Oh my gosh guys! I'm so sorry it's been forever since I've updated! I haven't abandoned this story, I promise. I'm too committed. But man was this hard! I worry about staying in character, and I just couldn't work through this block, and struggled a lot with getting the reactions right.
No excuses, you have every right to hate me for the delay. But I'm back now, and I swear the next chapter won't be as long in coming.
To my reviewers: Loz, I knew it was you the moment I saw your name, and I was so excited to see you had reviewed I did a happy dance in my head. ;) I'm so glad you thought my characterizations were realistic, I had such a hard time with that, you wouldn't believe! I've got big things planned for Aurora, don't you worry.
EmpathyBlues, Thank you so much! I'm glad to hear you're enjoying and I hope you will continue to do so. :)
This chapter contains a bit of angst, if you couldn't tell by the title. I hope you guys can forgive my absence and that you enjoy this chapter. I worked hard to keep everyone in character but do feel free to correct me if you notice something I've gotten wrong, or if there's any spelling/grammar mistakes or typos.
I look forward to hearing what you think in the reviews!
- Raven
The Moors was gradually growing brighter when Diaval finally returned. It wasn't the cheery brightness of the human kingdom, since the sun still refused to touch beyond the thorn wall, but the usual light grey it transitioned to in place of day light. He soared over the pools, wondering over the latest news, and what it might mean for the kingdom in general. Good things, he hoped, but he had a feeling…. 'Something big,' Balthazar had said when Stefan attacked. Something big was coming, but Diaval was pretty sure nothing could be bigger than this.
A child. There was going to be a new human child, and it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. How the kingdom would react was the thing worrying Diaval. He was just about to turn towards the tree line to find Ronin and Balthazar when he heard a shout below him.
"Diaval!"
He flapped his wings hard, pulling up short before twisting into a flip, turning him back around. Looking down, he saw three small forms flickering below him, and he bit back a curse as he dove down to meet them. He landed on a bush, shuffling along until he found a longer branch to cling to, ruffling his feathers and trying not to look as irritated as he felt.
"Have you told Maleficent our terms?" The pink one, Knotgrass demanded, her small face pinched in a scowl.
No, but you're more than welcome to tell her yourself, Diaval thought coldly. I'm sure she'll be very understanding.
"Terms sounds so harsh," Thistlewit cut in quickly, swatting at one of her butterflies. "It's really not that complicated, Diaval." She smiled in a way that would have been reassuring, if the subject itself weren't so grim.
"Not complicated at all," Knotgrass agreed, nodding sternly. "All you have to do is tell her to change things."
"I don't think it's that simple," Diaval said, his voice as cold as he felt. "But why don't you tell her yourself? It's you who want to leave, not me."
"Because she listens to you," Knotgrass huffed impatiently, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
Diaval laughed, the sound a harsh crow that made all three fairies flinch. "Listens to me?" He repeated incredulously. "What on earth makes you think that?"
"Diaval," Flittle said reproachfully, frowning at him. "This isn't a game."
"No, it's not," he shot back before any of them could continue. "This is a war, as much as I hate to admit it. And you don't just abandon your home and your leader just because you don't agree with them!"
"She was never meant to be our leader," Knotgrass broke in testily. "She was meant to be our Protector, and look where that's gotten us."
Diaval faltered, taken aback and unsure how to respond. It was true, he thought, though he was loathe to agree with them. Maleficent was meant to be the Protector, but had twisted its purpose; played with the power it had granted her and lashed out at the ones she was supposed to defend, just like…. Diaval flinched, shaking himself. No. No, she was nothing like him.
He turned back to the fairies, his earlier vindictiveness fading in light of his helplessness. "I'll tell her," he promised wearily. "But I think you'll want to be well past the border when I do. I doubt she'll be forgiving."
The three fairies straightened, surprise flickering across their features before registering his warning. Flittle twisted the hem of her dress, nodding her understanding, while Thistlewit and Knotgrass exchanged a solemn look.
"I'm glad you see it that way," Knotgrass said stiffly, while Thistlewit nodded next to her.
"We appreciate you understanding, Diaval," she said, and he scoffed, shaking his head bitterly. "We really do," she insisted, trying for a smile, but it fell quickly, and she flew off in the direction of the thorn wall.
"Goodbye Diaval," Flittle said softly, her own smile genuine, but containing a note of sadness in it. "It'll work out, you'll see." She was gone in the next moment, following after her sister towards the thorn wall.
Knotgrass gave him a grim sort of half-smile, nodding once in farewell before turning to do the same. A sudden urge struck Diaval, and he found himself flapping his wings, following after her before she got too far.
"Knotgrass," he called, and she stopped, turning back to face him. "Be careful."
It was the best he could come up with, not really sure what else to say. But Knotgrass smiled anyway, a slightly more positive one than her previous grin.
"I suppose that's as close to a 'good luck' as we're going to get, isn't it?"
He chuckled wryly, ruffling his feathers sheepishly. "I suppose so."
"Well in that case," she drew herself up a bit. "Good luck, Diaval. I'm sure we'll see each other again some time."
And with that, she turned and darted after her sisters, leaving Diaval alone and wondering who would need the luck more, them, or him. He watched for a moment more, ensuring that they at least had a sizable head start before turning and making his way towards the tree line. He felt strange, a sort of aching emptiness welling up from somewhere inside him. He thought it might be that sensation of 'missing' someone, but that was absurd; he didn't 'miss' the fairies. They were annoying, and irritating, complaining too much…but they were still a part of the Moors, and their absence was worthy of being missed, regardless.
He sighed, coasting to a slower pace as he approached Balthazar, landing heavily on one of his higher branches.
"They've done it," he said mournfully, shuffling his feet. "The fairies have left; they're heading for the human kingdom."
"I take it you haven't told Maleficent yet?" Balthazar pressed carefully, his own voice low with sadness.
"No, but I will," Diaval answered. "She'd notice, anyway, even if I didn't, and I'd rather me tell her than have her find out on her own."
Balthazar grunted in agreement. "I just never thought they'd actually do it. No one has ever left the Moors, and with the situation as tense as it is…."
"And it just got better," Diaval cut in, remembering his other news. "Or worse, depending on how you look at it."
"What now?" Balthazar's voice was weary, and wary, lifting his eyes to peer crookedly up at him.
"The Queen is having a child."
Balthazar was silent, and Diaval was sure that if he had been a human, he would be pale. "A child?" he repeated, and Diaval nodded slowly.
"I don't know when the child is due to arrive, but it can't be that far off."
"I don't see how that's better, Diaval," Balthazar said, his voice skeptical, and Diaval chuckled a bit, ruffling his feathers.
"I didn't mean it seriously, Balthazar," he assured. "Though it could be, better, I mean."
"In what way?"
"Well, Stefan will be have other priorities now. With a child to raise, and teach and…well, he won't be focused so much on the war."
"Or it could further encourage him to kill us all, if only to ensure no future threats." Balthazar's blunt tone cut through Diaval's optimism, and he grimaced, shaking his head.
"Yes, well, I was trying for some good news to tell Maleficent, but have it your way. Double the bad news."
"When are you going to tell her?" Balthazar asked, ignoring Diaval's remark.
"It might as well be now," Diaval said, sighing. "I can't put it off any longer, even if I want to."
"Start with the good news," Balthazar supplied helpfully, and Diaval groaned, lifting himself off the branch and flying back towards the nest.
It was empty, had been for some time, and he flew back over the Pool, searching the coves and behind the waterfall. He had a suspicion of where she was, but he didn't like to think of what it would mean for him once he arrived. He glanced up at the sky, still light grey, but transitioning to the darker tone of later afternoon. He wondered if she had left for the Cliffs after he had gone to the castle, and if she had, if she'd remembered to eat. She didn't, more often than not, and though he'd never say so, he worried at her occasional self-destructive behavior.
The Cliffs loomed ahead, and Diaval focused on what he was going to say, scanning the outcroppings and hills for any sign of Maleficent. But there was no sign, no indication that she had even been to the Cliffs. Diaval frowned, worry starting to set in against his better judgement. He knew there was no reason to worry, it wasn't as though any harm could come to her, but her disappearance upset him all the same.
He flew back down into the heart of the Moors, trying to think of where she might be. The situation was familiar, and he tried to remember where he'd found her the previous times she'd disappeared. It was almost always the Cliffs, being so far removed, but if not there, then… Diaval angled his wings, banking sharply and heading back towards the Pool of Jewels, bypassing the crystalline water in favor of the rocky banks on the far side.
The willow tree loomed solidly in front of him, its branches still full of leaves despite the rapidly growing cold heralding the approach of winter. And there, walking along the bank beneath it, was Maleficent. Relief flooded Diaval, but it didn't show as he called to her before making to land on her shoulder. She shooed him away, but only to change him into a man, barely pausing in her stride as she did so. Diaval subtly shifted to walk alongside her, glancing sideways at her every other step to try and gauge her emotions.
She didn't have her staff with her, and walking beside her he could see each even stride, her steps sure if not a little careful. It was a good day, then, Diaval thought. No pain, or at least, not enough that it wasn't bearable or able to be hidden. He felt a twinge of regret; he didn't want to ruin this with is news. But he couldn't put it off, it would only be worse if he left it unattended. He ducked under a stray branch and was just was just about to open his mouth when Maleficent spoke instead.
"Something's happened."
Just two words, but in them Diaval could hear the layers of emotion that she refused to let show on her face. Apprehension was the forefront of the emotions, but underneath that he heard the stronger pull of fear, as well as anger and a hint of a grim sort of resignation that gave Diaval the impression of a soldier preparing for another battle.
"Yes," he confirmed, nodding carefully and watching for any warning signs. The lack of her staff was a curse as much as a blessing, leaving him with no clear indication of how she was truly feeling. "There's been a development at the castle…"
"No," Maleficent said sharply, and he saw her lips twitch in a frown, her brow furrowing. "Something's happened here, in the Moors."
Her needless clarification was as sure a sign as any to her distress, and Diaval grimaced. He'd hoped to ease into this a bit more gently, but he had no other options. She already knew, somehow, that something was wrong, he wouldn't lie to her and deny it, as much as he would have liked to.
He nodded again. "Yes."
It was drawn out, carefully vague as he watched her frown deepen, irritation flicking across her features before the worry came back and was then hidden safely behind a blank expression.
"What, Diaval?" She demanded tersely. "Tell me."
There was an unspoken 'now,' in her demand, but it was the even quieter, unspoken 'please' that made Diaval hesitate, if only for a moment.
"The fairies have left the Moors."
He left it at that, cutting off any further words of explanations in favor of searching Maleficent's face for her response.
It was silent for a long moment, her expression artfully blank, no sign that she had even heard the words, though he knew she had. She had stiffened, the motion slight, but there, and he could feel the tenseness in her body, see it in her suddenly shortened strides.
"What?"
One word this time, but Diaval flinched all the same. It wasn't anger, not yet, but cold, and simultaneously open and vulnerable, and he didn't know how to deal with it. Maleficent stopped, and he paused in his stride to turn back towards her, fighting against the instinct to run and hide.
"The three fairies," he repeated, his voice too loud in the sudden silence. "Th…"
"Knotgrass, Thislewit and Flittle," Maleficent broke in, her own voice low and empty.
Diaval faltered, staring a moment in shock. She knew their names. As soon as he thought it he realized how foolish it was. Of course she knew them, why wouldn't she? But it wasn't just knowing their names, he saw; it was knowing them. There was an intimateness in the way she said each name, a thousand memories and feelings in each syllable and inflection. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, cursing how hoarse he sounded as he answered.
"Yes. They've…."
"Left." She finished, and Diaval could see the anger he'd been waiting for rise up in her eyes. "When? Why?" She looked like she wanted to say more, but was holding back in favor of hearing an explanation from him.
He shifted anxiously, unable to read the expression on her face. "Just…just now," he stumbled over the words. "They've gone to find shelter in the human kingdom."
Her eyes narrowed at the word 'shelter,' as though wondering about the adequacy of the obvious shelter of the Moors, but when he mentioned the human kingdom, she froze, and Diaval wished he could shrink into something very small to avoid her gaze. Her 'why?' still hung in the air unanswered, and he grasped desperately at words, trying to explain without revealing the truth.
"Because…," he stammered, aware that the anger was beginning to fill the void. "Because of…" You. "They said…something about" Light. "…I…I'm not…I don't know!" Lies. "They never really, never really clarified." Lies.
He winced at the gaze she levelled at him, shrinking as small as he could, vainly trying to escape the truth. Please don't ask more. Please don't ask more.
"Where," she began, then stopped, her expression twisting into something almost pained before rearranging it into something unrevealing. "Where are they?"
"Gone," Diaval whispered, treading carefully. "They're gone, beyond the thorn wall by now. There's no…" Stopping them, he was going to finish, but he cut himself off, not wanting to make things worse.
She shook her head slowly-denial, Diaval would have said, but there was a deeper emotion here, something he didn't think he'd ever seen from her before. Sadness; a genuine, grieving sort of pain he was unprepared for. If she had her staff, he wouldn't have been able to say what color it might be at this moment. She turned away from him, placing a hand against a tree and leaning heavily against it, letting out a shaky breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob.
He wondered if he should say something more, something comforting, perhaps, but he had no idea where to start. He'd never had to deal with something like this, and to see such a rare crack in her usually solid shield was so unnerving he hadn't the slightest idea how to respond. He reached out a hand, as though to place it on her shoulder, but he drew it away immediately, startled at the idea. As if he hadn't learned the first time.
"I…It…," he paused, frowning before continuing carefully. "It wasn't your fault."
That was something good to say, wasn't it? He had heard there was a usual sort of 'blaming' thing humans tended to do when facing a loss or some other tragedy, and while the circumstances where different and Maleficent wasn't quite human, he still thought it wasn't bad, all things considered.
Maleficent didn't seem to think so.
She stiffened, straightening so harshly against the tree he feared for a moment she might be in pain before he recognized the warning signs. He cursed silently, stepping back as her hand curled against the tree. Black, he thought. Her staff would be black if she had it now, and he would be….
Her hand cut through the air like a knife, a sharp flick of her wrist lashing out in his direction like a blow.
A bird, he finished miserably, watching her retreating further and further inwards. She would become closed off stone, and he would be the bird perched atop, wondering if she would ever move again.
