, undesired wake up calls in recent memory. She had been so close to sharing words with the stranger, and yet, there she was. Back in the realm of the living. Sighing with a rational frustration, the mistress pulls herself up off her side, her head, hair and horns leaving the comfort of a pillow. Throwing off a thin blanket that draped over the side of her bed, Maleficent swiftly climbs to her feet and reaches for the iconic headdress that she had set aside on a nearby dressing table.

More cawing. "Oh, would you please be quiet?!"

Pulling the headdress down over her hair, fastening it to the cloaked garb that she had carelessly left on as she drifted to sleep, Maleficent's anger only increased with each passing second. That bird would not shut up, and as her ears began to pick up on other sounds emerging from the outside, neither were those fools she called minions. So much for sleeping well.

Finally, she had enough, grabbing her scepter and throwing the door to her quarters open. "Silence!" Hoping for a quick resolution, her eyes dart out over her castle, searching for any sign of Diablo and/or what had been causing so much noise that she had been forced to leave her dream state to handle such meager tasks. "You tell those fools to-" Her words stop short. Out of the corner of her eye, Maleficent's heart drops at the sight of Diablo, once a faithful, loyal companion, now petrified into solid granite marble. "No." How this could have happened was beyond her. Surely not one of her minions could have performed such magic, and she was certain she hadn't done it, so who...

Subconsciously drawn to the attention near the drawbridge of her castle, gears rattling as her mentally challenged minions dropped the gates, Maleficent's blood boils. There he was, Prince Phillip on horseback, enchanted sword and shield in tow, escaping from her domain with ease.

"No!" The drawbridge was rising, but it was too late. Samson, a horse clearly in his prime, was galloping across the incline as though it weren't any more difficult than a flat surface. With a graceful pounding of his hind legs, the horse carries Phillip over the edge, reaching the other side without showing any signs of slowing down. Pebbles shaking under his hoofs as he races for the kingdom, Samson gives it all he's got.

But two could play at this game, and Maleficent was not someone to be trifled with. Already climbing to the highest point of her castle, draped in moonlight, Maleficent glares daggers down over her domain. Phillip had escaped further away than any other prisoner had ever gotten, with little opposition, and with each passing moment, was moving farther and farther out of her reach. Given the chance, she would have destroyed each and every minion that was simple-minded enough to let him run free, but, she didn't have time for that. This wasn't a dream, and if Phillip managed to reach his destination, everything would be over. Aurora would awaken, and Maleficent would fall in the eyes of those that once feared her. She couldn't let him escape.

And so, with a thrust of her scepter, thunder cracks. A trail of lightning streaks across the mountainside, buzzing with energy, as it collides with an arching rock formation. Blasted into a shower of jagged rocks, Sampson does his best to avoid the larger chunks that rained down, Phillip forced to do the rest. Rock ricocheting off the raised shield of virtue, Samson pushes on, hoping to make it out of the mountains before another attempt against their lives could be made.

Gritting her teeth, Maleficent takes a more direct approach, this time hurling a bolt of lightning right into their path of travel. If this wouldn't stop their momentum, nothing natural would. And although Samson is forced into taking a flying leap over the gaping hole that had been formed in his path, it doesn't. Maleficent wasn't going to have to try a whole lot harder if she was to succeed.

Pointing the ball of her scepter into the air over her head, she goes for the one spell that she knew would slow him down, if not halt him completely. It was something she had learned years ago, something that had gotten her out of tight situations before. Seldom did she actually use magic in this simpler form, commanding the magic using spoken words rather than simply by thought, but this was something of a necessity. "A forest of thorn shall be his tomb. Born through the skies on a fog of doom." Reciting the first part of her spell, storm clouds swirling overhead as each syllable escaped her lips, Maleficent points the storm down a path directly to the kingdom, bypassing Phillip altogether.

"Now go with a the curse and serve me well. Round Stefan's castle, cast my spell!" Thunder rolls through the clouds as they wrap around the kingdom, and more specifically, the royal palace, casting an ominous tone over the spires that climb into the sky. Power building, bolts of lightning strike the ground, humming with life as they almost sporadically hit rock here and there, pushing their energy through the bedrock and straight into the soil below. At first, it was only sprouts, but in moments, an entire forest of thorn stood in Phillip's way, blocking the only route back into the castle.

Samson screeches to a halt, neighing with freight as the horse and his rider are engulfed into the thorns, the forest spreading out further and further at an unrelenting pace.

Maleficent laughs wickedly, finally managing to bring Phillip to a stop. He would have to fight his way through if he had any hopes of getting into the castle, and Maleficent wasn't about to believe that it was possible. The thorns were simply too thick, too dangerous to climb through. His cape would snag, his horse would trip over himself as they lose their footing. It was a brilliant plan, and still, Phillip fought with all his might, cutting and slashing and chopping at vine after vine, his sword of truth leading them through inch by inch.

It was a slow process, and for a time, Phillip had his doubts. That Maleficent truly had won, that there was no hope of reaching his love. But, before he even realized what he had done, Phillip finds himself on the other side of the forest, a path successfully cut through. He was practically there! Only a lone, cobblestone bridge separated him from his love.

"No, it cannot be!" Raising her arms over her head, Maleficent is engulfed in flames, her body dematerializing into a swirling display of light, color and sparks of energy. Within this state, she had no thoughts, no ability to speak or laugh or breath. She could only point and shoot her way through the sky, hurtling towards King Stefan's castle at a faster pace than one could possibly run, much less imagine. If she was lucky, she could plant herself between Phillip and his victory, serve as one final obstacle for the Prince to come up against. Plummeting into the ground at an alarming rate, the mistress rematerializes before Phillip in a flash of green smoke, her body still flickering with with all the fire and intimidation she could muster. Samson neighs in freight, rearing up and nearly bucking Phillip off. It was only for his years of training on horseback that he managed to pull himself back into control, unnerved by his captor's sudden presence.

Maleficent was certainly unpredictable, and he couldn't be too sure of what she had planned. Whatever it was, the frown on her face couldn't mean anything good. "Now shall you deal with me, old prince, and all the powers of hell!"

With a powerful explosion at her feet, Maleficent is carried into the sky in a plume of smoke, disappearing entirely from sight as she pushes beyond the cloud line with laughter. With her former body cast aside, losing the green skin and horns that made her so easily recognizable to the common person, her voice deepening, the "Mistress of All Evil" takes on a truly terrifying form, one of the many dragons that plagued the region over the past century. If she was being honest with herself, this wasn't a form she often liked to take on. Of course it was deadly, but it was also massive, and uncoordinated, and rather stupid if she was removed from the pilot's seat.

It was almost as though she was taking on another presence entirely, but, it was effective. Flames flicking from her lips, Maleficent glares down on her prey as though victory was certain.

Gathering his nerves, Phillip gallops towards the beast, sword raised, determined to give himself a sporting chance. He didn't know if he was going to make it out of this encounter alive, much less victorious, but he had nothing left to lose. It was here and now where he was to make his stance. It didn't take long, unfortunately for him, to be dethroned from his horse, knocked onto his back with a stream of fire. Fire hotter than any he had ever encountered before, illuminated with a signature green tint. Before giving him the chance to retaliate, Maleficent releases another steady stream of flames into his general direction, hoping this indirect attack would be enough to reduce the Prince to nothing more than ash.

Rolling back onto his feet, Phillip prepares for another round, watching the cobblestone ground just a few feet away, melt into oblivion. With the dragon barreling towards Phillip with another barrage of fire, the Prince throws his shield up, desperately trying to stay on his feet as he's forced to fall back into the thorns. This wasn't a position he wanted to be in. Cornered and trapped against a wall. Still, he had found himself with a bit of cover, and he was going to use it for all it was worth.

Peering into the forest as though the battle had become a game to her, Maleficent searches for her target rather unsuspecting. Now was his chance. Slamming his sword down into the dragon's snout with all his strength, Phillip hopes to slice through and lay the first real injury down on the table. Unfortunately, her scales only giving her more protection than needed, as the dragon's head simply bobbles. Enraged, Maleficent snaps at the Prince, only to be parried with swipes of the sword.

She had endured about enough of this nonsense. Phillip was only fooling himself believing he could be victorious, after all, and it was high time for this little game of cat and mouse to end. Pulling her head up out of the forest, Maleficent ignites the vines, and sets the mood for a timely death, flames flickering up into the clouded sky above. It was time to get serious, but with nowhere to run, Phillip was out of ideas.

A small, shrill voice rings out within her eardrums. "Up! Come this way!"

The voice was familiar, and yet, Maleficent could hardly place it. She was simply too absorbed in the battle to even attempt to remember. Finding Phillip racing up a cliff side, flames licking his feet, Maleficent lunges forward, ready for the kill. It was her perfect chance to strike, and she was ready to take it.

Snapping at him yet again, Phillip managing to barely reach the top before being forced back into battle. Maleficent is blocked with each passing swing of the sword. If this were anyone else, they would have become discouraged. Phillip was clearly trained well with the blade, and for someone who hardly had a difficult life, he was faring quite well. But, this wasn't just anyone. Maleficent had a much bolder plan, a riskier one, but one that she ultimately knew would pay off. And so, she kept snapping and he kept parrying, pushing him further and further back until it was too late.

Taking one foot off the ledge, Phillip's eyes widen, realizing what had been done. He had been effectively pushed into a corner, a flaming field of thorns awaiting him at the bottom. There was nowhere left for him to run, to even move around to fight her off.

He's trapped.

With another blast of wicked flames, his shield is knocked from his hands. Maleficent laughs with glee as Phillip watches his only protection fall into the abyss.

Maleficent's laughter stops, her eyes falling upon three glowing colors, hovering just over the Prince's shoulders. Red, green, blue. The voice she had heard just moments earlier, and it clicked into place. It was the three fairies. The fairies who had put herself in this situation in the first place, by giving Aurora a fleeting chance at survival.

Combining their magic, sparks of magic fly about Phillip's sword, as though they were enchanting it with the ultimate spell. A spell that would lead to her downfall. And all she could do, was watch.

"Now sword of truth fly swift and sure, that evil die and good endure!" Flora, the fairy of pink, chants as she points her wand forward, practically guiding Phillip's hand movements. This was it. The moment of truth. Maleficent lunges forward, striking before she lost her chance. Retaliating with all his might, Phillip lets the sword fly, plummeting through the dragon's soft underbelly, and straight for her heart.

With a cry of pain, shock and disbelief, but mostly pain, Maleficent falls onto her hind legs, desperately trying to pull the sword loose. But, it was too late. Hardly having enough energy to snap at the Prince one final time, the "Mistress of All Evil" tumbles over the cliffside, falling to her doom in a wave of flames and thorns.

All, of her own making.

The flames slowly extinguish, as the air turns cold and silent. As though a heavy burden was finally lifted off the land. Peering down into the gorge below, Phillip cautiously searches for the dragon, the once great and feared entity known to all but herself, as Maleficent. Instead, of the dragon he had been expecting, he finds only a pile of ash, streaks of purple mixed with the black. That, and his sword, dulling from the battle.

It was over.

With a sigh of relief, Phillip climbs to his feet as he's joined by his horse and the three fairies, Flora, Fauna and Merryweather, all of which had helped him more over the past few minutes than he had ever needed in the past ** years of his life. Sharing a quiet, but happy moment with the fairies, rubbing his hand through Samson's mane, he watches with earnest eyes, as the forest of thorns dissipates into thin air, the serene, lush countryside returning to the land.

Everything was as it should be.

It had taken Phillip a little longer than he would have liked, but as the sun rose, so did his hope for the kingdom, which as the fairies had explained along the way, had been enchanted into an endless sleep, woken only by the awaking of Princess Aurora. And so as the dawn broke, he comes face to face with his sleeping beauty, primed and ready for his arrival. Finally getting a good look at her as she rested, Phillip couldn't help but remember the words Maleficent had used to describe her. Her hair was golden as the sun, her lips were as red as the rose. She was beautiful, and she was only waking for the one thing that could break all curses. Love.

With the kiss that had been foretold the very same day that this curse was placed, Aurora awakens, her soft lips curling into a smile as she's greeted with the face of a man who had gone through hell and back to spend the rest of his life with her. The man who she had met once upon a dream.

"No."

Towering over a bubbling cauldron, known to those familiar with the story, as the black cauldron, Maleficent watches the following events play out with horror. Although she only narrowly escaped death, her headdress and cloak in tatters, her pale green skin smeared with soot, the mistress had never been more enraged in all her life. Gritting her teeth with frustration, her hands griped tight into fists, nails digging into her fleshy palms, she finds the image of a waking beauty rise up out of the steam, the cauldron shimmering as bubbles burst. "No!"

"I was so close!" Backhanding the cauldron onto it's side, the thick metal rim clanking against the uneven stone floor, Maleficent fumes. Without the aid of her scepter, she has little outlet to really unleash her anger, her hatred for all who dared to oppose her. The image disappears as the boiling water rushes out of the top, spilling across the floor and falling down into the cracks where the stones had been pieced together.

"Calm yourself."

Raising her eyebrows with a realization that she wasn't alone, that her outrage had been observed, the harsh, soulless demand sends shivers down her spine. Her anger and frustration temporarily subduing, Maleficent pulls back to face the stranger. After all, she was alive and it was only appropriate to show her gratitude, one way or another.

Then, she sees someone she would never have expected. Of course in retrospect, it was probably the most obvious thing in the world, but in the moment, she could hardly believe her eyes. It was the man from her dream, in all of his hellish glory, slumped into a throne of granite stone. His cold, empty eyes gaze past the red hood that hung low over his head, watching the battle worn mistress take a few step closer. He taps his skeletal fingers impatiently, as he awaits a response.

"You..." Her mind jumped into a sprint as it ran a mile a minute, trying to take it all in. The fact that this man, if he was a man at all, had somehow entered her subconscious as she slept, that he had pulled her from the brink of death and granted her a second chance at life. She should have been grateful, but instead she was only confused. All things accounted for, she shouldn't be alive. "I believe we have met before?"

"I have watched you from a distance, Maleficent. Kept my eye on you. But no, we have never met." These words escaping from the empty place where his lips would have been, were it not for the fact that his face was nothing more than bone, the benefactor allows Maleficent to approach. Not for his shake, but hers. There was much needed to be discussed, and the faster the mistress grew accustomed to his terrifying appearance, the better.

"I have gone by many names, but favorite amongst them, the Horned King. Welcome, to Prydain."

So that's it.

Or at least for the first chapter. I'm not sure how quickly I'll be able to update, being a part-time student, part-time employee, full-time artist, but I'll do my best to get around to it as quickly as possible. Maybe in a week, more or less? Either way, if you have anything to say, whether it's about how much you hate my writing style, or can't wait to see what's next, or have a suggestion or idea, feel free to let me know! Like I've said, I'm new at this, so I'm sort of tweaking things as I go.

So until next time, stay classy!