In every story as soon as the prince kissed the princess it signals the end. Diaval has always known that life is not like a story (except when it is and you have to trade in your wings for gangly legs). So it's only logical to understand that just because you kissed the boy it does not mean everything is magically sorted out.
And it isn't. It really, really isn't. After the kiss he and Phillip dance around the subject for what feels like ages. Stubbornly pretending it didn't happen for reasons neither of them can understand (a strange mix of stubbornness, reluctance and fear). There are days where they skate around the edges of each other, too hesitant to reach out, to say anything; just like there are days where they slowly but surely shift into each other's spaces. Like planets orbiting the same sun, circling the same objective. It's a matter of minutes and seconds till they start shifting closer and closer; until their fingers brush or their thighs touch and they're sitting so much closer than necessary. Diaval senses that they probably would have gone on like this for quite some time if it wasn't for Aurora's and Maleficent's intervention. Which Maleficent approaches with all her usual tact: 'Please do not make me beg; the both of you need to stop acting like swooning maidens at once.'
But in the end with a little pushing and a little shoving they can finally clear out a space to talk to each other about it; whatever it happens to be.
Or at least, it would be a space to talk to each other; if one of them was actually doing any talking. Because it is currently a very warm and mild afternoon in the moors; the birds are singing the bees are buzzing the fae are frolicking and Diaval is currently contemplating how much simpler life was when he was a dumb bird. Since he is now stuck sitting on a very uncomfortable rock, wallowing in the awkward silence between him and Phillip.
"So," Phillip begins hesitantly with a wry smile. "Aurora said you wished to talk to me?"
"Yes. We have…things….to discuss." Diaval takes a deep breath and prepares himself for what's to come. But before he can get a word out, Phillip's hand is at his shoulder and he's faced with a deeply apologetic expression he doesn't quite know what to do with.
"Diaval, I'm sorry." The words plunge through him like a sword; one that conveniently misses all your vital organs and leaves you to bleed out on the floor. Obviously this is the part where Phillip lets him down easy. Because who in their right mind wants to entertain any sort of vaguely romantic relationship with a bird? Diaval clenches his fingers like he would his talons and longs for wings to fly away from this conversation.
"If I have completely misunderstood the nature of our relationship and you have my sincerest apologies."
"I beg your pardon?" The words tumble out, instinctual and unbidden, confusion coloring his tone.
Phillip stops dead in his metaphorical tracks, eyes narrowed and mouth hanging open comically. "This isn't about you turning me down?"
"Oh, no; quite the opposite in fact." He mumbles, looking away, unable to face him for the time being.
Phillip, being the motherless son of a goat that he is just laughs. Laughs himself sick, until he's gasping for air, slouching onto Diaval's shoulder. "Must you always do this?" Diaval asks, aiming for annoyance but finding his traitorous voice is colored with fondness.
"I am just relieved!" Phillip exclaims as soon as he can control his laughing fit.
"And your immediate reaction to relief is to laugh about it?"
"Oh come off it. It was funny! I completely misunderstood the situation!"
"I still don't see the cause for amusement."
"You're just bitter because you thought I was laughing at you."
Diaval levels Phillip with a flat stare at this supposed revelation. Phillip just smiles and grabs his hand, sweeping a thumb over the knuckles. "If you want I could kiss it better."
And without waiting for an answer he does. Sweeping in and placing a soft kiss on the corner of Diaval's mouth. Lingering there until he can feel Phillip's smile pressed against his skin.
"You're incorrigible."
"Yes. But you like me for it."
After that moment has broken the ice they talk. They talk until the sun sets in the horizon and the moors are painted yellow and orange in the half light. In that moment, when the last dregs of sunlight splay across Phillip's face, illuminating him in a brilliant halo, Diaval realizes that while he doesn't know what this is. He will do all in his power to keep it. Keep this brilliant, wild boy who has seen fit to pin all his affections on him.
In the end by mutual decision this is what marks the course of their relationship. A blissful ignorance as to what they are actually doing. But a fierce desire to keep doing it as often as possible.
A feeling as ferocious of as their natures; as vicious as Diaval's words. Who has not yet bothered to learn the human art of tact and subtlety (ravens have no need of such things).
It is a funny thing, their caring for each other. For while he is at heart a bird, Diaval has the manners of a dragon. Fierce, prideful, and protective; feelings that come as easily to him as flames do to the great drakes of legend.
They are a prince and his dragon; a beast and a wild thing.
Because sometimes, life is like in fairytales.
But not completely.
Because if it was so, the prince would marry the princess and they would live happily ever after. But Phillip is not with Aurora. Sweet Aurora who is graceful and beautiful and far more fitting for a prince than he could ever hope to be.
The idea eats at him, gnaws on his anxieties until there is a gaping hole of insecurity that cannot be ignored.
So one day he swallows his pride and tries to approach the situation with Phillip as subtly as he can to assuage his fears.
"Why did you end your relationship with her?" He asks as nonchalantly as he can. As they watch Aurora make daisy chains and place them around Maleficent's horns; adorning her until she has a veritable headdress made of wildflowers.
"She had her heart set on someone else." Phillip whispers as Aurora laughs at some pithy comment Maleficent has said and places a kiss on her cheek. "But I thought you knew that already."
Diaval clenches his jaw, grits his teeth, does not respond. Phillip just laughs, like he always does, and laces their fingers together. "Silly Bird. I don't mind. My heart was also set on someone else."
That simple comment is enough to melt away all of his fears. And when Phillip lays his head on Diaval's shoulder there isn't even a touch of the recent anxiety that had shadowed any and all displays of affection.
Most of the time Diaval is infinitely delicate with Phillip; as if he is afraid that he may break him with a single touch. Afraid like he may taint him just by contact, by association; like he may vanish with a puff and a flurry of sparks if you press the wrong spot.
There are few times when Phillip can tempt him to let his guard down, to trace his skin not like if he was a precious work of art on a pedestal. But like any other person.
Those times almost always have to do with kissing. There's something about other types of affection when it comes to Diaval. He can keep his cool through most of them. It does not matter if it's a hug or a touch or holding hands. He always keeps a respectful distance (as far as he can get without seeming aloof). But as soon as the kissing stars it seems to melt down some of his defenses. Until he's tentatively touching even when he's not told to, hesitant fingers digging into the cloth of Phillip's shirt, curling into the contours of his hip.
This afternoon is one of those times. Diaval is sitting against a tree, Phillip firmly situated in the vee of his legs. Both of them kissing slowly, leisurely, like they have all the time in the world; which they practically do. Aurora has run off with Maleficent looking flushed and jumpy (as if they don't really know what they're doing) with the promise of not coming back for a few hours. Phillip, being the daring little bastard that he is, proposes the idea of a walk, just so halfway through their outing he can corner Diaval into a random tree and push him down into their current position. Where he's currently entertaining himself by muffling all sorts of noises against Diaval's open mouth while he digs his fingers into the other's hair.
"Damn you," Phillip chuckles, burrowing his face into the juncture of Diaval's neck. "What would it take for you to lose that blasted composure."
"A lot more than this." Diaval comments blithely (if a bit out of breath), blatantly enjoying Phillip's frustration.
"Really?" Phillip asks, one of his hideously cheeky smiles blazing across his mouth. "I shall take that as an affront to my abilities and a personal challenge."
"You would keep your calm if I were to do this?" A light kiss is placed against his collarbone. "Or this?" A series of kisses flit about on his throat. "Or this?" Phillip says with a devious tone in his voice as his hands dive under Diaval's shirt. Only to skate up, towards his shoulder blades, where they dig into the dip between them (right where his wings would be) as Phillip gives a teasing bite to his shoulder. At that moment something involuntary and guttural takes over him and Diaval makes a noise. The most embarrassing of noises that he can't help. A cross between a sigh and a groan is ripped out of him. Phillip, sensing victory, digs his nails into Diaval's back, sucks a kiss into the hollow of his throat.
This is the moment Diaval loses it.
He has Phillip on his back quick as a flash, something hungry in his eyes. At that moment Phillip foolishly remembers Ravens are the smartest birds of prey.
"You were better off, leaving my composure intact." He murmurs, pressing a deceivingly chaste kiss into Phillip's cheek. "You should have just left the poor thing well enough alone." He kisses lower, reaching the arch of his neck, hears Phillip's breath hitch and delights in the sound. "But you've always been much too curious for your own good. Haven't you?"
"Well you know me. I'm always looking for a new adventure." Phillip laughs, like every other time, and if it's slightly breathier than before, neither of them mention it.
"You're a danger to humanity. You're a danger to yourself. But most importantly, you're a danger to me." Diaval whispers, the tension thick enough to cut through with a knife.
"Guess you'll just have to teach me a lesson won't you?" Phillip whispers back, cheeky to his last.
"If that is what his majesty wishes."
"His majesty wishes that you'd just get on with whatever you're threatening to do. It's getting rather boring down here, honestly."
Diaval's eyes darken at his words, and just smiles. A wicked smile with too much teeth that makes Phillip wonder just what he's gotten into. "Done," He says and proceeds to kiss Phillip senseless for the first time.
It is warm and vicious and relentless the way Diaval kisses at the moment. Pushing and pulling and biting in equal measure, until Phillip lets go of all inhibitions and he's not even trying to muffle the noises he makes anymore. They kiss like nobody's watching, like they're not lying in the grass in the woods where anyone could happen upon them at any moment.
Diaval feels warm, too warm and out of control. He knows he should stop but does not want to. He can only lavish kisses against Phillip's everything. Press his hands desperately against the other's flesh as if he can fuse them together. Muffle his groans so no one can hear. There is a horrible, embarrassing moment when Diaval has had quite enough of Phillip's annoying shirt.
His original intention was just to take it off. But he finds that he has gone a tad too far when a deafening ripping sound cuts through the silence of the forest.
For a moment both of them look down utterly dumbfounded.
Then Phillip proceeds to laugh like he has never laughed before, red faced and gasping for air while Diaval flushes more than he's ever done before.
"You ripped my shirt!" he cackles while Diaval squeezes his eyes shut and pretends very, very hard that this never happened.
It is a while before Phillip can calm down from his raucous laughing fit and Diaval can open his eyes and face reality. But when it they finally go back to normal the mood is utterly and completely lost. Neither of them mind too much. Leaving it be in favor of going back to Maleficent's tree to rest among its roots and wait for her and Aurora to come back.
It turns out they are in for a long wait. So long, that what was supposed to be a small rest turns into a full blown sleep over.
Phillip lies on Diaval's chest, both of them buried into the nest of blankets that are now a permanent fixture under Maleficent's tree. It is a night like many others at the moors, but Diaval cannot help but find it soothing, just like finds every other night. There are a million and one stars visible tonight; whole constellations and planets along with a full moon. But tonight he doesn't look up and marvel at the universe like usual. Instead he sets his sights much further down. At the young man sleeping on his chest. Phillip, he mediates is not a bad looking person, as far as humans go. He has a fair enough face, framed by long brown hair (now long enough that he keeps it tied back) and dusky lashes that would not look out of place on some fluttering maiden. Truth be told Diaval has never understood how to differentiate human beauty, the subtleties of that art evade him. But perhaps it is just as best that they do. Because what he likes best about Phillip is by no means his looks.
It is something far more precious than that.
It is the small things about him. The way he laughs at everything, the way he can't seem to sit still for too long. The habit he has of picking up every interesting shiny thing he sees and stuffing it in his pocket; his bravery, his chivalry his devotion. All the things the courtesans disdain in Phillip, Diaval ends up loving.
"By the gods," he whispers looking up at the tiny pinpricks of light above them. "I'm turning into a soppy old maid."