Hello all, trying my hand at Maleficent because why not?
None of these characters belong to me, they belong to Disney or to their various companies, myths and stories.
"Diaval! Find godmother!"
The raven didn't need to be told twice. He launched himself from his perch on the newly repaired throne, struggling to regain elevation and dipping dangerously close to the distraught queen's golden head. He couldn't see past the thicket of clamoring guards and worrying servants surrounding her, but he could see the bloody arm flung haphazardly across once the once spotless floor. Hopefully it was still attached.
Then he was winging out through the window she considerately always left open just for him, and began to fly through the midsummer sky as hard and fast as he could towards the distant Moors. The guards by now knew to leave the glossy raven to his own devices, after a particular incident that left him near lame from an arrow wound and his Mistress set to tear the barracks apart to find the perpetrator.
He still fondly remembered the scene, before Aurora had broken it up: his Mistress, magically holding aloft five guards and a bucket of pig slop for each of them above their heads. She'd already filled their armour with icy cold water before the queen had intervened. Diaval suspected the only reason the buckets were full of pig slop rather than hot coals was because he was fluttering worriedly about the room at the time, croaking the best reprimand he could muster without human vocal chords.
Though he didn't always understand it, his Mistress did have her own brand of humour.
Even buoyed up by the memory, he kept a wary eye on the patrolling archers until he was sure he was out of range – it never hurt to be too careful, and with Aurora still facing heavy dissent in regards to her peaceful stance she would need him in perfect form and unperforated.
A particularly strong gust caught his wings unexpectedly, and he struggled to maintain a steady pace, a dull ache beginning to set into his wings. Frustrated, Diaval wished briefly his mistress had sent him in his human form, or horse, or dragon. Anything that wasn't easily flung about the sky in this curiously –
Diaval turned his head sharply to the horizon, almost losing his battle against the growing coils buffeting his body – some deep, old instinct turned it in the direction of the human borders, too far even for his keen eyes to pick out. He knew what was beyond those borders.
Though the land was an indistinct smudge, the sky above it was boiling over with thick, black clouds, sucking in distant mountains and rolling over fields made blue-grey from the distance – he could see the lightning crackling within, fine bright capillaries that nonetheless tore ragged rents in the clouds.
They hovered over the landscape like a carrion bird, but when they reached the borders of the human kingdom and the Moors they piled up like mist against a window, lazily caressing the edges in a manner Diaval found distinctly feline.
Though the tempest was held at bay the how and why was a mystery to Diaval – he hoped his mistress had a hand in it, it would mean she was aware and on top of the situation. The storm lines began sinuously spreading around the invisible boundary, a great beast poised to strike. Whatever held its chain had no such control over its breath, and the winds steadily grew worse, bringing a lashing of ice that was as unwelcome as it was foreign to the season.
The wind tripled in strength, this time he could not hold himself aloft. He was flung to the windstreams, buffeted back and forth with the breath being stolen from his throat. Now it was a roar in his eardrums, so loud it felt like a solid force battering his tiny body. A number of feathers, enough to later offend his pride were ripped from his torso, allowing the insidious ice to clamp onto his form.
Desperately, Diaval tried to right himself – he no longer knew where he was going, and the only reason he knew up from down was the vivid, tumbling funnel of blue and green his vision had become.
"Mistress," he tried to croak, but it came out as a tiny caw. His flight muscles screamed, and as the oxygen grew thinner the higher he was flung. He was well above the clouds now, and the world was puffy white mingled with blues.
And for a moment, his eyes full of stars from sunlight refracting through a world made of ice crystals, he could have sworn he saw the pinprick figure of an observer. Higher than even he could go.
His frozen, shivering wings gave out then, still half curled in a parody of his usual elegant wingspan. He hovered for a few more seconds, and if he wanted to joke with himself right before he plunged to his death, he might have said the wind was working extra hard to keep him aloft…
Even those merry thoughts couldn't defy natural order for long. 'Funny,' Diaval thought dully, though it wasn't. 'I thought I'd meet my end alongside Mistress.' A pang of regret went through him, even through the cold. She would be angry, upset that he had failed in his duty to the fledgling.
Diaval couldn't even close his eyes; the ice had frozen them open in a manner that would be painful, if his raven's body had been capable of feeling pain at that point.
Even if he couldn't feel pain, he did feel his descent being brought to a gentle halt by slender hands, and tender, thin fingers weave through his frosty feathers. The dragging winds cease abruptly, and he was left trembling mightily in his saviour's grasp. The person – it was his Mistress, it could only be her – drew him close, close to the heat radiating unnaturally from her body, and Diaval realized that she must be pumping spells constantly through her body to be this warm.
It worked wonders towards melting the ice from his wings and stirring his sluggish blood. His beak parted, and the sound that was exhaled was too close to a squeak for Diaval's pride to admit.
His mistress had come for him.
Maleficent was careful not to hold her faithful companion too close – the sudden heat to his frozen body could well kill him even though he was now in no danger of the cold taking his life. The residual magic saturating his soul could attest to that.
The galewinds howled angrily around the fifteen foot orb of easy calm Maleficent had summon around them, though it was in a petulant manner, like they had been denied a favourite toy. Even without its influence, Maleficent could still taste the magic in the air. It was so strong it coasted the back of her mouth like heavy cream, and she could feel particles of it clogging up her nose.
It was like that magical winter plaguing the northern kingdom six years ago. Even though they had been well away from the danger, magic had floated in on the wind with the snowflakes. Deep, primal magic that was sourced from the soul and inextricably bound to the user.
This was the same. Magic like hers. Like the ice queen. But it was very, very old and very young.
Maleficent sighed, her wings making the slightest of adjustments to gradually bring them down to earth. The clouds skimmed far below their feet, even the highest soft peak a remote lump. If Diaval knew how high he had come, he'd be horrified –
A spark of anger went through the fairy again, stirring old wounds and the resentment that lived dormant in her soul. Diaval, her unrivalled companion, had been dragged up there to die.
Possibly.
Some of her confusion went towards balming the rage; he had been dragged upwards in a cone of sleet, feathers and magic the shade of old blood. But the magic that had kept him aloft for a few, precious seconds so she - pushing herself to the point where it felt like her sinews would snap under the strain – could reach him in time…
The winds renewed their attack on her sphere of serenity, so suddenly she almost lost altitude. But they were plunging through the boiling clouds, and Diaval's breathing had settled into the deep, easy pattern of the almost terminally exhausted. She pulled her raven companion closer to her chest and ran her fingers through his still damp feathers, causing him to stir and give her a happy, half-conscious rumble.
A smile had spread itself across her face, unbidden and slightly mysterious as to the cause. Maleficent tucked the raven into a fold of her dress, close to her body and tightly fastened her cloak – a flicker of her fingers gave it a thicker lining for the bird encased against her heart, who would no doubt awaken absolutely horrified his fine feathers were twisted and ruffled.
The thought made the smile burn brighter. Maybe something good would come out of this day.
She had picked up speed once she had breached the cloud, and now Maleficent's feet were only a hundred yards from the very top tower of her Beastie's castle. She made the rest of the descent quickly and landed right in front of the ornate main doors. Impatiently striding past fidgeting guards and whimpering housemaids, Maleficent kept her pace firm and steady, though worry gnawed at her heart for her little Queen.
Diaval had been coming to get her. It had been sheer, dumb luck that she had felt the foreign magic approaching, and had rushed out to find her family. She had been halfway to the castle when she had felt Diaval struggling through the tenuous connection they held. His fear and fatigue had sung through it, and she had felt it as a spider feels a twanging on her web.
It hadn't been difficult to find him, though a wet, cold stone of worry had lodged in her throat when she realized the dire straits her raven had entangled himself within.
Maleficent had been a war queen for many years; in terms of strategy she relied on brute force first and foremost. But she still liked to know who her enemies were, at least, and it was becoming unpleasantly clear that they knew a lot more about her than she did of them.
"Godmother!" Aurora's strained voice broke through her tumbling thoughts, and Maleficent shoved them to the back of her mind. There would be plenty of time for speculation later. Even Diaval stirred at her voice, and Maleficent drew her cloak a little closer around her. She could still feel the chill in his bones like an unwelcome memory.
Then Aurora's arms were around her neck, and the girl was struggling not to cry. Her retinue followed close behind, torn between wishing to comfort their ruler and staying well clear of the once wicked fairy.
Maleficent allowed a cautious hand to rest on Aurora's shoulder, hoping fervently the girl didn't notice it trembling. "What's happened, little Beastie?" she asked in a low voice, but all she got in response was a tiny sob. "Come now."
"No," Aurora hiccupped, pulling away with a shade of her old determination. "You have to come now. Something's gone terribly wrong in the other kingdom – "
"Other kingdom?" Maleficent repeated sharply, her heart sinking. Despite Aurora's open heart to her neighbours, there was only one other kingdom she would weep over. "Is –"
"Phillip is here," Aurora broke back in. "He rode here. I think – I think for days, Godmother. He just rode straight up the steps, into the throne room and fell off his horse." Aurora scrubbed at her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. "I-I sent Diaval to get you, he must have flown terribly fast. Dear bird."
Maleficent's throat constricted, and she unconsciously held the hidden bundle of feathers a touch closer. No point in telling her now. It would only upset her again. "Take me to the boy, Aurora."
Prince Phillip was certainly worse for the wear. He had been moved to one of the more opulent guest rooms, patterned distastefully in light yellow and violet. The doors and windows were fastened shut, though the foul wind beat ferociously at the shutters until it seems the walls would tear away. With the shutters closed, a fire going and the summer at it's zenith the heat should have been unbearable, but it was merely warm, doing battle with the icy tempest outside.
He was thin, the poor child, Maleficent observed as she glided up to his side. His face was gaunt and pinched, the bones of his face sticking out too prominently, made all the worse by the buttery candlelight. His arm was heavily bandaged and smelled of the gross, inadequate herbs the humans used in their medicine. Maleficent was certain an infection would set in within the day if it wasn't treated correctly.
"He's only woken once," Aurora whispered at her side, her eyes huge and lost. "He-he didn't know where he was." No wonder. Days of travel with little food, likely no rest and injured as he was? It was a mercy the boy made it over the border.
Maleficent began to pick at the wraps on his arm, screwing up her nose against the sickly assault of the herbs. She could make better poultices in her sleep. Thick, dark blood began to ooze through the gaps in his bindings and soak into the sheets.
To Aurora's credit, she didn't make any form of protest beyond a small noise of horror, her hands clamped over her mouth and nose. Maleficent met her huge eyes, keeping her gaze firm until Aurora's breathing steadied and the tightness in her shoulders relaxed. "Aurora." The girl jumped a mile. "I need you to go and get some warm water and clean cloth. Ensure no one else comes in."
The girl nodded, and something changed in her expression, hardened it, and a queen strode out of the room.
Maleficent turned her attention back to the boy's wounds, muttering little charms under her breath, to sooth and cleanse, start mending the smaller cuts and bruises. A few minutes of rudimentary healing and he was looking significantly better, his pallor quickening to that of a healthy human male rather than a corpse.
Maleficent's hand dipped inside her cloak, her questing fingers finding the leather pouch of plants she kept on her at all times. Her healing magic was exceptional, but human bodies could only take so much magic before it started to change them in other ways as well. Even Diaval –
Her other hand flew to check the raven, heart pounding and the Prince temporarily forgotten. Diaval had thankfully transitioned from magically induced sleep to a natural slumber, and Maleficent wrestled with the laughter bubbling up when her keen ears caught the tiniest of beaky whistling. She didn't even know ravens could snore, though perhaps it was an ingrained habit from his human form.
For the next few minutes, Maleficent's hands went back and forth from her pouch, mashing young leaves between her fingers and squeezing juice from ripe berries into the paste. The salve was all she could do until she could boil the boy a healing tea, but it would set him mending much faster than the clumsy efforts of the human healers. Even so, she dropped a few select herbs and poppy milk into the jug of wine set by his bed. Water would have been better but the humans seemed incapable of keeping even their own supply clean.
She had a small amount of soft bark bandages left over – Diaval had an uncanny ability to be shot, gored, gnawed, scratched, pecked, batted and smacked almost on a weekly basis, and she got as much practice nursing a manshape as she did a ravenshape. Same principle, she told herself, though her hands quivered whenever she touched Phillip's unfamiliar skin. Soon his arm was reset, and she noted pridefully that her quality of work was far beyond that of the human healers.
A croak made her freeze. The prince's eyes had cracked open, his gaze unfocused and full of pain. He looked like one of the dumb woodland animals, half dead from the hunting dogs and frightened of everything. "M-Milady," Phillip tried again, and the cough that followed made her heart clench oddly. Maleficent patiently fed him a few sips of the wine, which he gulped down greedily until she pulled the cup away, and allowed him a few more moments for the medicinal plants to take effect.
"Milady." Still he tried to speak! Maleficent crushed her irritation and seated herself on the very edge of the bed, waiting for him to continue. "Milady…I-I come bearing a message."
Maleficent thought she would be distressed to hear such a thing from the beleaguered prince. But no – her breathing was even, her hands steadied and she didn't move her eyes from his face. She was, Maleficent realized, preparing for battle.
"He says…he says he desires to speak with you," Phillip finally rasped out, and Maleficent could faintly hear Aurora's voice harrying a gaggle of maids to the bedroom. The queen's light footsteps were quickly drawing closer. "Milady…he s-s-says he has an offer to make y-you."
"I imagine this isn't from your own father, whelp," Maleficent said softly. She heard Aurora enter the room and come to a halt, her greeting dying her on lips. Maleficent didn't move her calculating gaze from Phillip's small, tired eyes. "Can you give me a name?"
"My father was killed in the assault, Milady." Somehow the boy had regained a bit of his strength, though the poppy milk should have kicked in by now. Perhaps she had overdone it on the magic. "My sister he has kept, my mother along with her." His fingers weakly yet urgently grasped her sleeve, and she fought off the desire to throw his hand away. "He has a monster, Milady. Like nothing I've ever seen. I lived only by his desire to see me deliver this to you in person." It was a statement, and a warning in of itself, sparing the prince. 'Showy,' Maleficent thought. 'Makes an impression but speaks of a potentially fatal arrogance.'
"A monster?" Aurora was at his side now, and the smile Phillip sent her way was so tender it softened even Maleficent. "Oh, Phillip, I wish I had known you were coming. I would have sent a retinue out to guard you!" Now Aurora was kneeling by the bed, intent on the boy. "What can we do? Do you need us to ride to Ulstead?"
"No!" The force of his exclamation startled Aurora and Maleficent both, though Aurora stayed where she was. Maleficent retreated to the end of the bed, slightly out of the light. It turned her fair skin dark grey, but her eyes glinted out of the darkness, gleaming new coins in an elfin face.
"No, Aurora, your Majesty, my lady," Phillip struggled for a moment, and calmed only when Aurora smiled her sweetest smile and wove her fingers around his. "The beast, the great animal this man has…it tore through the thickest walls like knives through paper. Immense wings, the redness, I could see my face in its wings…" again the Prince fought with himself, though this was a fierce internal agony. He stared, unseeing, into the candlelight for a time, until Maleficent voice brought him back.
"A name." he blinked at her dumbly, the poppy milk finally taking effect.
"Roth," he slurred, settling back against the pillows. "He called himself Roth." The prince's eyes closed, his breathing even, and at least he worried no more for the time being.
Maleficent and Aurora exchanged glances. "Do you…know the name, Godmother?" Aurora ventured. "Do you know what he wants?"
Maleficent motioned for her to follow. "I have heard the name, though only in rumours I hoped to be foolish and without fact." They departed the room, Aurora giving strict instructions to the manservants waiting anxiously outside to clean Prince Phillip and to tell her as soon as he had awoken.
Silently, they walked the short distance to the private summer sitting room – it was a pleasant, airy room, with a high ceiling, wide windows and light colours. It must have been one of Leila's, for she seemingly had more modest tastes than one would expect from a queen. It was certainly more tasteful than the room Phillip had unfortunately been granted.
Instead of seating herself, Maleficent went and stood by the window. The glass here was older, thicker, so the shutters had yet to be drawn. Judging by the berry-sized hail mounding up already it would only be a matter of time until the whole castle would be locked up tight.
She glared up at the sky, daring their elusive attackers to come within range. The sky was so clear now, scoured spotless by the breeze, deep blue and unmarred by even a wisp of a cloud. Still the cold came, whisked along by relentless winds.
"Godmother?" Maleficent turned back to face Aurora, who had not seated herself either. Instead she stood by the fire, fidgeting nervously, and Maleficent realized with a jolt of guilt how out of her depth her little Beastie would be. She'd barely been officially Queen for eight months, and now she had a grievously wounded prince and an enchanted gale in her lap.
"My apologies, Aurora, I was off with the fairies," Maleficent said with a smile. Aurora smiled back, though the jest was weak, and Maleficent found herself crossing the room to embrace the girl in a rare hug. She could feel the girl brighten, and she threw her arms around her beloved mother-figure.
It would have been a perfect moment, if not for the indignant squawk that set them leaping apart in shock. Maleficent's robe writhed and jittered, Diaval quite awake and very confused. His bewilderment was matched by Aurora, who was staring at Maleficent's jostling torso with her jaw nearly touching the floor.
Maleficent sighed and unfastened the cloak – skies above knew she did not need it indoors. A few seconds more of frantic struggling and Diaval was free, awkwardly batting wings as he struggled to stay aloft. He managed to land on the back of an overstuffed armchair, and cawed obnoxiously until Maleficent gave him back his human form.
The newly manshaped Diaval slid down the chair as he changed, depositing him neatly on the embroidered cushions. "What happened?" he asked plaintively, flexing stiff fingers; he then noticed Aurora's giggles. "What?" The girl wordlessly pointed, her grin threatening to split her face in two.
Diaval slowly raised his hands to his hairs and felt the thrashed mix of hair and feathers – it looked as though a bear had fallen in it, and Maleficent felt her day lift up ever so slightly. The look on his face, as she predicted, warmed the cockles of Maleficent's heart.
"Consider it a worthy exchange for your life, Diaval," she said dryly, before he could continue with the outraged lamentations she could see forming. It effectively deflated him for now, though the complaining was evidently being saved for another time.
"Diaval, you didn't find Godmother?" Aurora asked, her brow crinkled in puzzlement. Now it was Maleficent and Diaval who shared the glance.
"I found him," Maleficent said airily. "I was nearly at the castle at the time." And lucky for him. She could feel his gaze smoldering into her as he put the pieces together. His scrutiny warmed her, but she would not meet his eyes.
"So why was he in your dress?" Aurora asked uncertainly, and even Diaval's accusing stare turned a shade inquisitive. It was a purely practical move, the raven was half dead, there could be enemies out there, and tucking him away somewhere was really the best option. But recently Aurora had taken it into her head to ask innocent questions which left Maleficent feeling extremely…scrutinized.
"I needed the use of my hands," Maleficent answered tartly, and though this opened up a myriad of extra questions, Aurora and Diaval were wise enough to know when they were pressing their luck.
Aurora decided to change tack. She sat in the chair opposite Diaval, at first in her natural, relaxed posture – after a few moments, she drew herself up straighter, proud, with her chin in the air. Practising her queenly graces.
"Godmother, what does that Roth man want from you?" she asked evenly, though a tremor betrayed her uncertainty.
"He is no mere man, Aurora." Now Maleficent glanced out the window again. Through the leaves and frost whisked about, the sunlight shimmering beautifully through it all, she imagined she could make out a tiny, watchful figure. "He is a sorcerer."
She turned to face them both now. "And he wishes to see me."
"Will you go?" Diaval asked hushedly, after a moment's silence.
Maleficent could feel a warm coming on – she could feel it right between her wings, like a bruise, and it made her wings nervous. "I must. This weather is a danger to the Moors and to the human kingdom. Not to mention my magic cannot hold off the storm forever." Calling it a storm was like describing a dragon as an abnormally large lizard. Technically, that was what it was, but it missed some deadly details.
Diaval was nodding in unison with Aurora. By unspoken agreement, they both stood. "When do we leave?" Diaval asked eagerly, his elbows twitching in the way they did when he was already imagining himself on the breeze.
Maleficent pursed her lips. "I will be going alone."
Thoughts?