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One day, when the leaves are glittering shades of gold and bronze, Diaval looks at Maleficent and says, 'I told you once that you may turn me into anything you wish.'
Maleficent inclines her head in acknowledgment. 'Indeed.'
'Well, Mistress, I have a request.' Diaval is the picture of earnestness.
'Oh, yes?' Her interest in the conversation is piqued, though she won't let him know. She makes a point of looking down from the branches of her tree and watching Aurora settle a dispute between hobgoblins. 'And what would you like to be this time, Diaval?'
'Yours, Maleficent. I would be yours.'
Maleficent keeps her eyes trained on Aurora. 'You are mine, Diaval,' she says slowly and deliberately. 'You are my servant.'
'That is true,' he concedes blithely. 'Perhaps when you have come to terms with my request, instead of pretending to misunderstand it, you may wish to speak about it.' From behind her, Maleficent hears Diaval begin his descent from her boughs to the ground below. 'Until then, I have things to attend to.'
Maleficent does not ask what things, and she doesn't inquire when he plans to be back. Instead, she sits in the boughs of her tree with her heart in her throat, fingers curled tightly around the bark as if her grip might also give purchase to her tumultuous emotions.
Diaval does not return that night.
Maleficent tells herself she does not care, that there have been many nights where she has been without the raven-man, and that this one should be no different to the rest. She tells herself this and tries to take comfort in the lie, but with her wings wrapped around her and keeping her warm, she finds little solace in the untruth.
Her feathers flicker across her skin, and she remembers the lingering touches, the affection that she fleetingly was given and then never able to experience again. Her fingers curl around her wrists, delicate and refined, like bird bones, and she thinks that perhaps she and Diaval are not that different. She tries to close her eyes and put her mind at ease, but behind that darkness, she finds more than she bargained for, and she realises it is better to stay awake and stare out over the Moors than to look too deeply into her own mind.
The forest is dark where the scythe moon does not reach but bright where its nocturnal inhabitants shine light and glow bright amidst the waters and the trees. Maleficent is filled with that strong sense of home, and she breathes in deep the clean, fresh air, head lifted to the sky in reverence.
How she had missed the skies.
When she first took to them upon their return to the Moors, she had been ecstatic, bathed in cloud dust and sun warmth. She had broken through into the skies and basked in the beauty of it all, the air singing as it whipped her hair about her face. She had felt mended, whole, happy, and blissful on her flight.
But time has passed now, and although her love for the skies has not diminished, she wonders if there is more she wants. To have her wings and Aurora is more than she could have ever hoped for - but even as she thinks it, Diaval's face flickers in her mind, dark hair and pale skin, sharp nose and sharp tongue. She does not wish to be greedy.
She turns her head, hissing at herself in fury and embarrassment.
It has been a long time since she has felt the curl of warmth low in her belly, and now she finds she does not know what to do with it.
At some point, she falls asleep, and when she wakes, dawn is approaching, bathing the skies in red and gold as it bleeds over the horizon. Maleficent shifts and looks down to the grounds of the Moors, eyes focusing on the pinprick of black making its way towards her.
Mmmm, she thinks, and then closes her eyes and nestles back into her wings.
'I brought you breakfast.'
Maleficent pretends to be sleeping when she hears Diaval's voice. 'Did you now?' she asks, sitting up and rolling her shoulders.
Her wings stretch behind her, and she doesn't miss the way Diaval's eyes travel the span of them, appreciation and warmth in his gaze. She doesn't realise it if she lets them stretch just a little longer than necessary.
'For my kind, it's often useful to bring your potential mate some food before propositioning her,' he says matter-of-factly, brushing hair from his eyes as he drops a woven basket of fruits between them.
Maleficent automatically reaches out to steady it when it teeters on the branch.
'You do realise,' she says evenly. 'I am not a raven.'
Diaval shrugs and sits opposite her. 'Of course, your wings are far more beautiful than any raven's I've ever seen. Though I thought you were beautiful even without him.' He reaches into the basket and picks out a handful of berries.
Maleficent stares at him, and Diaval raises his brows and eats his berries, waiting for her to respond. 'Potential mate?' she says eventually.
Diaval nods. 'We mate for life, ravens.'
'As I said, I'm not -'
'You know,' he says, talking over her in a way that she finds infuriating. 'The humans say that having a child out of wedlock is a sin.' He reaches into the basket for more berries. 'Well, I think we did a marvellous job with Aurora. However, she is a human, and I'd hate for her to think of us as sinners or heathens or whatever that lot call it.'
Maleficent blinks. 'You now wish to be married?'
'Married, mated, what is the difference?'
Maleficent eyes her raven man, sitting sprawled on her tree branch, eating happily and watching her with his sharp eyes, and she tries to discern when this notion even began to enter his head.
'See, you've got to be somewhat interested, considering you haven't obliterated me yet,' he points out.
Maleficent narrows her eyes. 'There are many other birds out there.'
'True, but none are as handsome as me. They won't like it when you turn them into dogs.'
'Wolf,” Maleficent corrects him idly. “Besides, you didn't like it, either.'
'True again, but I'd do it for you at any time, should you need me.' Diaval finishes the last of his fruit and leans forward. 'I mean it, Maleficent. I'm yours. Well and truly. I've followed you by oath, and I've followed you by choice, and even if you freed me now and turned me loose, I'd still come back to you.'
Maleficent feels panic well in her. 'I do not know how -'
'Yes, you do,' he says, dismissing her fears. 'You love the girl, and you love the Moors, and I'm not being presumptuous when I say you love me. I've seen the way you love things, Maleficent. Not one creature could miss it.'
Maleficent licks her lips and then reaches out to take a piece of fruit from the basket. Diaval's eyes brighten at the gesture.
'You are a decent provider, I suppose,' she says in an offhand manner, inspecting the apple in her hand. Her eyes flick up to meet his. 'It won't be easy, Diaval.'
His grin is roguish. 'Maleficent, I've been by your side for almost two decades. I think I know what I'm asking for.'
Eyes trained on him, she takes a bite of the apple, chews, and swallows it. 'Alright then.'
He waits, eyes wide. 'That's it?' he says when Maleficent says nothing else. 'Alright then?'
She blinks at him innocently.
Diaval stares at her, expression incredulous, before he bursts into a raking laugh and pushes off the branch towards her. Maleficent is stunned into dropping the apple when his hands cup her face and tip her head back, lips pressing to hers boldly. Her wings spread on instinct from surprise, and then they lower as hot pleasure uncoils from within. Her hands come up to stroke his wrists, her hair falling like a curtain.
When he finally pulls away, her lips tingle, and she feels heady, but it is beautiful and filling, and she finds herself leaning forward for more.
'Eager,' says Diaval teasingly, even as he kisses her again. 'What would you have of me, Mistress?'
'All of you,' Maleficent responds a little breathlessly. 'And perhaps less use of the word Mistress.'
He laughs against her mouth. 'I think I can do that.'