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There is a castle made of thorns, black and impassible, within the mountain range. But Belle's father does not listen when she warns him away from that pass.
"Take me, instead!"
All that Belle can see in the shadow is the indistinct shape of horns, and the gleam of eyes. "You would take his place?"
"Yes," says Belle, despite her father's protests.
Her name is Maleficent. Her skin is green by the torchlight, and a raven sits upon her shoulder. Belle has never been so afraid, but she will not let it show.
She thinks she sees a flicker of intrigue in Maleficent's eyes, before the door to her room closes behind her.
"Are you a fairy?"
"Yes."
"Where are your wings."
Maleficent pauses, for a long time. "They were taken from me."
When the goblins come to deliver their message, it is too much, and Belle flees. She does not expect to be beset by them beyond the castle walls, pulled from her horse and bound as they cackle.
Maleficent comes for her, all righteous fury.
"She is mine."
When they return to the castle, she collapses, blood soaking through her robes. Belle finds the source: the stumps of wings, still protruding from her back. She cleans them as best she can.
Maleficent does not speak of her wings again, but shows Belle a library beyond dreams. The gothic twists of black stone somehow make it more beautiful.
One day, Maleficent smiles again. And the thorns bloom into roses.