Marked

Ravenna stayed up a long portion of the night searching every inch of the castle she could looking for that goddamned shape shifter. She turned over every rock outside, checked under ever chair and cushion, and even stuck her head up a few fireplaces. She ventured to the cellar with a candle, scattering the rats with it's light, and still could not find one creature with even an ounce of magical power in it's veins. Ravenna walked in silence through the servant's quarters, checking to make sure the beast was not hiding among the help. She found nothing but a maid and a horse hand, literally 'rolling in the hay'.

The next morning Ravenna came to breakfast understandably grouchy. She sipped her tea and nibbled on some strawberries in cream but refused conversation with any ladies who approached her. Thankfully Aurora did not feel the need to speak to her this morning. Ravenna didn't think she could hold it together for another minute with that idealistic twit. Casting a longer glance at the teenaged Queen, Ravenna found herself wondering why the girl looked so glum; however, Ravenna quickly remembered that she didn't care and would be taking over the kingdom shortly, and hence resumed her nibbling and sipping.

Aurora did not have much of an appetite that morning either. Last night a trio of her most insufferable advisors confronted her about her treatment of their royal guest. They were not impressed…

"What were you thinking, taking her through town? On foot no less—"

"What would she care about our town? She's conquered a hundred towns just like it—"

"She was surveying it for weaknesses that's what she was doing, looking to take over our Kingdom next! I always knew—"

"I really don't think," started Aurora, before being cut off again.

"And beef stew for dinner? Awful choice, truly. Its a poor man's meal—"

"Did you at least show her the church? We are building it up, it really is a showcase of our town's affluence—"

"She's nearly broken Duke Hammond's defenses, it's only a matter of time—"

"Please, stop," she tried, her voice sounding fragile under their booming thunderclaps of disapproval. The trio continued on their discourse, either purposefully choosing to ignore her or too loud to hear her feeble request.

"I know if I was in charge, I would have—"

"My wife told me Regina looked rather bored, did you even try to—"

"Your Highness," shouted a raspy, masculine voice from a few feet behind Aurora. The arguing stopped at once as they all looked to see the newcomer.

Diaval stood erect, his chest subconsciously puffed, at the entrance to Aurora's room, making it unclear whether he came from it or merely opened the door in passing. Bright candlelight flickered through the archway, making his pale skin seem even paler, his black clothing even darker in the shadows of the light. His gaze appeared calm on the surface, but underneath it held something stronger, a testing glare, daring the advisor's to speak over him. None did.

Even Aurora found herself surprised at the power Diaval embodied in his words, in his stance. She stared at him blankly for a moment before softening in recognition. He'd noticed how she'd been outnumbered and sought to even up the teams.

"Yes?" She answered extra sweetly, just to show her advisors how calm she could be in the face of someone they clearly felt intimidated by.

"Your hand maidens are ready to prepare you for bed, when ever you are ready to meet them."

"Thank you," she replied before turning back to her advisors with slightly more confidence. "Now, I will take none of your questions tonight. I am absolutely exhausted from entertaining our guest today. I will see you in the morning."

Aurora paused for a moment, then narrowed her eyebrows.

"Additionally, might I remind you that I am your Queen, the highest power within the borders. I highly suggest you alter your tone when we next speak, or it may be the last time we do."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the advisors standing there, confused. Diaval had already left, not wanting to be caught in a flurry of questions; he'd stepped only a few feet down another corridor, out of view, transformed back into a crow, and hopped out the open window.

Aurora's confidence only lasted until she blew her candle out. After that, all her words and actions throughout the day came tumbling back to her, hitting her full in the face, like cubes of ice in the bottom of a glass tilted just too far.

Maybe it was a stupid idea to take Queen Regina through town. They really had nothing impressive to show her. And walking? Really, she should have insisted on a carriage. They might as well have gone barefoot, too, that's how common walking was.

How could she have allowed afternoon tea to be outside? Regina must have been disgusted, all the bugs and birds flying around. She'd been outdoors all day! She didn't want to spend more time there! Stupid, stupid, stupid. That was why she kept looking around, she was watching the critters, making sure they didn't land too close.

She was such a child, a stupid, naive child. A baby. Immature. She wasn't ready for this, she didn't deserve to be Queen and on and on and on. Then the tears started to flow.

Diaval slept perched on her windowsill, one eye open and on the lookout, as birds often do when they sleep. While half of him slept, the other half heard Aurora begin to sob quietly, muffled as she shoved her face into a pillow. If he could, he would have sighed.

He quickly morphed back into human form, slightly wobbly from just waking up. He stumbled to her side and crouched down, uncurling one hand from its fist on her pillow and holding it gently.

"Shh, Aurora, it's ok. Shh, tell me what's wrong," he coaxed, rubbing her hand softly with his thumb. She mumbled something incoherent into the feathers of her pillow. "I can't understand you, you need to lift your head up," he said patiently.

"I'm fine," she hiccupped through a sob. He rubbed his fingers over her smooth knuckles, hushing her again.

"You by no means look fine. Now please, tell me what's bothering you."

"The court," she mumbled. Diaval rolled his eyes. Bastards.

"Not them again. You know every word they say is a lie. I wonder why you keep them on sometimes,"

"I can't fire them, they have too much *hic* respect in the castle. But I have none," she cried. She was getting louder, inconsolable. Diaval feared if this went on any longer, a maid or servant would come in to check on her. He knew she did not wish to be seen like this. He didn't want to leave her side while she was so upset, but if someone walked in on him crouching by the Queen's bedside… things could get ugly.

"Of course they respect you!" he exclaimed in a whisper, "I respect you, Phillip respects you," that only made her cry louder.

"Phillip," she wailed, "he doesn't respect me! He does whatever he's told! He doesn't even love me, his kiss didn't work! Nobody likes me here, Diaval,"

"Shh, Aurora, of course people here like you, I like you!"

"You put up with me because Maleficent told you to!"

"No, Aurora," he began before she crumbled into another fit of tears, causing Diaval's heart to break. Sometimes he forgot she was only sixteen and had such little experience with human matters. She grew up in near complete isolation, with three ditsy buffoons as her only means of socialization. The fairies had rarely grown cross with her, and if they did it was never for long; Aurora never had to deal with adversity like this and therefore had no clue how to deal with it. Plus, if what Maleficent said was true, teenagers, especially female ones, contained a viable hurricane of intense emotions inside of them, changing as quickly as the wind with double the danger.

Sensing a total meltdown, Diaval stood from his crouch and gathered Aurora up in his arms. He lifted her out of bed, holding her bridal style as he settled back down on the floor. People, he'd discovered long ago, enjoy being held and touched, finding comfort in the feeling just as much as animals did. He held her close to him, wrapping one arm around her upper back while the other cradled her knees. He felt her arms slip smoothly around his neck, and her head settle comfortably on his shoulder. She felt so small in his arms, still a child in some respects with her tiny hands and small frame, but also very obviously a young woman. He began rocking her, slowly, gently, as his arms wrapped her in a tight embrace. He turned his chin and mumbled sweet nothings into her ear until her cries softened into light sobs and sniffs. After a few minutes of silence he thought she'd gone to sleep, but he felt her adjust her head on his shoulder, bringing her lips dangerously close to his neck.

"Do you really mean that Diaval? You respect me? You like me?"

Her hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of his neck and sent internal shivers rumbling through his body. The silken quality of her whisper, with a slight hoarseness from her sobs was so… so… Diaval couldn't find words to describe it, and had an even harder time describing how they made him feel.

"Of course I do," he answered, sounding even more husky that usual. Now's the time, he thought, do it! Say it! But his lips struggled to form the words. His mouth seemed to go shaky, just like his hands did sometimes when he was nervous. His tongue refused to touch the roof of his mouth and form the L, and his thin lips could form every shape but the circle he needed for the O. He could bite his lower lip just fine for the V, but no breath would come. To think of the E would be useless—the moment had already passed. He cast his eyes down to her bare arm, a little sliver of sun-kissed skin making the gentlest of angles as it curved to hug his neck.

Diaval rocked her for a few minutes more, waiting for the young Queen's breath to become steady on his neck and her heart rate to slow until he could barely feel it. When he was sure she'd fallen asleep, and resting peacefully at that, he stopped rocking her and just held her for a moment. He turned to get a better view of her face, appearing angelic in her sleep.

"I love you, Aurora," he whispered in a voice so soft he could barely hear himself, his lips finally unlocking to make the thought real the moment no one could hear it.

Timidly, he lowered his head and placed a small, chaste kiss upon her forehead. Though innocent enough, he still felt little explosions go off in his head, as if someone had poured a fresh bottle of champagne in his ears and his head now floated on a sea of tiny, fizzy bubbles. His lips had touched her skin. Pulling away, Diaval smiled for a moment. A few minutes later, he stood and gently placed her back in her bed.

The next morning Aurora awoke to sun shining through her window. She smiled as the clouds of sleep dissipated and memories of last night came back to her.

Diaval, she thought, he is something special. But where is he?

Her room noticeably lacked another body. She glanced over to her window, his usual roost when wearing feathers, and noticed it sat wide open. Shoving her quilt aside, Aurora got up and strode to the opening. Looking out, she saw nothing but a cloudless blue sky and an already bustling village below. Left on the ledge of the window, she picked up a single black feather. She smiled again, charmed by his simple, yet effective note.

For some reason, rather than toss the feather out the window, she brought it back to her bed and placed it on her nightstand. Then, fearing one of the servants would come and throw it out, she popped open the top drawer and dropped it in.

Diaval did not return by the time her maidens came to dress her for breakfast, and still did not arrive by the time she left. Aurora did not worry about him, only, his presence would have made the morning more tolerable, and hence, he was partially the reason for her poor mood at breakfast.

In her frustration, Ravenna began cutting up her strawberries into tiny pieces with the side of her fork, and when they got too small, she just began mashing them into pulp. After another minute she excused herself, claiming that she really needed to get on the road again, and if, by chance, she could spare a servant to carry her bags for her. Aurora obliged and left soon after her; she could feel by the stuffiness of the dining room that it was gearing up to be a hot, humid day, and with that in mind, lukewarm porridge didn't really appeal to her.

Aurora visited the kitchen to find a servant, only to find them all occupied organizing an order of food and cleaning up a dropped case of milk. She then sojourned to the stables, only to find the men and women there dealing with the difficult birth of twin foals.

A little frustrated and now sweating from exertion and heat, she left the barn to try the castle blacksmith's, hoping to find an apprentice with a little spare time. Instead, she ran into the one man she was really looking for.

"Diaval!" she said as she turned the corner and saw him awkwardly walking down the hall. He stood tall with his shoulders back; he rarely slouched (she expected it was a vanity thing, to always look ones best). He walked stiffly with his hands in his pockets and his worried, slightly flitty eyes looking straight ahead (The vast number of humans within the castle he lay subject to made him nervous and self conscious), but when he saw her, everything lit up and relaxed. He even smiled.

"Aurora," he answered, coming up to her. "How are you feeling his morning?"

"I'll feel much better once this visiting Queen goes on her way," she answered, dropping her voice.

"Oh no, she's fine by herself," explained Aurora as Diaval pinched his eyebrows in question, "It's just the court is killing me. I'll be happy when they stop mentioning her, but then, they'll just move on to something else."

"I'm sure,"

"Say, what are you up to right now?" Aurora asked, a thought on her mind.

"Nothing too important, why?'

"Regina needs help carrying down her bags; do you think you could do it? It would get her out of here faster." Diaval sighed softly.

"Of course," he answered. He could never say no to her. Aurora had him wrapped around her finger and she knew it. She flashed a wide grin and gave him directions to Regina's room before turning and leaving. She had a meeting with the head housemaid five minutes ago, and Charlotte hated it when she ran late.

When Diaval arrived the Queen had already left. Fortunately, he found three bags, plus an empty birdcage resting neatly on the bed that he assumed were for him to carry to the carriage. Expecting heavy loads, he pushed up his sleeves, gripped their handles firmly, and hoisted before stumbling backwards and nearly falling. They were incredibly light with only a few items in each, he could feel them rattling around. He didn't even think she packed clothes. He thought it odd but didn't dwell on it. Diaval imagined she left most of her bags on the carriage, as she only stayed one night. He shifted the bags around and picked up the cage with his empty hand.

Down the main staircase and across the foyer, he went to the main entrance where Aurora said Regina's coach would have parked, but when he opened the front door with her bags, he saw no carriage waiting.

"Just leave them here," he heard a hard, commanding voice say. "My coachman is on his way."

He stepped a few paces outside the doorway and set the bags down before turning to leave. Before he could, a soft, delicate hand with long, manicured nails latch onto his forearm with an iron grip.

"Wait," said the voice, now dripping honey. Diaval turned. His jaw dropped.

He recognized that frosted blonde hair, smooth but sharp, like stalks of pale wheat twisted tightly in a knot, not the golden waterfall of Aurora's curled tresses. Her eyes were icy too, rimmed with smoky black smears that reminded him of the raptors that tormented him in his younger days. He recognized that voice too now, the one that oozed charm and persuasion. Even he felt affected by her hypnotic gaze, however, the shock of her, the woman he'd been on the lookout for, so close and so soon, allowed his mind clarity for a few moments.

He immediately yanked back on his arm, but she held fast, pressing down with her nails to remind him of their presence. They felt more like claws.

"You can't be a servant here, you're far too handsome," Ravenna said. She finally found him, finally struck gold, and completely by coincidence too. She felt it as he turned to leave, a wave of magical aura hitting her like a slap in the face; he was the one, and she would not leave without him

Diaval did not respond. He couldn't. His lips refused to mold themselves to form words, just like they couldn't last night. He should be attacking her, forcing her to leave, something other than standing here gaping like a dead fish. He couldn't move. He didn't know if she was doing it or if it was just from fear. She looked innocent enough, but danger lurked beneath. Like a blackberry bush, she lured men in with her dark, delicious fruit, only to prick them with red thorns once they got too close. He had to remind himself she had strength enough to bring a man back from the dead. Diaval did not want to be on the receiving end of that kind of powerful dark magic.

"You must be more important than a servant. A guard perhaps? Maybe," She looked him up and down in a way that made Diaval very uncomfortable. "A eunuch?"

"No," Diaval said, sounding more hoarse and raspy than ever. He cleared his throat. "Just a servant to the Queen."

"Perfect," Ravenna purred, "I don't like my guards with any… alterations."

She put on a cat-like smile, alluring and hungery. He pulled his arm again, but she held fast. Her nails dug deeper, making little indents on his skin.

"No, don't be scared. I take good care of my help. Don't you want to come back with me?" The way she said 'good care' made him want to vomit.

Now it was her turn to pull. She tugged gently at first, expecting her spell to make him more compliant. It did have some affect, but nowhere near what it would on a non-magical being. His sixteen years of exposure allowed Diaval to build up a level of tolerance to magic.

He resisted her, making her to tug harder. Her coach pulled up to the door then. The driver, either in on the plot or under her spell as well, simply opened the door for his mistress before grabbing her bags and loading them into the back.

"You will not disobey me, shape shifter!"

Diaval brought up his other hand to try and loosen her grip, no longer feeling frozen and sluggish. Her spell must have faded as her desperation increased. Her nails, once only claw-like in an imaginative sense began to actually grow long and black, mimicking talons. They dug into his flesh, drawing thin streams of blood down his arms. He sucked in a breath and tensed up, stopping his efforts for a millisecond as he watched himself bleed. Ravenna saw this and ripped her claws down his arm, creating gruesome tiger stripes of dark red. Diaval couldn't help it; he cried out.

Aurora, crossing the foyer on her way to see Regina off, heard the cry. She quickly glanced, her eyes wide, at a pair of loafing guards, springing them into immediate action. She rushed to the source, with the two metal-clad men struggling to keep up.

Ravenna heard the heavy clunking noise of the men's iron shoes. She stared her captor dead in the eyes, squeezing his wrist with the strength of a boa constrictor before letting go with an angry growl, shrinking her nails back as she did so. She wasn't prepared for this sort of kidnapping. A bird was nothing; nobody would miss a crow, but a human? They were far more accountable.

"This isn't over, shape shifter."

She quickly glanced to the door, judging her time, before dashing into her carriage, slamming the door, and taking off. Diaval clutched his injured arm, feeling the sting as blood ran between his fingers. He quickly yanked his sleeve down just in time to conceal most of the damage from Aurora's innocent eyes.

"Diaval!" Aurora exclaimed, breathless. Her excellent endurance meant nothing when thick fabric and laces constricted her lungs. "What happened?"

"Ravenna," he whispered fiercely leaning into her, "Your visitor was Ravenna!"

Aurora's eyes widened as she turned to watch the carriage, now far in the distance as the coachman whipped the horses into a sprint. Behind her, the guards arrived, looking about for the source of trouble only to find a pale servant boy standing close – a little too close – to the Queen.

"Step back, boy," one said, manhandling Diaval to the side. Just then, he caught sight of the red dripping from his arm. "What happened?"

"I fell," he lied, "my fault." The guard huffed.

"Typical common folk," he mumbled.

"Thank you," Aurora cut in. "Your services are no longer needed here. You may return to your post."

The two men turned and left without another word, but mumbled to each other when out of earshot. Aurora no longer cared. Her concern focused on the man intent on bleeding out in front of her.

"Hold it, tightly," she commanded, guiding him back inside. "Let's get you cleaned up, then you can tell me about our visitor."

A/N: What do you think? Do you like the romance between Diaval and Aurora? Do you think Aurora is too emotional? What will Ravenna do now that she knows where Diaval is? Please comment with your thoughts! I love to hear them!