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A week later, Maleficent flew high in the air, noticing a familiar figure roaming around the forest clearing.
She smiled and accelerated, then gently dropped down behind Stefan. He turned, startled by her sudden appearance.
“Well, well. Look who came back,” she said.
“I thought it was worth the risk.”
Maleficent blushed as a small deer emerged from a stand of trees.
“If I had my bow, I’d make you a fine dinner,” Stefan said, gesturing toward the animal.
Choosing to ignore the remark, Maleficent walked over to the deer. It was a beautiful creature. She held out her hand in a greeting and kneeled before it. The deer nuzzled against her palm.
“Magic,” Stefan breathed, watching them.
“No. Just kindness,” Maleficent said, correcting him. She kept her gaze on the deer.
Stefan headed behind her, prompting the deer to walk away. Rising, Maleficent turned to face him.
“When we met, you said, ‘You’re her.’ What did you mean?” she asked.
“People have seen you. Flying. The girl from the Moors that looks just like us … except for your wings.” He stared at them, clearly wanting to take a closer look. Maleficent held out a wing toward him.
“You sure?” he asked.
She nodded, and he gently touched the wing. “They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Maleficent said, looking over her shoulder. “They are special, aren’t they?”
Next Stefan looked up at Maleficent’s horns. “Are they sharp?” he asked.
The faerie felt her face turn red, and she bowed her head, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“They’re majestic,” Stefan continued. “That’s the word. They are far and away the most majestic horns that I have ever seen.”
Maleficent was overcome with emotion. Without thinking, she hugged him. His body stiffened; it was clear he hadn’t been expecting this reaction. But soon she felt him smile.
“We can choose to be friends,” Maleficent said. “Why can’t the others?”
“Maybe they can. Maybe we can show them.”
So Maleficent and Stefan bonded over a hope for peace, something that made Maleficent feel closer to her parents than ever. Stefan came to the edge of the Moors, the place that became their secret spot. They talked about their lives, their future. Then, on Maleficent’s sixteenth birthday, they kissed—a kiss so pure, so honest, so real that it was True Love’s Kiss.
But as the years marched on, Stefan spent less time visiting the Moors and Maleficent. He was busy making good on his promise to live in the castle, albeit as a servant. He seemed less concerned with building harmony between the humans and faeries, and more concerned with his life at the castle—a life he seemed to want to keep private. No matter what questions Maleficent asked out of genuine interest, Stefan avoided answering them.
One day, Maleficent soared in the sky, spotting Stefan nearby on a cliff. It had been weeks since she’d last seen him.
“Stefan,” she called down to him.
“Hello,” he replied.
“Hello,” Maleficent repeated. She suddenly felt awkward around him.
“Where have you been?” Stefan asked.
Maleficent narrowed her eyes. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she responded. “You’re always disappearing these days.” She lowered herself to him for a kiss. They leaned close together. And for a fleeting moment, it all felt right again.