Author's Note: Hope you are enjoying! I don't own Maleficent or Diaval or any characters from the movie. In case there was a query, this is taking place while Aurora is an infant with the pixies. So she can't factor into this just yet.

Chapter 3

Maira couldn't sleep. Unless you counted sleep as laying on her cot and staring at the ceiling which was illuminated by a warm glow from the fire. She seemed unable to drift off, or get the prisoner, Diaval, out of her head. She kept thinking of his scared look when she had to leave, when the guards had been coming. If she had to guess, she would think he was afraid to be alone in that cell for fear of another beating. And she shuddered imagining how cold it had to be down there. Even on the brightest day, it could be pitch black down in the cells, and since it was stone surrounded by water, underground, it would be much colder then her spot behind the kitchen. Maira sat up and clutched the blanket in her hands as she glanced at her Aunt. Soft snores from the wood framed bed let her know her inability to sleep didn't bother her Aunt. She got up and slid on her leather boots and wrapped a shawl around herself. Moving quietly past her Aunt, she went into the kitchen and saw it was empty for the time being. Everyone was asleep in the servants quarters, and the guards would be on alert for noises or people who shouldn't have been awake. Maira began walking quietly from the kitchen towards the hallway to the dungeon. Sh saw the guard who was suppose to be at the door wasn't there. This made her pause and take a deep breath. Was he taking a break? Was he down in the dungeon himself? Her hands were shaking as she felt the door and pushed. Still open, which probably meant that he was on a short break. Maira shook her head and slipped through the door to go into the dungeon, leaning back against the reclosed thick wooden door. It was cold, and even with her soft leather boots and shawl, she was shivering. There was much more light down the stairs, and she could hear more then a few men laughing and making a joke about something.

She was trying to breath quietly, but her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest. A heavy thumping that went with her shaking hands as a mix of cold and fear ran through her. Slowly, she took cautious steps to move down the steps for the first level of dungeons. When she neared the hallway, she again, didn't see any guards, but they were much louder. They were laughing and she heard water poured over something, a pained gasp and more laughing. A quick peek into the hall and she saw that all of the guards were in the torture room at the end of the hall. It was better lit then her own bedroom had been, and the door to Diaval's cell was open. Now that she was much closer, she could hear Roth speaking with an annoyed tone to his voice.

"Where is your witch! What are her plans!"

When no answer came, Maira heard a noise like one hitting a stick to a tree and then a pained scream. She jumped and whirled around to run back up the stairs, bumping into the guard who would have been up at the top. He grabbed her shoulder, shawl and night skirt and pushed her towards the torture room. "Looks like someone is too curious for their own good."

Maira struggled and kicked to regain some footing, but she was not a seasoned guard or an expert at fighting. He walked her into the main room and forced her to sit on a bench right at the door way. Maira squinted at the light in the room and put a hand up to see a little better. Diaval was hanging by his wrists, which were chained together and hanging off of a hook. He was dripping wet, an empty wooden bucket on the floor near his feet, which were barely on their tip toes to keep him from dangling in the air. His head was bowed, but there was a stream of blood down the front of his chest, running over the scar on it and disappearing in the black shirt and pants they had left him in. Maira choked a gasp, her hands going to her mouth and Roth quickly stepped closer.

"What's this?"

"Caught her at the end of the hallway listening." The guard explained to the jailor,keeping a hand on her shoulder. Roth took a step forward and Maira tried to look away, but he caught her chin in his rough big hand.

"Curios little wench. I've seen you in the kitchens." Roth mused as he looked down into her face. She looked at him, eyes wide with fear.

"I-I'm s-sorry. I d-d-didn't kn-know. P-p-ple-please." She whispered in a stutter, afraid she was going to get more then a lecture at being down here. Roth seemed to think for a moment and then smiled, but in a cold tight smile.

"No need to be sorry miss. You work in the castle, like we do, kitchen I believe. I'm sure we could all use something to eat and drink. This looks to be an all night project, and if you really are curious, who am I to stop you? Bring us some vitals and no harm done. Alright?" Maira nodded quickly and felt the guards hand on her shoulder disappear. As she stood, she glanced at Diaval and froze in place. He was staring at her, his face showing horror and fear, but it seemed to be at the fact she was there, rather then his circumstance. With more light, Maira could see the scars on the side of his face, his neck, his chest. His hands were in tight fists and he seemed to be struggling to breath still. His eyes seemed to catch her again. Round, deep, black and white orbs that reminded her so much of a bird that's stuck in the rafters. Roth walked back to the man in black and punched him in the mid section causing a grunt from Diaval, a squeel from Maira and laughter from the rest of the guards as his head fell forward choking.

"Food! Run girl!" Roth laughed as he grabbed Diaval's hair and pulled his head back up, his own nose barely an inch from the raven man's face speaking in a taunting voice again. "He isn't going anywhere."

Maira ran all the way up to the kitchen and clutched the table shaking all over. She had never seen such cruelty to a person before. From what she heard, they were obviously trying to get information out of Diaval and he wasn't talking. Her breathing was labored for a few moments as she considered what to do. She was daring, but not brave. She couldn't get the poor man from the dungeon. Even if she did, he was a prisoner, probably a spy. Would the Moorfolk be any less cruel to their own if they were taken prisoner? Regardless, her parents had always taught her to be kind to her fellow man. If they were cruel, smile and bid them a good day. Do errands and assist anyone who needed it. The kingdom was suffering enough from a war three years ago that taxed the citizens out of all their comforts, and then to find the new King planning another war had been rough as well. In all her time at the castle, even under the old king, she had never seen the kind of beatings or torture she witnessed now. A large wooden tray was put on the table, and Maira began slicing and gathering bread, cheese and a bunch of apples and grapes. She grabbed a jug of the stable wine, which wasn't quite excellant quality, but they seemed to want something to put them in a good mood. Plus she knew if they killed the bottle, they would be more likely to pass out. As she checked everything, she twisted her hair up into a bun and looked around for something to put her hair up. A thin slim paring knife did the trick and she was carrying the tray towards the door, more intent on doing whatever she could to keep them from being so cruel to the poor man.

The guard was back up at the stairs when she got there. He saw the tray and his mouth looked like it was going to salivate right there. He took a thick slice of cheese and some apple pieces and mumbled a thank you, then opened the door for her. Maira walked quickly, but carefully, wincing at the sounds of more fists on skin. When she came back into the torture room, she hesitated at the doorway, her eyes locked on Diaval. Now he was limp, hanging by his wrists, unresponsive to a punch in the side from Roth. She stood staring as Roth took a ladle from another bucket and threw cold water on the man, clearing the blood, but there was no reaction. A guard who had been watching, took the tray from her with a leery thank you, and Roth placed something near the man's face.

"He's out. Stubborn damned demonic bird. Still isn't saying anything." Roth grumbled and ignoring Maira, he sat to help himself to some of what was on the tray.

"I don't know why he hadn't changed into a bird, if this is the same one we have seen. He's a bird, a human, a wolf. I heard a farmer in the village say everywhere Maleficent goes, he goes. We won't have much time to get information out of him before she comes for her pet." The other guard answered.

Roth laughed. "She can't get into this place if she wanted to. He'll talk soon, or the King will let us do more then beatings and whipping. You girl, is this all the wine you braught?" He turned his attention to Maira, who realized she hadn't stopped staring at the man hanging in the room.

Now she understood who he was. The servants had all been warned of a raven that took the form of a man. He was a shapeshifter and he worked directly under Maleficent, the leader of the Moorfolk. Since the birth and disappearance of the Princess Aurora, all servants had been told to be on the look out for a raven in the castle. Somehow the King found out, maybe he recognized it when his daughter was cursed, but Maira also realized, they didn't know his name. He had given her his name. Her eyes widened as if realizing something and she looked over at Roth, who had shrugged and started eating again.

"Sir?" She tried to speak quietly.

Roth looked over, a bit irritated that she was still there and grunted as he ate. "What?"

Mairea looked back at Diaval and then at Roth. "Might i address his wounds sir? If-if not, they could get invected, and he would die before you get what you want."

Roth and the guard blinked at her, then looked at the unconscious man. "He won't be alive long enough for it to matter. Once we get what we want, the King is going to execute him." Maira nodded but tried again.

"If he dies before you get what you want, then you won't get anything. Please, at least the wounds from tonight. I'll bring another bottle of wine?" SHe was almost pleading now, wanting desperately to tend to the injured prisoner. Roth seemed to think about it and then laughed as if she were a fool. "Waste your night miss. Bring us another bottle and we'll let you tend him. He won't be much more fun tonight anyway. Hurry back, we'll put him in his cell." Roth laughed and raised the bottle he was drinking to the other guard before taking a long drink. Maira nodded and hurried up the stairs, now in a whirl wind of decisions. She grabbed some bandaging and ointments. A bowl for water and some strips of cloth, just in case. She wrapped and knotted another bottle of wine into the basket and then a smaller bottle of clean water. She then hurried back downstais, wanting to make Diaval as comfortable as possible. Roth and the guard were at the hallway guard's post, still drinking and talking. Maira stopped long enough to hand him the bottle of wine from her basket, and he opened the door for her.

"I'm going to leave it unlocked, but you let me know when you are done and I'll lock it. If he comes to and hurts you, that's your own fault, I won't let him out." Roth warned her as he opened the cell door and poured a bit more oil into the brazier near the ceiling. Maira nodded following him in and held her breath noticing more light in the cell. Diaval was on his side, his wrists still chained together and were now hooked to the wall on the right from the door. He wasn't moving, eyes closed, some blood around his nose and mouth. Roth grunted and stepped out closing the door, but he didn't lock it. Now Maira didn't know what she was doing. So she set the basket down near him and carefully started checking the wounds, her eyes darting to his face after each one was pressed or poked for severity. He wasn't skinny, but he was lean. He must have been taking care of himself, because his arms and shoulders were almost rock hard. By the time she finished looking him over, she figured he had multiple bruises on his chest, sides and legs. His back had some whipping cuts and marks under his shirt, and his nose needed serious tending. She couldn't help but finger some of the scars, wondering how he got them. Was he a bird when he was hurt? A human? She hadn't checked to see if he was awake in a bit so she moved from the scars on his wrists to look at his face, and saw wide fear filled black orbs staring back at her.