They're puzzle pieces that don't fit. He's a raven who becomes a man every now and then, who sees her as mistress and saviour. She's a faery without wings, who sees him as servant and spy. He's unsure of love, and she knows that love is nothing but an illusion. They don't fit, but they exist side by side, touching at the edges of his loyalty, and her need for revenge.
Of course, then Aurora comes along, and Diaval isn't sure if this is love, but she's an innocent babe stuck with incompetent caregivers. It's the right thing to do, to bring her food, to keep her company, to keep her safe. He now has another person who cares about his existence, and she smiles whenever he's around. Even as he flies to the castle each day, he thinks about when he'll see her next.
She wants to hate the little beastie. She wants not to care about it. But somehow, she becomes a godmother, of all things. All of this is simply her duty, her penance, for thinking that cursing an innocent soul was a legitimate form of revenge. And that soul smiles at her and laughs and calls her Godmother in that sweet, trusting voice and a part of her breaks every time.
If she's Godmother, than he's as good as Godfather, though he certainly won't say that to her. He likes being a man, sometimes. It means he can talk and laugh. He was never able to exercise his brilliant wit in such a way as a raven, even if Maleficent sometimes gets annoyed and turns him back to shut him up.
Then she tries to break the curse, and when she fails, she realises that Aurora is a ray of sunlight that will soon be dead and gone and it's all her fault. She barely speaks for days, even to Aurora. She doesn't react, but she's happy when Diaval stays close. He says nothing when her hands linger on his feathers for longer than usual, when she leans into his space.
Diaval is not so pessimistic. After all, the curse can be broken with true love's kiss, and now he knows what love is. It's the lightness in his heart when he sees them smile, it's knowing that he really do anything for them, even if they asked him to become a dog of all things. And it's knowing that they would not ask that of him, because they love him, too. Then she tells him that true love does not exist, and it's all he can do to keep calm. He wants to scream, tell her that Stefan doesn't deserve her soul. But he loves her, so he swallows the words, focuses on Aurora.
She has been wrong for a long time, she finally realises. She can love, and the proof is in her beastie, once again throwing mud, headless of the crown on her head. Somehow, while she wasn't looking, the heart that she threw away snuck its way back, and it's a dreadful attention seeker. It keeps doing gymnastics, and not just for Aurora. Recently, it tries to fly whenever she sees a pair of raven wings. It goes crazy whenever those wings turn into arms, whenever that face gets that cheeky glint in the eye.
He hasn't worshipped her in a long time. The honorific is more of a habit than true subservience, and disappears fairly easily once she asks it of him. He argues with her – a lot – but that isn't new. What is new is that she's asked him to preen her wings, even though no one else has touched them since she got them back. What's new is that the other day, while they were taking in the beautiful view, she told him the story he's only been able to glean pieces of before from his phenomenal observation skills. What's new is the way she gripped his hair, caressing the feathers within, to bring him in for a shy, hesitant kiss.
They still don't fit perfectly, but she likes the way he ruffles her feathers, and he doesn't mind that sometimes she needs a bit of peace and quiet because she's the one he saves his best taunts for and he's the only one she allows close when she goes off alone. No, they don't fit, but they like it that way.