Three figures step out of the deceased King Stefan's castle and into the soft sunlight. In the aftermath of the battle, Maleficent is the first to speak. "Lets go home." She says, a smile of genuine happiness spreading across her face. Its nothing like the cruel sadistic smirk that has so long twisted her fiercely elegant features. Its peaceful and hopeful and beautiful. The pain of the iron net seem to have left her completely undamaged or phased. The small cuts on her face remain, although they don't seem to cause her outward discomfort. Perhaps she has already experienced enough crippling pain in her life to make the repercussions of the battle with Stefan feel trivial. However, as the three companions stand together outside the looming castle, Diaval is a different story. He's standing behind Aurora in his human form as they look outwards towards the Moors. He can still feel the bruising chains wrapped around his dragon body and feels the bleeding cuts under his clothes from the soldiers sharp blades. He's completely exhausted, he doesn't even know how he's still standing there calmly and silently. The idea of going home is tantalizing. He can already picture himself laying down on the soft forest floor, or perhaps, perching in a tree depending on what Maleficent feels like.
"Yes, mistress." He replies quietly, he doesn't waste energy saying anything else. There's nothing more to say on the matter anyway. Aurora emphatically nods her agreement as well, overwhelmed into a rare silence by the events that had just transpired. Maleficent flaps her powerful wings, sending a sharp gust of air over Diaval and Aurora. She rises gracefully into the air, her smile renewing itself as she is reminded that she is again whole.
"Diaval, you must take Aurora. I will lead the way. Into a horse." Diaval feels his body change before he can say another word. He senses four huge, black hooves planted on the ground and a well muscled body. Changing shapes doesn't mean he gets to evade the pain. His legs are hurting and his head...and, well, just about every other part of his body aches. Blood trickles down his hind leg, hidden in midnight black. He feels like hyperventilating. He doesn't want to do this now. He needs a break. He needs to rest. He needs...he needs... it doesn't matter what he needs just then. Because Aurora's blessedly light frame is already sliding on to his bruised back and Maleficent is soaring ahead with gleeful ease. He tries to put aside his pain and exhaustion, just until they get to the Moors. Then he can rest, he tells himself. Aurora is patting his neck and Maleficent is calling for him to follow so he takes a deep breath and gallops after her. He has to concentrate on each step, on not tripping over his own legs, clumsy with exhaustion. As he runs, he keeps up a mantra in his head of: Do this and you can rest. Do this and you can rest. Do this and you can rest. He tries to concentrate on other things rather than the fact that he can't seem to get enough air and his injuries are killing him. He focuses instead on the sound Maleficent's wings are making, his hooves on the grassy turf, the wind over the plains, Aurora breathing. He doesn't want to think about the chains restraining him, Maleficent loosing, the metallic clinking of swords and the pain, fear, pain, fear, pain. The battle in the castle felt oddly like the when he had first met Maleficent, when she had saved his life. He remembers the desperation he felt, the helplessness and terror as the merciless farmer leered down at him, ready to inflict pain. He remembers when the dogs snarled as they stared at him like dinner and there was nothing he could do but cry out and manically try to free himself. He remembers looking up and seeing not an ounce of kindness or hesitation in the man's eyes. Just like the soldiers, spears flying at him, chains binding him, crushing him. His head is hanging low and his breathing is quickening. He can feel a wound just in front of his back leg start bleeding again. Warm liquid seeping down his side. He wants so badly to lay down. Somehow, Aurora seems to sense his distress because he feels her rest a hand on his powerful shoulder and he thinks he hears her voice. He can't be sure, and maybe she doesn't know that he feels like he can barely move another two steps at this speed. He doesn't pay attention either way. He's still stuck thinking about the dogs. He has held on to his fear of them all this time. They still make him feel terrified and weak and helpless. He hates when Maleficent changes him in to one with a passion. Later, when she isn't watching, the panic and memories always overtake him and Diaval ends up shaking and panting among the trees. The soldiers at the castle were just like those dogs. Making him helpless. Making him hurt and afraid. He doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to think about how he will probably wake up tomorrow morning screaming. He can feel the dogs breath on his face. He can hear the soldiers yelling. Feel the net. Feel the chains.
He really can't breath now, panic and exhaustion teaming up to beat him down... But they are almost to the Moor. Almost to the towering wall of thorns. Almost home. Aurora is laughing delightedly on his back at the sight. Maleficent is picking up speed. She twirls flawlessly in the air as the walls loom close. Her wings stop her at the last minute with powerful, magnificent beats. She holds out a hand and the thorns part to let them through and she doesn't hesitate to enter first. Diaval hardly sees any of this but obsidian hooves slow their tattoo. He stumbles in a trot and hears Aurora's sharp intake of breath, feels her hands tighten momentarily on his mane. He comes to a walk and trudges towards the door Maleficent has made them. He allows his head to hang and his sides heave with fast, huffed breaths. The pain returns in full swing and he can feel his whole body trembling slightly. He wonders if Aurora can tell. She must, because as they enter Maleficent's door she calls out to their winged companion. Maleficent sets her feet on the ground beside them reluctantly. She is about to help Aurora slide off of Diaval's sweat soaked back when his legs just give out on him. His huge body crumples to the forest floor and with what little control he has left, he does his best not to crush Aurora. He doesn't. As soon as he starts to fall, Maleficent whisks Aurora off of his back and safely on to the ground. The next thing Diaval knows he's laying on his side on the forest floor and he can't get up. For a moment, his hooves beat weekly at the air as he tries to roll back up right despite the pain and then he is human. The side of his face is presses in to the pine needles and fallen leaves and his body is still shaking. He groans in agony as hands roll him over, choking on the pain and lack of oxygen.
"Diaval, what's wrong? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Blond hair is tickling his face and a very worried Aurora is staring down at him, gripping his hand. He wants to respond, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to remember how to speak. Embarrassingly, he feels a tear slip down his cheek and he takes a stuttering breath. Aurora's face becomes somehow, impossibly kinder and she brushes the tear away, pulling his head into her lap. He's not sure where Maleficent is until he feel her lift away dark fabric and touch his bruised skin, hand coming away red with her faithful ravens blood.
"You're hurt, Diaval, why didn't you say something?" Maleficent asks, her voice is cool and a touch angry, but on her face Diaval can make out concern akin to what she showed at sleeping Aurora's bedside. He doesn't answer, just tries his best to focus on his breathing, on Aurora's soothing voice, on the sounds of the Moor. Anything but the pain, and dogs barking and soldiers yelling and Maleficent screaming. He doesn't succeed. Aurora begins stroking his jet black hair away and Diaval is surprised that his fear is so obvious she can see it on him. She rests a cold hand on his forehead and he suddenly realizes how warm he is.
"Fairy godmother, he's burning up." She says, her worry almost tangible. Diaval feels a faint smile defy all odds and cross his face. How good it feels to be worried about, to be loved like family. He remembered how alone he was for so long, he had been alone even when he was with Maleficent. She had been so consumed by hatred and vengeance she was never very good company. Diaval can feel things changing, can feel a slow ascent from the darkness. Things are going to be all right, he thinks. The smile exceeds it's life expectancy and survives another few seconds on Diaval's pale, drawn face. Then the pain and memories execute it and Diaval feels himself drifting far away.
"He'll be fine, Beastie." Maleficent says softly, resting her hand on Diaval's leg in an uncharacteristic attempt to comfort. Her voice is the last thing Diaval hears before his eyes close and looses himself to a land of feverish dreams.