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It was a typical evening on the Isle. Gloomy swirls of grey clouds surrounded the poor excuse of an island, blocking the once-hopeful bright blue sky. On the island, there stood a desolate, broken-down castle. It's inhabitant? Well, it was the mistress of all evil.
Maleficent.
The dark black walls matched the colour of her dress as well as her mood. She felt… She didn't know how she felt, in all honesty. Her daughter was off frolicking in the land of those damn goody goodies; Mal must not be thinking about her poor mother anymore. How despicable.
Thinking about Mal pulled her thoughts to Hades. He was the girl’s father, after all. God, how she hated the man. He was the God of the Underworld, but he had been trapped on this rock with mortals, people he thought were beneath him. How different can you be when you're in the same pathetic situation, huh? He infuriated her. Even when they were still in a relationship, they always quarrelled and argued like animals. Why was she even thinking about her ex?
Being stuck on this damn rock really takes a toll on your mind.
She needed a drink. Anything would do, as long as it was strong enough to make her forget. To make her forget about her daughter, who had probably forgotten about her and loathed her, and to forget about her horrible excuse of a husband. To forget all the times they had screamed and fought and argued; to forget the times when they were still scheming about taking over Auradon together; to forget the times when he had held her close to his heart. She was far away from his heart now. She was sure of it.
Standing up, she strolled into the kitchen in search of a certain cabinet. The cabinet with all the strongest booze. Villains need a little respite too! She forwent getting a cup. In order to forget these stupid feelings, she was going to down this whole bottle of vodka. She pressed her maroon lips against the thin entrance of the glass bottle and let the intoxicating liquid run down her throat.
She drank. And she drank, and she drank, like there was no tomorrow. She had emptied around three-fourths of the bottle, and yet her thoughts still dwelled on him. Curse you, Hades. The hate? she had felt for him was now multiplied tenfold. He was all she could think of.
Hades.
Hades.
Hades.
Before she knew it, she grabbed the old, rusty phone and dialled his number. What the hell was she doing? Mysterious and unidentifiable emotions churned inside her. This was all his fault, so he should be the one to fix it. It was his fault that she felt this way. The phone stopped ringing. He had picked up.
She instantly started talking, interrupting his rude greeting, “Hades... I miss you.”
He froze. What? Maleficent, the one who was reluctant to show affection during their whole relationship, was calling him because she missed him. She missed him. He missed her.
“Can you… Could you come over, please? I-I asked nicely. You like it when I ask nicely, don't you?” She sluggishly asked over the phone, unknowingly interrupting Hades’ train of thought. She was doing that quite often this evening. It seems all drunk people are prone to blabbering, not even The Mistress of Evil was an exception.
Beep, beep, beep.
He hung up.
She took that as a no.
Of course he had hung up. No person in their right mind would want to talk to their ex. Especially when they had such a bad fallout. Good thing he wasn't a person. He was a god. That still didn't mean he was going to show up. He hadn't shown up for the entire duration of his only daughter's childhood; what made her so different? She slowly set the phone down with an uncharacteristic gentleness. She was going to rot in this castle alone. No one wanted her alive anyway. Villains as bad as her don't get happy endings.
She couldn't move away from the phone, or was it that she didn't want to? She was used to getting her way, and she was going to make him come over. There was no escaping the mighty Maleficent, especially not when she was super drunk and emotional. She called his number again, this time with a touch of aggressiveness.
Beep, beep, beep.
No answer.
She dialled those damned numbers again and again.
Again. Again. Again.
She was going to make him pick up. Suddenly, tears welled up in her green dragon eyes. Was it out of sadness that he was ignoring her, or out of frustration that he wasn't answering? She knew the answer to that question, but she sure as hell wouldn't be answering it. The tips of her pale fingers were turning pink now. They started to hurt. Just like how her chest area hurt. She bit her bottom lip hard to stop the tears from spilling. She was not going to let him make her cry. No way. Not in a million years.
Knock, knock.
Someone was at her door? Was it the someone she was hoping for? Oh, how she longed to see that ridiculous mohawk and those glowing phthalo blue eyes. She stumbled and swaggered towards the door in shock and anticipation. It was really hard to walk properly when drunk. As she pulled the rusty door handle, she sucked in a small breath.
Please. Please. Please.
“Didn't expect you to be the type of person to miss their ex.”
She fell forward. He caught her. In that moment, it felt as if all the stars had aligned and everything was good. It didn’t matter that they were still stuck on this rock. It didn't matter that she hadn't gotten her revenge. He was holding her in his arms. That was the only thing that mattered to her in her drunken mind.
He let himself into her fortress with a smirk.
“God, you must be so drunk.”
He looked at the bottle in her left hand. It was all empty now. She looked up at him as he set her down on an old and battered chair, wanting to catch as many glimpses of him as possible before he decided to leave.
“Drink,” he said, exchanging the bottle for a vial of water.
“Don't want to,” she replied with a pout.
“C’mon babe, don't make this more difficult than this needs to be.”
She reluctantly took the water and downed it in one go before standing up and hugging his waist with her two arms. He froze for a second and gathered his composure before he sighed.
“It's getting late; you should go to sleep,” he said as he swooped her up.
He was carrying her. In bridal style. Heat immediately rushed up to her cheeks, turning them a bright pink. He noticed this and just held her closer to his chest.
He walked up to her bedroom and lightly placed Maleficent on her bed. He then turned his back and got ready to leave. He took a step and realised something was preventing him from leaving. Was it his feelings or the iron grip on the sleeve of his jacket?
“Stay.”
“You sure you won't regret that decision tomorrow morning, darling?” He asks, his face filled with shock, but his voice shows none of it.
Her advances are too much for him, so he willingly lays down with her, side by side. Cautiously, he glances at her. She notices this and snuggles against his muscular arm. He chuckles at this and decides to put his free arm over her waist, interlocking the two bodies. They still fit perfectly together. Yin and Yang, the ice to his fire. If only she was this cute when she was sober.