There are no secrets in their little family. If Maleficent knows something she will tell Diaval, who will mention it to Aurora who will pass it on to Phillip. Phillip of course being charmingly absent minded as he is will mention whatever it is when Maleficent is present and the circle of their miniature rumor mill will be complete.
Things pass between them like this as they may. Sometimes in hushed whispers, sometimes in loud mouthed exclamations, few times in a queer mixture of both. Aurora's failed relationship with Phillip and their subsequent close friendship is one of these things. There is a hushed uproar in which everyone in the moors exclaims over this newfound revelation (no longer excluded to their little group); lamenting over the failed relationship and tip toeing around the subject in turns. Until Knotgrass, Thistlewit and Flittle come crying to their once-upon-a-time charge about how 'he was such a nice boy!' and 'when will you get another chance like this?'
Once they are sufficiently calmed however the silent uproar about the subject was calmed. And Aurora and Phillip (who had regarded the whole thing with a quiet, exasperated amusement) are finally left in peace to pursue much more things. Such as marveling over the different fae, riding around in the woods and lounging about the river.
Prospects Diaval would be more than happy to leave them to. If he wasn't stuck as a chaperone; tasked with watching over 'beastie one and beastie two'. However chaperone is too high a word for what he does. Third wheel, he feels, would be much more adequate.
Aurora and Maleficent, now that all secrets have been put to rest, are absorbed in each other's presence. It's a thing of wonder to watch them. Who need and care for each other above everything. Or perhaps, it would be if he wasn't stuck watching them all hours of the day and making awkward conversation with Phillip. Who often comes by to visit Aurora and finds himself subtly excluded by Maleficent's presence.
This is precisely the reason Diaval finds himself once again stuck with Phillip one day he comes by. Only this time he is in no mood to make small talk about the weather.
"Hello Diaval."
"Hmmm."
If Phillip is put off by his non-answer he doesn't show it. Merely sits down next to Diaval at the edge of the river bank and lets him bask in blessed silence for a while. Seconds and minutes pass and Phillip has still not spoken a word, for which Diaval is grateful for. He has woken up with resounding headache today and is in no state to be attending to Aurora's guest; which she is ignoring; in favor of cavorting around the woods with Maleficent today. Like every other day.
Sometimes when he has nothing more important to think about, Diaval meditates on how he might feel a little sorry for Phillip. Who is much too courteous for his own good and willingly gives up the time he has set aside to visit aurora so she can waltz around the forest with her Fairy Godmother. It is this fact and this fact alone that makes him take a deep breath, try to will his headache away and direct his first words of the day to Phillip.
"Aurora's not here. But I presume you've gathered that already."
"Yes I have. Thank you for telling me though." Phillip's accompanying smile is too perfect and dazzlingly chipper for someone with a recently terminated relationship who has been steadily ignored for the past few days. Diaval doesn't know if he's completely annoyed or if he envies him for it.
"Uh, is something the matter?" Phillip asks, looking a little put off, as Diaval realizes he has been staring, quite intensely.
"Nothing…just a headache." He says, casting around for a plausible explanation. It's a rather bad habit of his, staring. It comes with being not just Maleficent's wings, but her eyes and ears for many, many years. Whether he is bird, or man, or whatever his mistress has turned him into at the moment; he can't shake off the habit of paying minute attention to detail so as to make a report. He tears his eyes away from Phillip (cataloguing deep brown eyes, hair with streaks of blonde, the light dusting of freckles on his nose) silently reprimanding himself for being noticed. Because while staring might be a bad habit, it is an even worse one to get caught.
"Oh, well I actually have something that could help with that." Phillip offers, all bright smiles and sunny disposition.
Diaval agrees to try his remedy if only to get him occupied with something else for a little while.
In the end procuring it occupies Phillip for quite some time. As it is some kind of herbal tea that must be prepared and in the time it takes them to gather firewood, set up the kettle and bring it to a boil, it is past the afternoon. They have a surprisingly good time together, sitting around the fire in the riverbank, as Phillip is neither exhausting nor annoying and sufficiently distracts Diaval from his headache until the tea is ready.
"I'm supposed to drink this?" Diaval asks, eyeing the unappetizing black liquid with distaste.
"Yes, Mother and her courtesans swear by it!" Phillip says his damnable good mood ever present.
Diaval sniffs at the thing once or twice, a heady mixture of something that resembles cut grass and mint with a healthy dose of stagnant pond water. "I refuse."
"Oh please, don't be so stubborn. It'll do you good! Besides, I thought you were once a big, bad dragon. Hard to believe you're scared of a little leaf water." Phillips eyes sparkle with mirth and Diaval is struck by the utter and absolute cheek the little chit has. But he reluctantly concedes that he has a point. And so with all the bravado of a man/raven determined to save his pride he downs a huge swallow in one go; only to promptly spit it out into the river as soon as he can.
"Have you just tried to poison me?" He tries to ask, in between all the gagging and choking. But his words are barely heard amidst Phillip's uproarious laughter.
"Oh Heavens above," Phillip cackles, half dead from mirth. "Your face!"
Diaval feels his metaphorical feathers bristle, but before he can get a word out Phillip holds up a hand and controls his laughter enough to offer him an utterly sincere sounding 'I'm sorry'. And all of a sudden he can't stay mad at him or his brilliant smile.
"I know it tastes foul but you must drink it."
"Good luck getting me to drink that filthy thing again."
"It won't do you any good at all if you don't drink it."
"I'd rather that than taste that pond scum again."
Phillip's counter arguments aren't all that effective; as he keeps laughing in between all of Diaval's objections, little hiccupping laughs like he's choking on the very air. Diaval doesn't know if he should be offended by this or not. Neither his mistress nor Aurora ever seemed to find him so amusing. He doesn't quite know what to do with such a response.
"Diaval please?" Phillip manages at last after a particularly vicious round of laughter. Clasping Diaval's hand in his own, his warm calloused hands the very antithesis of his own smooth, cool ones. Diaval looks down at their clasped hands then looks up and at Phillip's face to see the most earnest, happy expression he's ever seen directed at him there.
"Alright, if only to stop you from making doe eyes at me until I say yes."
Phillip laughs once more and gives Diaval's hand a squeeze. "That's the spirit."
Diaval's stomach does a queer flip at that. He tries to blame it on nausea at the prospect of drinking that vile tea.
It doesn't quite work.
After the instance with the hideous tea, Phillip seems to take a fondness to him; seeking him out nearly as much as Aurora in his trips to the moors.
It doesn't matter if he is in raven or human form. Once Aurora inevitably takes her leave to be with Maleficent for the day Phillips just hangs around Diaval for the remainder of his time at the moors. In those few weeks, he learns quite a lot about Phillip. As he tells him about his life as a prince and they wander around the forest.
Phillip it seems is quite the rascal, forever escaping his tutors to go exploring the woods; claiming with one of his brilliant smiles that 'My wisdom is more of a practical sort anyway.'
He reminds him of Aurora in a sense, both of them woods children (who are children no more). But where Aurora is calm and serene and ethereal Phillip is bright and blazing and wild. He fits in the moors as much as she does, though in different ways. Aurora, he knows, is a free spirit. Phillip he learns, is a wild thing.
He follows no set pattern, but instead following his whims and wishes as he sees fit. As a crow, Diaval can respect that, as a human, he is more than a little bit exasperated. This is one of such times.
"Come Diaval, you will never learn to dance by staying put!" Phillip urges him; waltzing around in a circle with a giggling Thistlewit to the tune of several singing water fae.
"No."
"What more could you wish for? There is good music; plenty of stars; a full moon, there are even fireflies about! A more romantic scenario could not be had; dance with the ladies, will you?"
"I hardly consider these ladies" He smirks, as the three faeries exhale identical huffs of annoyance. "Besides, I don't know how. Why don't you go pester Aurora?" He says, gesturing towards where she sits next to Maleficent, giggling at the whole procedure.
Instead of having the intended effect, all his words do is bring Phillip to a grinding halt. "You don't know how to dance?"
"I beg your pardon, we birds are rarely taught the art of proper court life."
"That's still preposterous you're not just a bird. You're also a man, and any man worth his salt knows how to dance. Come on, I'll teach you!" Phillip extends his hand towards him, bright eyed and hopeful and the no's die on Diaval's tongue; though the yes is still very far off.
Phillip must take his dumbstruck silence as the world's least convincing yes because he quickly grasps his hands with those warm ones once more and hauls him to the center of their makeshift dance floor. "It's easy!" The little bastard says, with another one of his brilliant smiles. "Just put your hand on my shoulder right there. And your hand in mine like this! I'll put my hand on your waist and lead this time. If you're ever the one leading just reverse the positions!" He instructs him, rearranging their hands, until they're in the correct position. Diaval can hear everyone laughing at them, can hear Aurora's giggles, can feel his mistresses' smirk even if he can't see it. His ears burn hot with shame and he's about to stumble out of Phillip's grasp until he commits the mistake of looking at him in the eyes.
Because he's smiling that damnable smile and he gives his hand a squeeze and Diaval's very human stomach does the most tremendous of flips. Phillip just laughs, low and raspy and instructs him to 'follow me' and off they go, twirling madly.
If he wasn't used to the acrobatics of flying he might have been unbelievably sick right then and there. Phillip spins them like a top, going much faster than he had gone with Thistlewit, until everything else is a blurry mess and the only thing he can make out is the other's face. They go faster and faster until at last, Diaval, unused to the motions stumbles and falls and brings Phillip crashing down with him.
They roll into the ground, nearly ending up in the river, and for a moment, everything is warmth and laughter and the weight of Phillip on top of him.
No longer contented with flips, Diaval's stomach breaks out in riotous butterflies.
It's been a few days since the dancing incident (as he has taken to referring to it in his mind). And things have gone back to normal. Though the damnable stomach flipping seems worse than ever.
Damnable stomach flipping which he has no time for at all, he reminds himself as he watches Phillip strip off his shirt to wash it in the creek. 'You're a bird.' He resolutely tells himself as his eyes follow the curve of Phillip's back without his express permission. 'A dashing, smart bird; but still a bird.' He repeats this to himself resolutely, so caught up in his mantra that he hardly notices when Phillip has moved right in front of him, inches from his face.
"I was wondering when you were going to notice me." Phillip says, low and soft and wistful.
"How could I not? When you're blocking everything." He says, unable to raise his voice for fear of breaking this moment. Whatever it is.
They continue to stare at each other for what feels like ages upon ages. Where he can feel Philip's breath fan across his skin; can count the freckles on the bridge of his nose; can see the depths of an emotion he can't name in the other's eyes. All the while the damnable flips are doing triple acrobatics across his stomach.
Then all of a sudden one of them moves, the both of them are moving to meet each other in the middle. And Diaval finally understands why humans place so much stock in kissing. It feels as weightless as flying. Something that fills him up with a warmth and a lightness like he's never known. His mind is wiped clear of every thought except that he never wants this to end. Phillip's lips are cool and soft against him and when he buries his fingers in Diaval's hair and opens his mouth, there is a whole bevy of new sensations to explore. Both of them giving and taking in equal measure until the moment mellows out into something lazy and hazy and completely and utterly wonderful.
They break apart breathing heavy, wide eyed and red lipped.
"Well then." Phillips chuckles, running his hands through Diaval's hair once more; as he feels himself flush, a pinkish splotchy red that does not become him.
Maleficent appears over his shoulder that very afternoon, quiet as a shadow. "I always knew you were too sassy for your own good."
"I beg your pardon mistress?"
"Phillip told Aurora, who told me, so I could tell you: We all saw it coming."