Love and Acceptance

by schrijver

Spring arrives, and so does mating season to all living creatures. Nightmares, however, are what this moment of the year brings to Maleficent, who can only watch as everyone is happy to find a match while there is none for her. But what else to do? Romance was never a possibility to hybrids like herself. Besides, Diaval would never look at her 'like that'...would he?

5. Sweet Sorrow

A/N: "They say 'spring' it's nature's way to say 'let's party'. The irony is...unsettling."

Okay, first off, thank you all guys for accompanying this little journey so far. I totally loved to write this story and it warms my heart that all you people share the same love. Second, I know this story may have sound really sad for many of you, but it helped me going through lots of trouble, so yeah, this is it. Thank you again!

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Act 5: Sweet Sorrow

Maleficent hated many things.

So far, nothing new under the sun.

She hated nightmares—terrible memories without a moment of rest. She hated her fears—the helpless feeling of never knowing whatever she did was enough to prove herself. She hated the loneliness that comes along being one of a kind. She hated the shame of her own darkened soul. She hated loud noises—pointy sensitive ears and all. She hated summer days in which the heat wouldn't allow her to breathe. She hated winter nights in which the cold wouldn't allow her to sleep. She hated when things got stuck on her wings or horns. She hated the scars on her back, heart and soul. She hated being away from her little beastie. She hated not being able to bear children of her blood—little faes of dark wings and emerald eyes she would've loved so much. She hated the hope of her heart at the mere sight of the man she loved. She hated that she wasn't enough for him—and never would be to herself or her people.

And from so many dislikes, nothing came as far to a breaking point that her hatred for any kind of parties—necessarily because they brought her back to flashes of everything she hated. She hated parties just as the creatures of the night hated the light. She hated parties because everything was happy...too much everything.

You can very obviously conclude there was a reason which gave rise to such hate.

But who would have time to listen about a fourteen-year-old fae who dared to participate in one of her people's spring festivals, only to be shunned away because hybrids cannot have children? She even had a necklace magically crafted, hoping she would find someone—an elf, perhaps an orc—to accept her gift, the way of courtship in the Moors. She ended up rejected, watching from afar while the festivals so joyful and peaceful went on without her.

Balthazar approached, grunting comfort and understanding. He spoke of beauty and power, which she both wielded with pride—or was supposed to. He gave her a crown to adorn her horns as Guardian of the Moors.

She flew the skies with her chin high, sad eyes and a broken heart.

On the following spring, she met Stefan, and one year later, he gave her a kiss and then, disappeared. She was so happy for the kiss, yet didn't dare hoping for anything more. When her friend returned, she did—she was brave enough to trust.

And she was betrayed.

Any festivities became a clear and painful memory, of which she never dared to revive. Why would it matter, if she knew she could not stand a chance? Maleficent hated parties because they happen on spring, and she hated spring because it reminded her of parties which she would never receive an invitation.

Still, for her little beastie she would also do anything, so put up with the festivities for the Queen's birthday, well, Maleficent would make an effort.

Her day would've began early had she got any sleep, and as she didn't even try, we can say her night was never over, prolonging its hours till the sun was on the sky again.

She stayed in one of the castle's most luxurious rooms, located in the same tower of the Queen's quarters—at Aurora's insistence. She sat by the window to watch the sky and stars and comets and the moon. She also read a few books because of course Aurora insisted on teaching her and Diaval to read once it came to her understanding the news that fairies did not have habits of reading or writing.

Maleficent has always prided herself on being a quick learner—perhaps too much—and this has always caused her problems with other creatures. Because envy was not a feeling restricted to humans, and a young Maleficent could only stood there, not understanding why so few creatures addressed her by name—wondering if it was out of fear or anything else. When she realized they were just jealous, she became angry, for when had she give them any reason for such primal feeling?

Their memory was distant now, and Maleficent chose not to waste her time on it. Lonely in a room that was twice as large as her old nest in the ruins, she read two books: the first about a thousand and one stories of a bride to her husband, and then the tale of a young woman who was mistreated by her sisters and stepmother. The tale of Cinderella was no stranger to her—though it was almost annoying. Because the stepmother tried at all costs to make her feel useless and inadequate and Maleficent envied the young maid for her faith.

And she laughed, seeing from where Aurora had taken this 'fairy godmother' thing. She wondered, too, how Aurora could be so innocent to the point of trusting that her, only a shadow on her life so far, would have no intentions but to care for her rather than just wanting to assure herself that her revenge would be alive on her birthday.

Which, incidentally, was today.

Two servants knocked on the door of her chambers, and they walked in timidly and fearfully, and Maleficent wanted, with all her heart, to say something so that they would know that she would do them no harm.

But what good would it do? Not even her people listened to her before. Those young women certainly wouldn't too.

"Lady Maleficent." The red head began, and the fae nodded, acknowledging her presence and hoping she would continue.

The blonde swallowed, visibly nervous, "We are here...at the Queen's orders."

Said Queen chose this moment to come in out of nowhere, jumping like a child, accompanied by three ladies in waiting. But it was her birthday—she had every reason to rejoice.

"Mother, good morning!"

The servants gasped at the Queen's words—after all, 'fairy godmother' could be predictable, but 'mother' might even be offensive, since Maleficent was the one to indirectly cause Leila's depression and later death, and few people had forgotten that.

The fae confined herself to a simple smile, rising from her chair by the window to greet the Queen with a hug, "Good morning, beastie."

Aurora was grateful for the affection, "We have so much to do today, Mother. My servants will help you if you need them. You..." She hesitated then, her expression becoming serious. "...how did you sleep?"

Maleficent sighed in an immediate reflection, and tried to find enough words that would answer the question without the Queen ending up worried or distressed. But the weariness in her eyes conveyed her sadness, and Aurora embraced her again.

"Things will find their place, Mother," She promised. "Believe it."

Maleficent hugged her closer, closing her eyes to ignore the angry glances the servants gave them. Of all the hatred she received in the world, nothing would prevent her from loving her little beastie openly.

"Are you hungry?" Aurora pulled away suddenly, causing Maleficent to smile. "We can share a meal and then start with the preparations! My aunts are making me a dress!"

Maleficent raised an eyebrow, "Are they now?" She was careful not to let any scorn show. Although they were not very much responsible, the three pixies loved Aurora (in a dubious way, a voice spoke in her head), and Maleficent would not offend them knowing that Aurora considered them as family (which was fair, having they raised the girl—with your help, spoke again the voice in her head).

The young Queen didn't seem to notice the distaste on the fae's voice, "Mother, you must see the many dresses they made me. They can make you one as well!"

Maleficent was doubtful and sarcastic, "Will they be so kind?"

Aurora frowned in disapproval, "Mother, you and my aunts need to stop this competition."

"There is no competition."

Aurora rolled her eyes in a good mannered way, dropping the subject, "Come now." She pulled her arm but stopped when Maleficent stayed in place. "Or would you rather have our meal served here?" The fae nodded slightly and Aurora understood, the sweet girl she was. "Very well." She turned to her servants. "Would you be kind to serve our meal here?"

The ladies who accompanied Aurora smiled at her, saying, "At once, Your Majesty," and rushed out the door.

"Would you leave us alone?" Aurora then asked (instead of ordering) the other two ladies there. They nodded, and closed the bedroom door as they left.

Alone the two of them, Aurora pulled Maleficent to once again sit by the window. Holding her hand, she said, "You had me worried, Mother. The guards said the light on your room was up for the night."

Maleficent hated that she had the little beastie bothered by her problems, "I was reading." She replied, trying to sound calm.

Aurora tilted her head to the side, curious, and for a moment Maleficent saw Diaval reflected on the girl's ways, and her heart ached.

"Well, reading is good." The Queen was smiling. "Which books did you read? Which stories they told?"

"There was but one fairy, and she was a godmother to a young girl who feared her stepmother."

Aurora pretended ignorance, "A godmother to a young girl? What an odd concept."

Maleficent smirked softly, "Your aunts would tell you about this girl?"

"They did. And so whenever I felt your presence, I knew you were my fairy godmother."

"Do I need to turn a pumpkin into a chariot?"

Aurora giggled, "There is no need for a chariot, Mother. My prince is coming for me tonight. I cannot wait to see him again. There are...many things to be said. It is no secret I love him, so I expect us to be wed soon."

Maleficent contemplated the young Queen for a moment, "Do you need me to remind him what may happen to him had him hurt you in any way?"

Aurora laughed openly this time, "I trust Philip, Mother. And he wants you to do it as well."

Maleficent pressed her lips, resigned, not sure if she should condescend to the Queen's will, "I will try."

"It is all I ask of you." Aurora's smile turned kinder, "Tell me: what will you be dressing tonight? Perhaps a green one, to match your eyes. My aunts can help!"

Maleficent was so sure it was not a good idea to involve the Three Fairies, mainly because they wouldn't agree on helping her, but she didn't have the heart to tell Aurora of that. Also, she knew she wouldn't like anything they did, even if they were in good terms. The Three Fairies could diverge on the colours of the sky, but they preferred outrageously whimsical colours, while Maleficent herself would rather dress dark tones, a reflection of her soul.

"Their...assistance is much appreciated, beastie. However, I prefer to make one myself. And green will do, thank you."

Aurora's eyes shinned in excitement, "Then it is settled! A green dress! Oh, you will look so beautiful, Mother. Not that you need a dress for so, you already are." She added the last part quickly, and then sighed, dreamily. "Does your magic work any different from my aunts? Father always said it is more efficient."

The mention of Diaval was a spontaneous thing, because of course he and Aurora kept in touch, and she had felt his—her—magic nearby all night, and it was something that soon took any little happiness out of the fae's face.

Aurora became saddened to the same point—she knew the fae too well, "Mother, I didn't mean—"

"I may show you, if you want." She answered with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

The Queen shook her head, dismissing the matter, "Mother, talk to me." But Maleficent's gaze lost in the bedroom window and the kingdom before her, and so Aurora had to squeezed her hands to get her attention, "Mother..."

Maleficent met her daughter's eyes through the reflection of the window.

"I made you a promise, Aurora."

"But if you're not ready, then don't do it." Aurora felt she owed the fae an alternative. It did not seem fair to her to force Maleficent to do anything against her will. Her life was already full of pain to have one more added to her list.

Maleficent turned to the young Queen, "As you said, it is something I owe him."

"And you miss him as well."

Maleficent let out a short laugh, so dry of so much melancholy. She lowered her eyes to their joined hands, and forced another smile, "Don't allow my melancholy to be a bother to you. Today is a happy day. It is your day. Let us enjoy it."

"Your feelings could never be a nuisance to me, Mother." Aurora told her. "I want you to smile. And I want you to know that I will do everything and anything to make it happen."

Maleficent smiled, sincere this time, "Thank you, beastie."

Aurora grinned, "Now...let us ready yourself for tonight!"

Maleficent could not say that she was excited for such a task, but Aurora's smile always brings her hope.

For her, she would try.

---

And...it didn't last long, of course.

As to Aurora, well, she's the one trying now, quietly watching the black figure of a raven man standing alone while eyeing many couples waltz with the music.

The whole kingdom had been invited to celebrate her birthday, among nobles and commoners, and the food was plentiful and excellent in quality. Servants walked from side to side, serving wine, mead and water (for the younger ones), while others laughed and danced in the middle of the main hall. Which, by the way, was entirely decorated by infinite flowers and ribbons, colours of all kinds.

At the beginning of the night, Aurora wouldn't stop smiling, and why would she? She would dance with anyone who asked her. She loved to dance, she loved to feel free, and the prince of her heart was watching her with a smile, happy to see the great love of his life on such a special day. She has never felt so beautiful. Her dress was embroidered in silver and gold, silk coloured in a dark blue, flashes of pink adorning here and then—a result of Maleficent losing her temper at Knotgrass and Flittle fighting over 'pink' and 'blue'.

As to the fae...well, she was breathtaking. Her beauty was never to be questioned, anyone would be awed and dazzled at the mere sight of her, but tonight, there was no word to describe her red lips, green eyes sparking against the light of candles, skin as white as snow, powerful cheekbones, sharp jaw, umber straight hair cascading like a waterfall on her back.

The dress conjured with her magic yielded as much power as her gaze, demanding a respect few would dare to question. It was coloured in the green that recalled the forgotten and forbidden forest. A silk fabric coated her arms to only just below her shoulders, allowing her neck and shoulders and back to be uncovered, and her white, untouched skin was in display in a graceful and elegant manner.

The dress' waist was narrow, a comfortable fit, and the silk fabric danced gracefully in the curves of her body. A dark ribbon was wrapped around her waist, tied in the front. The skirt covered her feet, but it is slightly longer in the back, leaving a trail along her powerful wings. On her blossom rested a stone necklace, and on her arms, bracelets that were attached to the rings in her hands by slim, golden chains.

She held her chin high, beautiful and proud...

And she had just slipped out of the ballroom into a lonely balcony. She was distressed, and she had every right to be, as she was now addressed as the Queen's Mother, and Aurora was keen to make her wish known. The whole kingdom owned Maleficent ultimate respect and the fae was clearly affected, choosing to leave rather than to face the judgemental eyes of the court.

It was when Aurora's night changed and she became very angry. All eyes had fell upon Maleficent just as her arrival was announced. And Aurora could hear the whispers, either astounded by the exorbitant beauty of the fae, or wicked, reminiscent of her deeds against the kingdom.

The young Queen bit down her lip, eyes falling back again on the figure of the raven man. Thoughts and memories crossed her mind all the time, but she didn't know which one deserved her attention. In short, it was all about the fact that he looked utterly lost.

And lonely.

Aurora had always found him quite fascinating and charming. He was the one to sing her lullabies and rock her crib so she could sleep, the one to play with her after lunch and to bring her shiny things on her birthday. Tonight, he had gifted her with a ring of which she made sure to wear always from now on.

Mind you, she couldn't help her sadness at his longing eyes.

His actions toward his mistress were the main topic of conversation among her aunts and many other creatures since the end of the curse was felt over the Moors. The magic released was intense, with bright waves travelling the lands in a frightening speed. Many magical creatures complained to feel dizzy, the magic within them seeming weaker at each passing moment. Their magic could do nothing against the magic of the daughter of light and darkness, so since they could not do anything to fight the fae, they talked about her, knowing that their words would affect her one time or another.

Aurora could not understand such obsession—the reason for the fight between her aunts this morning, and what made her surreptitiously leave their presence, as never before, and walk straight to her Mother's bedroom. While Knotgrass insisted that Maleficent should release the raven from his servitude, Flittle insisted on the good will to have him around because he was the only one besides Aurora that could keep any kind of evil feelings away from the fae's thoughts. Thistlewit, you may conclude, did not support any of her sisters because she thought of their reasons as very selfish ones.

"A magical creature is driven by its feelings." She had told Aurora then. "Good feelings lead to pure magic. Evil feelings lead the whole world to tremble in fear."

Aurora loved her aunts, she did, but they were rather too harsh to her quite mind. Knotgrass, for example, could be very bossy when she wanted to. Pride poisoned her soul. She could be kind, but while Flittle was pleased with simple things, Knotgrass had always craved for more, and was obviously annoyed at Maleficent for having someone so dedicated to her. She probably had some kind of grudge against the fae, who had been quite difficult as a child. Flittle shared some complacency, wishing only for a little of peace. Thistlewit was kinder, but quieter, and the one Aurora could actually share the same thoughts when it comes to Maleficent and Diaval.

The pixie in green robes had told Aurora that Maleficent had been partially ignored by others when she was but a child. She's a fae—a Fairy and a Redcap. All creatures were aware that one day she would reign over them all. So they tolerated her pranks, for their respect at her mother's legacy, their fear of her powers, and, somehow, the fact they knew she didn't hold a single memory of the family she never had.

Aurora knew that Maleficent had explored most of her dark side in her moments of solitude. The blame falls over all the Moors-folk, including the three pixie sisters themselves, yes, for not going against other people's thoughts and showing the fae with horns a little compassion, not only pity.

When Stefan stole two gems, however, everyone was aware of the fae's actions, since they did not wish to have their princess to hold romantic relationships with someone that was not one of them. According to Flittle: "Humans were no good and any inhabitant in the Moors feared that if Maleficent mated a human, it would make room in her heart for the monster her father had been."

Aurora also had been told about the passion Hermia held, and how she had died: giving birth to her child.

"The passion in everything she does is dangerous." Knotgrass once whispered, shortly after the news of Maleficent's actions toward Diaval were known to all.

To Aurora, such conclusions were too hasty and just...wrong. Maleficent had found on that peasant boy the hope for true happiness. His betrayal awoke the deep anger from her heart, and her magic was dominated by darkness. Her desire to find a mate faded, and the need for love was so clearly described in her eyes that it turned out to be a misfortune for everyone.

Thus, Aurora had to be away from her aunts after hearing them list the injustices that Maleficent apparently had caused by still maintaining the raven man under her control. She was sure that Diaval had great love for Maleficent, because despite having the power to change shapes, despite having done more than enough to earn his freedom, he didn't leave her. He seemed to expect in delicious silence for her approval, always intending on accomplish her most secret wishes.

The Queen then realized, unlike her aunts, the true importance that the silly raven had on the fae's life. How could it be about control over feelings and magic? Not when it actually was about love—and kindness, devotion and protection, something so very needed in the Moors, and definitely something humanity needed to understand once and for all.

And so, Aurora worried. She knew of their broken promise—that Diaval owned Maleficent no more than she owned him—and so letting go of him was more than reasonable.

It was not like any of them were aware of the consequences, however. For Aurora wasn't blind, neither was anyone in the Moors, to deny the powerful bond the horned fae and her servant had built. It was love on its purest form, perhaps like those of ancient tales, rare and so beautiful that it would result on a most likely wonderful offspring if only Maleficent had been gifted with that possibility.

She wasn't, and even so, the raven man loved her.

Aurora was unaware if he knew of his mistress'...condition, for lack of better definition. Would his feelings change, if he knew choosing her as his mate would never result on the little hatchlings he wanted so much?

It was painful to think it might be a possibility, as an offspring was one of the most important and essential parts of a raven's life, and Diaval wouldn't be committing a sin if he decided for such path. Which could totally justify Maleficent's fear. She didn't want to be rejected again by something that wasn't her fault—something she couldn't change. Hoping was too risky. It wasn't worth the effort. And so, she walked away, choosing the kind of loneliness that had been imposed on her.

Aurora was witness to all and was in a prolonged battle with herself—act or not? Not afar, the raven man stood there, heartbroken as many couples danced and laughed together and he was just there...alone. No, it wasn't what Aurora had planned. She thought she had convinced Maleficent to talk to Diaval, yet the fae wouldn't even look at him in the eye.

The Queen knew she had to fix the mess she made.

But how?

Diaval kept watching the couples dancing and Aurora felt her heart squeeze. She was confused. Love was such a beautiful thing. She couldn't picture why Diaval and Maleficent thought of themselves as unworthy.

"Godfather?"

Aurora winced at how Diaval jumped in his place, startled to be spoken to. He turned to her with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, please. I was the one to sneak by. Forgive me."

Diaval smiled kindly, "There is no need for that. Now, tell me how can I help you? Enjoying the evening so far, I assume? With so many people to greet and dance, many things to do. And to eat! Ha! I tried the meat pies as you recommended."

Aurora smiled, "And what is your conclusion from them?"

Diaval gave a nod of approval, "One of the best I ever had, little hatchling. My favourites however are the ones covered in blueberries."

"I'm glad to hear it. I had them personally baked for Philip."

"You had them—" Diaval's face turned confused. "And why is that?"

"Those are his favourite. I wanted to make a good impression."

The frown on Diaval's face deepened, "As in a way of courtship? I thought males were supposed to court females?"

Aurora chuckled, "That doesn't prevent me from doing things for him. To make him smile, as he makes me. I wanted to spoil him a little for the evening."

"I see. It is a kindness then."

"It is."

"And where is your prince now?"

"Dancing."

Diaval raised an eyebrow, "And you're not with him because...?"

"He's dancing with his mother. And..." She held his hand. "I wanted to speak with you privately."

"Certainly. How can I be of service?"

Aurora took a deep breathe, "I could not help but notice you have been by yourself all evening. I was a bit worried."

The sad expression that took place over his face brought a sense of helplessness to Aurora's heart, "My Queen, forgive me. I did not mean to ignore you—"

Aurora interrupted him, her voice holding amusement, "Why the sudden formalities, godfather? We have been through too much together already."

Diaval gave into a small smile, "As you wish, little hatchling. I apologise. I simply feel no need to talking to others. I wouldn't know how."

"I thought ravens were social creatures."

"We are. With our own, be family or friends. Worry not, little one. I have no wish to speak to them as much they have no wish to speak to me. I may appear human, but I'm not one."

"Has anyone bothered you?"

"Nothing I can't handle. You humans may be diverse in behaviour, but you are not difficult to read."

Aurora watched him but for a moment, "Did you talk to her?"

Diaval blinked, twice, "I'm afraid I don't follow?"

"I meant Mother. Will you take the initiative or must I lock the two of you in a tower?"

Once the sentence was done, the glow of Diaval's eyes drifted into a lifeless pattern. Aurora felt the concern within her heart being replaced by a look of understanding. She squeezed his shoulder, as if trying to console him.

"I have no wish to impose a situation on her."

Aurora pondered on his words, "May I talk you won't do?"

"I did try that. Mistress...walked away." The defeat in Diaval's voice was almost frightening, "I'm not aware of why. I don't know what I did wrong."

"You did nothing wrong, godfather."

"Then why?" His voice deepened, and he no longer held his emotion. "Why act like this, without saying a word to my face, and then just...just turn her back on me as if we hadn't spent twenty years sharing a nest! If my presence brother her so much..." His face fell. "If that's what she wants...if Mistress doesn't...if she doesn't want me, why not say it? I'm not oppose to words. I will accept her wishes. Whatever it takes to make her happy." A deep sigh left his mouth then, features transpiring his crisp tiredness, "Even if it means she won't even look at me."

Aurora resigned herself to a sigh, "Things hadn't been...easy to her. Mother has been restless lately. The lack of sleep doesn't help."

"The feeling is mutual." Aurora frowned at this, and Diaval explained, "She's not the only one without a night of rest. I...I can't seem to find a suitable place. It has been a while. So I came here. You're my hatchling. And ravens stay close to family."

"Mother is family too. She considers you as such."

Diaval grimaced, "How can she, if she won't look at me? If she won't tell me what's wrong? I understand if she's angry—"

"Not at you. Never at you."

"Then at what?"

Aurora bit her tongue to prevent her from saying what it wasn't up to her, "You must ask her yourself."

The raven man pressed his lips into a thin line, "Because you surely know but won't tell me?"

"It is not my place to tell you."

Diaval's eyes drifted down, his hair covered part of his face, making it impossible for Aurora to see his expression.

"I don't know what to do, hatchling."

Aurora gave him no response. She was used to his paternal and overprotective ways, soft voice and playful nature, so this man with sad eyes was foreign to her. Even if she possessed little memories of him as human, she was familiar of bright black eyes playing with her in spring afternoons, bringing flowers on her birthday and flying to catch her in the fields. Now that she saw him as human, after two years of adjustment, she knew that he was a fascinating creature, with his quirks and mannerisms. One of them happened now: running his right hand through his black hair, his eyes, once bright, were now empty and gazed down, losing the so common vivacity she was used to see.

Oddly enough, it made her understand what must be done.

"You should confess how you feel."

Diaval tensed and tried to lie, "...how I feel about what?"

Aurora eyed him with an arched eyebrow and that was enough for him to give in.

If honest to himself, Diaval would admit he thought of denying the obvious, to prevent his mouth to utter things it should not. But he couldn't. He was in love and was not ashamed of it. Aurora, from her part, it has always been too obvious. She has known since the first time she saw them interact on that mud pound.

"What do you want me to say, hatchling? That I've loved her since the moment she saved me?"

The defeated tone in his voice was heartbreaking. Aurora had always been encouraged to move on, to never give up, and always sought in her parents the strength and love needed to be strong, whatever there were the challenges in her kingdom or personal life. However, to see her beloved father speak so openly sad, she saw something she never truly expected from him.

Abandon...

"This—" He placed a hand over his chest, his heart, "—was never meant to happen. It should never have happened. I know she won't—that she doesn't see me. Why would she? How can I offer her anything—"

"Mother never cared for gold or poetry, neither a crown. She needs love and protection, as any other person would, and you are the right person to give it to her. I'm sure."

Diaval shook his head in dismay, "What would a fae see in a bird?"

"What would a bird see in a fae?" The Queen countered intelligently, which made Diaval finally confess the fascinating truth in his heart.

"Her wings are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and—" His face was red once again, and he immediately closed his mouth. "I apologise. I lost my thoughts for the moment, I...I mean no disrespect when I preen her wings. They are sacred to her, and to me as well, as wings are to any winged creature. I would never do anything to harm her or them."

The love burning in his eyes was delightful to see.

"Why not court her, godfather?" Aurora asked then, "Like Philip did to me?"

And just like this, the joy shinning in his face when talking about his mistress' wings just vanished.

It was not as the brief idea of courting his mistress hadn't crossed his mind. Before the curse was broken, he hadn't dare—she didn't believe in love for herself, she was broken and saw no ways of redemption. What he could do was help her to recover, to make her life bearable, and he did so, for years he did, he was there for her, always, no questions asked, proud and willing to serve. With the sleeping curse no longer being a problem, however, he had wanted nothing more than to tell his mistress about his feelings for her: that he loved her and wanted her as his mate. But with Aurora still learning about her kingdoms, things turned out to be a bit turbulent, and Diaval barely spent time alone to think about how to court his mistress, in the first place.

A year later, his hatchling seemed to have become a fine ruler, and Diaval was allowed to think properly about his life. Still, the many times he tried to show his devotion, his mistress did not seem to understand his intentions. One morning, for example, he made aerobatics in the sky, showing what he could do, but his mistress thought he was challenging her, and so she jested on his actions.

With hope and love flaming through his kind heart still, Diaval decided to show his mistress how smart and clever he could be. Nothing prevented him from flying to the human kingdom, and after playing tricks on some farmers, Diaval returned to the nest with shiny stones. His mistress seemed satisfied with the gifts, placing them by the nest, as charming decoration, but she severely reprimanded him for his new scars.

In a last attempt to prove his worth, Diaval decided to show his mistress how able to provide food he was—even though he knew she was capable of making fruit trees sprout of a snow covered ground. They fought over it, and he made her promise to allow him to serve. It backfired, or so he thought, and he said too much—he cared too much, he suffocated her, and now she left him. He was gnawing despair.

And then it took a glance into her bright eyes on that very evening to have his chest burst in nostalgia, but it also made him see how unworthy he was to even consider courting her.

"All I am comes from her." He explained. "Even during winters, when we are stuck in the nest, she can provide us everything—the heat, the water and the food. And she always gets furious when I am out to do something. And if what I do is something she doesn't need, if it is something that she clearly doesn't appreciate, to the point she left...how can hope to be a good mate? And even if I could, harbouring such feelings it's pointless. You are the one who stole what was left of her heart.You are her true love. There is no place for me."

The dejection in his voice didn't prevent Aurora from glaring at him in a way that remembered him of his mistress when annoyed. But Aurora was well aware of his current state of self hate, so she decided not to comment of his emotions. Instead, she tried to come a good line of reasoning.

"I'm her daughter." Came the correction, "And she is Mother to me. You should know by now that there are several types of love, including motherly love, which is what she feels for me. And it is definitely not the same for you."

"What makes you think so?"

Aurora let out a sigh. She knew she had to put some sense on her father's mind, and it was wise to give herself some little time to think of better words, but how to convince such prideful and stubborn minds that their love was mutual and worthy while they both saw themselves as unworthy of each other?

It was maddening.

"What ravens do when they want to show affection? Apart from providing food?"

"We preen our mate's wings. It is as a sign of affection."

And Diaval's reply was her victory.

"And Mother allowing you to preen hers tells you nothing?"

There was a pause.

"But how can I court her if I cannot be a provider?"

Oh, so that was it.

"You could try the Moors traditions?"

Another pause.

Then, "The Moors have mating rituals?"

Aurora asked out of sympathy, "Mother never told you?"

Diaval covered his eyes with his hands and groaned, "Mistress would never talk about such things. She just...she would just care about her curse and then you."

Aurora couldn't help a small smile, "Well then, the Moors do have mating rituals. Spring is mating season for many creatures, and you must remember that Mother is not a raven, so raven mating rituals, such as providing food, will not work if you do not follow the traditions of her people as well."

Diaval mumbled some nonsense under his breath before saying, "Heavens, I'm an idiot."

Aurora giggled, "You lacked the right information, that's all. But do you want to try?"

Diaval's eyes widened a little, "Here? N-now?"

The Queen gave him a pointed look, "I'm not letting either of you leave this party without talking, at least."

Diaval was uncertain, "What if she says no?"

Aurora took pity on him, knowing she also owned him an alternative just like she did to her mother, "If you don't feel that she will...accept you, then do not follow the ritual. But please, promise me will you talk to her either way?"

Now she was pouting, and Diaval couldn't argue.

"I promise."

Aurora grinned then, looking around, aiming for some assistance. Inside her mind, her conscience practically screamed that whatever was happening between her parents was most definitely not her place to move a feather. But she loved them more than she ever listened to her conscience and if things weren't solving themselves in the easier way, she would have to force her hand on this.

They would thank her in the end anyway.

"Oh, there she is."

She waved for Thistlewit to fly to them. The pixie pointed to herself, mouthing "me?" and as Aurora nodded, the pixie was next to them in a second, bowing her head slightly, "My Queen, how can I help you?"

"Not me, but him." She looked at Diaval, who was obviously confused.

"I'm not certain—"

"Oh, no, no, no." She tugged on his robes, pulling him along, "Come, this is too important to be done in the middle of the ballroom."

Diaval smiled politely, though it was clear he wouldn't get what was about to happen. Once the Queen, the fae and the pixie were from a safe distance from the public, next to the enormous door that lead to the gardens, he addressed Aurora and Thistlewit, "What is this about?"

The music coming from the ballroom was slow and sweet and with words of how the gleam in Aurora's eyes were so familiar.

"You need help." The Queen turned to Thistlewit. "He needs help. A gift from spring festivals."

Diaval's eyebrows knitted together, "Hatchling, what—"

"You're courting Maleficent?" Thistlewit asked very cheerfully, "She'll be so happy!"

Diaval's face coloured, and his eyes were bursting in hope, "You...she will?"

"We're sure." Aurora said. "Now please, the gift?"

The pixie nodded with a grin, "Oh, right. A minute! Wait here! Just wait!"

And she was off flying around. Her eyes roamed one of the tables full of food, an idea forming in her head. Finding what she's looking for, the pixie conjured a small straw basket with detailed drawings etched onto its sides. Flowers of many kinds and colours adorned the sides of the basket, which had four handles made of vines. She flew around the tables, collecting strawberries and walnuts, forming a pattern of multiple red and brown—all too very quickly, so her sisters, who were too busy either fighting each other or talking to court members, wouldn't notice. Then, Thistlewit used her magic to turn a goblet into a glass jar with a honeycomb inside of it, properly placing it at the centre of the basket. It was one of the most beautiful things anyone had ever seen.

The perfect spring gift.

Grinning proudly, the pixie then flew to her Queen and the raven man, who stared at her without understanding as she placed the basked on his hands.

Diaval's eyes fell to the basket and then back to the pixie, "It is beautiful." He admitted. "But what do I do with it?"

The pixie sounded annoyed, "No wonder she doesn't think you love her. You don't even know our traditions."

Diaval frowned at Aurora, who explained, "Spring Festivals are a magical event. It takes place on the first night of spring and it must find its end by the first morning of summer, giving a magical creature enough time to formally choose a mate. First, you give Mother the gift, and you must not say anything about your true intentions."

"And I suppose there is a reason for that?"

Aurora smiled sweetly at him, "It's substantially rude to be so...bold. Magical creatures see no need in words. Actions are preferable. When Mother sees the gift, she'll know its meaning. You won't need to explain yourself, which is good to you, since I can feel how nervous you are."

"You cannot lose control." Thistlewit said in a hurry, clearly too excited to conceal herself, "Even with her hating spring festivals, she'll recognize the signs. She will be committed to give you an answer, I'm sure—"

"Wait, you want me to court her by following traditions of which she hates?" Diaval held an incredulous look, "How is that a good idea?"

The Queen shouted her aunt a dangerous look, "Mother certainly has her reasons. But she won't turn you down for following her people's culture. At best, she will be touched."

"And at worse?"

Aurora held her breathe. She knew she was in trouble, "I don't think—"

"Maleficent may be angry." Thistlewit couldn't help herself not even if she tried, "She has no good experiences with our traditions. They have no use to her."

Such odd phrase only helped on Diaval's confusion and Aurora's despair.

"Explain yourself, please?"

The pixie ignored the pleading expression of her Queen. To tell you the truth, she didn't even notice it.

"Her thoughts of life have always been too confusing." She kept talking. "She was an always so...unusual. So quiet. As a baby, she wouldn't cry nor complain if she was wounded, hungry or sleepy. She was happy with what she had. Then, she became careless. Horns and wings...too much power. Too frightening and beautiful. But she can't have children of her own, so who would share a nest with her? What's the point?"

To say that the following silence was not disruptive, it would be a declaration of invalidity and naivety, for the music sang and the wind blow against the castle walls, spreading coldness which reigned not only in unspoken words.

Diaval preferred to listen to the laughing around as the pixie's words made his heart tighten, feeling warm at the pixie's exposed concern—although her reasons where not completely unknown to him, and he still had his doubts regarding her loyalty—yet the fact that his mistress' feelings may be the same as his also made him curious to know if the reason that had aroused such hatred for her people traditions was the same that made her surrender so easily to the 'human-king'.

If so, Diaval knew then that he had been extremely negligent.

He understood loneliness. On its greatest levels, for the matter. His brothers were gone by the beginning of his second season without a mate, finding themselves a mate and territory to defend. Diaval craved the same fate to himself, but never thought of his mistress as waiting the same. Because birds can see hope even if locked in a cage. Diaval has comforted his mistress so many times after so many nightmares, when the pain was too much to handle. He has lived with her long enough to know that she has a loving heart. She was loving and beautiful. She was kind and loyal. She was powerful and strong minded and her wings were of the most perfect kind.

But to him, loneliness had always been seen as a choice in his mistress' life, never animposition. It never crossed his mind that his mistress may have wanted to be alone because she wasn't able to find someone who wanted to share a nest with her—and then, as other creatures feared her powers and dark feelings, she decided to turn away from them, to avoid the heartbreak.

And if so, how—Diaval angrily asked himself—how could he have never seen the will and the need in her eyes? They had shared a nest for almost twenty springs, and he had never noticed? What was he thinking? For the painful tears falling from her bright green eyes every night should have been enough to make him aware that the fear and insecurity of her own people. That she felt humiliated that all had a mate but her? That her nightmares were at worst during spring? That she felt ultimately rejected by all?

No. He couldn't allow it. He simply couldn't! If faes were creatures made of rapturous feelings and unimaginable powers, ravens were creatures of loyalty. Ravens don't leave, don't betray, and don't give up. To ravens, family is a requisite of happiness, and to Diaval, his mistress what was lacking to said requisite to be complete.

He loved her and even if she didn't return his feelings, he would dedicatehis life to make her understand—to make her see, to make her feel—how much she was worth literally everything.

"...is it true?"

Aurora was almost wary to respond, "I think it would be better for to listen her voice telling the tale." She advised him.

Diaval gritted his teeth, "So it is true."

The pixie let out a quite sigh, "It is not a pleasant memory."

"It sure isn't." Diaval grunted. "So this is why she doesn't—why she has never—" He looked at Aurora then, and there was sorrow on the tears in his eyes, "How could they do that to her? I can't—I would never—"

Aurora tried to use a firmer tone while trying to calm him down, "We shouldn't be talking about this. Not when she's not here."

"But hatchling—"

"I know." Aurora's smile was tight. She raised a hand to wipe out his tears and her voice softened, "Even so, she had you. You were there to help her go through all of this."

"I should've noticed." He lamented. "I should've seen it."

"Don't blame yourself, please." Aurora held his face, looking deeply into his eyes. "It's not your fault."

"No." He muttered. "It'stheirs." Aurora didn't need to look at her aunt to see her wince at his accusations. Anger and sorrow oppressed his voice, and the darkness of his gaze felt upon the pixie, almost like blaming her, "You shouldn't have told me about this." He said. "It should've been Mistress who told me of that."

Thistlewit disagreed, "She wouldn't tell you, raven man. She's too ashamed to even admit it herself. And she loves you to much to place this burden on you."

Feelings were felt in the air, and then, pure realization clouded Diaval's eyes as the pain within his heart was then replaced by the hope forgotten for so many years. His lips parted, trembling—nothing was spoke. Aurora wondered if that had destroyed what could have been the one last chance of happiness to Maleficent and Diaval.

She wouldn't forgive herself.

A useless thought, really, for the light on Diaval's eyes was back.

"Are you sure this...this will work?"

Are you sure this will be enough?

"Maleficent also hasn't eat anything tonight." Thistlewit revealed. "And she has a great appreciation for honeyed walnuts. If your feelings won't talk to her, the food will."

Diaval remained silent, finally finding great interest on the basket in his hands. The redness of his face was so very alike the colour of the strawberries on the basked and the kindness of his eyes rivalled the sweetness of the honey.

"Do you know where I can find her?"

"The balcony." Thistlewit pointed to an open door, "She's there. Waiting to speak to you."

Diaval then smiled, and Aurora did the same, "Go now. Go, go, go, go."

And so the Queen watched the raven man practically run to the door. In silent prays, she wished the gods to hear her pleas, "May she accept his gifts. May he be always kind."

Little she knew, but the gods did hear it.

---

"Who preened them?"

The weather was gentler at night, providing a pleasant breeze and a sky of stars. The bliss of the people was remarkable, and lights came from everywhere, laughter and dancing, food and drink, romance and friendship.

Maleficent took pleasure in the moonlight, and though she was already used to the angry looks of the court, she was bothered by Aurora's sake, and not wanting to spoil such an unique night, she retired to a forgotten balcony, where no one would dare torment her.

The tower was tall, overlooking the human kingdom and the Moors. Not that the sight was news to Maleficent, who flew higher than the clouds and saw things that none human or creature would have a chance to witness.

And yet she was delighted—the moon was so beautiful, and there were so many stars. Aurora called the group of stars 'constellations', imaginary outlines and meaningful patterns on the celestial sphere, representing animals, people, gods or creatures, supposedly helping travellers not to get lost on land or at sea.

Maleficent could not say that she was not charmed by the knowledge that humans had gathered, even though she was fully aware that such knowledge had been brutally stolen from more distant cultures.

Still, the fae watched the sky, hoping to calm her restless heart.

And when she heard the voice of her beloved, tears returned to her eyes, burning and stopping her from admiring the stars.

In a long breath, she swallowed, and kept her gaze fixed on the horizon, chin high and proud.

But her heart betrayed her too—as always—striking so hard against her chest.

"I did."

And of course the first thing he'd notice would be her wings, wondering at the "if he hadn't preened them, who then?"

Maleficent spent years dreaming about her wings, and the solace that would be preening them one more time. She dreamed that Stefan had never returned to the Moors and that she was still a fae with wings. As she dressed up for Aurora's party, Maleficent noticed how abandoned her wings were, and she was annoyed to realize that she could never preen them with the kind of mastery Diaval had apparently developed.

"They look beautiful."

And her traitorous wings would react to a simple compliment, in the presence of her servant no less, who was now standing next to her, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

Maleficent had seen him earlier—and she could not even look at him in the eye. She only smiled faintly and walked away, knowing too well that Diaval would be hurt even more by her actions.

But she missed him so much that she knew she would not be able to control herself if they were too close.

She was captivated, and would not be afraid to admit, of how handsome Diaval was tonight, dressed in the dark robes of a prince—the definition of pride. But it was the warmth shinning in his dark gaze that reminded her of the most beautiful onyxes, immersed in the deepest rivers of the dark caves on the land of the Moors. And it was his dedication for being there, willing to talk, who equalled the songs of the hummingbird to his potential mate, whom of so shy and quiet waits for his coming to her nest with patience and serenity. And it was his feelings, showed by a shy and understanding smile, who were fair as the brightness of the moon in a starry night, sincere as the colours of spring flowers, and passionate as the bird that continues to seek the best among branches, leaves and flowers to build a nest for its eggs.

His presence brought her immense comfort, but the sudden feeling of tiredness was still there, eating her apart.

"I was meaning to—" She heard him stutter, unsure, and her will was to look at him for one last time. She didn't, though, for if she did she knew he would see her pain, and she didn't want to him to take any pity on her. However, even without looking at him, Maleficent felt the hopeful look he was giving her, as if wishing for her to spare them both, "Ravens are not meant to be good with words but..." He paused to sigh, distress hitting him as a lightning, covering his eyes in an instant, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, mistress." Maleficent would always wonder why she was surprised by his words. "If I ever made you feel like you owned me any of your secrets." He continued, "All I ever wanted was you to trust me."

Maleficent knew that she had only once hated herself so much for making someone she loves blame himself for things she had caused.

"I do trust you." She found her voice at last. Her wings moved again, and she forced herself to control them, in the great sense of longing that had taken hold of her chest, though she knew her words would have little effect.

Diaval's eyes were now tied in the so ever infinite horizon, reminding her of the bird he was and always would be, "May I share a tale with you?" And despite her eyes denounced her stressful condition, she nodded silently at him, "A fae saved a raven from a net, a trap set by a farmer. They became servant andmistress. She would often wake up due terrible nightmare, you see, and for years he would comfort her. One day, out of nowhere, things change. Instead of waking her servant, the fae left and flew away."

Maleficent felt a lump in her throat, and tried to intervene, "Diaval—"

"Eventually—" Impassivity filled his voice, "—the raven went back to the nest and there she was, his mistress, waiting for him. She told him that she did not bother him because, in her mind, it was not his duty to worry about her dreams."

"Diaval—"

He turned to her, "As if it was not enough to have her create the habit of not wanting his help on almost anything, now the raven had to see his mistress not wanting to disturb her servant. Who, by the way, swore his life to her service."

She sighed, "Will you let me speak—"

"I missed you." Maleficent had readied herself for shouts and perhaps insults. She was speechless to feel a comforting touch her hand, and raised her eyes to meet kind ones. "I couldn't sleep, I—" He stopped when her eyes wouldn't meet his anymore, and his hold on her hand tightened, "You have nightmares. Of that, I know. You don't need to tell me of them. But I have the right to care for you. You can't make me stop. I refuse."

She wouldn't either.

She loved him.

"Promise me you won't do that again." She felt her heart skip a beat. No, he couldn't. He just couldn't have possibly forgive her that quickly? "You flew away like I was a plague," Maleficent flinched at the word and her silence said enough. Diaval's voice, however, was strong yet kind, because it was okay to be willing to be sorry, "I'm not angry." He was hurt and wanted her to know, "But you don't need to run from me. I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you."

"I know." And there was nothing in this world—except her love for Aurora—that Maleficent was more sure. Diaval would never hurt her on purpose. "I never doubt you."

"Then will you look at me?"

Another hand was tentatively touching her arm, testing waters. It was lost the time in which she would mind anything close to her skin, let alone the touch of a man. Diaval, after the very first set of nightmares that hunted down her soul, had become a constant flame to keep her safe. She had surprised herself at how simple it was for her to surrender into her servant's warmth. It was a lure to forbidden desires, a trap in which she had set herself since ever, and although there many the times in which she literally burned for more, the comfort and compassion prevailed and she followed a path of a long waited peaceful rest.

Tonight, the slight brush of his skin on hers made her knees weak. The longing was too much, and her own hand found his arm, grasping on the fabric of his coat. Diaval thought of it as a warning, and moved to take a step back, but her hold on his arm tightened and he knew, just then, that he was more than welcome to stay.

When her eyes finally found his again there were many apologies written on them.

"Forgive me."

Make no mistake. From Aurora she didn't ask for forgiveness, because what she did was unforgivable, as she herself said, and so, why would Aurora forgive her? Again, hoping was too risky. Yet, Diaval made her brave enough hope, or perhaps stupid enough to believe, and he had already forgiven her before she said anything.

"Promise me you won't leave?"

And to Maleficent, it was all too much. The predominant sweetness in his voice, the exposed devotion in his eyes, his kind nature, along with his unquestionable loyalty, was so clear and so pure.

It was too much.

Enough to make her break.

And so she did.

"Why are you here?"

She took too many steps back and turned her back on him, resuming to her early position standing proud and silent before the horizon.

She wasn't far enough not to hear Diaval saying, "I can't understand you most of the time." And she also heard him walk and the feeling of his warm body walk toward her was intoxicating, close so she could feel his breathing and his hand on the base of her wings, while the other turned her face so she would not deny him anymore, "I wish I could. I'm sorry I can't."

One can think of his innocence as lovely, but clearly excessive for such a clever bird. It made Maleficent even more in love with him.

She grabbed his wrist, "You're shouldn't—"

"Maybe." Diaval was smiling softly now. Perhaps the memory of Maleficent berating him for being so affectionate were kind to his mind. "Again, I never minded. Not really. It makes me feel useful."

"I appreciate what you've done to me." She spoke in a weak whisper. "I always will."

"Then don't leave." The raven man pleaded, and his heart was full of uncertainties. "Because I won't and..." His voice trailed off as his eyebrows came together. Suddenly, he was frustrated. "...and you call meproud."

Maleficent turned her face back to the horizon, "I never denied I was." She had to speak in a harsh way so perhaps her lack of kindness would make him leave.

Then again, it had never before.

Why would it now?

"I've spoken to Thistlewit."

The name of the pixie made Maleficent grumpy, "...and?"

This statement left many signs of red cheeks and a shaky voice, "I-I have something I just acquired you need to see."

Oh? That's new.

The fae merely waited as the raven man grabbed something that was placed on a part of the balcony stone railing that wasn't illuminated by the moonlight. Maleficent said nothing when the beautiful basket Diaval had in his hands came into full view. Her breathing speed up and Diaval waited silent seconds, observing her reaction closely. Despite his deepest instincts telling him to close his eyes, as well as the annoying voice in his head screamed that would be terrible and overwhelming, Diaval stood still, he was a raven, and ravens were brave. So, for more reasons he could not recognize—or did not even had time to do it—Diaval faced his mistress in the eye.

She seemed too surprised to give him an answer.

"What do you think?"

It took a very long moment for Maleficent to give into some kind of noticeable reaction. Her lips parted as her eyes slowly gazed down at the basket. Her cheeks gained a deep red tone, and her chest burned from lack of air.

It can't be.

With a frown, Maleficent allowed herself to breathe again, not managing to prevent the smell of flowers to be processed by her brain, bringing her the vision of flowery fields near the ruins of her nest. It was sweet, and by the way the flowers were joined in a beautiful mix of colours, she could tell that everything was meticulously chosen. Ignoring the pain caused by the fulminant beat of her heart, the fae wondered the most plausible reasons for such care and dedication.

She took her time to examine the flowers, nuts and fruits, until she became interested in the details etched onto the basket's sides, immediately recognizing and linking them to long forgotten times, where festivals of dances, songs and flowery fields could only be seen from a distance by a young fae with wings and horns.

Reason rightly dominated her senses and years of loneliness demonstrated its outcome, for at that moment she showed complete control over her emotions.

No.

She had to be rational. There was no way her servant could know about the traditions of her people, but then, after years of living with her, it was expected that he had learned something while roaming around.

It didn't even seem to be real, but a dream to be lived once again.

But then, it could be real and what would she do? She was too afraid to find out.

It was not as she did not trust him. Eating something given by another, specifically by a human male, could be a somewhat provocative and dark concept to her, but the confidence deposited on Diaval was big enough to make her never fear him. He had prepared her morning meal before, many times actually, but it was the first time it looked so beautiful, and somehow unbelievable—the perfect vision of a meal.

Was it real? She could not afford the deceive. She had dreamed of this situation so many times that her heart would not take nicely if it were all but a dream. The vision of having him by her side, to be able to enjoy the perfect meal and talk about trivial things was too tempting, and sometimes she had not wanted to wake up, casting spells to avoid so, shamelessly trying to escape what she didn't want to face.

Maleficent shook her head after a moment, not really believing that perhaps she wouldn't need to escape anymore, for maybe she was finally living her dreams.

The frown on her face intensified.

It can't be real.

"...Diaval?"

Some time had passed before she finally had the courage to face her servant, who could only open his mouth, not answering her though. His breathing became ragged, as if he had run hundreds of miles without stopping. His heart was suffering from the same symptoms, strongly beating in his chest, so much that it caused immeasurable pain. It was as if the air was missing for him to breathe, as if his lungs burned desperately, as if his blood boiled in his muscles by the thunderous speed it runs in his veins, up his neck and cheeks.

"...Maleficent."

The honorific was missing. To the fae, it didn't sound disrespectful. She knew that now Diaval was anything but her servant.

"What's this?"

Diaval couldn't get his eyes away from hers, and he was so nervous that desperation was tearing his lungs apart. Aurora had told him not to talk, but it was harder to say than to act.

He just had to.

"It's a gift from a mate."

Oh...Oh!

The fae's eyes widened. A sudden idea crossed her mind then, and by letting her right hand hover by the basket, she immediately recognized magic coming from within. Not wanting to believe on what her soul was telling her, she drew her hand quickly, and many emotions and memories flashed before her eyes.

Ah.

She lost interesting on insisting on traditions of which she would not need in her lonely life. However, for what the little she knew, pixies did not mate for life.

Why did a pixie present her servant with a pretty basket?

"Maleficent, I—"

Why did he accept?

"You're clever enough not to be fooled by other creatures." She spoke quickly, abruptly, her frown deepening as more sharp words left her lips, "Let alone a pixie."

Diaval almost fainted. Of all the things his mistress could have asked, this one was the last he expected.

"I know what I'm doing."

Maleficent pursed her lips, eyes once again falling to the gift. The green of her eyes, sometimes illuminated by hope, darkened suddenly, becoming what resembled the colours of the moss that covers the soil moist. Her hands formed fists as the prominent lines of her jaw became evident, clear was the strength used by her bones. Her blood boiled silently while green magic travelled through her fingers, aware of the evil feelings impregnated in the dark side of her heart, dangerous gnawing her soul and, well, when the purest kind of jealously finally destroyed any kind of line of reasoning she had, it definitely did not help things to get any better.

"Do you know the meaning of accepting gifts in spring?"

Her words were not carefully chosen, for the sound of her voice showed a lot to him, as much as her eyes, betraying her thoughts and confused conclusions. Diaval took almost five years to be capable of detecting her fear, and at that moment, she was terrified.

He was too, completely frozen, not knowing what to do or to say. That annoying voice kept shouting in his ear, and apprehension filled his chest.

Was it jealously—blatantly exposed—what he saw in those green eyes of hers?

"Y-yes."

Not noticing the tremor on a single word, but not totally ignoring it, Maleficent looked away from her servant's dark silhouette. The lump in throat was getting very painful and she had to swallow it discreetly, the stone floor seeming to be the only refuge for her eyes, which fought the pain for not releasing torturous tears.

She looked back at the flowers in the basket then, no longer ashamed of her own sharp bitterness, and remained quiet.

She barely paid any attention to him as he decided to explain the situation.

"I know now about Spring Festivals." He then smiled slightly, a shaking hand hidden in his robes while the other rubbed his neck. The urge to run away was there, but Diaval resister to it, since there was no turning back to this situation. With a deep sigh, continued with his words, "I didn't know of them till, well, tonight. I hope you don't mind."

But Maleficent kept looking fixedly at the flowers—too surprised at the emotions it caused her to notice anything else. Colours and scents reached her face, denouncing her sorrow, poorly hidden by her seriousness and coldness. Her fingers tingled in waiting—she was holding up not to release green flames hot enough to turn these flowers into ashes.

One single honeycomb in a glass jar made her stomach ache, her want for food was becoming almost palpable in her mouth. She loved nuts and fruits, wanted to taste sweet honey, and it would be wonderful to have her meal in the nest every day, her servant's arms around her, warming her blood and soul.

However.

He knew of their traditions and had agreed with the most important of them, with a pixie nonetheless, and apparently wanted his mistress opinion in a gift he had surely accepted from his...chosen one.

Maleficent closed her eyes. She wanted to scream, to curse and to kill. She wanted to cry and little would matter the humiliation. Let him ask for his freedom, thank her for all those years, and then go to find his soon-to-be mate. If pity was all she could have, so be it. Let pain and abandonment fly by her side, stealing the places destined for a mate and their offspring, for of the so many injustices suffered by her, nothing seemed worse than the fact that her true love had been denied.

Perhaps it would be easier to just walk away. Kind and helpful the way he was, Diaval would not ask for his freedom, and she could not keep him any further—not when he had a mate to please and to love. Regardless of her jealousy, and the strong desire to curse the female who had dared to take him from her, Maleficent must be fair and respect the traditions of her people, even if it hurt more than iron chains severing her wings.

She turned yet again, the final one, to contemplate at what Diaval realized then was not the beauty of the Moors at night, but rather a part of her kingdom in which she refused to go for a time that transcended much more than any human could live.

"The Meadow."

Diaval recognized the place as the one where his mistress had strictly forbidden him to go. For years, he did not question it. Today, he understood.

"In which spring festivals take...place?"

If you ask she did that so he wouldn't find a mate and leave her? That came later, when the pain of the betrayal was no more. Before, though, Maleficent had never allowed him to fly there as she didn't need him questioning why every creature in the Moors had a mate but her—the kind of humiliation she had no wish to talk about. Was there a point in denying that? Wasn't it enough what Stefan had done to her? Losing her wings to a human who had poisoned her water because he held no love for her while she had been willing to share her magic with him had him just asked.

Anyhow, Maleficent felt as if it had been her fault for the simple act of trying—of daring to think love was meant not to be just a concept.

She was never an option, she heard some elves say.

She agreed with them.

"Leave me."

She heard him gasp. It was her turn to try again and forget the events of her fifteenth spring, when she had dared to approach an elf, handsome and kind enough, only to have her gift—a necklace—ignored. The losses of being a hybrid of good and evil were then realized and she never attended to the festivals again. By a cruel joke of fate, sometime later, more precisely on the following season, she met the boy-thief and the rest is legend.

"You—" Her voice failed her, denouncing her weakness and misery, "—you need to leave."

"I need?" She heard him again. Her moisture eyes fell down to her own hands. She had thrown her pride down on a cliff.

She was not able to choose silence again.

"The festivals await for you."

A frown was shown, the beat of his heart quickening like it had been doing for years. To him, such dramatizations, along with the emotions written thought his mistress' eyes, disarmed him completely, and to be honest, he was incapable of saying if the situation could get any worse.

"The festivals?"

Silence was broken by the laughing coming from the ballroom, men and women dancing and drinking. The wing moved like the beating of a pair of wings, so strong that made the clouds cover the moon. Captive silence soon followed, and darkness involved the air around them.

"You no longer need my permission to attend them." Gods, these words were hard to say. Had she really been capable of which? "Your debt has been paid long ago." She kept talking, the composure extolled to everyone no longer kept, for pain flowed freely through her face, "For longer than eight seasons."

A deep breath followed her conclusion, a sigh only heard because of the silence around them. Even the wind stopped singing, suddenly, as if it knew what was happening between the fae and the raven.

"It was kind of you to share the news with me. I...thank you." For everything, she lacked courage to add those words, for the little strength that had not been absorbed by sadness was used to form a weak, sad smile, "But you are no longer my servant."

As she refused to gaze upon his silhouette, her pointy ears captured his throat swallowing subtly, his mouth pronouncing a few more needless words, "I don't understand."

Ashamed of her own cowardice, blocking her will of gazing at the one that had soothed her nightmares, persistently brought food in winter afternoons and that had affectionately preened her feathers, Maleficent held to the few good memories she had saved, not knowing if she ever survived something worst.

"You accept her gift." She said, avoiding at all costs the intense gaze he gave her. "In spring."

Their feelings were real enough to be seen in the darkness, which resembled the nights of the Moors, and when their passionate eyes met, words became a need.

"Her gift?"

Her eyes blinked a few times, the tears finally washed her skin from the bitterness contained in her chest.

"Maleficent, no."

There, her name, spoken through his lips, as she had dreamed for nights, but without the craved meaningful words of love.

"Please, look at me."

But Maleficent was unable to do so, keeping eyes away from his kind ones, words playing again and again on her mind: "I want you to chose me." Very pathetic and in vain would be to say those words out loud. What good would it do to tell Diaval the truth, knowing he would not return her feelings? Maleficent was used to deny her heart of so many things.

One more wouldn't make a difference.

"Leave, Diaval."

That did it.

Diaval shorted the little space between them and cupped her face, to avoid any misunderstandings, the basket again resting by the stone balcony railing, "Must you always complicate things?" He asked not so gently, though he was not rude. Maleficent tried to say something, but he interrupted again, "Must you?" He repeated, more forceful this time, "To think that I would ever be capable of leaving you is absurd enough but to think I'd dare to let myself fall for any other creature that isn't you is...Ridiculous!"

A loving smile graced his lips as tearful and puzzled eyes looked up at him.

"How can you not know that I cannot live without you?"

While one hand wiped her tears, the other took one of her hands to place it against his chest.

"For years, you have exerted power over my wings. I was your servant willingly and to serve you was my life duty. You kept control over my soul...and my heart." His hold on her hand tightened a bit. "Can't you feel it? It's beating foryou! It has been for years, and that's something I can't change, neither want to. If you require a proof of my devotion, name it, ask for it, and you shall receive. Anything. Everything! Absolutely. No bonds. I would gladly fly to the end of the world to do so. I may be just a raven, but if I'm meant do be anything in this life given to me, it's to be yours."

A pregnant pause soon followed, and no words came from the fae's lips. She could only stare at him. The passion described in his features was foreign to her. Not only his actions, but his words still echoed through her mind, and her eyes, soaked in incessant tears, travelled through the beautiful details of his face.

Diaval interpreted her surprise as a confirmation to his thoughts, and in act of valance, he pressed his forehead against hers, sighing in contentment to be able to touch her in a way he had always dreamed of, "I know I don't deserve you." He said, eyes closed, heart out in the open, "I know. I have always been aware of that. I'm no king, prince, wizard, warrior, but a raven supposed to serve his mistress for the rest of his life. But I don't care of my debit. I never did, for it had never been a matter of servitude nor favours, but of loyalty. And above it all, it's a matter of love. For you."

His confession felt warm against her face, and Maleficent stared at him wide eyed. Emotions were forming many instabilities and turbulence within her heart, making her dizzy, disoriented by the number of thoughts that ran through her mind all the time. Hope filled her heart in a way she could only compare to the day Aurora's eyes opened. The voices were talking though, doubting and so she asked, needing to be sure, "The basket is..." She could taste the salt of her own tears, so afraid, "...it is—?"

"Yours, of course." Diaval smiled in such a kind way that it made her heart race painfully faster. "Thistlewit crafted it so I could give it to you."

Maleficent gazed at his lips for a brief second, finding them tempting as the sweetest fruit.

Did he truly mean it?

Did he know of her condition?

She took a step back, "You want a family." The hit of the wind against them made her words disappear, and Diaval knew what she meant, and he followed as her gaze dropped to her own hand which rested on her womb in an instinct and Diaval felt so helpless—because for how many times had she felt unworthy due her apparently not acceptable nature?

"You are my family." His voice carried with much conviction and passion, "Please." He knelt before her, hold strong on her hands, "If you feel the same, then I don't understand why we can't—"

"I won't let you sacrifice a blessed life for a cursed one." She interrupted him in a snarl. "I can't."

Words just made sense on his mind after a moment, and then, he was furious, promptly putting himself into a standing position, "You'd rather sacrifice what I feel?"

"I can't give you want you want."

Diaval actually snapped, "What I want is you! What in that stubborn head of yours makes you think I'd want anyone else that isn't you? Why is that so hard to grasp?"

And Maleficent couldn't just not tell him.

"I can't give you children."

But Diaval thought otherwise.

"You gave meAurora."

The meaning of his word hit her like a slap, and the sense of relief was oddly suffocating. Because there is no way this is real.

She tried to fight, "You—but I don't—"

No vain, "Nothing can make me love you any less." A pair of hands found her face again, pulling her closer, and she could just let him, eyes closing in submission, "I can only love you more. Just more. So much more I can't express it with words. And I—I just want you to be my mate, if you'll have me."

It was, you may think, everything she ever wanted to hear. In fact, it was the opposite—everything she didn't know she wanted to hear because she never was creative enough to think she would ever deserve hearing those things. It made her happy and relaxed even, and so very much alive that she didn't know how to handle. It made her heart burn in love, in the wonders of the written in the melodies of the water nymphs, used to sing about love and the oldest traditions. But it also made that special flash of light to be born in her soul, and in an instant, her mind was full of thoughts of small faes with ebony feathers and emerald eyes that would never be real.

She couldn't have them. She acknowledged with her heart. It hurt more than thousands of wings severed in burning iron. But it was as such taking a deep breathe after falling into the cold water. It was relief in the pain of truth. Because she would never see Anton's bravery, Izaak's kindness and Lor's wisdom. She would never kiss them goodnight, would never teach them how to fly, would never feel the warmth of their kisses and embraces, would never hear how much they loved their mother, how much they admired her, how much they found her beautiful. They weren't real—just a production of her own magic joined with her most secret desire, sneaking into her sleep since she found herself in love, so willing to build a family, so alone and broken and delusional.

Along this, there was Diaval. The difference was on that she could have Diaval. He wanted her—the dark wicked fae most feared to even look at. That was her reality, a new chance, a world filled with beautiful possibilities, not perfect, but good, so freaking good, that Maleficent felt the will to surrender if only to be fair to him.

And mostly herself.

She had lost count of the many times she had prayed the gods, as a little girl, for the end of her loneliness. Many creatures were made to be alone, many chose to be alone. To Maleficent, it was never a choice.

If the gods decided to answer her pleas after more than fifty years, then she welcomed them.

She was done being alone.

It wasn't going to settle the pain of her heart—not all, at least—but she was not in the place do deny happiness anymore. She would have what life offered her. If Diaval loved her, so be it. She was never the one to deny her selfish nature.

And she would fight those who dared to question her.

"I will."

Diaval pulled away so he could stare down at her, the information having settling on his brain quickly.

"You..." A stupid grin settled on his lips, "...you will?"

A broken smile—an end to their discussion, to all fear and doubt, and gone was her fear. Arms enveloped her body, pulling her into a warm embrace. As soon her face was buried in the crook of his neck, her hands sought support in his strong arms, claws clinging to his muscles as if her life depended on it. Tears were heavy on her face and on the fabric of his robes, soft sobs muffled as Diaval held her body against his, fingers running through her hair, a gesture that had comforted her night after night. He pressed his lips to the side of her head, whispering comfort and love and passion and so many things she couldn't put a name for they were never presented to her before—not truly, never kindly. She was crying and...why would it matter anymore? She wasn't in control anymore. The lack of sleep, so many nightmares, the small voices of her non-existent little ones who insisted on haunt her mind from time to time.

And now, Diaval and his warmth.

"I love you." He breathed out, and the tears that followed were happy ones. "I love you." He was singing, and leaned over, rubbing his nose against hers. "And I can't believe I can finally say that."

Maleficent couldn't prevent the fond laugh that slipped out her lips, "Diaval—"

"I love you." Diaval repeated and felt the fae nuzzle against his chest, and he could tell that the sigh that followed her response was loaded with contentment. "It has always been you. I apologize if I wasn't clear enough. Aurora told me that words wouldn't be needed—that you'd known the meaning of my gift the moment you laid your eyes on it." He smiled, happiness hitting him as a lightning, covering his eyes in an instant, "I love you." He cupped her chin and lifted her face, "I love you. And I'll repeat it everyday so you'll believe me and know you're not alone. Not anymore. Never again."

Surprise was barefacedly exposed at his words, and the fae stared as silence returned and was prolonged from a minute. The implications and symbolism was...heavy. To her nature, her past, the traditions of her people. It was as if the world started to make sense, just now, in less than a minute, and although her future was not a perfect promise, again—it was a good one.

And Maleficent wouldn't need more of that to think.

She touched with the back of her hand, caressing his scars so lightly before finally leaning in and pressing her lips to his in a so waited kiss.

To Maleficent, it came all of sudden. The feeling of having found her place in the world, the warmth to envelop her soul...she really wasn't expecting it to be so peaceful. She felt the strong beating of a heart against hers, and her confused mind, her dark past, the pain of prejudice, the hate for her own nature, and any worries were long forgotten. Her conscience was lost, and it took her but a moment to reciprocate his touches and let her tongue caress his, taking sighs from his mouth.

Diaval's spirit obviously appreciated the little experience gained through quite helpful dreams, and he moved his lips against hers with passion.

And the fae let herself be. She kissed him into an oblivion of everything, till she no longer could tell which heartbeat was louder. And she was obviously delighted to feel hands slid down her body and rest on the small of her back, mischievous fingers playing with the small white feathers from the base of her wings.

She whispered her love unwittingly, and made use of her newly acquired impudence to wrap her arms around his neck and press his back against the balcony stone railing. Diaval did not protest, hands resting on her hips in order to settle her against him. A ravishing feeling travelled down his spine, as in his dreams he had hoped for. As her wings stretched out in a little, Maleficent tightened her arms around his neck, and Diaval grew bolder on his kisses, playful and smiling.

They barely knew what they were doing, but the only thing that mattered it was how right if felt. They were allowed to forget the words spoken and truly savour the pleasures released by passion.

They did realize how intimate their actions were, but cared little.

True love's kiss was it.

"...I love you, I love you, I love you..."

He kept whispering as their lips parted for air, bringing a gentle hand to touch her face, sudden boldness of a raven who loved a fae, and to feel cold fingers caressing her skin, which was bathed by tears by this point, her scarred past become even more evident.

"I'm here."

His touch was the remedy to the sorrow contained in her chest. Her hand found his, keeping it in her face, and she leaned in, conscious to the touch of his fingers on her tears, and hoping the pain to end one day.

I won't lie and say it will.

"I love you."

For it won't.

"And I you."

But love is known to be quite the good beginning. Not perfect, no, but good. And good, although a word few would dare associate to someone called after a magnificent evil, is what Maleficent needs the most.

Honestly, it always has been.

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A/N: Okay, the new 'Maleficent' movie has a teaser, and I may have too many ideas about it, and I'm totally writing some stuff before the movie comes out. Anyway, the next chapter is a bonus. M-rated because I couldn't help it.