A re-upload of a fic written some time in late 2010 or early 2011. I think my writing has improved considerably since then, but some people seem to like this story, so I'll keep it up.

The boy seems perfectly content amidst the thorns. He darts between them without trouble, charging fearlessly over the remains of those who have failed before him. His brow is knotted and his eyes are narrowed in intense concentration, his steps light and sure.

His true colors show when he crosses paths Maleficent's underlings. He raises his scythe and cuts into them without mercy, the blade glinting in the dull sun. Their blood spurts in thin red ribbons, tinted green by her crystal ball.

At this the boy smiles. But it is a cold smile, an empty smile. There is no joy. He is sure to keep his teeth concealed behind his lips as he lands the finishing blow. It is the sated smile of a cat that has just finished gorging on a canary.

Wiping the blood from the blade with mechanical efficiency, the boy scales the tower, darting through the brambles up the castle's only staircase. He quickly reaches the princess's chamber, wasting no time in crossing to her sleeping form. When he leans in to kiss her, he sets down his scythe, running his hand across her cheek and leaving a smear of thick red blood. He brushes his thumb against her lips before leaning in fully, staining them a darker shade of red.

The surprise that appears on his face when the princess fails to stir from her slumber is simply exquisite. It melts into anger as he senses Maleficent behind him, spinning on his heels, his scythe immediately in hand. Now standing before her, she sees that he cannot be more than fourteen years old. His skin is tanned, his feathery brown hair coming to a stop at his ears. His dark eyes and bone structure hint at an oriental ancestry.

"A pity. You are not the one for her."

The boy grits his teeth.

"You have journeyed here not for love," Maleficent says with a smile, "nor for justice. I can sense it in your heart." Indeed, his heart is drowning in darkness. Unusual for one so young. She cannot help but feel intrigued. "What is it you fight for, young prince?"

The child prince takes a step back, lowering his body into a battle stance, like a coiled spring. The scythe suddenly seems far too large for him. "I'm afraid I rather like my secrets," he says with a scowl. His voice has the slightest hint of an accent that she cannot name.

Maleficent laughs. "If you think you can defeat me, then I'm afraid you have something else coming to you." She strikes her staff against the ground for emphasis, the sound echoing off the walls as green-tinted mist fills the air around her.

The boy hesitates at that, but he is sure to keep his face blank, his scythe still raised. Impressive. "I've heard about you."

"Many have," she says with another smile.

He ignores her, continuing. "You're the dark fairy that has cursed this land for nearly a century."

"Enchanted, my child," she says, correcting him. "I have enchantedthis land. The three good fairies, as your kind calls them, are the ones at fault for the state of his kingdom." Her smile grows. "I am only building on what was already there."

The child prince takes another step back, still tense. The gilded rose on the front of his faded tunic grows more prominent. It is a family crest. She smiles knowingly as recognition comes to her.

Maleficent extends her hand, coaxing him as one coaxes a frightened animal. Despite his best efforts to indicate otherwise, she knows that he is afraid. "Come with me, young prince," she says, "and I shall grant you power unlike any other."

He stays where he is, but his troubled expression indicates that he is considering her offer.

Maleficent's smile widens. "Join me, and I will return to you your stolen kingdom."

His eyes widen a fraction. He cocks a brow and narrows his eyes in suspicion, but he lowers his scythe. After a heavy silence, he slowly crosses to her.

"You have chosen wisely, young prince." Darkness blooms up around them. He starts, shooting a final panicked look over his shoulder as the room disappears from view.

The princess remains, eternally in wait of a rescuer and smelling of death.

The prince departs for his lost kingdom. Time passes. It is five years before Maleficent hears of a young tyrant, conquering the land with an army of yellow-eyed monstrosities and leaving scores of corpses in his wake. The Tyrant King rules over his kingdom with an iron fist, annihilating anyone who dares to challenge him.

Maleficent smiles in pride, not for the nameless prince but for herself.

A decade passes before she sees him again.

He has grown much taller, his shoulders broader. He leaves his horse at the gate, weaving through the thorns with some difficulty now. She waits in her chamber as she watches him through her crystal ball. He steps over shattered glass and unkempt ivy before finally entering the room.

He has grown quite handsome. The Tyrant King crosses to her with an arrogant stride, clad in splendorous silk and fine leather, smile coated with sugar and honey. He takes her hand and kisses the knuckles, his lips feather-light.

"Still as beautiful as ever, my mistress." His voice has deepened considerably. He takes a step back, interweaving his fingers behind him, his leather gloves creaking. There is a twinkle in his eye. "Surely you've heard of my exploits these past few years?"

Maleficent smiles. "Your arrogance shall be your undoing, young prince."

The Tyrant King smiles back coldly, his brow darkening slightly with irritation. "I prefer to think of it as an asset." He draws in closer, caressing her cheek and leaning in to whisper into her ear. "Now. What can we do to pass the time, I wonder?"

Hours pass before he returns to his kingdom.

Four more years go by.

The world is a treacherous wasteland. Many have risen up to defy the Tyrant King, and all have failed. He decorates the outer walls of his castle with the corpses of his would-be assassins and their families, all to be buried in creeping vines, feeding his treasured garden. His family crest-the deep red rose-is seen in every village for miles. All hope is crushed, all light devoured.

This is truly paradise, Maleficent thinks. Her kingdom is a paradise.

Another year.

The Tyrant King stands before her with that same sugary smile and that same twinkle in his eye. His hair has grown out, coming to his shoulders in feathery strands. He is dressed in all black save the family crest over his heart. He pulls out his scythe and begins to sharpen it casually, the blade still bright after all these years and suddenly so much more fitting in his large, calloused hands.

As if he could hope to intimidate her.

"I must say," he murmurs softly, failing to look up from his scythe. He pauses for tension, that same rhythmic shick-shick-shick of the whetstone passing over the metal echoing off of the walls. He looks up at her briefly before returning his attention to the blade, his smirk growing. "In these past several years, you haven't done much at all. What can you hope to accomplish just sitting there?"

Maleficent has an answer to that, but remains silent, her smile widening.

She is not a fool. She would be blind not to see it. He has been watching her all this time, planning, calculating, waiting to strike.

And he truly believes that she has gone unaware until now. How very amusing.

The Tyrant King raises his scythe and tucks the whetstone away in his pocket. He stands tall, the torchlight bathing him in an eerie green glow.

Maleficent is the first to strike.

He dodges the attack gracefully, fluidly swinging his scythe in an arc just before her. She is sure to counter with a burst of magic, sending it sailing over the top of his head.

He is not as talented a fighter as he believes.

The pointed end of her staff goes straight through the rose on his shoulder, tendrils of darkness bursting from the wound and paralyzing him. His scythe crashes to the floor, a line of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

Maleficent leans in closely. "I warned you long ago, young prince," she says, "that your arrogance would destroy you." She rips the staff out. A ribbon of blood splatters onto the floor. He falls to his knees with a choked cry, placing his hands over his heart where the rose has disappeared into the black. His body slowly begins to dissipate, his shadow flickering and warping until it becomes a solid creature. His Heartless crawls over to her ankles, chittering quietly.

Maleficent reaches out to pat it on the head, smiling down at him as his body begins to collapse in on itself. "Wherever you are going now, you would do best to follow the orders of your elders, lest you make the same mistake again."

Through the swirling darkness, he glares up at her, his eyes already beginning to change to a deep, rich blue. His hair lightens until it is a pale pink. His mouth is frozen in a snarl, his eyes alight with rage, the blood pouring from his lips changing to an ink-like black.

And he's gone, leaving behind a thin haze of darkness and a handful of stray rose petals.

Maleficent smiles.

She turns, her footsteps echoing hollowly. The Tyrant King's Heartless crawls listlessly at her side, jerking its head from time to time. She walks until she can look out her window comfortably.

The outside world is dark and empty. Not so much as a blade of grass is visible. She can see a column of smoke drifting up from a burning village on the horizon. There are screams, cries of agony and pleads for mercy, mass graves where farms once stood and freshwater lakes overflowing with spilled blood and corpses.

The Tyrant King did well.

Maleficent throws back her head and laughs.