A/N: Just a little something that has been languishing in my files for a few months. Inspired by a discussion with excusemeb about when Diaval came to know the truth about Maleficent. Hope you enjoy it :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
How Much Do You Know?
There were times when her anguished cry still echoed in his dreams.
At the time, he'd thought that everyone must have heard her cry and felt her pain; that everyone must have wanted to seek her out and offer some kind of comfort.
It turned out that he'd been mistaken.
Although, the fact that she'd spurned his initial attempt would probably account for his being the only one to seek her out. He'd then been shocked to see her again when she'd come to his aid against the man and his dogs.
Swearing himself into her service had seemed like the logical thing to do – the only thing to do.
And the moment she'd asked him to be her wings he'd known.
Known that the cry he'd heard had been from when they'd been taken; known that her anger and hurt stemmed from that attack.
But he hadn't known how deeply she'd been betrayed.
His mission to spy on Stefan had clued him into who had hurt her, but it wasn't until the coronation that he'd realised the why.
Her reaction to the news had been disturbing, not so much for her anger but from how vulnerable she'd been in the aftermath.
That was when he'd finally confessed to finding her wings in the castle. Her barely concealed pain at hearing they were now a trophy had cut him to the quick.
"How much do you know?" she whispered after a long moment, standing with her back to him.
"I know that Stefan is the one who stole your wings," he said quietly, "I suspect that he was able to do so because you trusted him."
Maleficent leaned heavily on her staff as she looked out towards the castle, "I did trust him," she murmured finally. "He betrayed that trust," she continued heavily glancing at him over her shoulder, "as everyone does in the end."
Diaval considered protesting his own loyalty, but reconsidered; actions spoke louder than words and he would simply have to prove it to her with time.
"What happened, Mistress?" he asked gently, watching her carefully.
Maleficent drew herself up, "That's not your concern," she told him flatly as she turned back to face him.
"Don't shut me out," he pressed, "let me help you."
She raised a hand, preparing to change him back into a raven but he stopped her with a single word: "Please."
Sympathy she could have withstood and pity she would have despised, but the look of empathy on his face and the gentleness in his eyes made her break down.
She was so lost in the tears she'd long ago refused to shed that she didn't even realised he'd moved until she slowly began to calm and found herself wrapped in his arms.
"I'm sorry," he said simply.
She nodded, her face still buried in his chest, "I know."
"I won't let him hurt you again," he promised.
Maleficent sniffed and pulled out of his arms, "He won't," she said matter-of-factly, "no one will," she added absently as she turned and walked away.
Diaval watched her go, trying not to think about how it felt to hold her and wishing that he could somehow take her pain away.
She paused and glanced over her shoulder, "Are you coming?"
He shook himself and bounded after her, "Always," he replied, falling into step beside her. He glanced sideways at her and noted her drawn countenance, "As if you could ever do without me," he commented idly with hint of teasing.
Maleficent rolled her eyes but he saw the amused smile that she tried to hide, "Vain bird," she muttered.
Diaval merely grinned in response, pleased to have lightened his Mistress' mood.
He only wished that he could chase away all her sadness and painful memories as easily, never suspecting that he was already well on the way to doing just that.