Chapter 5

She did not find Aurora at the fairy ponds, so she made her way to the thorn wall. It was dusk when she arrived, magically letting herself pass. She heard their voices before seeing them. Slowing her pace, she moved forward nearly inaudibly.

"… in a tree—is it comfortable? I've always wanted to try it," Aurora was blabbing, overjoyed like she was every day. Their ray of sunshine.

"It's alright, but I've never slept in one as a human," Diaval supplied when she paused briefly to take a breath.

"Then I'll do it first and tell you how it was," she laughed. "I'll find the biggest, oldest tree and build myself a nest there. Oh, and I also wanted to learn music! I once heard a bard passing through towards the castle, and he played something, uhm…" She wrinkled her forehead in thought.

"A lute?"

"Yes, a lute!" Aurora had pushed off the tree they leaned against, excitedly gesturing as to how the instrument was held. "Then I can sing with the birds and make the Moors as beautiful as all the fairies do! Does Godmother sing? Oh, and can she ride horses? I want to get better at riding; I thought maybe she could teach me." She spun to look at their horse in front of the cottage, then back at Diaval.

Maleficent listened as Aurora kept raving about her dreams, pouring out her admittedly lovely heart with such enthusiasm, Maleficent caught herself smiling. She retreated backwards into the thicket when Diaval bid Aurora a good night, heading into the Moors. Maleficent waited until Aurora had skipped back to the cottage, then took a parallel path to that of her servant.

He had stopped, but not turned. He knew she was there and it vexed her. With a flick of her wrist, he turned into a bird. He flew up into a tree. Strutting past him, feeling his eyes on her, she led the way back to the tree fortress. He followed without the usual cawing—there was nothing to report anyway. She would have thought him to complain; ask to be turned human again, but his silence raised the hopes that he had given up the argument. Accepted defeat as he should have from the start.

She left him as a bird, and he stayed in his own bed. Maleficent brooded for hours, finally not standing it anymore. If he noticed her departure, he did not show, staying put. Again, as he should, Maleficent thought to herself while wandering the Moors. She contemplated watching over Aurora that night—had she closed the hole in the thorn wall that evening?

Ultimately, she decided in favour of her own wellbeing, making use of the rare solitude. Shedding her robes by the side of a secluded pond, she stepped into the darkness, letting it ripple around, then swallow her. Her hair was still undone, so she combed it once emerging.

The air was crisp, and not a cloud veiled the starry night sky. The Moors seemed as alive as during the day, but the night held a special serenity Maleficent had always appreciated. Cricket chirping filled the cool air, an owl lowly hooting here and there. The water had stilled by now, embracing her porcelain skin, reflecting the frown she had worn all day. She was tired, though emotionally rather than physically. She had heard it in Diaval's voice too, but never made a remark.

The lucky bird must have long fallen asleep—not that it was a bad thing. She did not need him watching her bathe. He had already waited for her to go to bed, always at a respectful distance but never too far not to hear even the quietest of calls. Never leaving her to wallow in sorrow by herself, no matter the way she would reject him. A strange way of comfort; a variable one, but such was their relationship.

She dreaded the moment where she might fall to sin again, seeking physical comfort. She had shunned it for years; she should not have so easily become its prey.

Maleficent jolted when the water splashed loudly. Her heart jumped, chest constricting in panic for the split of a second when arms flung around her from behind.

"Godmother," Aurora sniffled. Maleficent was paralysed, her blood seemingly freezing in her veins. "You're okay, I'm so glad," Aurora wept, smothering her tear-stained face into her surrogate mother's back. Right beneath the stumps of her wings, fortunately—those remained veiled by her hair, and Maleficent did not plan on revealing them. Not to Aurora and not to anyone else.

"What are you doing here?" She brought out, her jaw clenched with abating shock. Had she been so lost in thought that she had not heard her coming?

"I dreamed," Aurora sobbed, "I dreamed that you were attacked," she retold. "Diaval was shot out of the sky with some— some big arrow thing, and they pinned you down and then with a spear, they pierced—" she broke off into more sobs, squeezing Maleficent to herself. The latter swallowed. Stiffly, she moved after another moment of hesitation. Her hand found Aurora's, seeking to detach it rather than appease her. Aurora let go when nails dug under her fingers, and retreated slightly.

She kept on sniffling, rubbing her eyes and cheeks. Maleficent waded out of the water, brushing the water off her body with magic before slipping into her clothes. Aurora cried quietly to herself, only stopping when a hand hovered in front of her, offering assistance. Accepting, she was relieved when Maleficent did not send her back, but brought her to the tree fortress.

Diaval roused when abruptly being turned into a human. He blinked into the darkness, but with Aurora's eyes being used to it already, she was faster. She stormed him in a hug, all but collapsing into his arms where he somewhat sat, somewhat laid. He did not mind. Instead, he held her, reassuringly rubbing her back until her sobs died down.

Maleficent watched them wordlessly. The rest of the night went by without her closing her eyes for even a minute.

The sun was mild and warm, yet Maleficent squinted into the sunset, eyes tired and dry.

They had not spoken a single word that morning, none of them, but Aurora had obviously been more than glad to have been where she had wanted to be. She had discovered one of the beaked water dragons from afar, having sat still as not to scare them off. Timid, they had remained in the waters, but observed her with the same curiosity. Accompanied back to the cottage, Aurora had told them how the next day, she would be patient until one of the creatures approached her.

He now stood right behind her, knowing she was aware. He ventured a step closer. When she let him, he took it as permission to pronounce his thoughts.

"Then we're just going to have to protect her," Diaval said. Maleficent frowned but kept her eyes on the glistening of the water further below. "Was what I was going to say the other day," he added. She let out a sigh. That basket case of a man, the sigh said. Of course, he had not accepted defeat; not let the dispute go, stubborn as he was. She must have deemed it remarkable how precisely he remembered—how important it was to him, but of course, she did not say so.

"I will tell her tomorrow," she flatly announced. It took him a moment, but when she did not elaborate, he caught on.

"What if she doesn't take it well?" He took another step towards her. "What if she won't let herself be protected then—by us?"

"It won't keep us from doing so."

"No," he agreed decidedly. "It won't."

Another pause stretched between them, longer but not as unbearable as before. She looked rigid and tense, but naturally never considered the way he must have felt with either her or Aurora imprinting roots into his back for hours.

"Change me, please." Diaval broke the saddening focus of his mistress. She pursed her lips.

"So you can cuddle up in my nest? Go build your own if that's what you're after," she sarcastically huffed, making sure not to budge an inch and give up her own. He suppressed a sigh.

"I know you don't like me in human form. And I know I'm replaceable."

"What are you talking about?" She finally turned her head, irritated.

"It's the wings, isn't it?" he guessed, meeting her eyes straight on. Her lips tightened further. So then he was right. "You can have them; you just have to change me."

"You hate when I touch them."

"I hate to see you like this a lot more," he honestly said. She held his gaze. He did not back away, black clashing with green in a most affectionate fight. Scoffing, she turned away again. She could not stand it for long when he gazed at her that way, and he did not want to force himself onto her.

"Go to sleep, Diaval."

"Mistress—"

"Sleep," she repeated, finality in her voice. Shoulders sinking, he complied. His bed of moss was dull and thin by now, but he did not find it in him to complain about it. Least of all ask of her to improve it.

Staring at her back for minutes, Diaval found his heart aching for her. She did not mind him as an animal, so why would she not let him be there for her? She could have plucked him bare for all he cared, but it made him nauseous to merely watch, never able to truly help.

Mentally exhausted, sleep found him as quickly as it always did. The halfmoon had not yet reached its peak when he roused again, air suddenly forced out of his lungs.

Diaval froze for a second. She had come. She had actually come to seek comfort. His stomach lurched and jumped at the same time, twisting with pity as much as it did flutteringly. He wasted no time to enclose her with his arms, knowing full well that it might cost him his life, family and home. Another flounce turned his insides when she sagged into him in response.

Her horns bumped against his chin, and he had to wiggle his nose as not to sneeze with her hair tickling it.

"She will prick herself," Maleficent desperately breathed. He tightened his embrace, squeezing her to him.

"I know," he whispered. "And we will save her," he promised. He did not know how, but he knew they would. They had to—for Maleficent's sake.

For that, he would give his life.

Flames crackled in the caste behind her, providing little light into the night where they blazed out the windows. Shards littered the ground further away, but her eyes were on his closed ones.

Fallen to his death. Maleficent wondered whether she should content herself with only partially being responsible for Stefan's doom. For now, she decided that she was. There were more important things than revenge, and the overwhelming relief of her goddaughter having awakened from her curse was still soothing her raw nerves; cushioned her heart and washed away the grief like waves licking sand off the shore.

Crash, it came above her. Chunks of wall and roof hailed down into the sea of shards. A low, powerful grunt announced him, warning her not to wince when Diaval somewhat toppled down into the court. He stumbled in the rubble, bricks sliding under the weight of his talons, hindering his movements.

She kept her eyes on Stefan despite Diaval's roaring up at the great hall. Fire seared through the air with a big swoosh, but not even the sudden intense heat could get Maleficent to lift her eyes off the dead king. How long had they been obsessed with each other, planning the other's demise? How many years had she spent suffering, mentally deteriorating after his crippling her, and now he was dead.

Maleficent only noticed to have held her breath when Diaval's snout nudged her side. She heaved a deep sigh, letting him rub against her. Shoulders sinking, she leaned onto the giant scaled muzzle for support. Her legs buckled once, a shiver running down her spine. It was over. She realised little by little, but her body caved somewhat, already drained off adrenaline and yearning for rest.

Diaval gave a low croak, lowering his head further. She was not sure whether it was to help her stand or because he was exhausted as well—he had to be—but she appreciated it anyway. His head was bigger than she was tall, but the slimmer, beak-like part of his snout seemed so huggable at that moment, Maleficent wanted to simply drop against it and squish him with sheer relief.

Relief, gratitude, and perhaps even more, comfort.

That bad habit of hers, but oh so tempting.

"Godmother—ah!" Aurora's voice shot up into a high-pitched shriek. Maleficent bolted out of her trance, spinning around. Diaval was faster. Having dashed forward, he caught Aurora's fall from the destroyed great hall above, his eyes squinting shut when the girl slumped into his face. Maleficent raised her hands to make the landing more gentle, golden swirls helping Aurora descend.

She rushed her Fairy Godmother the second her feet touched the ground, storming her in a hug. Maleficent held her just as tightly, never letting her see the unmoving form of her father.

"Your wings," Aurora peeled her head from her godmother's chest, eyes shining with so much happiness, she looked almost as if the entire ordeal hadn't happened.

Maleficent's gaze softened. She stroked over her fosterling's hair, brushing it out of her face. "Most importantly—"

Another crash, this time not as loud. A soldier had loosened more debris that crushed the ground of the courtyard. The men shouted, hustling along the demolished wall. Some raised crossbows.

Diaval gave a growl, turning his massive body towards the obviously still hostile humans. Maleficent shook her head, but stepped back with Aurora clutched to herself rather than taking over. First, she needed to get the girl away from the corpse—they had enough traumas to cope with.

Aurora looked up at her godmother. She followed without complaint, not least because they had to evade Diaval's wings.

With mighty beats, he took off the ground, hovering at the level of the assailants. An arrow flew, narrowly missing him. Unflinching, Diaval roared, another beat of his wings enough to send a few men toppling over. Flames still caged them in, so he hesitated to use any more.

Leaving him to it, Maleficent lunged at another group of men atop the tower, aiming at her. They were thrown back against the battlement, groaning. With her other hand, she swung King Stefan's body aside, having a globe of vines grow above and around him. Aurora turned, but Maleficent had been faster.

Both jumped when Diaval gave a screeching roar. The remaining men on the tower, those of the great hall merely posing as a distraction, had tossed the iron net. It tangled with his wings. His flapping became frantic and irregular. Aurora gasped, pulling on Maleficent's sleeve.

Maleficent raised her hand. Diaval fell, screeching helplessly, when his body shrunk to its original form. But the net was too heavy.

Suddenly plunging much faster, the raven was crushed by the weight of the wattled iron chains. Maleficent let Aurora go, hurrying over with alarm. An arrow struck the ground in front of her feet, then another. More shouting came from above, and she had to fend the next attacks off with magic. Her wings stretched out threateningly.

She would not fight them, not now.

She could heal, but she could not revive. If he died now—if Diaval breathed his last breath, the air forced from his lungs by her only weakness, just before she got to him—Maleficent would never forgive herself.