Hey everyone, hope this isn't too late for an update. Nothing too much here, and some of you might think this is just a filler chapter, but there is some development happening, as well as hints towards some more backstory. Next chapter is more Diaval-centric, and includes a very important scene of plot from the movie (hinthint).

Hope you all enjoy! Don't forget to review! I'm not sure how to make that button more attractive to you, but I need to know what you think, and that this isn't all just for nothing.

- Raven


Diaval flew all along the length of the thorn wall, but found nothing unusual to report; he rarely did, and at any rate, he was eager to get back to Maleficent. He banked sharply and turned around, his eyes gazing out in the direction of the castle, and he realized just how dark it was becoming. It was hard to tell while inside the Moors, just whether it was day or night, but he could now see that it was sunset, and heading into the evening. Flapping his wings even harder, he soared over the wall and back into the darkness of the Moors, cawing for Maleficent as he did.

He could see the creatures of the Moors glancing up at him, but when he asked, none seemed to know where Maleficent was. He could see the slight fear in their eyes, and knew that honestly they probably didn't care to know where she was, as long as she wasn't near them. He felt a pang of sadness as he thought of the fear the Moor creatures had of their Queen, and the fact that he was the only companion she truly had in this place.

Scanning the ground, he tried to think of where she might have gone. Certainly not to the Rowan tree, it was too difficult to reach any other way but by flying, but there weren't very many places to go in the Moors without flight. She was trapped, really, and he was desperate to find her now, especially after the incident with Stefan earlier. He wracked his brains and tried to think of the few places he knew she often went, and instantly he knew where she was.

The crumbling Ruins of the Moors came into view, and he dived down, calling for Maleficent as went. She didn't show herself, not that he had really expected her to, and he swooped low past a particularly crumbled section of wall. He passed a cracked pillar and knew he was on the right track; could see in the way the pillar was split and just barely standing upright that she had been there and taken her anger out of the most convenient object. A light shudder passed through him, thinking that it was better than the alternative.

Diaval swooped through a broken section of wall and immediately laid eyes on Maleficent, who stood near the window of the ruined room, her staff leaning against the wall beside her, her hands resting on the windowsill. He cawed softly, sailing easily over to her and lading on her shoulder. For a moment, she stood still, and Diaval shifted his feet nervously, glancing over at her to try and gauge a response. Her only reaction was to grip the windowsill even tighter, and Diaval gave another caw before flying up. Her fingers twitched, and he stood solidly on two feet, his hair falling in his eyes.

Now that he was a man once more, he was at a loss for what to say. He had had it all planned out in his head, even anticipating what she might say and coming up with a counter, but now that he stood before her, there was nothing to say.

She seemed to think otherwise, for she took a breath, and Diaval braced himself.

"Just say it, Diaval. I know you want to."

"S-say what, Mistress?" He stammered, and she made an impatient noise in the back of her throat.

"You think I'm wrong."

"No," he said, and he noticed her shift imperceptibly towards him.

"Oh?"

"I think, as you've said, that it's your decision to make, and I was wrong in what I said. It's not my place." Those last words came out more bitter than he had intended, and he noticed the way she bristled, but it was too late to amend it.

Her hands shifted on the windowsill, moving to grab something, but it was hidden in her hand before Diaval could see what it was.

"She'll die," he finally managed to say, and her head turned, her eyes flickering briefly to his before darting away again. "That's what they say; before the year is out, unless something is done."

"Well, that's plenty of time." Her voice was casual, as though discussing the weather.

"Three weeks!" Diaval cried, exasperated and just a little angry. He strode across the floor until he stood just behind her, and she tensed, sensing his anger. Or maybe, she was angry herself.

"Diaval." Her tone was a warning, one that the raven chose to ignore.

"She will die in three weeks, and you're the only one who can help, yet you refuse out of some petty grudge."

Instantly he knew he had said the wrong thing, and he backed away rapidly as the temperature in the room dropped, a cold breeze tearing through the room and sweeping his hair out of his face.

"Petty?" She repeated, her voice dangerously blank.

"I didn't mean…" Diaval tried to protest, and he felt a chill go through him as he was reminded of the moment when Maleficent had discovered the reason behind Stefan's betrayal. He desperately hoped to avoid a repeat performance, but just as he was bracing himself for her outburst, the wind died down, though the room remained cold.

"You're right." She sighed, and Diaval risked taking a step closer.

"Mistress?"

She didn't respond, but turned to face him, the object in her hand now visible. It was a small glass vial, full of a rose colored liquid that shimmered slightly when it was jostled.

"Is that…?" Diaval asked, eyes widening at the sight.

She flicked a hand at him in response, and once more he found himself a raven. He flew over and perched on the windowsill, taking the vial in one talon when she offered it to him.

"Be quick," she whispered, her voice full of cold urgency. "And be sure no one sees you."

He nodded, then took off, his heart pounding anxiously in time with the beat of his wings. He didn't dare to dwell on what had caused her sudden change of heart, he was just grateful that it had happened, and that she hadn't turned him into anything dreadful as a punishment. The castle soon loomed into view, and lights shone in various windows, the sections with the greatest amount of light signifying which areas were the most populated.

At the top of one of the many turrets and towers, a lone light shone in a window, removed from the rest of the palace. Diaval flew towards it, instinctively knowing that it was the one he was looking for. With a quick flap of his wings, he landed on the windowsill, his wings outstretched to keep his balance, and he peered inside carefully. The room wasn't as fancy as he had though it would be, simple tapestries hung on the wall, pictures of flowers and forests woven and decorated with gold, and a large bed took up the center wall, thin curtains folded back along its sides. In the bed, looking very small and pale, lay the Queen, her eyes closed and face drawn in pain.

With a careful flap and a shove, he forced his way through the half opened window and flew to the woman's side, placing the vial on the table beside her, and cawing softly to get her attention. Her eyes drifted open and spotted him, though she didn't seem startled or even surprised to see what she must have thought to be a wild raven in her bedroom. Instead, she smiled, a small light twinkling in her eyes.

"Hello," she whispered, her voice a breath in the silence. "Pretty bird."

Diaval cawed again, flapping urgently over to the table to tap the vial with a claw before flying over her head. She struggled to sit up, and she frowned as she saw the bottle, the liquid not quite as shimmering now.

"What's this?" She asked, looking up at him curiously. "Did you bring me a gift, clever bird?"

Diaval cawed again, swooping once more over the bottle and landing on the edge of her bed.

"Alright, alright."

The Queen reached over and took the vial from the desk, taking the cork from its stop and holding it up to her lips, her eyes on him, as though unsure. Diaval chirped quietly, ruffling his feathers, and the Queen swallowed to the rosy liquid. Slowly at first, then in a final quick swallow, Diaval waited to see what would happen. The Queen, too, seemed anxious for a result, but then suddenly she paled, laying back against the pillows as he face twisted once more into a grimace of pain. Diaval cawed in alarm, flapping his wings and hovering above her as she began to shiver under the many blankets that cover her. Then, just as suddenly, she stopped, a sigh escaping her lips as she relaxed, and a light flush rose to her cheeks.

The door suddenly burst open, and Diaval flew up to the rafters, hiding in a dark spot close to the wall as the King, followed closely by two nurses. Stefan scanned the room warily, while one nurse adjusted the pillows, and the other placed a hand to the Queen's brow.

"Her fever has broken, your Majesty," she exclaimed in awe.

Stefan glanced sharply over, disbelief and wonder on his face. "She'll live?" His voice was rough and full of emotion. The nurse nodded, and Stefan shook his head in wonder.

"But how?"

"Does it matter how, my Lord?" The other nurse spoke up quietly. "As long as she is well again; you should be grateful, not questioning the gift the spirits have sent you."

"Spirits," Stefan repeated, and his eyes fell on the cork on the table, and Diaval quickly flew across the room, landing on the windowsill just as the king noticed the bottle in his wife's hand. He could hear the man moving behind him, but he was already gone by the time he had reached the window; just a black speck on the horizon.

Diaval called to Maleficent as he approached the ruins, and she transformed him into a man before he could fully prepare himself for it. He somehow managed to keep his feet however, and she raised an eyebrow at him while he brushed himself off, waiting for the news.

"She drank it," he said, running a hand through his hair in an effort to keep it out of his face.

"And?" Maleficent's voice betrayed the curiosity that refused to show on her face.

"The nurses say that she will recover. She's still very weak, but no longer in harm's way."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Maleficent said, a wry smirk twisting her lips.

"Yes, well," Diaval replied, slightly flustered. "Apart from the obvious."

Maleficent turned away from him, looking out in the direction of the castle, even if the place itself was hidden by the lakes and trees of the Moors.

"And no one saw you?"

"Uh…"

She gripped her staff tightly, and he could feel the irritation begin to rise within her.

"Diaval."

"I believe," he said cautiously. "There's a chance that King Stefan saw me, as I was leaving."

"Why didn't you leave after delivering the potion?" Maleficent's voice was sharp, and Diaval couldn't help but wince at her tone.

"I had to be sure she drank it," he protested. "But then the nurses came in with the King, and I didn't have a chance to leave until he was distracted."

"What distracted him?" Maleficent interrupted, and Diaval noticed the slight waver in her voice, as though she couldn't decide whether or not to be curious.

"You did."

"What?" She turned, and now there was curiosity in her voice, as well as confusion.

"Not you directly, of course," Diaval shifted slightly under her gaze. "But he saw the bottle in the Queen's hand and knew it had to be you, which was confirmed when he saw me flying away."

She nodded imperceptibly, accepting his report, and he watched as she turned away from him once more, but he couldn't keep the one thing pressing on his mind hidden.

"He'll be coming for you, surely."

"Surely," she repeated, though she seemed to feel just the opposite, her tone dismissing, as though it were a fly that she could shoo away.

"And?" Diaval pressed, stepping closer.

"And what, Diaval?" She was irritated now, the fly persisting to annoy her. "What exactly do you expect me to do?"

Be more concerned! His mind shouted. Show emotion! But what he said was: "Nothing," and she waved a hand, turning him into a raven and effectively ending the conversation.

But for Maleficent, the conversation as far from over. It replayed in her mind, Diaval's words echoing in her head and tormenting her ceaselessly. He'll be coming for you, surely. As though there was no doubt, as though he had seen for himself Stefan's army on the move. In a sense, he had, and though Maleficent tried to hide it, there was no denying that she was afraid. She had once toppled armies, singlehandedly destroying King Henry and putting an end to his wickedness. But that was when she had wings. Now…now Maleficent knew she was no match for an army. She had her magic, yes, and Diaval could be transformed into whatever she desired, but they would stand no chance if her walls fell; if Stefan really did come again.

They could only do so much, and Maleficent knew that something had to be done. Stefan's defenses were weak, while his armies were strong, and her own defenses impenetrable, but her offence sorely lacking. There had to be a way to turn the tide, a weakness, something to be destroyed that would weaken Stefan as he had her. Maleficent had thought that it could have been the Queen, but Diaval had played the role of conscience, and she had no choice but restore her. What really motivated the action, however, was the knowledge that the Queen wouldn't have been enough; that while Stefan cared for her, or at least, for all that she represented, removing her would not have served Maleficent's purpose. And, at least, he now owed her the life of his Queen; the life of his reign.

A grin slowly spread across Maleficent's face as she thought of it. Yes, let him come. And when he did, she would be waiting.