Diaval perched in the dirt, head tilted as if he were a bird. It didn't matter what form he rested with, there was always something of the raven about him. Perhaps it was his sharp eyes, picking through the finer details of the world in search of a snack.

Maleficent hid behind the thick hedge of blackberry that had been allowed to run wild along the edge of the fairies' house, creating a thorny wall between the collapsing residence and fresh water stream idling through the forest. It was strange, she thought, how the forest had found a way to hide Aurora from the palace and all its darkness. Better she be protected from the darkness that her birth brought forth on the world of men. Maleficent wondered what Diaval was up to. He'd been squatting in the dust for a long time in front of the house, unmoving.

"Diaval!" she hissed at him. Just in time too. She snapped her fingers and he sank into a feathered creature – tiny claws barely making a dent in his bootprints.

The cursed princess was not so small any more. Twelve, Maleficent realised, when Aurora emerged from the house in a brand new dress that looked as though it had been made by the fairies without magic. Still, Aurora had nothing to compare it to and thought that it was the most wondrous dress in all of creation. It was blue and pink, tied in at the waist with a thick green sash, flaring out as she spun around and around.

"Good afternoon, Princess," Diaval said – but it came out as all squawks for he was a bird still.

Aurora understood all the same, beaming in delight at her old friend.

"It's my birthday," she winked, carefully treading barefoot through the dirt toward him. She didn't notice the footprints that ended curiously in a bird. "You get presents on birthdays, I believe. There's only one thing that I want for this birthday..." She knelt down and petted her bird until Diaval squawked again. "I want to find the strange woman that lives in the forest. The fairy without wings."

Diaval looked instantly to the hedge as Maleficent ducked. He saw a rustle of thorns and knew that she was there. Should he take the child into the land of fae? The girl had none of the wickedness that settled in her father's heart. The truth was that it wasn't the princess he worried for – it was Maleficent. Perhaps it wasn't a wise idea to let her get too close. She was cursed. From what he'd heard, those sorts of things never ended well.

"Oh genius..." Diaval dusted off a stray feather from his cloak. "And what exactly are you planning to do with it now?" He gestured roughly at the young girl.

Princess Aurora was held aloft in the air beside them, her hair floating as though she were suspended in water. She was asleep – a strange form of floating angel in the darkness of the Moor with nothing but glow worms and stars to light the way.

"It was your fault for teaching her how to find this place. It keeps coming back here, more bold every time. How long until she wanders straight into the depths of the Moors and -"

"...and what?" Diaval prompts. "Discovers the creatures that live here? The beauty of this place or perhaps the magic that abounds? I think you're frightened of something else entirely, mistress."

That bloody bird was overstepping his perch again. Maleficent wished that she could click her fingers and turn him back into a bird but she needed his help. "Silence. Bird!" She growled instead, crooking her finger so that the floating princess followed. "I am going to take her back to those incompetent half-wits that call themselves fairies. Then everything will be as it was before."

"And first chance she gets, she'll come running back to the Moors – looking for you."

"Not if I wipe her memories."

Diaval narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."

"I might."

"Liar."

He hopped a few paces ahead of her and deliberately got in her way, hopping about so that she had to pause, duck and weave to avoid him. "Stop doing that."

"Put a spell on her instead."

"Do you know nothing, Diaval?"

"I know some things," he insisted, ignoring the tiny, flying glow worms that settled on his shoulder making him look like some kind of strange, deep sea predator. "I know that you don't mind her visiting the Moors as much as you make out."

"Do you want to be a dog?" Maleficent glowered. "Because that's where this conversation is headed if you keep bouncing about like that. Out of my way, Diaval. I have a human to return."

He was still getting in the way, nearly tripping her up with every step.

"I picked an insufferable bird!" Maleficent complained.

No, she had picked the perfect bird.

Maleficent never made good on her threat.

The princess was returned, sleeping, to the house in the woods with her memories intact. After the moody fairy queen had retired back to the lonely Moors to sulk along the river banks, Diaval perched on the window sill and cooed quietly in the night – a sort of 'crows' lullaby'. He remembered the morning that his mistress had stormed into the castle court. There was ice in the air that day – or was it in her green eyes as she spilled forth all her hate upon the king and his child? She reminded him of her kin in the mountains, indifferent to innocence. Worse, Diaval knew that day was creeping back to haunt them. When the princess turned sixteen, all that hatred and revenge would rise out of the earth like the green flames from Maleficent's staff and devour them all. Perhaps part of him thought that if they could love this child, make amends for all the ill wished upon her, then the universe would set itself right and the curse might vanish on its own.

How wrong the poor bird would be.

Maleficent was correct. He knew nothing of magic.

"Do not pretend to sulk about like you knew this wouldn't happen," Maleficent lingered, unmoved on a rocky outcrop high up on the Moor. There was a black dog curled up at her feet, whimpering every time a bird swooped by.

She had given him fair warning and now he could skulk about as much as he liked – today it pleased her for him to be a dog – and so a dog he would remain.

It was the little things that brought her pleasure.

The fires in the depths of the castle had been lit again. They roared with claws of flame and heavy billows of smoke so heavy they struggled to make it up the chimneys. Like some kind of primordial volcano they spewed the toxic smoke into the evening air. It quickly cooled and fell as ash over parts of the hillside until the crops were stained black as well.

King Stefan's hatred poisoned everything that dared to draw near.

Why then did Maleficent sit and watch the spectacle – night after night? What was it about the faint glimpse of flame beneath the clouds that drew her in? Sometimes she thought her bird might be onto something when he compared her to a moth, hovering dangerously close to a poor man's candle. Stefan's pain made her feel – what, exactly, she wasn't quite sure yet. Satisfaction.

Maleficent ran her fingers around the top of her smooth walking stick. Yes, that's what it was. Satisfaction.

"I'm not pleased. I want you to know that." Diaval fell to the ground, displacing a small storm of dried leaves that proceeded to tumble around him. "I think I ate a rat. A rat. No wait – I might have buried it somewhere for later... I can't quite remember. Did you know that dogs have extremely bad memories? No wonder they're 'man's best friend'!"

Maleficent averted her green eyes to him. They were glowing slightly in the dark, like one of the owls lurking silently in the gnarled corpse of the tree above.

"Spare me the sordid details, Diaval."

He was quiet for a while, watching the burning castle with her. "Did you want me to fly over there and take a closer look for you?"

Maleficent shook her head. "No need."