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Maleficent; the evil witch. A woman, loathed by the general public for her darkness and wild sorceries. The black horns on her head, like those of an angry bull.

But it was not always this way.

She was just the older sister, a disappointment to her parents for her introversion and lack of relatability. She found the other children her age to be dull, only concerned with the petty trivialities while she would wander off into the wild forests and creeks to adore the fauna, and the wildlife. And she'd imagine to herself that this is just the tip of the iceberg, the mere entrance to another mysterious realm beyond the safe boundaries.

And when her younger sister was born, who turned out to be the ideal child the parents had so desired, she was envious of the warmth her mere and father showered upon that child, and all the happiness her younger sister enjoyed with her peers, while she stared from the sidelines, an outsider.

Time passed, and Maleficent was a young woman, her long, flowing hair black and her pale skin like the moonlight -- scorned by her peers for her strangeness, her eccentricity. ("That loathesome, deviant wacko!")

Her eyes have grown accustomed to gazing out, observing life's happenings around her. And it was one evening, when she had taken a walk down the alleyways, that her eyes fell upon the most.. the most beautiful human being she's ever seen.

He was just sitting on the steps, his royal family having a bitter argument in the inn. He looked idly bored, tossing bits of bread for the pigeons to feast on - and she was paralysed as she was enraptured.. not by his blond hair, or his princely physique, but by the spirit that seemed to animate the life within him, the way he'd innocently toss the bread at the birds, as if it were nothing, while his eyes seemed set on the colourful horizons beyond his reach.

Perhaps he would appreciate all the horizons she's known, and so with her heart pounding, Maleficent walked up to him, one step after another, nervous about rudely interrupting his reverie, and there were the children who were playing football not too far beside. If that petite boy could confidently kick the straw ball into the box, then she could likewise lead him into something better than just mere daydreaming.

So timidly, she introduced herself to him. His name was Charles, and in the future, he would be Charles VIII, a reigning monarch of the country. For the time being, his parents were trying to find a suitable woman to be Queen beside him. But that did not matter to her much - for her, he was someone who would be able to listen to her and understand.

Maleficent held his hand; he was warm and sturdy and comforting, and the streets never looked so wonderful as it did when she showed him around, him being an unfamiliar guest to this city. She showed him the market, the tree where she stashed all the candy, and the stairs up the cathedral, where on the bell tower they saw the marvelous cityscape - that which was so familiar for her, he was totally and utterly amazed by; the baroque layout, the red roofs, the over-reaching castles and the fields beyond the city walls..

But the sun had disappeared, and it was dusk - and so she had to take him back to the inn, where she bid him good night.

She never asked him if he would be available tomorrow, nor did he ask her about her own self, her own family. To him, she was like one of those wandering gipsies who seemed to have no roots, and who would fault him for that, when the way she was with him - it seemed carefree and irresponsible, and he wished he could be like her in that regard, escape his future burdens and responsibilities as a reigning King.

He did not expect her to show the next day, as he was introduced to princess after groomed princess, in those interviews so mind-numbingly bland that he imagined his nose would jump off in pursuit of a million Francs. But there she was, Maleficent, awaiting him that same time as yesterday -- except he was looking for his own dinner [he disliked the inn's mucky dishes], and so she showed him her favourite restaurant, where they ate the scallops and Italian pasta with the tomato cake as dessert; the overall expense would make her own family blush.

Luckily, Charles had more than enough money in his wallet, and he paid for the both of themselves.

She wanted to make it up to him though -- she had nothing on her, just her modest clothes, so she told him of all the exciting moments she's had, both real and imaginary, when she was growing up in her few years of schooling, and after when she would pull off silly errands for people to make money; when she'd be in her bedroom, her eyes managing to read the written tales by dim candlelight, and..

how it felt for her to be aroused by the glimpses she saw of the men, passionately kissing the women by the brothels -- more than just by their lips, but also their bare bodies.

He was a little taken aback by this sudden intimate revelation, but it also made him strangely excited, for she had sparked in him that electric charge. It was night again, and he had to return to the inn. But this time, he took it upon himself to ask her about meeting her again, this time for the whole day, because his parents had suspected they were wearing him out with whole days of bachelor interviews.

She had an idea; she'd take him out the city limits to that forest, and she'd bring a whole lunch along with her, in a picnic basket..

Just her and him.

He would breathe the crisp, moist air with her, and see the lingering shadows under the leaves, and the green algae over the stones, and the splinters of bark amidst the branches and squirrels.

And that day, it was cloudy and overcast; she'd prepared all the food in the basket early morning, and her family was asking her what it was all for, and she said she was going out with a friend.

And she and he met at the agreed-upon spot, just by the kingdom's gates, and she led him down the fields, where he was wheezing, out of breath by the time they arrived at the boundaries of the forest. (He should exercise more.)

He was visibly anxious about the place; the darkness and claustrophobia of the trees seemed foreboding to him, but she told him it was like a second home for her, whose perceived dangers were as illusory as the shadows underneath your bed when you were young, imagining all the lingering night crawlies.

Their feet squish upon the mossy ground. He was staring all around, and the atmosphere of the forest so got to him that even the mundane chirping of birds seemed to jolt his attention upward, as if he expected wild animals to jump the both of them -- he had his hand upon his ornate dagger, ready to unsheathe it upon any definite sign of danger.

He never had to.

They arrived at a clearing, where the rivers led to a still pond, whose surface was more perfectly reflective than an ordinary mirror, provided it wasn't windy and you did not disturb the waters. You could see your own face against the grey backdrop of the sky, and if there were any dirt or blemish on your cheeks, you dripped water over them, and you would be clean just like that.

And that was what Maleficent and Charles did; they rinsed their hands in the purifying water, and the bread from the basket, along with the cooked pork and beans and sausage, and the salad, it was satisfying for their tummies.

And they sat there for a while, Maleficent unsure of what to do next.

It was eerily silent in the glade, and they could only hear the sounds of each other, breathing, shifting around on the grass. Maybe they could linger like that for as long as they wanted, like a deep rest.

And then Charles took off his clothes, and naked, he waded into the pool, where it went up to his neck, the waters. Maleficent was shocked at his action - how could he be this disregarding of the pure waters; but he reasoned that what is water, if not meant to be taken by every life form, animals and human beings alike? The muskrats could rinse themselves in this lake, no problem, and besides, he felt he was sweaty.

So Maleficent joined him. She draped her dress beside his clothes, and he caught an arousing glimpse of her form before she was wading beside him, the waters caressing both their bodies, the surface rippling with every one of their infinitesimal movements.

How cold.

Here, she went up close to him, seeing the bristles of his growing whiskers on his face, saw his ripe, rosy lips, and she did what she'd always wanted to do - to kiss a beautiful man.. to kiss him.

A lingering kiss; her lips never left his, as her tongue danced with his, savouring his salty taste and his breath and his salivation, and her hands held his face and his body by hers, and for some reason she wanted to emulate the nurturing waters, so she dipped him down until the waters enveloped much of his head, with just his face over the surface, the lake lapping over to his eyes and nose. Getting him acquainted with the notion of being enveloped, and then she pushed him down underwater, and joined him there where she distracted his shock by continuing her kiss. To drown in her mouth, instead of the water's.

And when they went back out, the crisp air sent tremors over their wet bodies, her hair dripping over her shoulders, and they had no towel or fire to dry themselves with.

So they decided to huddle together, holding each other in an embrace that is fuller than an ordinary hug, their inner warmths starting to surge, as if in recognition of their touch.

And he noticed how soft she felt against him, and he remembered how yesterday, she related to him her fascination with the love-making couples, and he felt again that electric arousal.

Innocently, he moved his hand to touch her breast, and she did not seem to react when he was there, feeling her pulse beneath. Then she held her own hands over his, in endorse of his gesture, and they followed though their desires, consummating the notion of what it meant to love as adults.

And after, they went back to the castle; it was getting dark, and the repairmen had just finished replacing a stone block on the kingdom wall with a prototype concrete one. It superficially resembled stone, the concrete's greyness, but up-close, the texture bore more resemblance to dense sponge.

It was wet, currently drying, and the concrete block was noticeably lighter than the surrounding stone blocks, so Maleficent and her companion took a look, and she touched the block, and was surprised when her fingers left an indent on the surface.

They had the idea of playing some tic-tac-toe on it, before they decided to wipe the surface smooth, and leave a lasting sign of their existence there. Maleficent placed her hand on the surface, beside Charles's, and side-by-side, their hand imprints were now part of the concrete block's drying process.

Charles began to worry about his family's worrying about him [worry-ception], so he had to cut their meeting to an end, regrettably, but not before leaving her with a goodbye embrace, and a promise that he would remember her after.

And in the resulting loneliness afterward, Maleficent was crying. She'd never been loved so much before, had never felt so much love for anyone -- before, it was just a vague, abstract sadness she'd feel, lingering about her in melancholy moments.

The concrete block was still drying.

So with the last of the sunlight available, she found a nearby stick, and she etched that deepest feeling onto petite words, just beside their hands.