All of Me
Aftermath—Devotion and Family
AN: Song by Birdy, "Strange Birds." A drabble heavily enunciated with lyrics from this song.
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A hurried, fluttering of wings burst through the already-broken window of Stefan's castle and the faery surveyed the mayhem below her. Soldiers ran amok the grand room, shouting in both fear and anger as they rushed about searching for their king. Some of the soldiers kept the frantic Princess away from the chaos, yet the majority of the soldiers were crowded in a corner with chains, swords,and…
Diaval.
Pure instinct and anger arose in her, boiling from her veins and rising through her pores. She had not felt such anger, vibrant and thick, since she found out why Stefan stole her wings so long ago. Her hands rose, curved into claws, and all the soldiers rose to the sky. Energy crackled through the air, green and bright like the fire in her eyes as she screamed,
"Your King is NO MORE! LEAVE US BE!"
She ripped the air apart, and the soldiers slammed into the walls; the unluckier ones through the windows. Time stood still for a minute as the faery caught her breath and assessed the damage. Filthy, corrupted iron littered the floor amidst thick blood, sweat, and bodies. Her heart broke as she saw a large figure lying limp and broken, body mangled and mutilated with chains and weapons. A flash of blonde flew past her, and a choked sob emitted from Aurora's mouth as she ran to the dragon, yanking at the chains which bound him so cruelly.
Maleficent glided quickly to the body, helping the Princess with the chains. The metal held him tight, so tight; she could only hope that her servant had not choked to death. Her hands were burnt raw and aching from touching iron, but he was worth it; he was worth every agonizing moment. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her loyal bird. More and more blood flowed out of the dragon as they yanked the weapons and chains away.
"No…no!" The faery cried, "Into a bird!"
Finally free of most of the chains, Diaval's original raven size easily loosened the rest of the offensive links and Maleficent picked him up, soothing his ruffled feathers. His body was still warm, and she felt the faint pulse of a heart beat within his ebony chest.
"Will he live?" The Beastie cried, tears streaking down her dirtied cheeks. "We must take him to one of the rooms immediately! I'll find some healers!"
"He must return to the Moor." Maleficent brokenly responded. "He is of magic, and he needs magic to recover."
She spared a pleading glance to her goddaughter. "Beastie, I'm not sure if I can fly you to the Moor with me, but I will not leave you in this forsaken abode—"
"Allow me." A voice came from behind. Prince Phillip cautiously stepped into the room, eyes wary and voice hoarse. "Do what you need to do. I shall take the Princess to safety."
"How do I know I can trust you—" Maleficent began to argue, until she saw the emotion shining in Aurora's eyes, and the devotion in the Prince's.
…too much like Diaval's.
"Fine." She replied curtly. "Take Aurora to the Moor, and trust nobody until you reach the thorns. The creatures of the Moor shall take you to us. If the Princess is harmed in any way, I shall give to you ten-fold."
The Prince bowed, sweat trickling down his grim face, as Maleficent raised her heavy wings, beating fiercely up and out of the Kingdom in which her kind did not belong. Diaval lay still and limp in her arms, and she wrapped him tighter to her chest, wishing fiercely that she was only imagining her bird's body cooling down rapidly on the journey back home.
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Little ghost, you are listening,
Unlike most you don't miss a thing,
You see the truth,
I walk the halls invisibly,
I climb the walls, no one sees me,
No one but you.
Diaval was but a young fledgling, still new to the concept of flight and having just left his mother's nest. He reveled in the feeling of the wind beneath his wings, and the way he soared the skies unnoticed and unharmed. It was always on land that he had to be careful; nasty animals like dogs, foxes, and even worse—humans.
It was such a cold day, and he was glad that he was feathered, instead of those fleshless, wingless creatures that shivered and cried at the slightest chill. He remembered how violent they got during the harsh winters, and how many of his own kind had perished under their angry hands. He continued to fly, guided by the golden light of the moon, which, he noticed, was tinted with green.
Golden-green orbs…
He suddenly remembered ruby red lips and soft chestnut hair. Eyes that shown with both pain and knowledge. An image of a human flashed in his mind, but she had wings dark as the trunk of the strongest tree in the kingdom, and horns with coloring similar to his own beautiful plumage.
But why would a human have wings?
The vision smiled at him, leaning upon a staff burning with green magic. She was beautiful, though he didn't know why he would ever consider a human attractive.
You've always loved the strange birds
Now I want to fly into your world
I want to be heard
He cawed in surprised, as a sudden memory flitted through his eyes, much like the current of wind that lifted him higher towards the twinkling stars above. He remembered walking with two legs, expressing words with voice, and touching smooth, pale skin with fingers. He remembered himself as a featherless, soft being much like the ones residing in the lands below him.
And yet, he was not human. He did not carry greed in his heart like the ones he saw every day. He had no envy toward others (unless they found a shinier item than he), nor did he carry hatred as strong as the souls he'd come across. He was definitely not a human.
But deep in his heart—the raven flapped his wings harder, as if running from his thoughts—he knew he was not fully a raven. He felt love, stronger than any emotion a bird could possibly contain. He felt devotion, faith, and happiness truer and purer than he had ever felt in raven form.
Suddenly, his raven-self felt too simple, too plain. The world waned to black and white before him, the scenery losing its color, all except for the mysterious moon which continued to mock him.
My wounded wings still beating,
You've always loved the stranger inside...
Me, ugly pretty.
"Diaval." He heard a whisper. But who? Who was calling his name?
His wings began to grow heavy, and his body began to ache; yet he continued on, following the moonlight with a persistent, instinctual urge. Something in him screamed for him not to give up; to bear the pain and hurry.
He was flying to her; the one that burned with inner strength, warming his hollow bones and filling his chest with determination with a single smile. There was only one who understood him, the Raven-Man, just as he understood her. They were two creatures born from different circumstances, but sharing the same darkened soul and tied by a fate which bound them closer than the vines that curl possessively along the castle walls.
Oh little ghost, you see the pain
But together we can make something beautiful,
So take my hand
Her eyes carried pain; new pain, and he wanted to take it away. She beckoned to him with those suffering eyes, just outside a hedge of thorny vines. This mysterious woman—Nay, a faery—had skin smooth and cut as stones tempered by the clearest, strongest waterfall, and he couldn't decide if she had wings or not. He knew they should be there, but he couldn't quite remember how they looked, or even how he would know this magical being at all. He had to fly to her; be with her, but he still didn't know why. He began to feel more and more in pain as he flew closer; wounds began to open all over his body, and his purely raven survival instincts shrieked at him to turn around and fly away.
However, like a moth irresistibly drawn to the light of an oil lamp, he continued on. An emotion uniquely human possessed him, though he couldn't quite identify what it meant. The feeling hooked onto his beating heart, and blindly led him into a haze of pain. The ground beneath him blurred and trembled, yet the image of Her stayed clear. He had to reach her.
Pain exploded behind his eyes as he fluttered down to the great-horned beauty, and as his wings reached for her, they turned into hands; human hands. He felt himself shifting, lengthening and extending outwards and inwards at the same time. He gasped sharply through his now human mouth.
"Diaval." She called again, her ethereal face floating away with the midnight wind. Suddenly with complete clarity, he remembered her.
"Mistress," he sighed, world fading to black. "I have returned to your side at last."
And perfectly,
We fill the gaps, you and me make three,
I was meant for you, and you for me.
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"Mistress," she heard him whisper, and her entire being froze and melted at the same time. She was shocked that he survived, her heart drawn tight and awaiting the inevitable as the days passed by. A feeling of cold water washed over her and she felt hope plant its seeds and rise through her entire being. She was relieved—so, so relieved; it was a miracle.
She rushed quickly to his side, brushing the feathers and hair back from his ashen face as he lay leaden upon the makeshift bed of leaves.
"Diaval, can you hear me?" Her fingers traced over new scars, blending with the older ones which marked him as a bird. He stirred, blinking slowly and wiggling his fingers. She clasped them in her own and held them tightly to her, wishing she could breathe life into them.
"I had the strangest dream," he remarked, wincing as he rolled his head over to see her. "What happened?"
"We went to rescue our little Beastie from the King's castle," she replied. "We were attacked, and I changed you into a dragon."
The Shape-shifter remembered flames, power…anger. A monstrous roar filled his ears, and the clank of metal deafened him. There was terror, frustration, and panic. A shaking hand rose to his neck as he remembered the burning chains which mercilessly strangled him. Maleficent gripped his other hand even tighter and he swore she was the one shaking instead of him.
"Stefan is dead. And you were dying when I found you. I thought you weren't going to make it."
The raven had never seen his Mistress so open and honest before, her eyes glistening with unshed tears; unshed tears for a simple bird—for simple him. His throat seized, and he began to cough as dry, heaving convulsions shook his body. Maleficent quickly fetched water and gently tipped the cool liquid down his flaming throat. After he was soothed, he once again gazed upon the beauty before him.
"I heard you calling me," he told her. "You led me back to your side, so that I may continue to serve you—whatever you need."
He managed a small, quirky smile and pointedly looked at her clutching the canteen of spring water. "Though at the moment I do believe our roles have changed."
"Only a raven well on his way to recovery would have such humor," Maleficent smiled, placing the canteen on the floor, "welcome back, Diaval."
"Please, give me the exact details of what happened in the castle—I did a horrid job of protecting you. Mistress, and I apologize—but where is Aurora? And how did the King die?"
He tried to force himself up, pain stabbing up through his ribs; he fell back down with a grunt. His Mistress tutted and fretted over him like a mother hen as she spelled more leaves under his head and slowly propped him against the tree trunk.
"There is nothing to apologize for, Diaval. Without you, I would have died in that iron net."
The Raven-Man's obsidian eyes widened as he remembered her screams of pain and the burns on her fair hands as she tried to claw her way out of the webbing. He shivered as he heard a farmer's taunting voice and the familiar snarling of a dog.
"No one should ever be trapped in such a horrid contraption," he vehemently swore. "I should have done better, Mistress, I could have—"
"Shush, Diaval!" His faery scolded, placing a single digit upon his lips as the human symbol to stop talking. "Do you want to hear of the events or not?"
Her loyal Raven nodded quietly, and she resumed sifting her hands through his feather-bound hair, recounting the events that had happened just a mere four days ago. Though she claimed she was heartless, something in her stirred within, soaring higher than her own wings could fly. The feeling in her chest only intensified as she heard the neighing of a horse, and the voices of two young humans growing closer.
They were back. Everyone was safe…
Her family.
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AN: I always wondered what happened to Diaval the entire time Maleficent was off fighting Stefan. He looked pretty beaten down by the time she left so this is my take on what happened. The lyrics of "Strange Birds" just fit so well, I just had to put it in during Diaval's crazy near death experience—hopefully it wasn't too confusing. The next drabble will be post-war…