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A Scream of Rage and Grief

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She screams a scream of rage and grief and her magic turns green.

Maleficent is now, in every sense of the word, inhumanly enraged and she will not stop before he kneels at her feet and begs for forgiveness.

'What do you do for fun?' he'd asked, the second time she'd ever seen him. And she had shown him. She had taken him for a fly; had let his hands clamp her ankles as she showed him the beauty of the Moors from above. So he knew. Her wings were her life, her freedom, her everything. She was her wings, and her wings were more than just a part of her – they were her, too. He knew she'd rather die than live out her days confined to the ground. And yet, he had betrayed her.

'They're trying to kill you. Trust me, let me help.' Yeah, right.

It was not even the betrayal that hurt. She should have seen it coming, she knows. She hadn't seen him in years, had known he was being consumed by greed and ambition, and yet she'd let him into her heart and her home – and look how that turned out.

Her shoulders feel oddly light and her heart oddly heavy. No more blasting over the waters, no more slaloming around the boulders, no more wind ruffling her hair in freefall, she knows. Maleficent is confined to the ground in more ways than one, and she will not rest before he kneels.

She screams a scream of rage and grief and her magic turns green.

From a tower window far away Stefan watches, and his heart fills with fear.