At first it was difficult for her to fully understand what Stefan had done.

He had taken her wings, but he hadn't truly understood what that had meant, and until then, neither had she.

He had grounded her, taken away her freedom.

He had betrayed her love, broken her heart.

He'd taken her wings, so he'd taken her very identity, because what was she, really, without her wings? Not a faery, but not a human either.

Just a person who felt pain and betrayal like everyone else, and far too much of both.

Because they haunted her, her wings.

She'd lost count of the times that she'd woken, and stretched her wings, only to find that they weren't there, and to have the pain of their loss and Stefan's betrayal hit her again, so much harder.

The pain never dimmed, never went away or faltered. It was always there, the same as it had been that first, terrible morning.

Stefan had taken so much more than her wings.

Yes, Maleficent knew all about pain, all about betrayal, and all about how much the past can hurt.

Or she thought she did.

When Aurora had looked at her with such fear, she had felt a much sharper, much more intense anguish. Aurora had stolen what was left of her heart, and, like her father, she had ripped it to shreds.

However, unlike her father, she gave it back.