1.

Her back still burned. She spent hours tromping through the plains, using her staff, one she had magically grown from a measly twig, to keep her on her feet. She needed it to keep her legs from buckling under her from the pain. Now she could walk upright without it if she wished, but she didn't dare discard it; she was sure that if she did, she would collapse. Her legs were sore from the endless walking, the muscles unaccustomed to this much use. She never depended on them so until now. The burning tightness in her thighs and calves dually served as a distraction from the searing stinging in her back, if only by a little.

She couldn't return to the Moors, not yet. Maybe not ever. She wouldn't be able to handle the stares at the cauterized nubs on her back where her wings had once been, nor the inquiries as to what happened to them.

All those things would hurt, but nothing in the world could ever compare to the agony she felt now. Not just in her back, but in her heart. She loved him, and she thought he loved her too. She trusted him. She thought he was different. But it was all a lie. He betrayed her by stealing from her what was most important to her, just like the thief he had always been. Now she would never be able to fly again. Never again would she soar with the river Giants, nor hover above the clouds, nor feel her feathers catching the wind. Never again. Now she was grounded to the Earth, a slave to gravity like a common beast.

Above, a pair of sparrows glided through the air. She stopped in place to watch them disappear into the horizon. Her heart knotted in her chest, threatening more tears, but none came. All the tears in her body had already been spent.

Her fist tightened around her staff and she continued forward, trekking toward the only sanctuary she could think to find. Several miles beyond the South edge of the forest stood the dark ruins on the hill she found when she was a child years before. It was exactly the same as she remembered: black stones overgrown with dead vines, long since dead and left to rot.

She had been told little about these old grounds. From what she heard, it was a castle that belonged to a human king long ago, one who also made an attempt at conquering the Moors, until his kingdom was burned to ash by the fearsome Red Dragon, the creature who once defended the Faeries until his demise. None of the other Fae would tell any more out of lack of knowledge, or perhaps out of fear of revisiting such a dark period in their land's history.

Regardless of what may have happened then, this place's past meant nothing to her now. For now, it was a sanctuary, a place as cold and lifeless as she now felt. Most importantly, it was vacant. There wasn't a single sign of life for miles around, which was perfect; all she wanted now was to be left alone. The only creatures here were the gargoyles that sat perched on the pillars that circled the castle's perimeter, petrified in their protective stance, their wings spread wide and their fangs bared in permanent roars. Their placement obviously did little good to guard the former owners of this castle.

She sat in a stone seat on which a throne once stood. She had not moved from it once in the hours that she remained in it. She struggled at first to find a way to sit comfortably, but it was impossible; no matter what position she turned to, no matter where her body touched the stone, pain seared through her. She would never be able to feel comfort again. There would be no peace for her, not ever again.

Night had fallen and the moon had risen when her seclusion was disturbed. She first heard the "Caw!" of a raven, followed by the flapping of wings. She turned her head to see a large, fully-grown raven land on a ledge just a short distance from her. The bird cawed again, looking at her as if curious or confused by her presence there.

She did not want have any creature near her, much less one with such beautiful black wings. She blew a small but sharp breeze of wind in his direction. The rush of air threw him off balance from his perch. The raven quickly got the message and took flight, while Maleficent watched with pained envy.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the feathered beast perform a talent she no longer could, and leaned her head against the cold stone and waited for sleep to take her.

"Well, well. Look who has come to join me in my solitude."

The voice sounded like it belonged to a man, but was too deep, almost a growl. She looked all around to find the speaker, but saw no one. Then she noticed: one of the gargoyles was missing from it post. Hidden in the shadows stood a tall shape with horns on its head. Its eyes were bright yellow that glowed like hot embers in the dark. But Maleficent made no move.

Then, the figure stepped forth from its concealment, allowing the full moon's light to make himself visible to her. It was a man, at least for the most part. He was a giant of man, standing eight feet tall. His skin was pale white, the features of his face were hard and sharp, his jaw, chin, nose, and cheekbones sharply edged, even more so than Maleficent's, and his fingers and toes were pointed with long curved talon-like nails. His eyes were narrow and glowed fiery yellow. From under the blood-red cap on his head protruded his ears, which were curved and pointed as his nails. The brim of hs cap was curved upwards at the sides, like horns. The rest of his body was clothed in a large cloth wthis story had gone throughrapped around his chest, and around his shoulders, a cloak made from the pelt of a black bear, which dragged across the ground behind him as he walked.

"Well?" the creature said, his pointed eye teeth poking over his bottom lip, "Is my castle to your liking?"

this story has gone through some serious changes, especially with the character of Redcap, so the rest of the story's been taken down until the nesecary changes can be made