Sleeping Beauty

He paid the witch handsomely. A staggering sum of money, almost unheard of at the time. But he was royalty, and his distant parents would barely even notice the dent in their finances. At 14 he was already the de facto ruler of the kingdom, and when he heard that the neighboring kingdom was going to have a new princess, he saw an opportunity for an alliance. And when he learned that this girl was fated to be the most beautiful in all the lands, his desire only grew. So he began searching down dark paths, pathways lined with thorns and houses built with crumbling bricks, curtains on houses sewn with the skin of monstrous creatures. And he found her, the witch known only as Maleficent. Rumor had it she was an abused fae gone wrong, a twisted nature spirit who, spurred on by vengeance, wanted nothing more than chaos and destruction.

She was, of course, hesitant to help the fresh faced boy who came for her help. She was used to visitors, young men craving unattainable love, women craving an escape from that same love, and of course, the universal lust for power, money, fame. She was growing tired of their requests, had begun to contemplate cursing them instead, watching them writhe with the bitter fruits of their own greed.

But this boy, Phillip, he was different. His ambition was dark, clever, almost admirable. She saw his dedication, saw his cold, ruthless heart, and knew that, deep down, her and him were the same.

So on a beautiful spring day, as all the kingdom gathered for the ceremony, Maleficent prepared her spell. She entered in a dramatic plume of green and black smoke, delighted in the horrified gasps of the audience, reveled in the fear of the new parents. She leaned over the cradle, saw tiny white hands and crystal blue eyes, a perfect image of attraction and beauty.

And with a few words, she doomed her to a life of misery. Aloud, she only spoke "on her sixteenth birthday, she will prick her finger... and die."

But written into the words was a deeper spell. For the third sister, a good fae untainted by the cruelty of man, going by the name of Merriweather, had not yet cast her blessing. And Maleficent knew this, and into her spell she wrote the conditions that would allow Prince Phillip to achieve his goal. So when she left, and Merriweather cast her "blessing" that softened the cruel blow of Maleficent's spell, she was not acting out of kindness. She was, in fact, just another victim of the vile fae's curse, playing right into Prince Phillip's hands.

16 years later, everything came together. The prince, now thirty and waiting impatiently for his ailing parents to die, had been planting the seeds of affection ever since he "stumbled" across Aurora's hiding place. Waiting with eager anticipation for the day that she would fall into her slumber and he, through Maleficent's curse, would trick the world into believing that he, all along, was the hero.

But of course, Aurora's father, as all the fathers of that time period, doubted Prince Phillip's kindness. He did not want to see his daughter married off, would be content even for her to become a wandering spinster. His feud with Prince Phillip's country ran deep in his blood, a quarrel that had lasted for generations. And despite his daughter's protests, he swore that he wouldn't allow Prince Phillip to marry his pure, innocent daughter.

Finally, he struck a bargain with Phillip, a feat that in his mind was impossible: he would allow Phillip to marry his daughter, but only if he could kill the immortal witch Maleficent.

Phillip, of course, agreed.

And so he followed the path of thorns, which he'd later tell everyone was a great, insurmountable wall that he cut through with only his sword, piece by piece. He told stories of how the evil Maleficent transformed into a great dragon, with breath of green fire and claws of the sharpest, coldest steel.

The truth was far less glamorous. Maleficent, see, had made great use of Phillip's money. In this time, fae like her were sold of as slaves, or exotic pets, toys for the rich. Maleficent used her money to buy them back, to free as many of her people as she could. And she'd been housing them in her little cottage, dozens of young faces and buzzing wings. She'd achieved something resembling peace, happiness. She thought her days of curses and cruel princes were behind her.

Then Prince Phillip arrived at her door, blade sharp and glinting with a vile light. And one by one he butchered everyone in the house, all of Maleficent's wards. Cut them into pieces and buried them under the floorboards, blood red flowers sprouting from the cracks as if to memorialize them. Maleficent tried to fight, tried every curse, but nothing worked, for Prince Phillip had done his own research and knew how to block her dark magic. He severed her head from her body and, using her long hair, tied it around the neck of his horse. As he galloped towards the kingdom he left a flood of black blood in his wake, felt the head thump against the horse, let it swing like the blade of an axe.

He came into the palace yelling of victory, fae blood staining his face and clothes. He tracked it into the gold-plated floors, let the black stain every marble surface and gold ornament. He looked insane.

But a deal was a deal. He married Aurora that very afternoon, hair still matted with innocent blood.

And he lived happily every after.