A/N: His mistress was a true vision when she was asleep. He wished he could stop thinking about it.

Act 2: The differences between 'duty' and 'loyalty'

As morning slowly went by, the vast land of the Moors seemed to be in full swing. A few animals took advantage of the sunlight to stroll around, sometimes looking for food, sometimes fleeing from predators in the skies. Blooming flowers covered the trees and served as ornament to nests. Trees moved according to the winds' will, bees flew everywhere, spreading seeds, pollen and dust. Crystal water of rivers and lakes was sparkling brightly like the most precious stones. Magical creatures had fun: pixies laughed; water nymphs swam; wallerbogs cooled off in the mud and Tree-warriors patrolled dense jungles.

Not so far away from the cliffs and the woods, but by the edge of majestic fields, the ruins of an abandoned castle could be seen, bearing the humility brought by destruction as only two ancient towers fought against time. Warm spring breeze kept hitting against these towers, and dark silk curtains danced when touched, revealing a hidden nest – a secret keeper.

Of the few earthly creatures who dared approaching the castle in ruins, all of them knew of the living beings resting within the hidden nest, and of their importance to the kingdom. Therefore, such was their surprise at the sight of their protector flying into her nest so early in the morning.

It made them worry. Memories of wings and iron plagued her dreams. Their guardian was zealous and careful towards the kingdom. Her patrols usually lasted hours flying above the fields and rivers, through jungles and cliffs, always looking for problems to solve – but, in fact, hoping to find none. The Queen could make her smile; her kind heart had taught her how to love again, but to keep her mind sane…Nobody had the answers. Who could help the fae if not the Queen?

The creatures were puzzled. They were just couldn't plausible explanation for that uncommon situation.

The fae herself did not seem to notice their concern. She gave her kingdom a brief glance before disappearing from their view. The creatures understood that silence was necessary for their guardian to rest, so they went back on flowering.

When nothing seemed to be more important than said task, a contrast of dark feathers against the bluest of skies made them choke.

Understanding hit on their minds and the creatures felt relief. Oddly enough, a bird who represented the strongest sign of bad luck was a servant for their protector, the once evil and now beloved Maleficent.

Maybe not all hope was lost. Maybe the raven could help her. Every single citizen in the Moors knew of the importance of his presence had to the fae and the Queen, so perhaps he was the one destined to give Maleficent something no one ever dared to.

So, the creatures headed north, leaving the fields behind, hoping the peace to remain as the sunlight warmed their morning.

In the ruins though, darkness was more valuable. With the sun settled firm and strong in the centre of the sky, announcing another beautiful and warm day, its light was vivid to all living beings. It took little time to find its way into the nest in the ruins, modestly trespassing the curtains hit by wind to finally reach asleep and slightly flushed faces – a result of the heat. The nest itself was warm enough. It was made of thick branches of a tree that had invaded the castle by order of green magic, forming a circle. Branches and fur properly lined its base while dark purple blankets made it look like a very large human bed. It was cosy, more than many human houses or luxurious chambers in castles, and surely more than welcome to many.

However, the burning sensation was not appreciable after some time. The raven-man who also lived in the nest in the ruins found it quite disturbing. So, he took his coat from under his head and put it over his face, blocking the light. Then, as if to annoy him, the wind suddenly stopped hitting the curtains and darkness reigned once more.

The raven-man let out a sigh and pushed his coat aside. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision. There were two small pillows made of blue silk at his feet. He had discarded his shoes just before falling asleep, placing them by the nest's edge. A dark red blanket covered him and his companion.

She was sleeping so peacefully. She had her head rested on his chest and her face expressed welcome serenity. Her breathing was even, yet her wings would shuffle from time to time, a response to what he hoped to be dreams of clear skies and peaceful lands.

She has fallen asleep little time after they had lay together in the nest. The raven-man was not surprised. The fatigue in the grumpy behaviour she had been showing these days was evident to him. Every time she lay in the nest, she seemed to faint in tiredness and distress. The arriving of a new season and how things got a little crazy since the end of winter might be the reason. Listening to so many voices complaining about the storms could make anyone scream in anger – which was, in fact, exactly what she did. With so many problems to solve, her body, mind and soul evidently begged for some rest to maintain some sanity.

The fae denied it, of course. Diaval could not say he was surprised, because Maleficent, the most powerful creature in these lands, preferred to solve problems personally and without foreign interference. Still, he really thought she would appreciate his smartness, seeing that ravens are known to be the cleverest of birds.

He frowned.

He wondered what went through that mind of hers, what her dreams were about to make her so scared and fragile, a contradiction of what she truly was. He knew her – seventeen years sharing a nest have made him see different sides, but there were times she was incomprehensible to his raven mind, not to mention her lack of perception and the development of an annoying habit of not waiting to order him around that only troubled him further.

He just wished she would talk to him. Nothing about nightmares was ever said between them, but then again, she was Maleficent – she never talked about herself.

Sighing, the raven-man turned to lay on his side, propping himself on his elbow to have a better look of his mistress. His hand was modestly placed on the curve of her waist in a protective manner. Curiously, the fae moved closer and snuggled up against his chest, a hand holding onto the trick fabric of his shirt, as if trying to prevent him from...leaving, perhaps?

Diaval could see himself scolding at the mere insinuation. Any thoughts were foolish and unfounded. He knew he had paid his debt on the night of Aurora's birthday. Therefore, it would be acceptable for him to leave, find himself a mate and have hatchlings, as any other raven would if in his place.

But Diaval was never just a raven, was he? No other raven would be able to lay down in the same nest of a fae, in the first place. The simple thought of it made his heart pump sweet jealousy, arousing possessive thoughts.

Frowning, he unconsciously tightening his grip on her waist. The muscles of her back contracted slightly, and the warmth emanating from the blood running through her veins turned into something evident. But when his fingers began a soft caress, innocently revealing in the fabric of the light-green gown she was wearing, the fae relaxed and leaned against him, sighing contently.

His frown deepened.

He had no wish to leave her. Besides, ravens were loyal to the ones they considered family. She needed him and it was an honour to be there, whatever she asked him to do, whenever she wanted to. As a servant, as a friend, even a slave, he did not care. He was just glad to please her. Because she was Maleficent, his mistress, his beloved fae, the one he loved so much, the one he could not – and should not – dream of having, for she needed him to appease her dreams, and although she shared some of the kindness he offered her, she certainly did not see him as her...beloved.

He let out a sigh.

Looking down at the creature in his arms, he removed his hand from her back to let his fingers trace the base that sustained the pair of horns which more looked like a powerful crown. Maleficent did not seem to mind his light touch – she was too sleepy, too engrossed in her own land of dreams and, dare he hope, too comfortable in the warmth of his body. Her body was used to such cosiness and her lips parted to release a sigh, becoming, at least to him, as forbidden as water in a desert.

His throat was suddenly dry and he moved his hand away and lay back down on his back, eyes staring straight at the celling.

He cursed in a thought.

After all those years, the sight of mistress would make his heart beat faster for some endless moments, and then his lungs would miss the air around him as strong feelings cried once more. But there was nothing for him to claim. The situation was not helping anyhow. He was lying in a nest with his mistress snuggled against him.

His cheeks felt like burning in the sun, in the exception that there was no sun to burn.

Here there is bird, deeply in love, wings as weakness rather than a benefit, mainly because he had contact with her wings, and yes, that was a problem. When you want something that you cannot have, it is recommended to stay away from it, to avoid temptation and suffering.

But Diaval couldn't stay away.

He remembered of when his mistress came to him, actually asking him to preen her wings, on the morning after the battle at the castle.

He thought he was dreaming. A simple raven to preen such beautiful wings? His answer was obvious. It took almost an entire morning to do it because sixteen years locked in a glass cage had her feathers covered in dust. It was nothing patience and determination could not solve, though. Around noon of the same day, his mistress was already flying.

It was before such vision that Diaval knew he had fallen in love with her all over again. He had loved her for years to no end; her emerald eyes and charming pride. Her wings only made him aware of his condition: lost in a sea of feathers of the most perfect kind. They carried a very dark brown colour, then black. Some of them were grey, located on her lower back, and were considerably smaller, keeping falling onto the nest all the time. Of so soft, it reminded him of the feathers of a little hatchling.

He smiled weakly at that.

He wondered if he was to be a father one day. He wished his children not to come through bluish-green eggs though. He found babies adorable, mostly because of Aurora, who was quite lovely as a child. He would not mind on having little faes with horns and huge wings as his children. The image of them flying together would be, without any doubt, the greatest happiness he could ever wish for, even though that to come true, it would take a miracle.

He looked back at his mistress again.

Taking care of Maleficent was a duty he exposed with pride. His favourite pastime was to see her smile with ease. An oasis in the lonely desert that was his life. Now to resist all the rest, with his body tingling in desire and lust? It was not at all that simple, for his hands, as long as every inch of his skin begged for the contact waited through years of servitude and passion hidden within impulses of a hopeless heart.

How to fight such powerful feelings? Just to look at his mistress could drive him mad. Grace and elegance were predominant in her stubborn pride. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

But Diaval saw no perspective, no future for them. There were times when images played with his mind, so used to prank him at night, reproducing sensations so strangely common after years of servitude, as the desire to lie down next to her, fuse his body within hers and mark his scent on her skin with saliva and sweat.

His heart skipped a beat and his gaze found the ceiling faster than before.

Mating rituals are known by ravens. Although courting began at a very early age, Diaval never felt like doing it without feeling it was the right time to. There was never a she-raven whose wings were beautiful enough to him. While his brothers made very complicated aerial acrobatics, provoked a few wolves, and flew to find a carcass or shiny things, Diaval watched a few she-ravens from a safe distance. For the most part, they were full of mannerisms, like any other bird, and very careful with their wings.

None of them caught his eye.

Two springs later and life as an adult male was frustrating and it did hurt his heart to be alone. He could not fly anywhere because there was always a paired couple of which the territory belonged to. One night, he sighted a male raven flying to a nest. The sound of little hatchlings reached his sensitive ears and to see so much happiness around him when he did not even have a mate was very disturbing to the young raven.

He met his mistress shortly after the end of his third year without finding a mate. He had flown north, persistently, almost stubbornly, still looking for a mate in midsummer. He spent sleepless nights flying through the forest, without food, singing...but his songs were never answered.

Later in the fall, he was back to the Moors in order to find some time to figure out what was so wrong with him and perhaps to give himself another chance, this time in his birthplace.

It was when hunger hit him badly. He should have known then that the farmer had a trap waiting for him, but he is grateful for it today. He would not have met his mistress otherwise.

And as the raven he was, Diaval swore to shown his mistress infinite devotion. His duty was to please her, to keep her safe from harm. As strong and powerful his mistress might be, Diaval knew she had a fragile soul and his conscience immediately told him to protect her.

At first, it has been gratitude for saving his life. Humans have always been problematic and all he could do was caw. Of so lost he was in how many caws his lungs could express, he just noticed that he was no longer in danger when his wings were suddenly replaced by the same human hands that had almost caused his death. The sight of a dark figure caused him sudden admiration, and he knew then, by the gaze she offered him, that his life would be forever linked to hers.

But the tale tells us—"Take from a bird its freedom and it will live for a few more springs; Take from a bird its wings and it would rather have lost its life!"

To understand her rage was too easy. He knew nothing about love, but betrayal was so common among animal life, and when it comes to wings, a bird is an expert.

To have your wings severed seemed cruel, the betrayal hidden through false love and hope caused by the weakness brought immense sadness and discontent. Humanity reputation has never been the best among other living beings and their cowardice came to be disgusting.

Diaval had wanted to kill the human-king. Even planned to sneak into his chambers at night and smother him with a pillow. Stab the stone he had instead of a heart. Perhaps pouring some poison in his drink while he was distracted by the queen's affections.

The birth of the child made him gave up on his plans. The little girl was so beautiful, so innocent that no warm should be imposed in her way. His mistress, huge was the jealousy in her chest, roared hate, but felt quite the opposite, as a victim of her own curse, bestowing on the child a gift that would make her beloved by all who meet her.

The fae had not realized what she had done. This fact became clear when true love's kiss was finally found and Maleficent laughed at her own foolishness.

Seeing the two of them together, however, with the young queen expounding on her life in the palace and hearing his mistress laughing at the girl's tales, made Diaval admit that it was no longer a matter of servitude. That it never had been.

And it made the bump on his throat even more painful.

Of all the species he had ever turned into, no one seemed more than ready for a family than the human.

His animal blood already burned like fire.

The wolf saw his mistress as the alpha female of their pack.

The dragon wished to wrap her with its huge wings, an intent to protect her from burning iron.

The horse would love to take her for a ride through the fields.

More recently, the raven had wanted to hover through the forest to look for berries to feed her.

The human was intense. Parts of his body swelled at the thought of his mistress and sometimes he had to throw himself in a river to relieve the unbearable pain brought by such frustration.

Diaval never felt as attracted to anything before as he was attracted to his mistress. He never felt attracted to anything, by the way. His time as a human being was enough to modify his bird's mind and now he knew lust, waiting nothing more than to throw his mistress in the nest and caress her perfect cheekbones, nip at her funny pointy ears, comb the locks of her smooth hair, kiss her perfect lips. The sight of her lying in a nest he had built especially for her—thinking of her—filled his heart with wild instincts.

And as time passed, the world seemed to be conspiring against him—to make him feel worse than scum.

Last summer, after paying a visit to his hatchling, namely the Queen, Diaval flew over the human market to see if he could find something shiny to present his mistress with. Upon entering an empty barn, he came across something he never thought he would see: a human couple mating. Well, mating was not how they called it, but for a bird the name of it did not matter at all. He did not stay to see how it ended, but so big was his surprise that it paralysed him by the longest twenty seconds of his life before he opened his wings and flew away. To make things really bad, when he returned to the nest, to his mistress, his mind began to torture him in his dreams.

Diaval felt ashamed of such improper thoughts toward the fae who had given him so much. He tried to stop them many times, but only her peaceful expression while asleep made his heart beat faster.

He wished to be brave and to tell her how he felt. Yet hurting her was the last thought on his mind, so he focused on what he had, and was grateful for it. He cleaned up his mind and made his soul to forget about his cravings.

At this very moment, for example, he focused on food. His mistress had skipped her morning meal and it was his duty to provide her anything – as a servant shall do to his mistress...and any self-respectful male would do to his mate.

So, Diaval chose to leave. He made the first move, in a slow but determined way, by taking his mistress's hand in his and placing it on his coat-…well, now a pillow. He then gave her a good look, to see any signs of movement. While her face barely showed any chances of waking up, her body did, and as soon as she seemed to notice the lack of warmth, one of her wings stretched out and gradually involved his body.

If only to torture any further, the fae now had her face buried on the crock of his neck, and when her calm breathing contacted his bare skin, her scent of roses penetrated his nostrils, the sweet taste of her mouth reproduced itself in his tongue, exceeding the sweetness of the honey.

Diaval held back a groan, wishing to face an army again. At least he would know how to behave. Wouldn't he? He did not know. How could a raven face an army not even knowing how to escape temptation itself? It was like being caught under a net again, no ropes to trap him but perfect feathers breaking his heart. His mind still held some sense, screaming at him not to do what his heart desired.

He had to stop…And to prevent any embarrassments.

Waking her up crossed his mind instantly. However, the raven-man couldn't help but think that his mistress deserved to sleep a little longer, even knowing that she would be furious at him for letting her sleep for so long.

"Maleficent..."

Then, when he seemed to have forgotten of his duties, the fae herself, as if sensing the desperation of his whisper, woke up from her hopefully happy dreams, placing her tired eyes on his tense figure and whispered:

"Diaval...?"

His heart was filled with inexplicable joy, and his eyes instantly falling upon his mistress' sleepy eyes as his mind lost itself in the voices of his head.

The results were enthusiastic greetings.

"Good morning, mistress."

Maleficent's wings twitched slightly at the sound of his voice. She smiled, showing a bit of satisfaction, and not so surprisingly turned her back to him, reached out for his coat and buried her face on it, claws grabbing at the tricky fabric. Her wings now faced him, involving their owner's body.

Diaval could only stare. Was she sleeping again?

"What is it, birdie?"

The raven-man was caught off guard at the nickname. He frowned.

"The sun is high in the sky, mistress." He said. "I am to fly and find food. Is there anything of your preference I should be aware of on this morning?"

To his annoyance, his mistress actually chuckled, looking over her shoulder, green eyes sporting amusement by his question, "The birdie is out for hunting, then?"

It was Diaval's turn to chuckle before such question.

"Serving, mistress."

The fae's now bright smile held the once common mischievously for a few more seconds as Maleficent let her eyes search on his face for something she didn't know. Finding a plane frown, her grin failed herself, until there was nothing left but a forced smile, and then, she turned to face the wall before her eyes closed, and a soft tired sigh left her lips. In the end, the Guardian of the Moors sat up in the nest, fingers finding her hair.

Diaval watched her in plane confusion. He had to look around to assure that he was not missing something, that he had not said the wrong thing. His mind had no ideas. Her back was still to him and her wings were protectively wrapped around her shoulders, as if in healing her wounds.

"Mistress—"

She didn't let him finish, "We already had this conversation, Diaval. You know as much that I am not incapable of feeding myself."

Now he was offended.

"You think I am not capable for the task?"

Maleficent raised an eyebrow, "I did not say that."

"So will you tell me of what do you wish to eat?"

Her shoulders fell slightly in defeat and her eyes were quickly fixed in a random spot of the nest. His eyes followed her gaze. The spot was empty.

"How long..." Her voice sounded different. Diaval decided not to comment on the reasons for it, yet. "...For how long have we slept?"

On the other hand, his voice now exuded concern, "A few hours long, I think."

Maleficent waited a moment, "I see..." She whispered in a breath loud enough to reach his ears, making him unable to hold his tongue any longer.

"Is there something wrong, mistress?"

Silence was the answer he needed.

No longer shy, his hand rested on her shoulder—he was worried. The contact of the cold skin of his long fingers against the fae's warm skin made look at him, and her wings retracted instinctively. The slight darkness made her eyes useless, increasing her instincts in way that made her feel her servant's closeness and the smell of berries from his breath. The sound of a heart beating so amicably close, showing feelings she was not used to, made a blush to cover her cheeks.

"Mistress—"

"No. There is not." There was a beating sound against her ears. She swallowed hard, an attempt to calm herself down. It did not work as she expected, so she looked away from that pair of dark prying eyes.

A frown formed on Diaval's face, his heart beating in anticipation at seeing the distress written over his mistress' beautiful face. "Have you not slept well?" He then asked, his voice showing infinite patience and unconditional love, persistent and prominent feelings he had developed over the years.

Maleficent, on the other hand, was blatantly ignorant to those feelings.

"I say I'm fine, Diaval. There is no need for worrying yourself." Maleficent then said, not even bothering herself to spare her servant a mere glance. All this trouble caused her shoulders to give into the weight of the years, and she found consolation on distracting herself by letting her fingers play with the branches of the nest, trying to focus on aligning some of them.

Diaval, on the other hand, was never so annoyed at her stubbornness.

"You should not ask for the impossible, mistress. You know I worry...and you don't seem fine to me."

"It is not up to you to presume how I feel." And although her voice sounded harsh, her words lacked coldness.

In turn, Diaval reminded her of an important fact, "I have known you for some time, mistress. Your well-fare has great importance to me. Have I not made that clear yesterday? Of on the many years before yesterday?"

Maleficent's eyes softened considerably in affection and appreciation, and she jested, "You worry far too much."

Finally, Diaval saw a smile return to her lips, "You are far too much stubborn, mistress."

By hearing this, Maleficent dared to look into his eyes, only to feel known feelings cross through her heart as dark onyxes were caught inspecting bright emeralds shamelessly.

Blood washed over her usually stead heart, making it beat faster, and she took a deep breath to calm down herself. She moved her eyes away and tried to think of something that wasn't the unquestioned excitement inside her chest. It was quite a difficult task, especially when the reason of her dreams and more confused thoughts was right there in the nest, as she wished he would always be.

"You left me sleeping for longer than usual." Her scarred voice shook her mind off few insecurities. "Why have you?"

"You were tired." He answered as if it was obvious, and to him, it was. The fae opened her mouth to protest but the raven-man didn't let her: he took her hand in his, by consequence making her finally take notice on how close he was now. It made her loss of words, for it didn't cease to amaze her how the warmth of his eyes could soothe her fears. Her heart was filled with joy and she couldn't prevent another smile to appear; a smile the raven-man returned. "You sound tired, mistress. Don't deny it...Again. Why don not lie down and rest for a while longer? Let me worry about the rest. I promise that no one shall disturb you today."

And though the idea seemed so appealing, Maleficent shook her head. "Diaval—"

"Oh, why am I even asking? We had this conversation before." He grinned as he repeated her words. "No, no, no, no. I do it. Lay down and sleep. You need rest."

The fae frowned, "As you do."

"It will be no problem, neither the first time. You must sleep, mistress. You have not last night, and the Moors needs its guardian to be as healthy as possible!"

"Should not be her servant as well?" She dared to ask.

"I have rested well enough. Birds do not require as much sleep as other creatures." He added with a smile. "No need to worry."

Maleficent eyed him wryly. He seemed sure of what he wanted, so concerned for her health, that it ended up with her giving him some credit, concealing in letting him do as he pleased, which was totally different from what a mistress shall do to her servant. But upon gazing back at the nest, the pang of loneliness turned to attack her heart, that of so fearful of nightmares, made her eyes travel back to Diaval's handsome features for what seemed to be hours before they bored into his own eyes, and her lips formed words able to take the air from his lungs—and that, to any rational mind, implied explicit lust:

"Would you not rather stay?"

Diaval immediately felt a heavy and aggressive air grow around him. But he eyes never left hers.

"Mistress—"

"Are you hungry?" She watched him closely. She didn't seem to really understand what she had implied in her previous question...which almost sounded like a sensual plea.

Either way, Diaval knew he would have problems if she didn't stop gazing at him that way—the innocent and beautiful way he found so tempting.

"I—well, yes. A little." He managed to say. "But this is about you."

"I have magic, Diaval."

The glare he immediately offered her was so adorable that it almost had her laughing. She knew her words would make him mad, and it would be even more entertaining if only she knew why he got mad at her, to begin with.

"You promised, mistress."

In fact, she hadn't exactly. It was something he self-proclaimed once, a long time ago, when finishing building her—their—nest in the ruins. He was the servant and she was his mistress. He would provide her with all she needed, although she didn't speak of such needs most of times. The deal was actually letting him do the job without any use of magic. He apparently liked to be ordered around—and by her, of all people.

It was, from her point of view, a stupid way of living. Any creature, specially a bird, would see the skies and freedom as the most precious of things, after its wings, of course. Yet, it was a way of having him around all the time. At that, Maleficent never complained of his services, but her conscience kept telling her that freedom was to come sooner or later.

Perhaps it will be easier than what she may think...If only he stopped looking at her with such puppy eyes. Gods, how could he, by the way? The innocence of his eyes shouted at anyone's face that he wasn't doing it on purpose, that he didn't knew of the effects he had on her, effects she knew she could barely resist.

But at least, Maleficent tried to keep herself from being beyond bold – she couldn't touch him. They were too close, of course, sitting in a warm and cosy nest. It was the perfect opportunity for lust to take over. But she wouldn't allow it. Diaval was innocent. He was like a child. She would never abuse of his kindness.

Even if she wanted to give in so much.

"You may go then."

Maleficent waved her wrist so magic would leave her hands and turn her nightgown into a dark blue robe. Once the spell was performed, she slid her hands over the fabric, smoothing its wrinkles.

Diaval let his eyes travelled thought his mistress' gown as she pretended not to know he was there. He loved blue.

"Shouldn't you be flying around collecting berries?"

He recognized the ultimate sign of tiredness when his mistress directed her gaze to the window. She used to do that when cornered or uncomfortable. He had never wanted to disturb or pressure her to talk to him before but now he realized how foolish he had been.

"Are you sure all is well, mistress?"

Oh, she wasn't.

"I said I am. Now stop fussing around it and go, as you so wished. Otherwise, I can conjure a tree—"

That made it. An inexplicable force took over his mind and heart, making Diaval move in thunderous speed and use all his agility to hold her wrist, making her stop talking. Her eyes, in turn, widened slightly, and ploughed at him, clearly confused and a little perplexed.

Diaval swallowed, realizing what he had done. He felt the air from his lungs disappear in disruptive and silent seconds, but he used his braveness to look at her in the eye.

It really took Maleficent out off guard.

"Diaval—"

"Forgive me for my selfless." He whispered faintly, letting go her wrist quickly. His gaze fell down. His sudden shyness was evident. "I know you are capable of anything. I am the very proof of it. I cannot forget my place. But not to do my work is a bother, and yet, if you wish me to stay, I will stay. As long as you need me."

Why? She almost asked. She was so confused, and to express so, she made sure to take his chin and make him look into her eyes. "You are indeed foolish."

Diaval's eyes did not change. There was something hidden, something she could not quite decipher.

"Vain birdie." She concluded with a smirk.

"Of that I am certain." He made use sarcasm this time. "What do you wish for?"

True love's kiss.

"Blueberries." Her choice was rather random, to be honest. "And apples."

"Your wish is my command. I will be back soon." He then smiled at her, and unknown to him was the strong beat of her heart. Unknown to her was also the happiness she could place on him.

They were foolish, they were blind, loving one another without the knowledge of doing so. And once comfortable silence was established between them, as much as mutual understanding, the curtains were opened. The raven-man had to protect his eyes from the bright light, but soon it became too soothing to his soul that it made him sigh.

"I will be by the lake." Said the fae, and her servant nodded, later turning into a raven to throw himself in the skies and leave the nest, his mistress and his cravings behind.

Maleficent could just observe him fading away and not even the beastie's tears when she found out about the curse could rival the deception on the fae's face. For her dreams were no more foolish than the raven she now watched flying, and of whom soon would be free from the debt of servitude and friendship. And perhaps, such act would turn out to be the relief she needed, the freedom from the worries of passion...and the existence of another true unrequited love.

A/N: To think I haven't even started with the real angst...