Male!Maleficent x reader - War of Words

Think of me

<a/n>Inspired by Phantom of the Opera
It might also help to have watched Maleficent (some minor spoilers)

What's the one thing she loved about masked balls?
The excitement of mystery. Not to mention the extravagant gowns and handsome suits that roamed the halls upon halls of chandeliers; reds, blues, whites, pinks— they all meandered, mingling with each other like tears and rain. Every sight and smell was fresh and new, each unique moment was truly breathtaking. Anyone could enjoy and bathe in the glory of masked balls.

<y/n>, however, was not one of those colourful individuals. She loathed the shallow women who viewed such art as an excuse to show off and socialise. The music, the hours of preparation, the costly fees of sweeping up afterwards; that was what truly inspired her. She stood out from the vibrant ladies in rebellion, opting for a bleak grey bodice and skirt, draped over a cage for a layered effect. Her mask, black and beaked screamed out its mockery. Our individual preferred to stay in the shadows– literally. Gods be damned if her father scolded her; she was the only heir to the throne, and he was on his last legs. She relished at the thought of  imitating him, making harsh jokes; Such was her humour.

As if on cue, the man in question walked towards her with a satisfied grin on his face.
"What does the oaf want this time?" she whispered to herself.

"<y/n>," the king mused. "May I introduce you to Stefan. I'm sure you've heard of his mighty feat."
In front of the princess stood a plain, groomed man –maybe two or three years older than herself– clad in fine garb of blueberry and grape; A cow attempting to blend in with nobles. The ox gave a reluctantly polite smile and took her hand, gracing her knuckles with hard pressed, chapped lips. It took her a lot of effort to resist recoiling in disgust. Instead, she gave him a half smile. He clearly had no idea how to treat royals.
"Come, we shall arrange the marriage immediately." Her father beamed, leading them both up a set of wide, gold and white stairs. He continued giving Stefan perpetual admiration.

The old man had formed a habit of using his daughter as incentive. Last month, it was 'whoever rids of the bridge troll', the week before 'Whoever brings back the horn of a unicorn.'
Stefan won her by stealing the wings of Maleficent, the guardian of all creatures from the other side. Heaven forbid one of those monsters cross over. In a sense, <y/n> respected him for his triumph; there was no doubt that he would be capable of defeating Maleficent the next go around, however she was a rather disdainful character; the minx expected a courageous prince or gallant knight at the very least; not a peasant.

She began to daydream as her father droned on about wedding details. What if he were a dashing knight, defeating Maleficent and sweeping her off her feet, carrying her gingerly to a pure black horse as they rode away into the night, maybe sneaking in a small peck on the lips, which then would lead on to—
Her thought train was interrupted by Stefan, who squeezed her hand and smiled sheepishly, reminding her of the bitter reality the situation brought.

She hoped her children wouldn't take after their father.

When papa finally released the couple from his grasp, the princess immediately took her place back in the shadows of the palace, her beady eye observing once more.

Maleficent stared, watching the naive lady as she feebly lingered in the dark. He had decided to attend (if not, rather reluctantly) in order to gather information about Stefan's weaknesses. Inch by inch, he neared the princess's unsuspecting person, grasping her hand to let his lips feather her petite knuckles. She glanced at him, shocked as she resisted a recoil once more. At least this one understood how to greet royalty, albeit unexpectedly.
"Princess." He bowed, mocking her title. <y/n> raised a brow, amused and insulted at the same time. His horns appeared so realistic and he was clad in an almost gothic tuxedo, mirroring her grim fashion statement.
"Peasant." She curtseyed back. The return astounded Maleficent; he had always assumed the princess was a polite, soft-spoken sissy like most of the royal family was. Boy, he was wrong.